Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Phil likes to fly in the arctic night sky. It’s cold- it always is- and he can’t get very far, on account of his wings getting half-blown up- but he likes it. He likes running gloved talons over the gleaming aurora, pierced by glittering stars. He likes imagining that he’s closer to Kristen and Techno that way, even though he know’s he not.

Lady Death hasn’t contacted him since the Syndicate fled from Dream’s SMP. Techno’s… gone. Phil had always taken comfort in two things: Death’s footsteps guided his own, and Techno would always be there.

He breathes out a sigh, blinking back the tears that chilled his face. His wings seized suddenly, and he got a mouthful of snow as a reward. Great.

He spluttered out of the snowbank, dusted himself off, and turned around to go home. The horses needed feeding anyways. Maybe the bamboo he had locked away in his greenhouse was ready for harvesting…?

As he hummed to himself, busying himself with tasks, he failed to notice the light streaking over the sky. Most would have brushed it off as simply a falling star, but what falling star was a bright yellow, green smudged along its tail?

It twisted over the empty tundra, snaking a path south. It passed a vast ocean, coming across fishing villages and trading halls, mega builds and the occasional crater, before landing on a land mass populated by hybrids- just as a plane crashed down several chunks away.

Chapter Text

Fundy laughed as his comm buzzed with a new notification.

OwengeJuiceTV: Thought you’d want to see this, seeing as it was your idea! Link: “Why I got banned from MCC ft Fundy and SeaPeeKay”

He’s tempted to go ahead and troll Owen- he’s practically asking for it- but before he could, his smile fades and his ears droop. Scott’s going to be looking for him- he’s already gone after most of everyone else. Even if he manages to talk down Minecraft Championship’s organizer, he’ll surely restrict him from Ace Race, maybe the other games too. MCC’s out of the question, at least for a bit.

So, what to do in the mean time? He could code, sure, but it was always more fun with others- friends he no longer had. He couldn’t chat with Niki, or mess around with Quackity and Tubbo.

Fundy sighs, drumming his fingers on the counter of the restaurant he was eating at. He stares dully at the disemboweled chicken swimming around on his plate.

“You done with that?” There’s a waitress looking at him, half smiling but with her eyebrows all… weird. Fundy’s not too good with social cues, but he’s pretty sure that means she’s concerned.

He realizes she’s waiting for an answer. “Uh- yeah! Sure. Here!” He paws through his pockets and hurriedly shoves a pile of coins into her hands.

Scurrying out the door with his hat low and tail weaving worriedly, he glances up to check where he’s going and spies a billboard.

Freezer Phil’s Fridge Freezers

Under the ad is a picture that he recognizes as Martyn Littlewood, wearing an outfit that looks startlingly similar to what his grandpa used to wear in New L’manburg. Between the hair color and blue-striped bucket hat, he’s sure it’s intentional. Must be some new bit or something he’s doing.

It makes him raise an eyebrow and choke back a fox-ish laugh, but it also gives him an idea. He hasn’t seen Phil in a while, even before Dream’s server got blown up. (What is it with the former residents of L’manburg and blowing stuff up? Not that he can talk, but. Still.) He wonders how he’s doing. Is he still hanging out with Techno up north? He definitely hasn’t seen him, either at MCC or any of the other servers they’re both on.

Well. He had been wanting to reconnect with some of his friends. Phil seems like a good place to start.

Fundy scrolls through his comm, searching for his home coords, teleports to his base, and scrounges around for paper and a pen.

Grandpa Phil,

I know we haven’t exactly been on the best of terms lately, but I was wondering if we can meet up, either on a hubworld or one of our bases? I’d like to talk things through.

-Fundy (your grandson)

He folds up the letter, puts it in an envelope and seals it, then ducks his head out of the window.

“Hey! Brian! Where’d you get to? I need you to send a message to Phil!”

At the mention of his grandpa, the crow flutters over from where he had been tearing apart a rabbit and lands on Fundy’s hat. Philza Minecraft?

“Yeah, yeah, him. Can you send the message or not?”

The raven bobs his head enthusiastically, sending a flutter of ecstatic messages.

Fundy groans. “Just take it, will you?”

He holds out the envelope and Brian snatches it instantly, then flies off. Soon he’s just a tiny black dot disappearing among the trees.

Fundy reaches up to brush the fur on his ears where it had been mussed, then yowls. “Brian! You got rabbit guts on my hat!”

Chapter Text

Grian crows, pumping a fist into the air as the rest of his team cheers with him. He’s grinning, ecstatic after the latest round of MCC games. They’ve just finished Build Mart, and- as usual- he does great.

As they all part ways to mingle and get food during the break, his comm buzzes. He stuffs a cookie in his mouth, then opens up the hologram.

InTheLittleWood: Hey Gri, I want to talk about LL. Now a good time?

Martyn wants to talk about Limited Life? Was it something to do with him winning? Scott had mentioned at some point that Martyn had seemed a little… off the last session. It was becoming an unfortunate pattern with the Life winners, and Grian wasn’t exactly glad.

Nevertheless, he was curious, and he cared about Martyn. Why not check out what he wanted?

Grian: Yeah, where are you?

InTheLittleWood: Over by the announcer’s tent. Me and Scott and Owen were talking about New Life- part of what I want to talk about

Grian: Omw

When he got to the teal tent, he could see Scott deep in conversation with a couple of players he didn’t know. Martyn was hovering by one of the tent legs, and Grian could see someone with him, goggles flashing in the bright sun.

He made his way over to the duo, and Martyn smiles nervously. He opens his mouth to talk, seems to realize something, and starts over. “Do you two actually know each other? Um, Grian, this is Owen. Owen, Grian.”

Owen smiles at him. “Everyone knows Grian Dreamslayer. It’s great to actually meet you, though.”

Grian smirks. “Yeah, they do, don’t they? I’ve heard a thing or two about you, too. You’re a roleplayer?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a bunch of lore going on. Especially with New Life.”

There’s a beat of silence, then Martyn interjects. “So, Limited Life? Uh, after I won, I thought I heard something. Like… voices? And I felt something too- look.”

He pulled off one of his gloves, revealing bare, unmarked skin beneath. Grian’s eyes widened. “Did- wh- your scar?”

“I woke up and it was gone. I can feel something, too… a buzzing. It’s weird. It’s like- you know how you feel after you get a kill as a red?”

“Yeah?”

“It feels like that, but it hasn’t gone away.”

There’s a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Tell ‘im about New Life,” says Owen.

“Right, right. So I died in Limited Life, and I woke up on New Life. Like I was transported in my sleep, never even punched in the coords.”

The feeling gets worse. “It was straight from Limited Life to New Life?”

“Yeah. It was really weird, but I did get cool hybrid powers, so-”

There’s a joking, nervous lilt to the words.

Owen mutters, “Lucky.”

Grian ruffles his wings. He starts fidgeting with the hem of his sweater, eyes darting around, then says softly, “Did you See?”

“No!” Martyn says immediately. “No! It- it wasn’t that. It really reminded me of- them. Evo. All of it.”

“If it’s not them,” the avian murmurs, “then what was it?”

“I dunno. But- they’re not the only sect. The others helped us out after you… left. Actually, it might have been the Listeners.”

Grain stiffens, glancing around. For a brief second, his vision is layered purple and wings streaked with white.

“I’ll figure it out,” he promises, and before the panic fully sets in, he’s soaring high over the rest of MCC, riding the thermals back to Hermitcraft.

Chapter Text

Scott sees, out of the corner, Grian spread out his wings and bolt for the skies. He frowns, quickly excuses himself from the debate that Krow and Soup have dragged him into, and hurried over to Martyn and Owen.

“Is he okay?” he asks.

Martyn chews on the inside of his cheek. “Not sure. I mentioned the- the Listeners, and I think I shouldn’t’ve. We were talking about Limited Life, and I think it spooked him.”

“Hopefully he’s heading back to Hermitcraft,” Scott reassures. “The Life games freak all of us out after we’re out of them.”

“Death games’ll do that to ya,” agrees Owen, not quite able to hide his frown. “One was good enough for me.”

Krow and Soup, who were doubtlessly eavesdropping, both laugh.
Owen and Scott both delve into laughter.

Martyn manages to crack a smile. “Still,” he says. “I’d better check on him. Or at least see if Mumbo will tell me if he’s gotten back.”

“I’ll see if I can flag down Gem or False to let them know he went home already.”
“Gem’s over there.” Owen points. His comm buzzes. “Oop. Uh, that’s Fundy, I’d better-”

He hurries away to a more private corner of the venue.

Martyn’s rubbing at the skin of his palm mindlessly. He says, a little out of the blue, “I’m gonna go find Timmy.”
And then Scott is alone (Krow and Soup scurried off to gods know where).

He sighs and settles down on a bench, rubbing at his eyes. “Geez, I’m tired,” he complains to the empty air.

As if in response, his comm buzzes. Scott groans, but dutifully checks it.

Grian: Hey Scott, wanna help me track down an old friend?

Smajor1995: Who?

Grian: You won’t believe me if I tell you

Smajor1995: Try me

Grian: Philza Minecraft

Smajor1995: …

Smajor1995: What the HECK

Chapter Text

Delivered by Brian

Emperor Snow to Emerald Star-

Hey Phil! Guess what I’ve been doing on Hypixel while you’re off with Kristin? You’re gonna call me a fool, chat’s been doing it enough- but I’m harvesting potatoes. Underrated. Hardy enough to survive even on the tundra, but plentiful and fast-growing. I’m gonna win top potato rank! It’ll ruin this kid’s life, it’ll be fun.

P.S. Tell Wil to keep up with his lessons.

-Emperor Snow (if you don’t know who that is, why are you reading this letter, you absolute fool?)

Delivered by Brian

To Dad,

Hey Dad! Me and Niki are having a great time fishing! It turns out a few other people came along too, this kid Sapnap and his dads are next door. Did you know Sam’s down here around this time of year? I’ve been hanging out with him. He’s got a looot of books!

-From Wilbur Soot-Craft

Delivered by Brian

To Emperor Philza Minecraft,

Phil! A couple of us from the Antarctic Empire are having a little get together. I invited Techno and Wil too, thought you might want to come.

P.S. The post office insisted I address you by your title, since it’s an ‘official thing.’ Hope you still turn up!

-Pete

Delivered by Brian

(From the Badlands Archives)

To Philza Craft,

It has come to our attention that you have a few artifacts from L’manburg, most notably an original script of the L’manburg National Anthem and a piece of the flag made by Niki Nihachu. Would you be interested in donating them to the Badlands Archive?

-All the best, Awesamdude

Delivered by Brian

To Phil,

Just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. I even wrote it down in my book and stuff! I finally got around to checking it, and then here we are! If you wanna talk… um, I’m not very good at talking and stuff, you know, but I’ll try, if you want to. Yeah. Just wanted to see what you’re up to, especially with Techno…

-Ranboo

Delivered by Brian

Grandpa Phil,

I know we haven’t exactly been on the best of terms lately, but I was wondering if we can meet up, either on a hubworld or one of our bases? I’d like to talk things through.

-Fundy (your grandson)

Delivered by Brian

Hi Phil!

I know we haven’t been in contact since we left the SMP, but I haven’t seen you in a while, either at MCC or on origins. Wil and Slime say you haven’t been on Quackity’s server either. I’m starting to get worried, and so are the others. Do you mind letting me know how you are?

P.S. Check out Martyn Littlewood’s newest bit for some laughs. It’ll help cheer you up!

-Sic semper tyrannis, Niki

Chapter Text

Two days later, Fundy was catching a ferry up the river, one paw on his comm and the other holding his hat down against the winds. His eyes trained on the hologram, he compared the distance between the glowing green dot- Brian- and the orange one- him. He was getting closer.

Fundy grinned, sharp canines flashing. A human a little ways away glanced over at him, eyes dark in that concerned way he was all too familiar with, and moved away. He glared at them, barking out, “I can be a lot more dangerous than smiling, nuthead!”

The person let out an honestly gratifying yelp and retreated farther into the depths of the ship.

There were footsteps behind him. Fundy turned, preparing to yell at someone else, but found instead a young woman, insect-like white wings tucked behind her and two flashing antennae sprouting out from under her hardhat. Beside her was large white dog, pale fingers tangled among her scruff.

“That was brave of you,” the woman said with a chipper grin. “People like that sure can be meatheaded, huh?”

“Yeah,” Fundy said shortly, glancing down at his screen.

“Y’know,” continued the woman, antennae briefly flickering around, “they made a humans-only club or something on here. Might’ve been the wrong ferry to grab, ay?”

Fundy peered into her deep blue eyes for a moment. “What d’you want?”

“Me and a couple friends decided to make a hybrids-only meeting, thought you might want to join.”

“My grandpa’s told me far too many stories to trust a stranger on an unfamiliar boat in the middle of nowhere.”

The woman laughed. “Fair enough. My name’s PearlescentMoon, but you can call me Pearl. This is Tilly.” She gestured at the dog, who barked softly at the mention of her name.

Fundy snorted. “Your dog wants to hunt sheep. Or people, can’t really tell.”

“Yeah, I got her on a pretty dangerous server, guess the bloodlust hasn’t run out yet.”

There was something about the way she phrased it that reminded Fundy of something. “What server?”

“You tell me why you stand like a soldier and I’ll tell you my story.”

The fox blinks, glancing down at his stance. Sure enough, it mimicked what Wilbur had taught him during L’manburg’s independence. He supposed he was nervous, reverting back old habits.

He wasn’t sure how much of the server’s history had been made public, but what did it matter? He was already meeting up with Phil. If Dream wanted his tyranny private, he shouldn’t have invited a bunch of anarchist trolls to his server.

“Dream’s SMP,” he said bluntly.

Pearl blinks in surprise. “Wow, rough. A couple of my friends got to know a few others from the server- Tommy and Tubbo? Do you know them?”

Fundy laughed, cutting it off with a bitter curse. “Everyone does. It’s always about them! Never even gave us a shred of recognition! You know what? Me and Jack and Niki fought just as hard as them, and no one knows our names! How’s that fair?”

“Oh,” Pearl says. “Sorry, should’ve thought the server might’ve been one of your triggers. I just meant that we have a bit of a connection, even outside of MCC.”

He squinted at her. “You play in MCC?”

“A bunch of us from Hermitcraft always go, either to participate or watch. There aren’t too many fox hybrids in the games, especially with ties to your old server.”

“Ah.” The pieces fell into place. Pearl was familiar because she was that Pearl, who’d joined Hermitcraft; the builder.

“Scott got you to track me down?” he asked.

“Nope! Just a coincidence. Say, the meeting’s starting in a few minutes, you wanna come?”

“Sure,” he found himself saying, following the moth hybrid belowdeck.

Under the water, clinging to the boards of the ferry, a thing glowed with lavender light, wings tucked tight, talons digging into the wood, smiling under it’s mask.

Chapter Text

Grian grins at Scott from where he’s standing in the shadow of the Rift.

The blue-haired man is frowning jokingly as he lands and folds up his elytra. “Did you seriously suggest we meet here?”

“It’s my base!” chirps the avian, knowing that the answer will make Scott groan and roll his eyes (which he does). “Mutual history’s a neutral ground, right?” he challenges.

“I don’t think that’s how that works, but okay. Where are we starting?”

Grian shrugged, unsure. “You’re the MCC organizer, you know people.”

“No one’s seen Phil in like, years. How would I know where he is?”

“Then I guess we head north and see what happens!”

“That is a terrible plan,” grumbles Scott, who tosses something at Grian.

He catches the small, shimmering orb, peering at it curiously. It looks a bit like an eye of ender, but it’s shinier, and a bit smaller. “What is it?”

“Teleportation stone. It connects to Waystones, like the ones we use on New Life. I went ahead and connected mine to Chromia and Scott’s Land, and it’ll connect to your bases too.”

“Cool.” Grian stares at it for a couple seconds, entranced by the moving colors, before Scott claps right next to his ear. “Ow! Why’d you do that?!”

“We should get moving, shouldn’t we, birdie?”

Scott smirks, looking all too pleased with himself.

Grian huffs and puts the stone in his inventory, typing out a message in chat.

Grian: Me and Scott are heading out now

Xisuma: Good luck!

