Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Pearl was falling. The sky around her was layered in shades of puffy gray and white, wind rushing past her, the downpour dousing her in wet.

The second thing she noticed, after taking in all of these things, was a dark shape to her left, also plummeting rapidly towards the ground.

Wait. The ground!

Pearl snaps out her wings, catching herself as the gales buffeted her by their own accord.

Now, just gotta figure out how to grab whoever that is- wait, is that Apo?

She caught a glimpse of dark hair and red horns. It was.

She half flew half swam her way over to him, all too aware of the ground and fact that, y’know, demons don’t have wings.

She grabbed him around the middle. The sky flashed white. Everything went dark.

———

“Hey, I think they’re waking up!”

“What? Really?!”

“Yeah, come look-”

Pearl stirs, blowing a bit of hair out of her mouth, groaning at the hard ground. “Whosit?”

“False,” says the avian, her face blurry. “Owen too. Grian’s- oh, here he comes!”

Pearl scrambles to sit up. “G?”

There’s a soft, dry sob, and then there are arms wrapping her in a hug.

“You okay?” Grian asked when she finally pulled away.

She snorts, coughs, then clears her throat. “I should be asking you that.”

“Mmm.”

“Really, though, how you doing?”

He shakes his head, face still blurry, then glances back at something behind him. “Um. Kinda sucky.”

“I’m not much better, honestly. Not that I’m complaining, but- how’re you here?”

He shrugs. “I think- I think they might’ve… let me go? I dunno.”

Pearl blinks a few times. “After everything, they just- let you go?”

He shrugs again.

“I feel like I just got stabbed,” says Apo, breaking the silence.

Owen chokes, sounding like he barely succeeded in holding in a laugh. “That’s not funny.”

“Sounds like you thought it was.”

“Gah- False, back me up on this!”

“I’m not getting involved!” she calls from… somewhere. “I’ve gotta go deal with the sky falling!”

What?

Pearl looks up, at the sky painted in shades of gray. The ozone in her mouth tastes familiar, like lightning (obviously) and… dust? Sandstone? No. Clay.

“Is that Joel?”

The storm crackled in response, clouds bursting suddenly with rain.

Pearl, Owen, and Apo quickly scooted under the cover of the spawn tent. Grian didn’t move, simply held out his hands and let the water run over them curiously.

He turns and stares up at the sky, and Pearl realizes with horror that his feathers are gone, the red and yellow and blue plucked away like it was nothing. Flesh and bone and scar tissue stand exposed to the open air, crimson dotting it, and still her brother in everything but blood waits in the rain like he expects something to happen.

“I thought it would hurt,” he says after a moment as the rain continues to come down in sheets. “Why doesn’t it hurt?”

That was when she realized, finally, that this couldn’t be solved simply by time and love.

Chapter Text

Magic had just started scrambling around for signs of life from the rescue team when the world ended.

Waves of her namesake washed over her as violet filled her vision; even as she squeezed her eyes shut, more appeared, pushing past skin and hair in spaces that nearly felt wrong but… weren’t. She curled in on herself, biting her tongue as a mouse scampered through tall grasses a hundred blocks away.

This is why I came out here, they thought hazily. ‘Least I’m the only one here.

The sky flashed, outside the window of their cabin, and suddenly it was dark where it had once been light, and they throw open the door against their better judgement.

Falling to their knees, stumbling over the ground through the mist of too-loud-too-sharp lavender, the stars swirl faster than the void’s light, the moon flickering, and then it’s- gone. Okay. The moon is gone now.

The stars shine brighter in it’s absence, moving so fast that they leave trails in their vision. It’s hypnotizing, the violet and yellow and white.

Magic stares up at the sky, barely aware of the grass beneath them or the wind blowing sharply against the shutters of the house.

And then she is the stars and the stars are the void and she is Everything and Nothing and she Sees it all and Listens to the Universe’s humming, and she floats for a moment (forever), a blink (an eternity), a breath (the heartbeat of time).

And it is beautiful.

And she wanders for as long as she needs, always catching black-cloaked or silver-haired figures around the corners of Creation. Magic wonders, for an instant, who they are, then dismisses the thought. She has plenty of time to find what she’s looking for.

What are they looking for?

And the Universe shatters and they are simply a not-human trapped in a player and it hurts.

Magic takes a breath.

And it is beautiful.

Chapter Text

Niki was at least expecting a bit of a break between the last end of the world and this one. Five years is… not a lot of time, in the grand scheme of things.

She’s wandering about Quackity’s island, frowning as she tries to track down any of her old server mates when it happens.

The lights go out first, electricity and torches alike, then the waves on the shore freeze in place abruptly. She shudders- it feels like a horror movie, far too familiar- and continues on the path up the hill, squinting in the low light.

The stars gleam overhead, glowing and flashing, and then swirl and rearrange into an oddly broken rectangle. Well. That’s a bit strange, even more so than the bad lights or frozen water.

Niki sucks in a breath, and just in time- the sky starts glowing an unnatural purple, the white stars looking like holes punched in a screen hung over the horizon.

She tilts her head after a few seconds, once the shock has unlocked her muscles. The stars look… kind of a like a nether portal, she guesses. Replace the white with black and fill in the corners, and well. She’d almost expect a piglin to come toppling out of the constellation to a violent death.

Wait a moment. Is one of the stars moving? As in, getting bigger?

She chances another glance upward, rearranging her feet on the ground, and squints up at the lavender. One of the stars, one that hadn’t gotten dragged into the new constellation, was indeed getting bigger, glowing a bright silver as it soared through the dusk.