GeminiTay: Be careful, you two!

ZombieCleo: If either of you get into trouble, I’m dragging you back here and killing you myself

GoodTimeWithScar: Grian and Scott? Trouble? Never!

Grian: Like you can talk

Joehillssays: Make sure to take pictures! (And don’t talk to Death)

MumboJumbo: Joe what??

Cubfan135: Agreed

FalseSymmetry: Agreed

Mumbo: Glad I’m not the only one thinking Joe is still Joe

Joehillssays: Hey!

Cubfan135: Oh, I was agreeing with Joe. With the pictures

FalseSymmetry: About Death. She’s intense ;)

Smajor1995: Yeah, I’m outta here

Ethoslab: Bye!

Grian soars into the sky, wings bright and flashing in the afternoon sun. He arcs over Mumbo’s base, spinning until his inner compass points north. A few moments later, Scott is next to him, his elytra unused and and the blue shell of his wings extended. The two float high above the ground, and Grian feels the tightness coiling around his chest start to lift. Up here, he’s free. He can spread his wings as wide as he wants, yell at the top of his lungs, and see to the horizon. The overworld air up here is thin, but not in the way the End’s is. It’s different, and Grian revels in it.

Scott seems to feel his burgeoning delight, whether it’s by his smile or his flapping hands or the trilling call rising in his throat. The beetle-hybrid whoops, soaring around a cloud, stars trailing after his multi-colored cloak.

They fly for a while like that, wordlessly following the magnetic, magical lines that pull the both of them north. Closer to the snow and the cold and the lights that float in the sky at night (Grian’s especially excited for those). Closer to Phil.

Chapter Text

They spent the night in a hotel in Hypixel. Grian opts for a room on the top floor, and Scott’s not about to protest. Higher up means closer to the stars.

Even though he normally doesn’t sleep much away from home, Scott finds himself slipping into dreams almost immediately.

He’s staring up at the night sky, water rushing beside him, lava bubbling as he hangs in the air. There’s laughter, from under him, Jack and Niki and Wilbur talking about some scheme. He hears someone ascending the ladder. It’s Bekymon. She joins the conversation, tossing out suggestions.

The moon is new and small, the stars shining brighter than they ever have. As he watches, sparkles emanating from his skin as he hums, there’s a flash of light.

Yellow and green, quickly followed by smaller purple comets, fills the sky. Scott gasps, eyes wide as he takes in the sight. It’s beautiful, but what really draws his attention is the colors. Purple meant something. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew it was important. These comets were more than a simple light show.

They were only the beginning.

He bolts awake, the flickering lights hovering around his head flashing red. He presses a hand to his chest, taking a couple of deep breaths to steady his racing heart.

The window bursts open. Scott yells, sword suddenly in hand, ready to swing-

It’s Grian.

Of course it was! Who else could it be?

“Whoa!” Grian backpedals, wings flared for balance, knocking over a lamp. “Sorry, Scott, you just spooked me.”

He takes a breath, then another, until he can slowly drop the netherite sword from his white-knuckled grip. “Sorry, just- weird dream. Thought I was back on Double Life for a sec.”

“Ah. That’s what those are for, then?”

His hand follows Grian’s gesture, closing around one of the light still beaming red as it floats a few inches away from his hair. “Guess so.”

“I’m sorry,” Grian says again, lips thin and shoulders hunched. “Just- you were screaming. I thought something might’ve been wrong.”

“Don’t worry, you’re good,” Scott reassures with a smile. “If I was alone, it might’ve gone worse, actually. ‘Least I didn’t break anything.”

Grain peeks over his shoulder at the broken lamp, glass puddled beneath it, and sighs. “These things are definitely not designed for wings.”

“Not a lot of things are,” agrees the beetle.

There was a knocking on the door. The two glance at each other, then Scott gets up to answer it.

“Uh, everything okay in there? Not that I care, it’s just my job.”

The voice is familiar. Scott yawns and opens the door, revealing a man dressed all in red, with matching sunglasses.

He squints for a moment. “Reddoons?”

“How do you know my name?”

Grian comes over and peeks over the taller man’s shoulder, and says, “Red, I didn’t think you were on Hypixel.”

“Side gig.”

“M’kay.” He, too, yawns, and adds, “Bad dream, you know how it is.”

Red quirks an eyebrow. “Suuure. Whatever. I’m getting back to my job before they fire me.”

He turns and speed walks down the hall, leaving Scott more confused than ever.

Slowly, he closes the door, frowning, and turns and flops on his bed. “Well.”

“Well!” agreed Grian, much brighter. “I got the glass cleaned up- just, don’t, you know, go over there barefoot.”

“Obviously.”

There’s silence for a moment, then Scott asks, “Why were you outside anyway?”

“Oh, I was trying to see if I could track down a crow. See if I could get a message to Phil.”

There’s something oddly nonchalant about the way he says it, but Scott’s too worn out to contemplate it. “Well, since all that’s over, mind if I get a few more hours of sleep?”

“Knock yourself out.” He snickers.

Chapter Text

It’s Carl who notices it first. The horse tracks the small yellow lizard darting across the powdery snow, nickering nervously and then whinnying when it speeds into the stable.

The other animals- Phil’s own steed, two pens of cows and sheep- start making various noises of discomfort. They’ve been around the supernatural enough to detect the magic that comes with it, and naturally they’re concerned.

That concern is loud enough for Phil to come tramping into the stable in the middle of the night, his coat thrown on haphazardly and cane clicking on icy cobblestone.

“Wassit?” he asks the room at large. One of the cows answers with a bleating moo.

“Great, great.”

He rolls his eyes and starts looking around for the cause of the disturbance.

The lizard darts across the stable as fast as Carl, hiding between his hooves. The horse neighs loudly, tap dancing away from the creature. Phil’s head swivels over in his direction, the tufts of his ears downturned.

“What is it, Carl? What’s wrong?”

He comes over, looking inside. The lizard has scurried into a corner.

Phil frowns- he can sense something’s wrong, but he can’t tell what.

“Whatever you are, come out now, and I might spare you!”

He bares his teeth menacingly (a trick he learned from Techno- avian teeth are surprisingly sharp) and lifts his cane.

The lizard doesn’t move, so Carl moves for it, crashing into the door of his stall.

Phil takes an involuntary step back, then hops neatly over the fence, stroking his hand along Carl’s neck to calm him down. He surveys the area, finally finding the yellow lizard huddled in a corner.

“So that’s what’s got you all riled up!” he exclaims. “All right, come ‘ere you lil’ bugger.”

He reaches for it carefully, senses on alert- nothing’s that easy, not with him.

The second his hands start to close around the lizard’s scales, it disappears in a poof of smoke, spraying golden dust all over the stall.

Phil and Carl both sneeze.

Once the air clears, he realizes his hands are still covered in that odd dust. He examines it for a moment, then opts to wash his hands after calming down the animals.

When he does, though, the powder doesn’t come off. By now it’s settled in the lines of his palms, forming an odd shape: a rectangle with two opposite ends broken off, like a ruined portal. It’s strange, and familiar, but he can’t quite remember where the reference came from.

What he does know, however, is that only a few things could cause a reaction like that. Occasionally, admins will mark their charges with symbols- it’s a way to ensure they can’t leave, terrible that it is. And gods will mark their Parthenon the same way.

Phil feels a shiver go down his spine, his wings shivering. One of the dogs- Phil can’t remember her name, just that she had a litter of puppies recently- comes over and sniffs his hand. He pets her back, and she leans into the touch. He smiles for a moment as the dog trots back to her pups.

It fades soon, as he wonders what exactly decided to mark him.

Whatever it is will surely appear soon, and he has to be ready.

“One last time, eh?” he asks the air, flashing a smile that was far too sharp to be human.

The crows settled around the house in dark nooks and shadowy crannies stir slowly to life, sharp claws filling the air. The enchantments woven into every fiber of the space rise along with them.

The Angel of Death starts to work sharpening his blades.

Chapter Text

Weaving through the maze of hallways, Fundy follows Pearl to wherever this meeting is. Now that he’s down here, in the dark corners and shadowed passageways, he wonders if this was a good idea. Really, by the pulsing of his stomach and the way the fur on his neck sticks up, he knows it’s not- but he wants to connect with others like him. Hybrid communities and all that. Apparently that’s a thing now.

He doesn’t have much time to ponder, however, as Pearl knocks three times on a nondescript door. The repetitive sound makes some instinct nestled inside Fundy squirm, and by the way Pearl’s antennae wave in a not-there wind, it does for her as well.

Something shifts from behind the door, along with the sound of muttering. There’s a click, a metallic twang, and the door swings open. A red-eyed Netherborne stands in it’s place.

He squints curiously at the fox, but soon grins and moves out of the way. “Wondered where you got to, Pearl! Who’d you bring along?”

Pearl glances over at Fundy. “Oh, y’know, just a friend,” she says casually.

The Netherborne’s smile doesn’t change (Fundy has no clue why he’s staring at him- he flicks his ears back). “Nice to meet you, I’m Tango of the tek variety.”

Fundy’s hand snakes around and turns off the program that’s tracking Brian on his comm. “Fundy.”

“Huh?” A head full of brown hair, tucked under a woven hat, pops up from behind an armchair settled by a fire. “Fundy! It’s great to see you!”

He blinks, taking a step back from the face that’s suddenly appeared in his vision. “Hi?”

“It’s me! Shubble. From Origins?”

He tilts his head, thinking. “The ghost. The other one. Wil was quite annoyed when you popped up.”

Shubble frowns. “Was he? Oops.”

There’s a beat of beautiful, blissful silence, then the ghost starts up again. “I’m on New Life now, with Pearl here, and before that I was on Empires. Also with Pearl, actually. Weird, huh?”

“Wasn’t there a thousand-year difference or something?” another voice says. “Hey, dude, you all right?”

Fundy stands up straight, realizing he’d been listing to the side. “Yep. All good here!”

He really has been slacking lately.

Someone’s comm buzzes, making his tail pause in it’s waving (when had that happened?).

“It’s mine,” says Pearl, wandering over to the table settled in the middle of the room and settling down with a small oof. “Oh- It’s Jimmy and Martyn! They’ve been theorizing on where Gri and Scott might’ve gone. And here’s- no, of course they didn’t go to Rats! Why would-”

She trails off, typing furiously.

The unknown hybrid tramps over to the group. He’s got sunglasses settled on his nose, and two brown dog ears sticking out of his mop of hair. Seeing another canine hybrid makes a noise rattle in his throat, but he bites down on the sound.

Tango goes over to Pearl, peeking over her shoulder. “Say hi from us!”

“Yeah, yeah.” She shoves him off, and he careens for a moment before balancing. “You boys are so impatient.”

Fundy leans ever-so-slightly back from the scene. Tango mutters something under his breath and stalks over to a different chair.

He blinks and realizes that Shubble and Sunglasses have also moved to the table, leaving him standing there like a lost puppy-

The fox tosses that train of thought to the side. He can defend himself; he’s fought in wars, even came close to killing Technoblade! He’s not a little kid following in his father’s shadow.

Stiffly, he pads over, steps practiced and silent, but still louder than they should be. He doesn’t sit- that would leave him vulnerable to attack- but he does lean against the wood of the table.

Sunglasses clears his throat. “I’m Ren, by the way. Rendog.”

There’s a familiar cadence in it that Fundy feels he should know- not that he does, growing up around avians and mer. “Fundy,” he says in turn, looking at the tinted glass where his eyes would be. It doesn’t make him feel as seen as eye contact does, but still…

He peers down at the grains of the wood, rubbing his claws along it.

“You okay?” he hears Shubble ask.

Light flickers, yellow-gold, throwing shade across the room in brushstrokes. His head shoots up, staring at the fire as it crackles loudly. It blurs, and when his vision clears, he sees the tattered remains of a red-blue-white-yellow-black flag burning in the embers. His fingers warm, the wood under them growing hot. There’s sparks flying in his eyes, and a voice calling-

“Fundy!”

There’s a lump of warm fur on his legs and white wings tented around him and a balled-up hat as a pillow.

He drags in a breath, and another, releasing his claws from where they had been digging into his skin. He tugs his hat further down his head, reveling in the darkness that comes with it.

“What happened?” he rasps, his voice too loud, too gravel-edged.

“I’m not sure,” answers Pearl- that’s who was calling him, Pearl, not Niki- as her fingers find the edge of her jacket and pull. “Can I furl my wings back?” There’s a joking tone to it, but by the way her eyes are drawn, she’s uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, just-”

He swallows. “Was the flag there? Was it real?”

Pearl shakes her head. “It’s just the five of us in here, Fundy. You’re safe.”

Tilly whines, and the fox reaches down and scratches under her chin.

Light from the outside world trickles in from under his hat- it’s not flickering like before. It’s quiet, too, the only sound the hum of Shubble’s magic and his breathing.

“So,” Tango says eventually. “What was that?”

Shubble reaches over and smacks his arm. He hears the sound, the flicker of color, and glances slowly up. “I dunno.”

Honestly, he’s been trying to figure out that question himself. Was it panic? Was it the fire? He swears for a second there were fireworks.

“Sensory overload?” suggests Ren, and Fundy looks in the direction of the voice. He’s perched in a chair half pulled away from the table, facing his position on the floor.

He’s on the floor. He checks his wrist frantically, pulling back his sleeve to reveal the three hearts stamped at the base of his palm. A single one beats strong, the others marred and broken.

Two, not one.

Fundy breathes.

“Overload’s the worst!” Shubble groans.

“Agreed,” says Tango.

Fundy has no clue what’s going on. What are they talking about?

Tilly shoves her face into his, licking his ears. He laughs, bright and colorful. “I’m a fox,” he explains. “Not a cat. I knew a cat, though.”

He’s quiet, remembering. The last time he’d interacted with Ant had been at the Red Banquet, and that hadn’t exactly gone as planned. In any way.

He frowns, then glances at Ren. “Why is she calling you Renking?”

“Yeah, Ren,” Tango teases. “Why?”

The dog groans. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about it!”

“Ren was king of Hermitcraft for a while,” explains Pearl. “Then we got a resistance started, and some mini games, and a couple inter-server trips later, he got dethroned.”

“Sounds complicated,” mutters Fundy tiredly. “Did you kill ‘im?”

He closes his eyes, and as Tango started detailing the war (and Pearl and Ren glanced at each other worriedly), he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

CHAT LOG: Evo Crew

Cookiemonster: What if they went to Rats??

Pop-Up-Shop changed name to Chillager

Chillager: No, I was just on

Red Riding Hood: course not

Red Riding Hood: Ren and Tango say hi

Red Riding Hood: can I push them into the fire?

Tiny Tim: Yes!

Tiny Tim changed name to Good Guy

Cookiemonster: Ren’s not fireproof!

Cookiemonster: …would be funny tho /nf

Red Riding Hood: noted

Literally A Parrot: were on hypixel

Chillager: And when the world needed him most…

Good Guy: Ha!

Literally A Parrot: no

Literally A Parrot changed Good Guy’s name to Tiny Tim

Tiny Tim: >:(

Chillager: Ha!

Literally A Parrot: guess who we ran into

Cookiemonster: Joe Hills

Red Riding Hood: Apo

Literally A Parrot: Reddoons

Cookiemonster: … what??

Red Riding Hood: Of course. It’s always red

Red Riding Hood: Guess who I ran into?

Tiny Tim: Oli and Owen

Red Riding Hood: Fundy

Literally A Parrot: the coder?

Chillager: the one who broke MCC?

Cookiemonster: Wait, what happened?

Red Riding Hood: Yeah, apparently he’s on Puffy’s ferry

Chillager: I thought Shelby was in charge?

Red Riding Hood: Yeah, but Puffy’s captain, so she gets to hang w us.

Literally A Parrot: and you just ran into him

Tiny Tim: the universe works in mysterious ways

Literally A Parrot: No one cares, Tim!

Red Riding Hood: I think he’s looking for the same thing you are

Tiny Tim: lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll

Cookiemonster: You good?

Tiny Tim: cat stepped on the keyboard

Red Riding Hood: Get a dog! /pos

Tiny Tim: No

Literally A Parrot: no

Literally A Parrot: you really think Fundys looking for Phil?

Red Riding Hood: The ferry’s going all the way to SMP Earth’s North End. Not much else up here

Chillager: Good point

Literally A Parrot: eta?

Red Riding Hood: Stop off in a hubworld tonight, then Empires into two days, then Earth six days after that

Literally A Parrot: well meet you there

Tiny Tim: Grian!

Red Riding Hood: Don’t you dare

Literally A Parrot: dont worry about it

Red Riding Hood: I’m gonna kill you

CHAT LOG: Hermitcraft Season Nine

PearlescentMoon: Grian and Scott are on Hypixel

MumboJumbo: Oh good.

ZombieCleo: has he stopped being reckless?

PearlescentMoon: Nope. Said he’s meeting me on SMP Earth in 8 days

Iskall85: this is Grian we’re talking about

ImpulseSV: true

PearlescentMoon: He also said not to worry if you can’t track him

Keralis: O.o

XisumaVoid: How’d he know? /j

MumboJumbo: (Thanks)

XisumaVoid: :D

——

Renthedog: We made it one full night without respawns! Stopping off in Mindcrack

Docm77: Minecrack :)

BdoubleO100: say hi to Puns!

Renthedog: We will!

ZombieCleo: you only made it because Scar’s still here! /j

GoodTimeWithScar: Well, if the shoe fits…

——

Cubfan135: Why did I just get a diamond block?!

MumboJumbo: I set up a dispenser in the shopping district. I got one too, as unlikely as it is.

Zedaph: Wow, that’s surprising odds!

MumboJumbo: Yeah, I never thought it’d happen

Tango: Free diamonds?

Ethoslab: Nice

Ethoslab: jjgrifdjfiefjloewqdkldaskdj

Ethoslab: ladders

Tango: You good?

MumboJumbo: Etho, you okay?

Ethoslab: I’m okay.

Ethoslab: Guess I’m nervous so many people are off-server

Tango: We’ll be back soon! You know how X is

Tango: If something goes wrong, you’ll all be breaking down doors or something

MumboJumbo: I can and will make a nuke

Ethoslab: Gosh, Mumbo

MumboJumbo: Well, I’ll make a nuke in Create, then give it to Scar

Stressmonster: Bad idea

Tango: Please talk Mumbo down from nuking the world

Ethoslab: Says Mr ‘I’mma blow up the moon’

Tango: Good idea :D /j

FalseSymmetry: What in the world did I walk into?

——

Joehills: Finished another book! (Image sent: a green-covered book titled ‘From the Edge of Death’ stamped with a @ symbol at the bottom)

Joehills: I’m gonna put it in the library

XisumaVoid: Can I have a copy?

Joehills: Already sent you one

XisumaVoid: Thanks!

PearlescentMoon: WHY are you up at two in the morning?

Joehills: Why wouldn’t we be?

PearlescentMoon: Because your bases are finished

PearlescentMoon: And you need to sleep

XisumaVoid: You should too!

PearlescentMoon: I’m a moth, I don’t sleep at night (also there are some really cool stars out now)

XisumaVoid: I don’t either

Joehills: I haven’t slept in decades!

ZombieCleo: Joe no-

Chapter Text

“I think we should go to SMP Earth,” Grian suggested over a stack of pancakes.

Scott glanced over from where he was looking over his cantaloupe. He’d told Grian he was checking the ripeness of it, but he wasn’t convinced.

“Why?” the beetle asks.

“Pearl’s headed there,” he elaborates. “She, Ren, Tango, Shelby, and Fundy all caught a boat headed north. Thought it might increase our chances of findin’ Phil if we had a larger group.”

“Huh,” he says. “Fundy?”

The avian shrugs. “Apparently they ran into him on the boat. It’ll get there in seven days, overworld time.”

“We can make that, easy!” agrees Scott.

“Groundwalkers don’t know what they’re missing,” smirks Grian, stuffing another pancake in his mouth. “Don’t need boring boats.”

“Since we have time…” the blue-haired man is quiet as he stabs his fruit, glowing bars still swirling around his head, “I have an idea of what to do in Hypixel.”

“Oo, is it touristy?” he leans forward slightly, leg bouncing under the table.

“Yeah, seein’ if someone’s beat Techno’s potato record is pretty touristy.”

Grian tries (and fails) to stifle a laugh. “Just a couple of avians who can’t eat ‘em checking out root veggies.”

Scott snorts. “Or supporting a friend.”

“You wanna go to see the veggies, don’t you?”

He opens and closes his mouth guiltily. “Can’t it be both?”

——

The potatoes are pretty cool, Grian has to admit. There’s enough to turn Mumbo into starch ten times over- and that’s not counting the ones Techno’s already farmed. He glances up at the leaderboard. Millions of potatoes? Why? Just- why? Why does anyone need that many? It surpasses Hermitcraft levels of insanity, and that’s hard to beat.

Scott’s writing down notes about soil and growth rate and weather patterns in a notebook- he brought a notebook! Grian wants to make a half-thought out joke about it, but he’s so into it that it feels futile.

He himself is more interested in the scale and technicality of it. He has no idea how any of it works, but he knows it’s impressive. He’s learned enough from Mumbo over the years to understand that much.

He pauses for a moment, hands fiddling with the hem of his sweater, wings half-spread in the wind, and reads a plaque engraved in a stone next to Techno’s farm.

Created by the Blade of Hypixel, Commander Technoblade, ranked first in potato farming

Commander Technoblade? What had Techno ever been commander of? He was militaristic, yeah, and a honkin’ good fighter, but anarchy and commanders don’t exactly mix.

He frowned, then called, “Hey Scott?”

“Yeah?”

“Come lookit this.”

Scott didn’t as much walk over as much as appear at his shoulder, his wings silent and the woven brim of his hat casting shadows on his face.

He’s quiet as he reads, mouthing the words. “Huh.”

“Yeah?”

“Commander Blade.”

“Yeah.”

“Guess it’s another question to ask Phil, then?”

“Guess so.”

Chapter Text

When they finally left Hypixel, Scott wasn’t thinking about the future or their route or anything of that sort.

No, he was thinking about the plaque he and Grian had found, combing his mind for any reference connecting Techno and a military.

It was difficult work- no one really knew Techno, not really, and those who did… well.

They were looking for Phil. Dream, apparently, had retreated to his home server. Wilbur, Tommy, Tubbo, Ranboo… asking kids about their traumatic server experiences was just cruel. He wasn’t going to do that.

He could always reach out to Niki, or perhaps some of the gods. He had some clout with them, and Grian had even more. Who would wanna mess with a fallen Watcher, who could kill even the strongest among them and had a bucketload of powerful magicians and admins he could call up in an instant?

Really, if you didn’t know the hermits, you’d think they’re a bunch of dangerous recluses.

“What you thinkin’ about?” Grian shouted over the wind.

Scott squinted at him, half-rolling his eyes, then said, “About that plaque we saw.”

“What?”

He taps his ear, activating the transmitter nestled at the base. “The plaque we saw in Hypixel.”

He sees the avian do the same, then say with a teasing lilt to his tone, “You must’ve been thinking about more than that, I saw your eyes go all…” he waves, wings correcting, “distant.”

“Mm.”

“Non-answer,” he hears him mutter, then says louder, “wanna race?”

Instead of answering, he flares his wings in a sudden buzz, speeding ahead of him. He catches a thermal, iridescent colors flashes and shifting on the clouds.

Grian whoops, in his ear, and there’s yellow secondaries darkening his vision and talons reaching to flip his hood over his eyes. He splutters for a second, wings stalled, then goes ahead and closes his eyes.

He feels, ahead of him, a winged shape of purple and crimson and bright, deep green. He moves toward it, gliding over it as his own wings hum with faint, faint voices.

Something crashes into his shoulder, sending him off course. He snarls a half-bitten reprimand as the voices roar louder, coursing in his throat and blood and wings as his vision shatters.

And then he’s falling. His eyes snap open, watering as the ground hurtles closer by the second-

And there’s stars falling with him, teal and purple and yellow swirls filling his vision-

And there’s flames charring the edge of his jacket, burning at his insides as steam trails from his mouth-

And there’s something punching the shell of his wings, forcing them open-

And Scott floats.

Later, in recalling the incident, he could only compare it to a falling star, plummeting like Icarus. The flames edging his clothes would bring with a sense of deja vu, and he would say that the stars wove together like a net. Privately, he would remember the sense of helplessness it brought with it, powers spiraling out of his control.

He would unfurl his wings and show how the ends were tinted with lavender. Others would ooh and ahh at the colors, and Scott would swallow the revulsion he felt when seeing the purple mixed in with the turquoise.

He’d laugh, and agree when they commented that they were beautiful. After all, they didn’t know what the colors meant- how could they? Only those marked by them really understood the depth of the symbols.

And maybe, afterwards, he’d call up Pearl or Jimmy or Grian and spill his disgust until he was breathless and his chest had loosened. Maybe they’d counter it with some joke- maybe Pearl would adjust the hood of her sweatshirt over and over, yet reassure Scott it was all right. Maybe Jimmy and Scott would exchange taunts, piercing needles that never quite drew blood. Maybe Grian would sit, silent, for a moment, before Scar or Mumbo or one of the other hermits popped into the frame, and before long they’d be telling stories about one prank or another one of them had done.

And by the time they’d left, Scott would be feeling okay enough to go find a couple of his server-side friends, or grind away at Scott’s Land, or read through responses in the MCC questionnaire.

And really? That was all he needed, for now.

Chapter Text

Brian streaks across the cold arctic sky, catching a rare thermal as he soars over a spring tumbling out of the mountains.

He smells the air. Blood. Blood meant food, and he had been flying for a while.

He dove down, tearing into the flesh and bone and fur of the water vole with serrated talons. Once he had picked the bones clean (and saved a few as trinkets), he hopped around, digging claws into frosty soil and beak into chilling water.

He lifted his head, clacking his beak a couple times in warning. A mountain lion darts out of the bushes, golden eyes frightened and tawny ears pinned. It streaked down the mountain, small, terrified rumbles erupting from it’s throat.

Brian tilted his head, confused, and took to air to get a look. He didn’t see anything- at least, until he blinked. Then he saw the squirming shape of the aurora borealis, spinning green and violet and yellow and blue.

He was still confused. The aurora shouldn’t be this far out- not unless some players were getting up to god nonsense.

And the colors were all… wrong. He wasn’t sure exactly how, but they were.

Wait. God nonsense! Phil must’ve been in killing mode.

He clacks his beak happily.

Death death deathy death

He continued. 

——

Brian squawked a greeting to the murder before settling on Phil’s shoulder, who was pouring over a couple of colored scraps of paper.

“Hey mate,” the avian says absentmindedly, stroking the crow’s soft feathers. “You got a message for me?”

He deposited the letter into his waiting talons, then floated off to gossip.

Phil set the letter off to the side, then went back to his maps.

Chapter Text

“I’ll be back in a few hours!” called Shubble as she races off the ferry, half submerged in the wood of the deck. She waves from the shore, and hesitantly Fundy waves back.

“I would’ve thought you’d wanna go,” he says to the three hermits also clinging to the rail as the ferry rocks in the water.

“I’m not risking that,” answers Pearl with a nod at the furious ocean. “Copper doesn’t float.”

“Oh yeah, I die in water,” agrees Tango cheerfully. “‘Sides, Jimmy’s not even on Empires. And the rest of us can talk anytime we want, now that we’re out of Hermitcraft.”

Fundy glances sideways at him. “Does Hermitcraft restrict communications?”

“Yeah, it’s for safety,” the netherborne answers. “People can’t track us if we don’t leave a trail, right?”

“Number one rule of spycraft,” says the fox. “Do whatever it takes to get it out alive.”

“Huh,” Ren mumbles, tail waving in the breeze. He’s got his ears pinned, staring out at a distant patch of woodlands. “Have you been a spy, Fundy?”

“Once,” he says, unsure whether or not to elaborate.

“Bet you were good at it. Foxes are quieter than dogs.”

He laughs. “We won, so…”

Well, Schlatt had a heart attack, and then Wilbur blew up L’manburg. So ‘win’ was a relative term.

“You wanna tell us about it?”

He glances at Ren, who adds, “Talking would help. I’m drifting, a little.”

“You want to move?” asked Pearl immediately.

“Good idea,” agrees the dog. “How ‘bout we show Fundy around Empires?”

“I just said,” starts Tango.

Fundy says, quickly, “We could pearl over.”

Fifteen minutes later, the hermits were arguing about where to go first.

“Sanctuary!” shouts Pearl, who’s picked up a couple of sunflowers in her hair.

“I think we should go to Hermitopia,” says Ren.

“Hermitopia’s over by spawn,” points out Tango. “And we don’t have elytra- and only a few hours.”

“How about we start here,” Fundy says, farther back from the rest of the group, hat pulled low over the strong winds. “I don’t even know where we are.”

“This is Gem’s kingdom, Dawn,” explains Pearl. “She’s got a port for incoming ships, and I guess that was easier than spawn.”

Fundy pauses for a moment, then pulls out a pencil and a blank map. “Where’s spawn?”

She gives him the coords, and he sketches in a rough draft of both spawn and Dawn.

An ember falls on the paper. He brushes it off, quickly, then nearly gets a noseful of ashes. Tango hops away guiltily. “Sorry, just tryin’ to see what you’re writing.”

“Whoa, I nearly thought that was Beef’s,” comments Ren. “It’s really good.”

“Thanks. I make maps of everywhere I’ve been. Helps me remember.”

He looks up. “Where to next?”

Shubble pokes her head of the woods. “We gotta go!” she hisses. “They’re gonna leave!”

Fundy jumps.

“Aw man!” complains Tango. “We didn’t get to see Hermitopia or-”

Shubble glances behind her. “The fog’s coming. Out there, it’s just- skulk. For chunks. You can’t even see the tower, Tango!”

“What?” Pearl leaps into the air, wings fluttering. “Oh wow.”

“Yeah,” agrees Shubble. “It’s rough. I don’t- I don’t even know if we’ll be able to come back. It might not- it might- Pix isn’t here, and neither is Fwhip or Gem or-”

She gasps for breath, her feet going incorporeal. Tango pulls flames out of the air, creating a dancing ring of red-gold.

He smirks, crimson eyes flashing. “You wanna help me? This stuff’s not gonna last long, with the mist.”

Shubble takes a breath, then another, then reaches for Fundy’s hand (he’s the closest). He pulls her to her feet, and she whips out her wand. She whispers something so quiet the fox couldn’t hear it, then there were galloping horses trotting through Tango’s rings.

Soon, the air is awash with stardust and flames, weaving branches and waning beams of sunlight. Ren and Fundy stand off to the side, yelling out suggestions.

“And the stars watched, silently, as the fog crept back to the mangroves and the darkness retreated to the mines. The universe hummed with magic, and to those who could hear it, it said, you will never be alone.”

Someone clapped, loudly, from somewhere in the distance. Fundy pivoted towards the sound, axe in hand, and called, “I’m going to put this through your teeth if you don’t come out!”

“Whoa!” muttered Ren. “Fundy- let’s… y’know, see who it is, first.”

“It’s Owen!” yelled a voice (which was familiar, anyways). “Don’t kill me, please, my spawn’s back in New Life!”

He emerged from the mist, shaking water off his copper plating. “Ugh, this fog makes me oxidize quicker.”

Pearl went over and handed him some beeswax. “I’ve got some left over. Don’t exactly need it right now!”

“Thanks.”

“Is this Empires reunion or somethin’?” complains Tango, raising an eyebrow in Fundy’s direction. “Because I feel like it is.”

“Yeah!” he agrees lightheartedly. “Leave some for the rest of us!”

“Oh!” Shubble says suddenly. “Wait, I think I can-”

She waves her wand, and the mist parted, revealing rainbows and sunshine. “I sure am glad I don’t have to chug fire res now.”

“Sam always did mention how annoying it was to always have one on hand- ‘specially with the prison.” He fiddles with his scarf, glancing around the group. “Sorry about MCC, by the way. But. You were dumb enough to get caught.”

Owen splutters for a moment. “I- it was your idea! It wasn’t just me, either!”

“Oh, I have to hear this!” Tango smiles, leaning forward.

“I have a boat. Pretty big one,” suggests Owen. “Unless you wanted to be marooned on Empires.”

“Do you have a hole to the void?” asks Pearl. “‘Cause if you have a boat, you need a hole.”

“Er, no, I don’t,” answers Owen, tilting his head. “Unless you wanna fly?”

“In this weather?” she glances at the sky. “Nah. Boat it is.”

“Boat it is,” agrees Shubble.

Chapter Text

“Thanks for helping us, Ponk,” says Grian. “I don’t know what I’d do if you two hadn’t shown up.”

He’s pacing back and forth in front of the bed Scott’s lying, alternating between running his hands through his hair and messing with ends of his sweater.

“He’d have lost a life if you hadn’t caught him,” they answer, “and no one wants that, do they?”

“Yeah,” he nods, bobbing his head up and down. “Yeah, a respawn would be…”

“You okay, Grian?” asks Sam from where he’s boiling netherwart to refill their stocks. “You seem kinda nervous.”

“I’m fine!” he says. “Just worried about Scott. But me? I’m okay. He was the one who nearly crashed into a floating island.”

His wings flick. Ponk frowns under their mask. “Are you lying? ‘Cause if something else happened, I need to know so I can give him the right potions.”

Grian freezes. “Nope, not lying!” He chirps, the sound fading into a trill. “Just- it was my idea to race. Guess I’m- what stuff are you giving him?”

Abrupt subject change, but they did need to tell Grian, so…

“Just a bit of regen and burn treatment. Hey, Sam, toss me those?”

The creeper bats a couple stems of netherwart in their direction. Ponk catches them neatly, making the basket full of lemons in their lap roll. They set it down, then pulls apart the stem and flower.

“Stem’s the stuff you put in burn treatment, because it’s resistant to fire- mostly- and the flower goes in the regen,” they explain to the avian, who looks… actually interested. Huh.

“Makes sense,” he agrees. “Although- he’s got his stars. Would that affect the pots?”

They both glance over to the beetle, who decides to snore particularly loudly. Ponk stifles their laugher, but Grian isn’t so lucky.

Sam stands up suddenly, dumping the remaining netherwart into the pot. “I’d better make sure Fran hasn’t run off.”

“His dog,” explains Ponk to the ever-curious brunette. “He’s kinda… protective.”

“Scar’s the same with Jellie. Even named all our pandas on Double Life after her.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah, it was annoying as heck. But, y’know, Jellie means a lot to him. Tilly means a lot to Pearl. Maui means a lot to me. Can’t exactly judge. Though I can judge how many times we nearly died!”

Ponk snorts. “And you didn’t have a medic?”

“Eh,” he waved his hand from side to side. “Not really. We all had basic knowledge, of course, but not like, a medic. It would kind ruin the meaning of the…”

He stares off into space, wings blanketing around him, as his talons dig into his sweater. His mouth is moving, muttering things Ponk can’t hear.

“Grian?” they ask. “Grian, can you hear me?”

No answer.

They take a deep breath, then another, and snap their fingers, once, twice. There’s no response. Ponk is starting to get worried.

They pull a blanket out of their bag, toss it over their bionic arm, and lead Grian to a chair, talking all the while. He sits down with prompting, eyes still far away, and Ponk settles the blanket around his shoulders.

Sam knocks on the door, and they call a quiet, “Come in!”

Fran nearly bowls them over with her excitement, tail wagging. “Hi, girl. Hey Sam.”

“Gri all right?” the creeper asks.

“I think he’s dissociating, but I’m not sure how to bring him back.”

Sam’s silent for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek, before whistling for Fran. “You wanna make a friend, girl? You wanna help us?”

The white dogs looks very happy to be called upon.

“Yeah? Come on, let’s see if you can wake him up.”

She follows her master over to the chair, eyes bright when she realizes she’s free to snuggle with the feathery parrot.

After a few minutes, between Fran’s cuddle-licks and Ponk and Sam’s talking, Grian blinks and flexes his fingers. “Sam’s gonna be mad, Taur…”

He trails off, murmuring, “My fault, my fault, my… Tilly?”

Fran snuffles. “Who’re you? You’re not Tilly.”

She paws at his face. He blinks again, and says, “Mmmf. Hi.”

“You back?” Sam asks.

He squints. “Doc?”

“Awesamdude.”

“Right. Cool. Why is there a dog trying to eat me?”

“Oh, she’s mine,” he explains. “C’mere, Fran.”

Obediently, she jumps off Grian’s lap and trots over to Sam, who breathes a quiet sigh of relief when she’s by his side.

The avian stretches, slowly, wiping slobber off his face. “Ugh. That was a rough one.”

“Sure looked rough,” commented Sam. “Not trying to pry or anything, but… those happen often?”

Grian raises an eyebrow. “I’ll tell you this much, but we have a no-questions-asked policy on Hermitcraft. Used to happen a lot, not as much anymore. Except now.”

Sam throws up his arms. “Sorry, just trying to check on my friend!”

“You’re not privy to everything I do, Sam! What Taurt-”

He cuts off. “Sorry. Got lost again. You two are just trying to help, I can’t fault you for that.”

His comm buzzes. He glances down. “Oh! Lemme take this.”

He gets up, shakes off the blanket, and walks out the door without looking back. Ponk and Sam glance at each other. Ponk says, “We need to talk.”

The creeper sighs. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

The door swings shut with a soft creak.

Chapter Text

There was a snigger from up on the wall. Scott looked up from his conversation with Gem and Pix to see an oversized sheriff’s hat poking out above the stone of Dawn’s gatehouse.

He stifled his own laugh and, catching the eye of the others, cocked his head in the direction of the sound.

Pix’s eyes widened slightly. A smile slid over Gem’s face. She pointed at the three of them, then at her butterfly wings, and finally up at Jimmy. She held up a finger- three, two, one!

With one downward beat of his wings, Scott soared over the gatehouse, caught Jimmy by his arms, and tossed him down to where Pix and Gem were waiting among a bed of flowers. The sheriff landed in a patch of orange tulips, protesting all the while.

“You can’t- I’m the sheriff, you know-”

“Were you spying, Jimmy?” Gem asked with a smile on her face and teasing lilt to her warm voice.

His protests grow louder. “I was just- I have a right to know what’s going on on the server! You all just make fun of me and walk away when I try to talk! I’m supposed to-”

He paused for breath.

“I’m supposed to mean something.”

The atmosphere in the air changed instantly. Scott said, with a frown on his face, “You do mean something, Jimmy! We’re friends; it’s all in good fun!”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “Yeah, good fun! Have fun with that, meanies!”

Then he pulled a rocket out of his inventory and flew off towards Tumbletown.

——

“What do you think gives you power? Is it your crown? The fact that you’re king?”

“I think a king should be kind, and resourceful, and loyal. Being king doesn’t mean you have a bright, shiny crown and jewels. It means you uplift those characteristics.”

——

A scream pierced through where Scott was rummaging in a barrel. He lifted his head, flicked his ear, and then darted into the shadows, away from the human’s hands.

Aimsey was still screaming. He rolled his eyes, then started navigating the complex, weaving passageways the rats had made throughout the house.

“You’re okay, I got you,” he soothed as he stomped on the lever. He sniffed  one of her long ears reassuringly. “Come on.”

“They put us in cages!” the rabbit was still saying as they ascended to the attic. “Cages! The horror!”

“That’s why you avoid them!” pointed out Sniff.

“She was running right at me!” argued Aimsey, ears pinning.

“That still doesn’t-”

By the time night had fallen and lanterns lit the attic, Sniff, Aimsey, and Bek had moved onto judging art. At least they weren’t yelling, Scott supposed.

Well-

“Hey, those are mine! Wha- Bek, you can’t-”

At least he got a bit of peace and quiet.

Guqqie hopped over to where the three (joined by Soup) were arguing. Hopefully she could quell the flames.

He sighed and went back to delicately carving a present for Owen.

——

“Give it up for the 29th season survivors of the STARR series! Our Outsiders!”

——

“Nah, I don’t wanna play this silly game. I wanna do it this way! I wanna do it exactly this way!”

——

“This is a death game for a reason!”

Scott jolted awake.

Chapter Text

The wards blared to life suddenly, the constant aurora overhead- reminiscent of a different lifeless tundra- beaming a solid, steady bloodred.

Alarms screeched loudly as a willing murder called war cries.

Phil dashed outside, hastily pulling on his armor, checking through the eyes of his crows that Carl was readied and the hounds were primed. He gripped Benihime’s sheath over and over again, creeping to where the alarms were loudest.

Peeking around a snowdrift, he saw five- no six, one was collapsed in the snow- huddled together in groups of two or three.

He pulled out his bow, loading it carefully. A few of the crows swooped down, hissing at the dog the group had brought. A dog? Really? Who brings a dog to a battleground (other than Techno, he had a way with the creatures)?

The dog growled back in response, and one of the figures, hands stuffed in feathery ears and cloaked in red, called, “Call off your crows, Phil! We just want to talk!”

“And turn off your alarm!” yelled another. “It’s hurting Owen!”

Owen? The name was familiar.

He muttered something to the air, and then lifted his bow to fire a warning shot. “Leave before I make you!”

“Grandpa, it’s me! Didn’t you get my letter?”

He knew that voice. “What’s the code word?”

“Code- ‘I still love you, Grandpa!’”

He lowered his bow and slung it across his back. “Fundy.”

The fox smiled nervously. “Hey Phil.”

“For the love of Saint Pearl,” yowled the second person who had spoken, “will you turn off that alarm before we all collapse in the snow?!”

“Get inside and we’ll talk,” he says, pressing a hand to the ice. The aurora melts away. The air stills.

  “Come on, up you go,” says one of the others, hauling the collapsed person to his feet.

He groans and then says, “Apo?”

“Mmm.”

“Follow me.” Phil starts walking towards the house. Fundy skips around dog-guy and steps into place next to him.

“So…” he starts. “Did you get my letter?”

Phil raises a brow. “You sent me a letter?”

“Guess not then. It was supposed to explain we were coming- well, that I was, at least. These guys just… tagged along.”

“Because we’re your friends and we wanna support you!” said the Saint-Pearl-person, grinning under her huge hat.

“You don’t-” he broke off with a sigh. “Let’s just… go inside.”

And they did. Luckily, his living room was huge (to accommodate the ridiculous amount of animals he had somehow amassed).

Collasped-guy and his helper stumbled into a couch. “It’s freezing out there!” he complained.

“Colder,” says Phil. “Tea, anyone?”

“We had tea,” mumbles collapsed-guy. “Tea and… pie! Lots of pie! Just don’t eat the poisoned one. Guts is- Guts is spilling their guts!” He trails off with a laugh.

“I think that’s a yes on the tea,” translates a women with a red hoodie, petting her dog (who’s sandwiched between her and Fundy). “I’ll take some too, please.”

“Pass,” Fundy says.

“I’ll pass, thanks,” agrees the dog-hybrid.

“Me too,” says the guy next to the one who wanted tea.

“Ooo, can I have some?” asks the one with the hat.

“Three teas,” mutters Phil, and goes to make it.

Once he’s in the safety of his kitchen, he laughs uncontrollably, wings fluffing, talons clicking on the stone. “Chatters! Chatty chat chatters, there’s people in our house! In our-”

He stills. “There’s people in our house. Oh god- holy-”

One of the crows nips his ear. Focus, oldza!

Right. Right. Tea. He can do tea.

When he returns, Fundy flicks his ear and looks at him pointedly. “You goin’ senile, Phil?”

“You goin’ senile, Fundy?” he shoots back.

“So!” says hat-girl hurriedly. “Introductions! I’m Shubble or Shelby, she/her, I’m a ghost witch and former Great Witch of the Evermoore.”

“PearlescentMoon,” offers the women in the hood. “Or Pearl. She/her, that’s my dog, Tilly.”

“Fundy.” The fox waves.

“I’m Rendog, uh, he/him. Proud Hermit and dog hybrid.”

“TangoTek. He/him, Netherborne, sick of the cold.”

There’s silence, and then the last person from Fundy’s impromptu search party speaks up. “I’m Owen. He/him, shapeshifter since we seem to be doing species introductions.”

The avian smirks as all eyes fall on him. “Phil. Crow avian. I use he/him pronouns.”

“By the way,” Pearl says, “there might be two others joining us at some point. Grian and Scott were looking for you too, but they got held up.”

“Why now?” he asks bluntly. “Why suddenly now? I’ve lived here for five years, and you come looking now?”

“I wanted to find you,” his grandson says simply. “Not like there’s many other people I can talk to. Not about- well, everything. L’manburg. Wilbur. Las Nevadas.”

He takes a deep breath. “And then I realized all I had to do was find you. To get closure.”

“Closure,” Phil repeats. “Because I’m just a problem you want to push onto someone else.”

“No!” Fundy stutters, something like a flock call vibrating in his throat. “Just- when it all- when Jack blew up the world, I still had unfinished business. I wanted to talk to you. And since whatever nonsense XD did booted us out of the world, I decided to find you.”

“So that was XD,” mused Phil. “Can’t believe he’d do something so selfless.”

“To be fair,” offers Fundy. “I don’t think Jack wanted to die either. They got some deal or something, I dunno.”

A snore filled the air. They both glanced over to where Owen was conked out, Tango gently pushing him off his shoulder.

“Time for bed,” Phil decided. “It’s too late to talk now. Good luck, byeee!”

He dashed off to his bedroom before anyone could argue.

Chapter Text

“Hey Pearl. What’s up?”

“We’ve stopped off in Empires and switched boats. Might take us a little longer to get to Earth.”

“Ack, all right. Scott, uh, had an accident flying, we might be delayed a bit too.”

“What happened?”

“Impromptu Ace Race turned into Ace Splat. We’re all right, but he’s out. Not sure how long. Ponk says-”

“Ponk?”

“Yeah, he and his friend Sam were in the area and helped us out. He’s a doctor.”

“A Zed doctor or Stress doctor?”

“Ha- Stress. Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.”

“When do I ever worry?”

“Do you really-”

“Nevermind. Don’t answer that question.”

“Fine.”

“We picked up Owen, by the way. Guy seems to find the best places to pop up in.”

“Guess so. Hey, Pearl, I’m gonna go for a flight. Do I need to stay on, or-”

“Nah, go have fun. Just wanted to tell you where we are.”

“See ya in a couple days.”

“Bye Gri!”

Chapter Text

“What ya doin’?”

Fundy almost fell over. He readjusted his hat, turned, and glowered at Phil. “Trying to eat.”

“I’ve got a bit of raw lamb if you want it,” offered his grandpa. “And pork. And, uh, other meats.”

“Got any bread?” asked Owen. “Or apples?”

He waved a hand aimlessly. “I save that for special occasions, but you can borrow some dough if you want.”

“Thanks. Think I’m going to make some pie.”

The avian pointed, and the shapeshifter wandered off in the direction of the cupboards.

Fundy and Phil looked at each other. Phil started, “Pie-”

The fox shrugged.

Ren came out from behind one of the doors, the spruce rattling behind him and red cloak dragging at his feet. He scratched the ears of a few of Phil’s many (many) dogs, then yawned and said, “My messages to Hermitcraft aren’t going through. Any ideas why?”

“That’ll be the wards,” Phil supplied. “Go out to that jagged rock southwest and you’ll be good. Just don’t tell anyone where you are.”

He smiled, as crooked and dangerous as the outcropping, then added, “That was a- a joke! Not a threat.”

“Nah, I won’t,” Ren replied, waving him off. He moved towards the door, then paused. “Better tell Tango and Pearl that when they ask.”

Phil nodded, and the dog retreated outside. Through the frost-shadowed windows, Fundy saw his cloak melt into the shimmering beetle-wings of an elytra.

“Food,” he muttered, stomach rumbling. “I might take you up on that lamb.”

——

Once all seven hybrids had gathered by the waving fire (Tango had conjured it- somehow the knowledge of where the flames had come from quelled Fundy’s fear) with slices of apple pie- Owen kept calling it ‘Apo pie,’ and Fundy didn’t have the energy to question it- he began to lay out the story. Pearl and Shubble and Owen kept jumping in to expand on their parts, and somehow they managed to weave together a cohesive tapestry.

“So let me get this straight,” Phil said incredulously, “Fundy decided to find me because of a billboard and just happened to run into the same crowd who was also looking for me? And the billboard guy is involved in some whole other conspiracy? Seriously? This is crazier than the stuff Wil and Tom get up to.”

“And that doesn’t even cover the part where Owen jumped in to save us!” agreed Shubble enthusiastically.

“I’ve got some weird luck running into people,” he mutters, poking at his pie. “Do let me know if I suddenly try to kill any of you. Especially Tango.”

“Uh,” says Phil. “What the-” he bit off a curse word. Most of the others winced.

“Memory messes with me,” supplies the shapeshifter. “A couple of sickos made me kill my best friend for reality TV.”

“Oh my gosh,” Ren gasps. “That’s terrible, dude.”

He shrugs. “We’re both over it. Anyways.”

Phil threw up his hands in a what the heck?! motion.

Pearl stilled from where she had been kicking her legs in front of the couch. “What’s that on your hands?”

“Accident with the animals,” he says smoothly. Fundy snickered.

“What?”

“You’re in for it,” he explains nonchalantly.

“Show me your hands,” the moth orders. “If this is what I think this is-”

She stands, fluttering upwards.

“It’s fine,” he reassures. “Don’t worry about me.”

“If this is them,” Pearl says, her voice surprisingly cold, “then you’re a walking signal- a beacon right up their noses. Show me. Now.”

“Them?” starts Tango. “You mean- them? The ones-”

“Yeah,” she snapped. “Them.”

Silently, Phil lowered his hands and outstretched his fingers.

Raised in gold, a broken rectangle pulsed in the lines of his palm.

Chapter Text

He was soaring in circles around Hypixel’s elytra course when he got the message.

CHAT LOG: Evo Crew

Red Riding Hood: purple headphones

Cookiemonster: uh oh

Chillager: what happened, Pearl?

Red Riding Hood: cznt hwlo ne

Tiny Tim: UH OH

Literally A Parrot: pearl!

Cookiemonster: breathe

Cookiemonster: breathe with me

Cookiemonster: in for four

Cookiemonster: …hold

Chillager: you in a safe place?

Cookiemonster: out for four

Red Riding Hood: tollllt

Red Riding Hood: tiiily

Red Riding Hood:jillrd hrr

Red Riding Hood: yu

Literally A Parrot: whered tim go

Red Riding Hood: This is Ren, Pearl’s resting

Red Riding Hood: Wanted to let you all know

Cookiemonster: she doing alright?

Chillager: she okay?

Literally A Parrot: where are you

Red Riding Hood: She’s okay. Shelby and I helped her (with help from Tilly)

Red Riding Hood: Can’t tell you, sorry dude

Literally A Parrot: I will find you and blow up your house

Tiny Tim: I GOT SAUSAGE

Tiny Tim: he should not be this hard to track down

Tiny Tim: Pearl all right?

Red Riding Hood: Snuggling with about 50 dogs and drinking some cocoa

Red Riding Hood: I got kicked out of the dog pile :(

Chillager: sorry ren!

Literally A Parrot: I a, going to magic scott awake

He groaned, flexing his wings, hands fidgeting with the air as he muttered under his breath. He stood from the bench he’d been sitting on, then stepped off the edge of one of the floating islands.

Opening his wings, he glided back to the house Ponk had commandeered for his work. Bursting in the door, red and yellow feathers scattering in the wind, he was greeted with the sight of Scott frantically scribbling on a notepad.

“Graecie, Spidey, Krow, Magic, Acho…”

He paused, tapping his quill on the paper. “And everyone else as well.”

“You’re awake,” Grian bluntly observed.

The beetle jumped, ink splashing onto one cheek. “Gria- yeah, yeah I am.”

“Then let’s go!” He swooped in, tossing things haphazardly into his inventory. “Come on.”

“Wait, wait,” Scott says, slower. He’s kicking his legs against the bed frame, blinking rapidly. “I don’t know if I can fly. And Ponk and Sam haven’t-”

“We’re back!” came a cheerful voice. The aforementioned duo stomped inside, shooting concerned glances at both avians (and the state of the room).

“Don’t be moving too fast,” Ponk warned, moving over to check on Scott. Grian’s wings twitched. He tugged his hair. “We need to go. Now,” he said against the pressure building in his throat.

“Where?” Sam inquired.

He paced back and forth, shoulders hunched and shadows edging his wings. “We need to go. We need to go. Now! Weneedtogo! Weneedto-”

“Grian.”

There was his name- not his name nothisname- and vibrant, fragile colors caging his wings- red-yellow-blue purple red PURPLE

He shot backwards, vision edged in lavender- wrong wrong wrongwrongwrong

Xelqua hissed, Galactic twisting in his throat as the sensation of the defier crept hesitantly closer. There were others with him, carefree spirits melding crimson and obsidian.

“Grian, listen-”

“That’s not my NAME! My name is Xelqua. That- that word-” he spat, anger flaring the eyes on his wings. “Don’t think it! Don’t speak it! I am Xelqua, and you are nothing, defier.”

The spirits paused, stilled in shock. Xelqua pushed past, snapping out his wings, wincing at the overworld light. He opted it to ignore it for now- it wouldn’t matter much anyways. Soon he would be back in the End. 

Home.

Chapter Text

Scott is silent for a moment, utterly still, then bursts into flight after Grian- Xelqua. Whatever. He isn’t sure what to call him.

Ignoring the cries of Ponk and Sam from behind him, he follows the trail of teleporting particles and quickly-dissolving feathers. He finds him, quickly, and once the avian (?) notices him, he immediately dives down into the clouds.

Scott mutters something under his breath, then plummets after him.

There’s whistling wind and condensation and a wall of bedrock-

Smajor1995 hit the ground too hard

——

Respawning was horrible. It felt like clawing up a wall of sand as doctors wove his body together with electric fibers. It wasn’t the worst respawn he’d had, but it was close. (And he could’ve sworn being apart by his own bare hands didn’t hurt nearly as much as losing Grian.)

With all that pleasantness aside, he immediately decided to call Pearl. The message didn’t go through. He tried again, and again, and then tried Jimmy.

“Hey Scott, what’s… wrong?”

The surprised look on Jimmy’s face was earned, he had to admit. He looked pretty banged up- he was pretty banged up- with a black eye, one of his wings damaged, scrapes and bruises almost covering the scarlet, glowing bars that were now a permanent fixture atop his head.

“I lost Grian,” he blurted. “He- I-”

He paused. Jimmy waited as his vision blurred. “I got hurt,” he finally forced out. “And he went for a fly, like he does. When he came back, it seemed like he’d gotten some bad news- he wanted to leave, as soon as possible. Got really anxious about it when I said I wasn’t sure I could fly. And then-”

There was silence. There was noise, pale blue and trilling, filling the quiet. Jimmy lifted his ears, meeting Scott’s eyes. He swallowed, the distressed call still vibrating in his throat. “And I- I messed up. I tried to hug him, called his name, and he said- he said his name was Xelqua. Xelqua, not Grian. And his wings- they were purple, Jim.”

He saw the flinch in the sheriff’s stance. He exhaled, cold air steaming in front of him. “He’s a Watcher, isn’t he? He’s one of them.”

“That’s- I can’t- Scott, please-!”

He held up a hand. “I’m not asking you to answer the question- not now at least. Just… if you know why he was upset, tell me. Please. We need to find him. And, Jimmy, if you repeat this, I will deny it. But. I need your help.”

Jimmy cackled before catching himself. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll help you. And I do know what happened, at least partially-”

“What?”

“Pearl sent an SOS- a Watcher SOS. Then we lost contact for a little bit before Ren filled us in.”

“What?”

“Pearl found some Watcher related stuff, then had an attack. According to Ren, she’s asleep in a dog pile.”

“I’m gonna need some more context, Jim.”

He shrugged. “Don’t know anything else. Call Pearl.”

“I tried.” He showed him his contacts- twelve missed calls and twenty-one pingings. “Nothing worked.”

Jimmy shrugged again, revealing a fringe of white on his blue jacket. Scott squinted at the screen. “Are you on New Life?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah. And?” he challenged.

“Grian’s missing and you’re pranking people and building? Really?”

“I have to do something to pass the time!” he protested. “Besides, the people on New Life- most of them know, a little bit. Y’know. About-” he waved a hand, “all of it.”

That-

That was a fair point, actually.

Scott huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine.”

Jimmy grinned.

His comm buzzed. The beetle checked it curiously.

PearlescentMoon: Scott, I’m so sorry

PearlescentMoon: come to these coords. Me and Tilly will be waiting

PearlescentMoon: [Image sent]

Scott gaped. Jimmy snickered. “What’s up, farmer rat?”

“Pearl just sent me coords. It’s… somewhere up north, I think. She’s going to meet me.”

“Oh?” he blinked. “Oh! Can I come with?”

“No, it’s tomorrow,” he answered. “I’m going to have to fly fast to make it, anyways.”

“But your-” he gestured at his wing.

“Oh. Uh, I’ll figure it out.”

Smajor1995: wing’s busted, can’t fly

PearlescentMoon: [Waystone name sent]

Smajor1995: what.

PearlescentMoon: you don’t go anywhere without a teleporting stone

PearlescentMoon: use it

Chapter Text

When Scott Smajor stepped out from the Waystone in a shower of cyan, Phil was surprised to see red dappling his face. He was even more surprised when the beetle shivered, unfurling his wings to wrap around himself. One was pockmarked with holes, and both were dipped in purple.

“What happened to you?” he blurted.

Scott looked up at him with hooded eyes, smiling sharply. “Well,” he drawled, counting on his fingers, “Several of my friends went off the map; Grian ran away, and oh yeah, tried to kill me; and I’ve been having strange dreams related to eldritch gods and memories I don’t remember. How’s that?”

“You too?” Pearl asked. “My dreams are full of purple stars. It’s very strange.”

“Huh,” Phil said simply. “Not a coincidence, then. Come on.”

“Why are you shivering?” he heard Pearl ask as he turned back to the house. His ears flicked.

“I don’t know,” he answers. “Maybe it’s being around you again, in the snow.”

“Well,” Phil can hear the smile in her voice, “I can’t promise I won’t dip back into my old habits, now that it doesn’t affect the both of us.”

“And I would expect nothing less.”

“Scott!” Owen burst out from the house, door rattling behind him. He was sporting a pair of fuzzy ears, hands half-shifted into paws. He wrapped his friend into a hug. Scott nearly melted into the touch. Phil shuddered, hands flexing, reminded suddenly- You did good- I still love you- He’s back- I’m sorry

“That’s what I said!”

Fundy’s voice cuts through the noise in his head.

Phil, Phil what’d they do to you

His name is Friend!

“So it’ll be like-”

Owen this time, distant, pounding into his head.

So what you have to do is

Don’t die

To the gates of

I said

I’m glad I

“And Eryn said to me a little while ago-”

“Did that kid ever find his parents?” asked Phil automatically, realizing suddenly that the world around him felt gray.

No, not now! he thinks, digging his hands deep into the pockets of his cloak.

“Well, he apparently got a few of his memories back, so-”

He’s dead

I saw him, earlier, yelling about bread!

Sam put hi

Pull the lever

There’s a hand on his shoulder, a face looking up at him concernedly- menacingly- dangerously.

There’s fingers through his feathers and braces on his heart marks and needles

and 

      it

        hurts

“Let’s see how long it takes this bird to sing.”

And there’s voices and lights so many lights and screams screams screamsscreams scre

Someone’s screaming. And it isn’t him.

He jolts back suddenly, hands white on a frozen netherite blade, red winding down his arm. He blinks, and his wings are half-furled for flight, a terrified face staring him down; a deer in the headlights. He turns, and Owen and Scott are holding weapons, a javelin clasped in one’s grasp and an axe in the other. He breathes, and Fundy stares back at him from the end of Benihime’s blade.

A drop of blood hits the ground.

Fundy says, around the sword pointed at his throat, “Why’d you stop, Grandpa?”

He remembers-

You’re a grandpa now, Phil! This is Fundy- Fundy, come

I’m sorry

“I’m sorry,” he rasps.

He drops Benihime. The fox lays there for a moment, then his hand goes to his neck and comes back scarlet.

“Why do I smell blood?” asks Ren, who must’ve just come out of the greenhouse. “Wh- oh. I’ll just-”

“If you’re going to do something, go ahead and do it,” snapped Phil. “Don’t just stand there!”

“Why would we-” starts Scott.

“We’re not gonna-” Owen says over him.

“I’ll just, uh-” Ren slips away.

“I guess you decided to even the score, a bit, Phil?” Fundy says, laughing a little. “After all the times I came after you.”

“You never…” he can’t breathe. Why can’t he

Where are you?

breathe

anymore?

Maybe it’s because he’s

f

  a

      l

        l

          i 

            n

              g

Chapter Text

As Fundy stands up, snowflakes dampening the white in his hair, Phil’s stance changes from distant to disconnected. His sword clattered to the ice with a muffled thump.

“Here, Fundy,” says Ren, handing him a bundle of bandages and regen-laced cream. He opens the tin and smears a bit on his hands automatically, barely noticing the uncomfortable texture. He’ll have to wash his hands after, he notes.

Cream against infection, bandages for the blood, scarf to hide it. He’s done this before.

Then why does it feel different?

Ren drapes an arm around his shoulders, guiding him back inside. “Come on, dudes, we’ll freeze out here!”

Scott gasps sharply. “Yeah, right, wouldn’t want to freeze.”

Owen glances at Phil. “D’you think we guide him inside?”

Fundy answers, “Yeah, I think so. He dragged me into his nest yesterday, it’s upstairs.”

Owen shakes out his paws, his javelin melting back into his inventory. “Right, cool. See you all in a few minutes.”

Fundy, Ren, and Scott all tramp inside. Fundy nearly slips on the slush coating his boots. He shivers, the leftover sliminess tingling firmly on his hands a reminder.

He darts for the bathroom and washes his hands as fast as he can, once, twice, until the feeling is gone.

He meets his eyes in the mirror for a brief second, yellow-orange meeting warped pools of amber. Then he pulls off his hat, unfurls the broken bits of his pastel scarf, and runs his hands over his hair, ears, muzzle, just feeling the fur. He sighs, tail wagging behind him.

His claws come out when he pulls back his hair to reveal the white scar mottling the left side of his hairline.

“Right!” he snaps abruptly. “What was this even for, anyways? Nothing good’s come of it! Nothing! Nothing ever changes, ever gets better! I say I’m a soldier, a changed fox, and then-”

He exhales shakily. “And then this happens, and I feel like the same scared kit fighting for my father’s dreams. He’s dead! Gone! Why can’t I ever feel like I’m just me?!”

He growls and slams the door open, leaving behind the hat and scarf. In the midst of the sound wave, a photograph falls out of a slit in the hat, floating down to settle on the polished wood.

Fundy storms out, through the door outside, and off into the tundra. He doesn’t notice Pearl, rereading her messages from Jimmy.

——

Pearl sees, out of the corner of her eye, a pile of clothes left in the bathroom. She frowns, a bit unsure of why they’re there.

Well. She’s always been curious.

She turns off her comm and investigates.

The hat and scarf are Fundy’s, that much is obvious, but the picture lying on the floor is what she’s more interested. It’s a photo of six people, standing on a towering wall (judging from the distant ground far below), all dressed in blue, yellow, and black uniforms. The one on the end is Fundy, in lighter dress than the others. Next to him is a man with a blue and red headset. The picture blurs for a moment before she focuses on the others. 

On the other end is a women with dyed brown-and-blonde hair, a look in her eye that reminds Pearl a bit of False. The boy next to her has shaggy brown hair, and she can see the suggestion of tiny horns poking through the shadows. Tubbo.

In the middle are the two most obvious figures: a boy with blonde hair and feathered ears, grinning widely at the man next to him. He’s got curly brown, and matching eyes. Tommy and Wilbur.

The caption on the bottom reads L’manburg.

So this is why Fundy looks so confused when they bring up joke wars and government. He and his friends must’ve broken off from Dream’s server at some point and things went sideways.

Pearl bites her lip. She can’t tell anyone else about this, that much is certain- Fundy never meant for her to find it. But does she go after him and return it?

She turns, slips the photo into her inventory, and sets the hat and scarf on a seat for him to find later.

——

He isn’t too surprised when Pearl sits next to him on the rock, head tilted up at the aurora. Without moving her head, she flicks her hand and holds out a picture.

He takes it, tracing a hand over the figures. Niki. Tubbo. Wilbur. Tommy. Jack. And a little away from them, in a different uniform and eyes hidden by the hat, him.

“We were so proud of that,” he says eventually. “The uniforms, the wall. Wilbur designed it, Niki made it- she’d always been good at needlework.”

He squints at the photo. “Eret must’ve been out talking with Dream, the traitor. But we. We were so happy. Thought nothing could go wrong- especially Tommy and Wilbur. And then it did.”

Pearl is silent. Fundy laughs bitterly. “By Prime, did it go wrong! Eret, Schlatt, Wilbur… L’manburg was doomed from the start. We must’ve known, somehow, but I think we just thought we were invincible. Unbeatable. Won the war, got our happy ending, y’know?”

“Yeah,” she offers.

“And then there was an election. Wil and Tom had rigged it, so they’d win, and Big Q challenged them. And at end of all of it, they got exiled and Schlatt took over. I stayed, spied for a bit. Burned the flag, made a new one. Niki was so mad, god! And then at Doomsday she turns around and burns L’mantree! All that history, all those memories, destroyed in a second. It wasn’t fair, Pearl! I never got a say in any of it! And Wilbur, my own father- he’d’ve rather blown up the country than have me as president. It’s all…”

He took a breath of cold, frosty air. “It’s all incredibly messed up. And if you ask anyone who wasn’t there, they’d just say, ‘Didn’t it just start as roleplay? Wasn’t it just a game?’ And it wasn’t! He said it was a game, they said it was just for fun, but it wasn’t. We were trapped in that hellhole, and by the time it all ended, we were all too messed up to realize just how bad it was. And we’re free. It’s been five years. I’m supposed to be fine. But I’m not, and I can’t figure out why!”

“I think,” says Pearl slowly, “that you’re not supposed to be anything. It feels like you are, gosh it does, but you’re not. That trauma… it doesn’t go away in a day- or five years. It’s been years I was in Evo, since I thought I’d lost nearly all my friends, and I’m still really affected by it. I think everyone is, still.”

“I feel like I’m stuck, sometimes. Broken.”

“Me too.”

He lifted his head. “Really?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Some days, all I can see are eyes. Those days, I call Impulse or Gem, and we talk. They don’t really get it, but they try. And that helps. And when I can’t get out of bed and can’t sleep, I have Tilly. And the stars.”

“I don’t have any of that.”

“You do now! You’ve got all our contacts, right?”

“Well,” he agrees. “Yes. But you’re not- you weren’t there. How could you know?”

“Sometimes it helps to just talk. So does doing things. Ignoring it, though…”

He thinks of all the times he’s tried to work on a coding project, pushing away his flashbacks, and ended up simply standing in his base, gripping the hem of his jacket, unable to move.

“I guess it doesn’t, huh?”

Pearl nods, humming softly. “I hope you know you’ve always got people in your corner, Fundy. I’m here for you, and I know everyone else here is.”

“Thanks.”

The stars above almost seem brighter when Pearl starts to sing. “‘And the stars are brilliant and bright when the lights have dimmed away… and the ocean’s beautiful at night, as I sink beneath the waves… as you surround me…’”

“‘The ways that you shine… so much brighter…’”

Chapter Text

“Xelqua?” Araru asks incredulously as he stumbles onto the purpur platform. “Wha- are you- I mean,” she catches herself. “Well met, Xelqua.”

He nods. “Well met, Araru. Do you happen to have any spare masks?”

“Exor keeps them in the training room. But, Xelqua, there will consequences. Are you prepared?”

“I am.” He can feel the other Watcher probing gently at his mind, searching for a trick. She won’t find one.

Evidently, he’s right, because she only says, “Come on, then.”

As they wander the passageways, shoes clacking on the stone and cloaks dragging near-silently, he can still see light seeping in around his ears. They keep the stronghold lit against endermites and the other inhabitants of the third realm, it’s necessary, but it still burns.

He’s all too aware of his bright, gaudy sweater and how his sneakers are quiet on the purpur. He’s out of place here, and among the Watchers, features hidden by white and velvet, it’s obvious- and dangerous. A Watcher’s job is to See, and they take every caution to ensure they are not discovered.

Xelqua shudders, for a second, wondering what they will do to his wings, then pushes the thought out of his mind. He ran away- he abandoned his post. He deserves every consequence he gets.

The Hermits never made you afraid, his traitorous brain reminds him, and he barely contains his scowl. The Hermits were players. And Watchers did not interfere with player affairs.

Araru pulls open the cobbled-together door for him, smugness radiating off her. He hopes his feelings of combined annoyance and shame are just as strong.

Doors, after all, are a player invention. And he may not be a player, but he is certainly not a Watcher, either.

“Come in.”

Once he steps through the door, he’s hit with a blast of void-touched presence. Exor had replaced Telescopium as the sort-of self-elected leader/most-powerful eldritch being of the Watchers a little while before he’d left, so Xelqua didn’t know them very well.

Judging by how the mind poking at his own was also actively browsing through a Seeing Orb, they were even more powerful than Telescopium. They set down the Orb with a metallic ringing. One of his ears twitched from it’s position at the noise, making his wince.

“Well met, Araru… Xelqua, correct? I see you’ve returned to the nest.”

Boatem made a nest, he thinks. He and Pearl especially had enjoyed it, but all of them had at some point-

There’s a shadow of pain brushing his mind and darkness slotted against his eyes. He blinks, focusing firmly back on the present.

He searches around the room for what he’s missed in his seconds of spacing out. Araru is gone- that means one less person saw his mistake, at least.

But still…

“We’re all so glad to have you back, Xelqua,” purrs Exor. “There will need to be inquiries and tests and discussions, of course…”

“Of course,” he agrees, feathers fluffing just the tiniest bit. He knows what ‘discussions’ means.

“But for now, rest. Tomorrow is a new cycle.”

He nods. “Well known, Watcher.”

“Well known,” answers Exor, as Xelqua turns and nearly walks into the wall. The Watcher laughs, softly, amusement emanating from them. Xelqua blows out air from his mouth, annoyed at his error.

He steps outward, and ignoring the passing inquires from the others, makes his way to his quarters. Even if Watchers do not sleep, they do rest. And he’s certainly tired.

He flops down on the bed, wings spread, crushing his mask into the pillow. “Arrgh!”

He runs a hand through his hair, wings fluttering, then changes to rubbing anxiously at his neck. The stim helps, some, and he chirps softly.

He stops. What did I just do?

Watchers are not avians. They do not chirp.

He’s dignified and collected and definitely doesn’t need to regulate. He is fine. He is home.

Something vibrates from under his sweater. Xelqua frowns- he disposed of his comm on the flight to the stronghold, so what…

Oh. His fingers reach around and pull out the phone he always has stuck in a pocket.

LOGS:

Sam, Taurtis, Grian

Mumbo, Grian

Taurtis, Grian

Grian, Pearl, Jimmy

Scott, Grian

On the second log, there’s several messages. Xelqua can’t help but open it. He scrolls up.

Mumbo: Grian?

Mumbo: Scott said he lost you.

Mumbo: Can you tell me where you are? We’re all really quite worried.

——

Mumbo: Gri?

Mumbo: Please respond

Mumbo: I can’t lose you, not again

——

Mumbo: please not agian

Mumbo: plea

He stares at the messages. Mumbo. He wanted to know where he was.

His fingers twitched, an urge to answer his friend’s pleas-

No.

Watchers do not interact with players.

Mumbo was asking where Grian was. Not him. Not Xelqua.

Watchers do not interact with players.

Somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the phone.

Chapter Text

When Owen came downstairs, Scott immediately grabbed him and dragged him over to the greenhouse, despite the shapeshifter’s protests.

He pulled a notepad out of his inventory. “I’m so, so sorry. I-”

Owen took the notepad, reading out the names, squinting at the scribbles. “Graecie, Spidey, Krow, Magic, Acho… What? These are Outsiders, Scott, what?”

“You- I- it was real. Real! And I was just standing there, watching, like it wasn’t! I’m so sorry, Owen.”

His eyes widened. “These are the Outsiders that made it out. That you met. You remember?”

He nods furiously. “I remember, now. I dunno why I didn’t before. And I can’t apologize to them, so I’m apologizing to you. It was your idea, you should be able to track them down.”

“The thing is-” Owen starts carefully, “it wasn’t, actually. They let me think it was, that me and Apo started the whole thing, but we didn’t-”

“What? Who?”

He has a terrible idea he always knows.

“The Watchers.” The shapeshifter’s answer is quiet, reserved. “They planted the seeds. We set up the map originally, asked a few of our friends if they wanted to join a roleplay server, but after that…

“We were just- there. They took us from our servers and tossed us into the maze. Took our memories, forced us to play their game. They wanted entertainment, Scott. And they were willing to kill to keep us out of the loop.”

The beetle is staring, eye wide, wings lax.

“They- Magic had a friend, Ash. The Watchers killed her, so we couldn’t get out. They forced me to regain my memories… kill my friends. My best friend. They unleashed the monsters. It’s all because of them!”

“No,” Scott whispers. “No, no, they were Watching us! Outsiders went on for a year and a day. The Life series spans… longer. The timeline doesn’t make sense.”

Owen’s face contorts into confusion. “What? But-”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Scott repeats. “How can it?”

“Not unless there were others.”

Scott turned. There, in the doorway, was Ren.

Owen jumped. “Dude, you scared me!”

Ren laughs. “Well, I am a king.”

“So was I,” pointed out Scott. “Twice. That doesn’t really have anything to do with it.”

“Sure it does!”

“So,” interrupted Owen. “What were you saying?”

“Oh! Right,” starts the dog. “All evidence we have so far suggests that the Watchers extend farther than the Life games, right? There are other servers- other death servers- where some magical shenanigans have gone on, so. What if there were more Watchers, all messing with players and organizing different games in different parts of the Gigaverse?”

“Uh huh,” agrees Scott. “So there’s… the Life games, Outsiders, Lifesteal…”

“Dream’s SMP,” says Owen softly. “There’s one thing I’ve noticed all the players form there have. Life marks, ranging from three to hardcore.”

“Like the coding Grian uses?” inquires Ren.

Owen shakes his head, pulls up his sleeve. At the base of his palm are three broken, faded, scarred hearts. “They faded after the series was over. I think originally theirs were like mine, but the last I saw, they’re still in effect.”

Ren’s ears lowered. “They’re still effective. I got a glance at Fundy’s once… I think he’s locked on hardcore.”

The three exchanged glances. 

“Who would do that?” wonders Owen.

Ren’s eyes are sharp behind his glasses. “A god.”

Scott snapped his fingers. “Oh! The Watchers could do something like this, but so could gods! The only way to tell, probably, is to ask someone.”

“Phil’s asleep, and Fundy stormed off somewhere,” ticks off Ren.

Owen smirks. “I know a guy.”

Chapter Text

CHAT LOG: never going in a maze again, i swear

OwengeJuiceTV changed name to Owen

Magicsings changed name to Magic

apokuna changed name to Apo

Owen: So

Owen: uh, Scott knows

bekymon: huh??

Graecie: I thought we agreed we wouldn’t talk about it

Owen: apparently he had a dream and remembered

Reddoons: dont know anything about that

Reddoons: wonder how that happened

Owen: AND he said you saw you! In Hypixel! And not selling beer!

Reddoons: uhhhhhh

bekymon changed name to Beks

SoupForEloise changed name to Soup

Soup: cat’s out of the bag

Graecie: guess so

krowfang: oh no he knows i eat people

JustAyngel: oh god no krow stop

Rasbi_ changed name to Rasbi

Rasbi: I- I have to

Rasbi: let!s be rats

Rasbi: and he free

Rasbi: let’s be rats

Rasbi: you and meeeeee

Oeca: lets be rats and be free

Mohwee: acho the poet and Scott the farmer you know it

Mohwee: el in her diplomatic bubble

acho: I hast been summoned!

acho: oh good

Apo: let’s be pirates!

Beks: pi rat es

Owen: owen wil and krow

Apo: Oliver bek and apo

Squidney80: what in the world

Squidney80: is going on

Soup: don’t question it

Soup: shhhhh

Squidney80: I-

Squidney80: I’m going back to my treehouse

Magic: Hey @guts, @spidey, @nico, @eryn

Magic: clearing convo

Gutsluvr changed name to Guts

Guts: I was sleeping what

Guts: Spidey’s asleep

Reddoons: you dont sleep

Guts: well then I was rotting in the wastes of hell

Rasbi: oh gosh i haven’t been home in a while

Rasbi: how is it?

Guts: same as ever

Owen: I’m going to kill Grian

Oeca: ooh, can I help

Oeca: why tho

Mohwee: uhhhhh

Mohwee: you tryn to go on killin spree again

Apo: oh

Apo: my

Owen: no. He’s just made scott worried

Apo: god

Owen: and apprently he has watchers too??

JustAyngel changed name to Ayngel

Ayngel: whatttttt

Magic: whhhhhaaaattttt

Eryn: he he

Owen: I wanted to talk to you, Mr three-lifer

Eryn: I dont know what your talking about

Owen: yeah you do

Owen: we need answers

Graecie: why don’t we all just calm down?

Magic: yeah guys

Guts: *vibes in a corner*

Soup: *vibrates next to them*

Guts: *grins*

krowfang: *runs over and dumps soup on them*

Owen: answers. Now

Eryn: you don’t want to know. trust me

Owen: if it’s as bad as i think it is..

Eryn: its worse. amd i was only there for part of it

Beks: I think we’re out of the loop

Soup: *tosses a sus stew at it*

Krowfang: *dodges*

NotNico: what.

NotNico changed name to Nico

Nico: I think I missed sometihng

Eryn: they tossed a guy in prison for allegedly traumatizing a child, said child apparently got killed by him, got revieived

Eryn: we were friends

Eryn: but honestly he didnt seem bad

Oeca: hey

Oeca: i know so,eating about that

Apo: yeeeeep

Owen: yeahhhhhh

Magic: guys

Magic: stop it

Eryn: and then this crazy egg like. Possessed puffy, and got a bunch of us to kill each other

Eryn: and i guess it hatched right before the world ended

Nico: whaaaat. I wanna read this book

Eryn: its my life, idiot

Guts: ableist

Eryn: yeah, cant stop

Guts: just had to point out

Owen: hold up, that was Tommy??

Soup: oh, THAT guy

Soup: sometihng to do with jimmy

Beks: menace

Beks: gremlin

Eryn: yeah him

Owen: so you got life marks or not?

Owen: this worse than I thought

Rasbi:… what were you thinking?

Eryn: yeah? and?

Graecie: ..oh no

Graecie: are they faded?

Eryn: no

Owen: you thinkin what I’m thinkin

Rasbi: that I wanna reunion?

Apo: DONT SAY THAT

Owen: AHHH

Graecie: hmm

Rasbi: sorry…?

Graecie: welp. Setting life marks to stay outside of a server is unethical

Soup: yep

Eryn: and?

Owen: being stuck with limited lives doesn’t bother you?

Eryn: I’m used to it

Eryn: it’s fine

Graecie: No it’s not. Who’s server was this?

Magic: Girlboss, gaslight, gatekeep squad?

Graecie: heck yes

Eryn: uhhhhhh

Eryn: tom said I shouldnt tell you

Owen: Dream’s SMP

Owen: right?

Eryn: … howd you know

Owen: I know things

Beks: you mean Scott

Owen: …

Apo: ….

Rasbi:…

Mohwee: orange

Oeca: apple

Magic: raspberry :D

Owen: oh! [image sent]

Apo: awwwww

Apo: you care 

Owen: yes I do

Owen: and I will make a thousand pies if I have to

Apo: you dont

Oeca: eww

Oeca: aren’t you friends?

Apo: what the- YES

Apo: he’s gay with scott!!!

Owen: am not!

Beks: …

Soup: …

Owen: no

Owen: I’m out

Eryn: >;)

SpideyArmy: whaaa

Chapter Text

When Phil came back, his first thought was It’s snowing. Which, it was. In thick, bone-white torrents. Then he frowned, trying to remember how he got up to his nest.

I was walking Scott and Pearl back, he thinks. Owen came out…

After that, his memory sort of… fragments and blurs. He’s not sure what’s real or dreamed.

His frown deepens. “That only happens when…”

He groans, the feathers on his ears fanning outwards.

“Knock knock!” came a cheerful voice. “I come bearing hot chocolate!”

He freezes. After a moment, he works up enough courage to say, “Come in!”

Pearl nudges the door open with her foot, then sets the tray (with two cups of cocoa) on his bedside table. “Taurtis and Netty had some sort of competition going on with hot chocolate, and their recipes are quite good, so…”

She takes a sip. He grabs his mug with slightly unsteady hands- another bad sign.

“So,” he asks. “What happened?”

Pearl lifts an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Obviously something did, don’t play fool with me. You’re lookin’ all concerned. Besides, memory’s messed up. I was hoping you could clear up some of that.”

“Ah.” She takes another sip and sets the russet mug down. “I wasn’t there for all of it, but from what I gather, you had a dissociative episode and mistook Fundy for someone else.”

He purses his lips. “What did I do?”

She chews her cheek. “You weren’t exactly in control-”

“What did I do?”

She sighs. “You held a sword to his throat.”

The words hang there, in the silence, for a moment, before he lets out a warbling groan. “My own grandson. I seem to have a penchant for trying to kill my bloodline, huh?”

She doesn’t laugh. He glances over at her. “I can’t joke about that,” she says. “I just- it’s not funny, Phil.”

“No,” he answers, softly, thinking. “It’s not. Sorry about that.”

She meets his eyes before he glances to the side- too seen, he whispers.

“Are you okay?”

He laughs. “No. But when were we ever?”

There’s a few beats of silence, ruptured only by the sound of drinking and the storm rattling the frame of the house.

“What was your old server like?” Pearl asks, suddenly.

He jolts. “That’s a bit of personal question, mate.”

“I know. You don’t have to answer. Just- everyone from it, it seems like everything fell apart. And if we talk about it, inside of hiding it, then, maybe…”

“…We’ll have answers?” he finished. “The truth? On why we’re all so messed up?”

“Not exactly,” Pearl says. “You’re not broken, Phil. Not fragile. Your body, maybe… but the soul’s very different from whatever you roam the worlds in. And some people think it’s one and the same.”

He closes his eyes. “They really do.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “Do you want to hear a story?”

“Sure.”

“When I was eight, my parents put me in a roost house- y’know, those places they put hardcores and people with… medical conditions? Anyway, they chucked me in there after I tried to climb a tree.”

“Climb a tree?” Pearl asks incredulously. “At eight? I was doing that that eight- six, even! It’s an avian thing and a kid thing!”

“Yeah, so they were scared I’d fall and break all my bones or some crap. So instead of telling me to be more careful and giving me a helmet or something, they tossed me into a house and ran off. Never saw them again.”

“Oh… my gosh, Phil, that’s terrible! You had terrible, ableist parents.”

He squints at her. “What now?”

“The- ableist? It’s discrimination against disabled people and/or neurodivergent people. Like hardcores, or people with SPD.”

He blinks. “There’s a word for it?”

“Yep!”

“And what’s the other one- neuro-”

“Neurodivergent. It’s a term for people who’s brains differ from the majority.”

“Ah. I definitely know what that means. Different from the normies, you mean?”

“Nah, just the majority. Brains like ours aren’t ‘atypical’ or ‘lesser’ or some other nonsense, just different.”

“Ou- you think I’m neurodivergent?”

“Well… yeah. You’ve been doing that with your hands the entire time we’ve been talking.”

She gestures, and he realizes he’s been fidgeting with his necklace. He drops it, and she adds, quickly, “Doesn’t mean you have to stop, I just noticed. Neurodivergence and disability in general is one of Scar’s hyperfixations, so I’m kinda attuned to noticing these things.”

“Huh.”

He stares down at his heart necklace, wrapping and unwrapping the chain around one of his fingers repeatedly. “That’s cool. Y’know, I always thought it was just for people like Tom, but I guess not.”

“There’s no one way to be neurodivergent,” says Pearl. “Or, like, exist in general. So, uh, want me to leave you alone after this revelation?”

He realizes she’s finished her cocoa.

“Do you mind to stay?” he asks. “You poke at me, I poke at you?”

Pearl shrugs. “Sure. But. I have a right to not answer.”

“Right. So got any fun, traumatic childhood stories?”

She laughs. “Oh boy, have I got one for you!”

Chapter Text

Hearing Owen say, “Graecie’s offered to punch Dream for you,” wasn’t exactly on Fundy’s agenda. 

He muttered back a confused, “Okay?”

“For the hearts,” he expanded.

Oh! Oh…

“How’d you know about that?”

The shapeshifter smirked. “I’ve got a friend who’s really bad at keeping secrets.”

“Eryn spilled,” he surmised flatly. “Great.”

Owen’s face fell. “Yeah, he mentioned-”

“What’d he say?”

“Vague stuff about a war, and a prison, and… an egg? I’m not sure. It was odd.”

Fundy snorts. “You wouldn’t believe the half of it.”

Although it seems maybe they know half of it. Between spilling his woes about L’manburg to Pearl and Eryn being a, to put it bluntly, terrible liar, these people knew more about his past than he wanted to admit. And they were smart. They’d be able to figure out the rest.

…And potentially hold it over his head for the rest of time. He had to solve this. Somehow.

For now, though…

“Who’s Graecie?”

“Oh, she’s one of my friends,” Owen’s eyes lit up. “She was in the Maze too, kinda acted as the leader of the Clearing. She… actually made it out, unlike most of us.”

“Oh.” There’s silence, then Fundy adds, awkwardly, “Good for her.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

More quiet. Then, out of the blue, the shapeshifter asks, “You play modded?”

“I code.”

And soon they’re knee-deep in a conversation about modded and magical playing versus non-tinkered-with servers.

——

It’s Tango who comes to him with the proposal, in the end. The Hermits all had cooked up the idea, but it was Tango who convinced him to say yes.

He wasn’t exactly sure why he’d said yes. Maybe it was because out of all the people he’d met, he knew the Netherborne the least. Maybe it was because he couldn’t stand disappointing another figure in his life he thought he looked up to.

Whatever it was, when he knocked on his door- interrupting a session of fixing coding glitches on his comm- Fundy let Tango in.

The Netherborne sat down at the unused desk, then asked, “Mind if I turn on the lamp?”

There’s a lantern filled with glowmoss sitting in a corner. Fundy nodded, and he turned on the light.

He blinked in the sudden brightness, baring his fangs for a moment before settling back on the bed, kicking his legs idly. “What’s up?”

“We had an idea,” Tango says, leaning back in the chair and lacing his fingers together. “The Hermits, I mean. Grian’s still missing. He tossed his comm, and whenever X tries to track him, the signal gets corrupted. Mumbo been texting him on his phone, and the messages are going through, so he still has that. Do you think you can track it?”

Fundy chews his lip. “What’s a phone?”

“Sorta like a modded comm. He had one from his high school days.”

He thinks. “Whenever I’ve traced something before, it had a signal connected to my comm. I’ve never just tapped in and captured the coords.”

“Sounds difficult,” agreed Tango. “Can I help?”

The fox shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Lemme think about it.”

He nods, grins, then adds, “Thanks, Fundy.”

He meets his eyes for a moment before looking back at the screen. “You’re welcome.”

There’s a warmth in his chest and his voice is choked. He knows this feeling, knows the symptoms. It’s an odd one, pride is. A mix of stubbornness, happiness, and duty.

Hopefully that feeling doesn’t change to disappointment. Fundy isn’t sure he face that again, especially from people who’ve been so kind to him.

He takes a breath, digs his claws into his palms, then sets to work.

Chapter Text

He’s taken to reading Mumbo’s messages while he Watches. He’ll stay in his room for hours upon hours, only moving to return the Orb or when Exor dictates.

The first time, when Exor calls for him, it’s to bind his wings. They’re folded up, held in place by iron chains that burnt at first but have now faded to a dull ache.

He’d tried his best to take the punishment, he really had, but his body reacted faster than his brain. In the end, Araru and Sykle had had to hold him down while his hands and feet still twitched, unable to stop the stims stuttering his movement and his voice.

Xelqua’s throat is still hoarse from the shouting and sounds that had threaded the still air of the training room.

It was a mercy that he was allowed to have the Orb, after all, that he hadn’t been stripped of his rank and wings entirely. He was glad he wasn’t allowed to Watch the Hermits. He was grateful he’d been let back at all.

Then why, every time his wings twinged, or he looked over the never-ending stream of messages from Mumbo, or he reread his last conversations with Sam and Taurtis, did it feel harder to keep hold of that fact?

Every time he Saw something that reminded him of Pearl, or Scar, or Martyn (who was the reason he’d returned, after all), it felt like he was struggling to breathe, even though his airways were clear.

And, even though he knew it was justified- he knew- replaying the moment he’d Seen Scott die added to some fire gnawing at the edges of his being. Glancing at cyan wool or flowers only made it worse.

The urge to contact Mumbo grew and grew, staring at his phone, until a knock came at his door. “Xelqua?”

It was Araru. It always was.

“Yes?”

“May I come in?”

He nods subconsciously, before realizing that the Watcher clearly wasn’t paying attention enough to See it.

“Yeah, come in.”

She enters, displaying none of the cold smugness she had days earlier. The door clicks, then locks.

“Well met,” Xelqua says after she doesn’t lead. Araru doesn’t mirror the sentiment.

She leans forward slightly, probing gently at his mind, then sighs. “Honestly, I don’t know how to do this.”

He frowns. “Did Exor send you?”

“No.” The response is blunt.

“Then what-”

“You want to go home,” she says suddenly. Xelqua’s got all his conscious focused on her, jaw dropped under his mask.

He recovers. “I am home.”

“No, no,” she waves a hand aimlessly, mind scattered. “To Hermitcraft.”

“No!” he snaps, wings shuddering under the bindings. “This my home. Hermitcraft is nothing.”

“You’re lying to yourself, Xelqua- I can-”

“If you’ve forgotten,” he hisses, “Watchers do not interact with players. We both know what happens when that rule is broken.”

“Then what’s that?”

She points at the phone, which he’d-

She’d seen the phone.

“Nothing!” he says quickly. “It’s nothing, I should’ve gotten rid of it already-”

Araru says, only, “It’s fine. You should keep the thing that connects you to those you care about.”

“I don’t-” he can’t force the words out.

There’s wetness staining his cloak and his nose is hot. He flexes his fingers, once, twice, then forces himself to stop.

“Breathe,” murmurs the Watcher, kneeling in front of him. Through the blurriness, he sees-

Grian sees green eyes and orange hair and slightly pointed ears.

Xelqua scrambles backwards, reaches desperately for his mask.

Gem smiles at him, holds up the two white masks she holds, the Watcher emblems painted in purple. “It’s good to see your face.”

Bile rises in his throat. He tears a hand through his hair. “We are not supposed to be doing this!”

The elf says, “No one can Watch us, here. I’ve put up a ward. We’re safe to talk, Grian.”

Frustration boils his blood. “That’s not my name, and I’m sick of people using it.”

Confusion is written across her face. It’s odd seeing her framed in white and purple instead of green or orange, yellow, and red. “I thought you were just acting, for Exor!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Unlike you, I’m totally legit.”

She looks mildly hurt, but then smiles again and says, “Are you going to report me to Exor?”

“Why are you smiling?” he deflects.

“Because it’s not a big loss for me anyways. Now. Will you?”

“I-”

He’s honestly not sure. He should, by all means. It might even get him back in Exor’s good graces- but Gem is his friend. His fellow Hermit. He wouldn’t wish the binding on his worst enemy, much less her-

-What is he saying? The binding is deserved, for both of them. Traitors cannot be allowed to roam untethered.

…Doesn’t mean it’s not painful.

He pushes the thought away. As he’s about to answer, his phone buzzes again.

Weirdly enough, it’s not Mumbo.

Fundy: Xelqua, wanna talk?

He stares, dumbfounded (he seems to be doing that a lot). Fundy? And he wanted to talk to him. He wasn’t just- he wasn’t calling him someone he wasn’t.

He types out a response.

Grian: sure

Grian changed name to Xelqua

He glances up, locks eyes with Gem. She raises her hands. “I’ll go. Just- think about it, okay?”

He nods, numbly, as she hides her hair behind her hood and puts on her mask. It looks wrong, now that he knows who’s underneath.

Fundy started call

Call started 15:10

“Hey.”

“Hi,” he answered, swallowing a lump in his throat.

“You in a good spot? This might be a long call.”

He glanced around. No one should be looking for him, but…

“Good as it can be.”

“All right, then.” Fundy takes a deep breath. “Better get started.”

——

Gem wandered the halls for a bit, snagged an Orb, and retreated back to her room. She chews her cheek for a moment, then puts up the wards and pulls off her mask. She produces her comm, hidden by one of Shelby’s enchantments, then clicks on one of the contacts.

CHAT LOG: Soup Group

Gem: Hey guys, I’ve got some stuff to tell you

Impulse: is it the Watcher stuff, because I had to tell Pearl

Pearl: Yeeeeah, that’s a bit of a bombshell

Pearl: but I get why you didn’t tell me

Gem: oh thank gosh

Gem: got a Xelqua update top

Pearl: still mad, but I understand

Gem: he wants to come back, but he doesn’t know it

Gem: I figured

Gem: and apparently Fundy got through

Impulse: kid’s a genius

Gem: he also knows who I am now, don’t think he’s going to report me to Exor though

Pearl: the evil deer?

Impulse: yeah, that sounds familiar

Gem: the lead of the Watchers is called Exor

Gem: weird but true

Pearl: hmm

Pearl: any chance you can tell us the coords and we come and save both of you?

Gem: ha ha

Gem: I really don’t want you to die

Impulse: hold up

Pearl: die??? I’ve faced these things before

Impulse: die?

Gem: there’s a dozen and a half of us, with wings, clairvoyance, and telepathy

Gem: why do you think I’ve been doing this for so long?

Pearl: …how long have you been doing this?

Gem: ever since Joel and Phil came to me

Impulse: are you telling me my friend is a god?

Gem: this is a conversation we should in person

Pearl: agreed, but we’re scattered across dimensions and servers

Gem: sleep and i’ll explain

Impulse: magic dream convo?

Gem: sometihng like that

She smiled, shook her head, then pulled off her cloak and clambered into bed.

Chapter Text

“So!” Scott smacks a thick paper file onto the dining table. “This is Operation Pesky Bird! First off-”

“Why are you treating it like a spy operation?” asked Tango, fiddling with a repeater.

“Shh,” Owen whispered. “Let him have his fun.”

Scott glared daggers at the two, then went back to handing out jobs. “Grian can’t fly, so me and Gem’ll have to help him to the portal Pix helped set up. Mumbo and Pearl are home base. Fundy, Tango, and Ren are the distraction.”

Phil said, “What about me?”

“You and Owen are the backup. Can you handle an elytra?”

The avian thinks for a bit. “I’ve never tried, but it can’t be too different from wings.”

“It’s harder than you’d think,” explains Pearl. “Plus the rockets- a mission in the deep End might not be the best first flight.”

Phil nods. “I’ll send the birds, then.”

“Why can’t the bird fly?” wonders Ren.

Scott winces. “They bound his wings with iron.”

“Oh my gods,” breathes Phil.

Fundy and Ren’s twin growls are more pained yips.

Pearl’s eyes went all hard, pulling her hood over her head.

Owen says, “They bound his wings? With iron?”

Scott nods.

The shapeshifter mutters something unintelligible, then adds, “That’s worse than what I did.”

Fundy hums to himself. “Wonder why Xelqua didn’t mention that.”

Pearl sighs, then says, “We doin’ this or not?”

“Weeeell.” Scott’s answer is drawn out. “We’re gonna need reinforcements.”

“Oeca and Mohwee made me promise to tell them if they got to fight people,” Owen says as he pulls out his comm. “And Soup’s been brewing-”

“Me too!” Shubble says cheerfully as she pops out of the floor. “I got-” she grunts, dropping a shulker from her inventory- “two regen for each of you, feather falling, and resistance.”

“Whoa.” Scott blinks. “That’s a lot of potions.”

“Mmm hmm!” she nods.

“So, Soup’s also got a bunch, apparently. Apo’s bringing them.”

“Apo’s coming?”

“Yeah, Apo, Ocea, and Mohwee. Magic and Krow are on backup if we need them.”

“I think Impy and Zed might be meeting us,” puts in Tango. “And Gem’s trying to talk down Scar.”

“That’s…” Pearl counts on her fingers, “Ten people. Plus Grian. Where’s the portal putting us?”

“Theoretically, your place on New Life.”

Pearl blinks. “Why mine?”

“Because, and I quote, ‘you’d get mobbed at spawn’ and your base is pretty big.”

“Ah. Glad I redecorated, then.”

Phil laughs, a little. “At least you got a head start.”

Fundy retorts. “I sent you a letter! It’s not my fault you didn’t read it!”

Pearl groans. “Jimmy and Martyn are gonna wanna come over. And Sausage.”

Owen shudders. “That’s gonna be… something.”

“Yep.”

——

A couple hours later, Scott, Ren, Tango, Fundy, and a half dozen of Phil’s flock were perched on a ledge of endstone, waiting for the others. Oeca and Mohwee were on distraction, while Team ZIT and Apo scouted.

Hopefully, this would work better than the original plan. Hopefully. Oeca and Mohwee, troublemakers as they were, were perfectly suited for misdirection. Apo had a good head on his shoulders. Team ZIT was dynamic. It would work. Hopefully.

“Okay,” whispered Scott a few moments later. “Let’s go.”

In groups of six (other than Scott and two of the birds) they peeled off, Ren, Fundy, Oeca, and Mohwee armed with arrows and homemade TNT.

“Go west until you see the broken ships, then south for five thousand blocks,” came Gem’s voice in his ear.

“Got it,” he murmured.

“And hurry.”

He shot off another round of rockets.

——

Xelqua paces back and forth in his room, eyes flickering from the bed to the nightstand to the desk chair. Gem turns around to face him, casually breaking the laws of physics (which were basically nonexistent in the End anyway) as she swivels the chair in a half-circle.

“Relax,” she says, hood half-pulled back and mask slightly askew. “They’re coming, and soon we’ll both be home. Hopefully. Want a stew?”

She pulls a bowl out of her inventory. The air broils with the hearty mushroom-potato-spice of suspicious stew.

Despite himself, Grian laughs. “Where’d you get that?”

“We’ve always got a couple in our inventories,” she answers. “Gotta keep the theme!”

That was fair enough, he supposed. “Hand it over.”

She does just that, and for a while the only sound is clinking spoons and breathing.

“We’re going to spawn in Pearl’s New Life base,” explains Gem. “She and Shelby’ll be waiting for all of us.”

“Why New Life?” asked Xelqua. “Why not Hermitcraft?”

“More people have perms on New Life,” she answers. Which, to be fair, does make sense. He still can’t shake the growing, battling, senses of wrongness and homecoming roiling in his gut.

“Wait,” he realizes. “I don’t- I’m not whitelisted.”

“Scott’s letting in everyone, just to make sure. End travel is hard enough without battling code, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. He sets down his bowl, flexing his fingers. They’re drawn, inevitably, to his wings.

The iron’s still there, an ugly, big, burning lump. He has to make an conscious effort not to strain his wings against the bindings- he’d tried, that’s how he got blackened feathers and a migraine-induced nap on the floor.

One of his hands brushes the ring of metal, and he winces, waiting perhaps a split second too long before yanking back his arm. Gem notices, demands to look at the burn, but he shakes his head. The pain in his hands is a good distraction from his wings; from the cacophony whirling in his head.

“That’s not healthy,” the elf says lowly, much different from her normal lively tone. “Grian, that’s- you’re hurting yourself. You can’t do that. Okay? You’ll be safe soon, you’ll-”

She’s crying. Why’s she crying?

“Yeah,” he- Grian (Xelqua) agrees. “We’ll be okay, Gem. Hermits helping Hermits. We’ve got a plan!”

She looks up at him, the remains of crumpled flowers in her hair matching her face. “I’m not coming with you.”

His world stutters for a second. “What?”

“I have to stall them,” she answers slowly. “They’ll know exactly where you’ve gone, Gri. I have to keep them occupied, somehow.”

“What?”

The word is little more than a breath. “Gem! If you stay behind, who knows what they’ll do to you? That’s- that’s suicide. Whatever it is, it’s worse than death.”

“And don’t you think I know that?” she snaps. “Better me than you, or Pearl, or Cleo, or anyone else! I’ve been doing this for-”

She stops suddenly, eyes growing distant. “Put your mask back on!”

He scrambles for it, fitting it over his face as a knock rings out from the door. “Xelqua! Araru!”

Gem’s fingers flicker, and the Orb disappears from view. She stands up, the imposing Watcher in her place.

“Yes?” Xelqua asks.

“Exor requires your presence.”

He swallows. This couldn’t be anything good.

Chapter Text

The Watcher’s citadel was built of marble and stone. Flying in the Void, thin air in his lungs, it shouldn’t have made him stutter.

But it did anyway.

Apo thought that if he lived a thousand lifetimes, he wouldn’t ever want to return to the place he’d spent the better part of a year in. And he wasn’t, of course, it was simply his mind playing tricks on him. The Watchers weren’t the ones who’d imprisoned him in a world with a fake sky. These imposing walls weren’t those of the Maze.

He glanced over at Zedaph beside him, horns lodged under a helmet. His own were half-hidden in his hair- he’d chosen to have the option to use them, poor choice that might’ve been.

“Looks clear to me!” The Hermit relays. “How about you two?”

“All good,” agrees Impulse. “Me and Tango are doubling back around, better get a message to Scott.”

“On it,” says Apo, changing his comm’s channel. “Nightingale to Blue Heron? All clear. Wait-”

He squints. Was there movement in one of the windows?

He folds up his elytra, dropping silently to the ground.

“Apo!” Zed yells.

“Nightingale? You all good?”

Peeking into the glass, he sees four white shapes, warped purple spiraling around the room. One’s got some sort of bind on their wings, both them and their comrade on their knees. One Watcher- the leader, he surmises, based on the energy radiating from them, nods at the final person in the room, who leaves.

“Nightingale? Apo?”

“What are you doing?” Zed demands, wrenching him away from the window. “That was-”

“Stupid?” offers Impulse. “Like, I do a lot of stupid stuff, but-”

“Reckless,” says Tango.

Apo points at the window, at Grian and Gem just inside, going through who knows what while they stand about outside. “We have to do something!”

Zed gasps, a single hand reaching up to trace the top of his helmet.

“Dungeonmaster to Blue Heron,” says Tango, eyes on the scene inside. “We’ve got eyes on Gem and Grian, and-” he swallows, “they’re not doing too hot.”

In the midst of all of it, Apo bites his lip, then smashes his armored elbow through the glass, firework already in his launcher. The Watcher looks up, drops Gem- who’s got cracks running through her mangled antlers and blood on her face- and stares right at the demon.

He shoots a firework right at their mask, glad for the practice Owen had insisted upon so long ago. The air warps, and all of a sudden there’s a flash of light and something speeding toward him-

     no no     no

     dont

                   falling

friends

         district?

                        it hurtsss

            hu   rts

                                           hur 

And the shaft of a javelin is sticking through his stomach, and all he can think is should’ve taken those seconds.

             i want to make it up to you

      traitor

                      kill

   killer!

              ill make as many pies as i need

And his ears are ringing from the blast, and there’s someone standing over him, and spots are flashing before his eyes.

He groans, and whoever it is- they’ve got a waving tail whipping through the air and an axe in hand, and Apo remembers.

He springs to his feet- or, at least, tries to. His vision is wobbly and his balance even worse. He clings to Impulse’s shoulder. The demon glances at him, deflecting an arrow. “Can you walk?”

He isn’t sure how to respond. Moving his head seems like a bad plan- getting to his feet was enough of a challenge. He’s in no position to fight- right? Right. Yeah.

But his blood is humming and something in his instincts is screaming for battle.

He searches, frantically, and sees the glare of goggles and blue turned crimson. His heart drops.

“Where’s Owen?” he whispers.

Impulse chews his lip, nocks an arrow in his bow, and lets it fly. “Outside, bombing with Oeca.”

There was the sound of an alarm, and a satisfied, yelped “Yes!”

Apo threw himself to the ground. He had to hide, he had to find the bunker-

Where was the bunker?!

“Can I touch you?” It’s Impulse again. “We need to get you out of here, man, I don’t think this is working out.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, taking his hand.

He takes a single step and crumples, limbs going out under him and vision going black.

——

They’re doing a bit of exploring in the End when they see the citadel- or what’s left of it. It looks crumbled and worn down, obviously courtesy of the three people flying around in elytra.

Well. They never turn down a battle, especially not against the resident eldritch horrors that terrorize their homeland.

Aimsey grins and teleports across the Void, landing on a platform with an edge sheered off. “Need some help?”

She nearly gets a throwing knife to the face for that.

The Enderian scoffs, lobbing a blinding pearl in the general direction of the guy who nearly stabbed her. “Have to do better than that, ya cowards! D’you want my help or not?”

One of the trio lands, beetle wings folding into nothing. “Aimsey? That you? You might wanna get out of here.”

She straightens (though she’s still shorter than Owen) and says, “You’re messing with the Watchers and you didn’t invite me?”

“We’re not messing with- we’re trying to rescue our friends! This place is gonna be rubble soon, so whatever it is you’re trying to do, you should go somewhere else!”

“Then it’ll be handy to have someone who can teleport, won’t it?”

She can see the exact moment the thought registers in the shapeshifter’s mind. “Yeah, yeah, I suppose. It’ll be dangerous, though, you sure you’re up for it?”

“I’m a Kite, Owen, I’m always ready for a fight!”

He shrugs. “Come on, then.”

An alarm sounds, somewhere from within the crumbling citadel. Owen drops to the ground, then, with a visible effort, gets to his feet.

Aimsey offers a hand. “You alright?”

“I’m fine!” he snaps. She lifts an eyebrow.

“Redstone Innovator to Orange Heron. Nightingale is out of commission! We need backup!”

“I’m coming,” answered the shapeshifter. “I’m bringing in a friend as well.”

This time, it’s Owen who reaches out. Aimsey takes it.

He tosses a pearl, and the two disappear into sparks.

Chapter Text

When Owen ‘ports into the hall, Impulse isn’t expecting Aimsey to be tagging along. Not that it’s unwelcome- three more Watchers arrived, Gem’s unconscious in a corner with Ren, and Tango’s flames aren’t doing nearly as much as they should. They need help- especially with Apo out and Zed frantically distracting two of the Watchers to let Ren and Gem escape.

Owen, to no one’s surprise, goes straight to Apo. “Is he alive?” he asks of the demon.

“He’s alive,” Impulse reassures. “Probably concussed. I think he had a flashback or something, I’m not sure. He seemed concerned about you, though.”

“He’s not supposed to be alive,” he mutters. Impulse frowned. “Guess I’d better finish the job!”

The demon’s eyes widen as Owen looks up and raises his javelin.

“Run!” Aimsey yells, wrapping a hand around Apo and Impulse, long tail waving as he teleports.

And then they’re on the heat-hardened endstone, nausea rising in his gut. He vomits into the Void, wincing.

“Where are we going?” asks the enderian.

“New Life, if you can make it,” answers Impulse, wiping his mouth.

“I can get him to Pirates,” he offers. “Martyn or Scar or someone should be on.”

He nods, then turns back to the citadel.

——

He’s only got one mission: to eliminate the demons. Owen’s lip curls- inhuman beasts- ignoring the cries of the others.

“What are you doing?” demands Mohwee as he turns his weapon to Tango. He steps in front of him.

“Get out of my way,” spits Owen. “I’m doing you a favor.” 

Mohwee raises his sword. “Yeah, no. The Watchers are our enemy. Chill, dude.”

“Move, or I’ll have to eliminate you as well.”

The human lunges forward, steel glinting. The voices in Owen’s head scream.

Parry, strike. Owen’s got more reach, more skill, more determination.

Dodge.

And then he’s stabbing the point of his javelin downward. Lavender tendrils cling to his arm, pinning him against the crumbling wall.

Foul animals.

Bane of humanity.

The voices multiply, growing and growing.

Our will be done!

He fights against the purple mist, swinging his javelin, fists, feet. Eventually, it starts to dissipate. He struggles, and finally, it drops him to the floor.

There’s ringing footsteps and a face in his. The head tilts, blueberry eyes meeting his dark ones.

“Owen? You back?”

He catches sight of cracked horns and the last semblance of resistance fades.

He sees red.

Champion, chosen, winner.

Don’t think it, don’t speak it, we are through!

There’s blood on his chin and a smile on his face.

There’s a bump on the back of his head and black in his vision.

——

There’s an antenna bolted into his plating and the familiar smell of copper in the air.

Owen shoots to his feet, stumbles, and falls into warm arms. “Scar?”

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re out, we’re getting everyone out-”

The reassurances slip easily and unceasingly from Scar’s lips. Jellie winds her tail around his leg.

He doesn’t need to breathe, but he catches his breath anyway, popping a bit of copper into his mouth.

“I tried to kill them,” he whispers. “Oh gosh, I-”

He sees, for an instant, the broken-off tip of a goat horn. “I killed Zed.”

“He’s safe, all right? He’s back on Hermitcraft,” says Scar. “Apo and Aimsey are safe, too, they’re both here.”

Apo. He had to find him.

The exhaustion and terror of the day suddenly washed over him like a tidal wave. Copper golems didn’t cry, but he did anyway.

“Hi, Owen.”

Through watery eyes, he saw his friend slowly come over from where Scar had lowered him back onto his bed. They sat together for a moment, though it was the shapeshifter who closed the gap.

“We’ll get them out,” Apo promised. “We’ll- they’ll be okay, Owen. We’ll be okay.”

And for once, he thought that maybe the demon was right.

Chapter Text

When Pearl sent a simple ‘hey’ in the chat, Martyn dropped the work on the Coliny he was doing and raced over to his Waystone.

When he teleported into Pearl’s base, he was greeted by the sight of several emergency cots laid out in the grass, Pearl, Sausage, Pix, and Aimsey rushing around tending to wounds. Shelby was brewing up some potions as Fundy and a guy in a straw hat looked on.

He spotted Scott, blood in his hair and the glowing bars over his head tinted purple. He was typing something on his comm, tossing out banter and suggestions as Pearl snatched it.

His glower faded as Martyn wrapped him in a hug.

“Idiots, the lot of you!” he said reproachfully, pulling out an extra bandanna and wetting it. He handed it to Scott, then added, “Did you really think you could get in and get out?”

“That’s what I said,” agreed a new voice. “Scar- I’m fine! Help me over there?”

Gem plopped down on the grass. “Ow!”

“You have to move slower,” Scar points out. “It’s not walking with two legs, Gem!”

Martyn smiled at her, turning to glance at the elf. And-

Oh.

Her antlers, once rising a foot or two above her hair, ended abruptly in splintering stumps. And spread awkwardly behind her were two huge white wings, each feather painted with the lavender symbol that had haunted his dreams for longer than he could remember. Her hair was shorn shoulder length, layered with the black and magenta of the Void.

“Gem-” he stuttered. “Gem, my god, what-”

He knew, of course- how could he not- but it was too horrific to say.

“You can say it,” she says, something dark and strange and utterly unmortal running through her eyes. “They marked me. Said, ‘this is what happens when- when-’”

She broke off into a sob, wings wrapping around her torso.

Slowly, Martyn tugged off his glove. Scott extended his wings from his shell, the lacy texture glowing in the sun.

“You’re not the only one,” he says, showing where the nails were just a little longer than a human’s, where tiny feathers littered his ears. “And I say we get them back.”