She yelps and ducks under the cover of a bush, closing her eyes as the light brightened.

“Nihachu. Hiding like a coward, are we?”

She scrambles to her feet, axe in hand, sharp teeth half-bared. “Who are you?”

The thing- because there’s no way it’s mortal- tilts it’s masked head. She gets the impression that’s trying to smile, somehow.

“Oh, that’s good,” it says, instead of answering her question. “You can already sense my intentions, then. That’ll make this whole process easier.”

At that, she flared her ears, the hairs on her arms standing up. “Whatever game you think you’re playing-”

“Ah, this isn’t a game. This is a request. Join us, become our Champion, and we can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

So this is the play. Niki’s not stupid- she’s faced titans and gods, made friends with some of the worst, burned her nightmares in the ashes of a long-dead symbol. She can do this.

“What is it that you think I want?”

The thing does it’s strange facsimile of a smile again. “Revenge against those who have wronged you, those who refused to give power to the luckless and the fighting. Justice for the hurting.”

Well. That was, after all, right on point. “And what would you ask of me?”

“Become our Champion, our sword. Do our will, and we will complete your question for vengeance. Will you become Nemesis, Nihachu?”

The goddess of revenge, her Syndicate codename- did it really matter which?

“What would I be leaving behind?” she asked cautiously.

“Only mortality in search of greatness. What is time, for immortals?”

Niki knows what the cost of immortality is- and dealing with the eldritch is far steeper still. But. She’d thought she’d laid down her violent ways years ago, returning to baking (as hard as it was underwater) and playing games with her friends.

And yet there’s a buzzing in her blood that she hasn’t felt for half a decade as she stands in the not-darkness atop a hill next to something no mortal should ever see. Instincts and voices long silenced roar to life in the quiet.

“All right,” she says, finally. “I accept.”

The thing’s mask glows the same color as the sky, clapping it’s hands together. “Wonderful.”

It reaches forward, and Niki forces herself to stay still. Her axe goes limp in her hands as she falls into the thing’s arms.

Her last thought, as she collapses into darkness is, At least the fae cannot lie.

Chapter Text

“Hey Shelby?” says Katherine, looking up at the sky. “Does that look weird to you?”

“What?”

She glances upward, at the clouds moving across the sunny horizon, at the phantoms rapidly burning in the light. “Yeah, actually it does! Um… is it purple?”

“Purple sky,” repeats Katherine. “That would be awesome, but it doesn’t feel awesome. Why doesn’t it feel awesome?”

The princess looks a bit panicked, which is fair, because the last time weird color things had happened around her, she’d been cursed.

Shelby shrugs. “It’s weird, though, right? Seems like magic, maybe we should go, like, ask Scott- oh wait, he’s gone, let’s- um…”

She taps her chin. Katherine blows out air from her cheeks in a bleat. “Look at chat.”

“Huh?”

She pulls out her comm and does as Katherine suggests.

fWhip: Uh whats going on

MythicalSausage: i just FELL OUT OF THE SKY WHAT

InTheLittleWood: oh no oh noohno 

Smajor1995: anyone seen gem?

“Martyn and Scott are back,” says Shelby slowly. “And the sky is purple.”

“Let’s go talk to them!”

She sticks out her tongue in concentration, writing out a message of her own.

ShubbleYT: spawn meeting?

Smajor1995: tping everyone

There’s a whoosh of air, a twisting in her stomach, and then six stand under the cyan wood of the spawn Waystone.

“What is happening?” Fwhip asks immediately. “It’s like- like, uh-”

“The gods threw up purple soup?” suggests Sausage.

Katherine nods. “You’re not wrong.”

“The Watchers went kablooie,” Martyn not-explains, waving his hands around in a pantomime of an explosion. “And then god barf.”

“What,” says Shelby.

Magic overload, explains a new voice, whispering in her ear. We all met at the End Island, and the Watchers came earlier than we thought they would. Magic battle, etc., and then.. um. I’m not too sure, actually, but now there’s Watcher magic everywhere. And people are missing.

“Gem? That you?” Katherine wonders, tilting her head at the wind.

Hi. I got a bit scattered.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” says Fwhip. “I was worried, Gem! What happened?”

“We all were!” seconds Shelby.

It’s complicated.

All eyes go to Scott and Martyn.

The latter throws up his hands. “What? It is! And now we’ve gotta deal with the end of world on top of everything else!”

“That’ll be easy,” says Sausage. “Nothing new there!”

This is worse than some skulk- Pearl- wait!

And then Gem was gone.

“Guess we’re going to Hermitcraft!” says Martyn cheerfully, forcing a smile. “Anyone else coming?”

“I will,” says Fwhip. “I’m not leaving Gem.”

Shelby bites her lip, leans over to Katherine. “I think I might-”

“Go, go!” she encourages. “I bet they’ll need a good witch like you.”

“You’ll be okay if-”

“Psshh,” Katherine says, shoving her playfully away. “I’m a monster hunter, don’t worry about me!”

“You’re sure?”

“Sure as I can be. Here-” she pulls off her House Blossom necklace- “take it. That way, we can reach each other if we need help!”

Shelby smiles nervously at the princess. “See you soon!”

“Bye!”

“You coming?” Martyn asks, tapping her on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Shelby says, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m coming. Hermitcraft, here we come!”

Staff in hand, Katherine’s necklace warm around her neck, she lets herself be pulled across space.

Chapter Text

“Why would you think it would hurt?” asks Pearl cautiously, pushing back the fear railing inside her.

“‘Have you heard of the ghost who would melt in the rain?’” he recites simply, blowing off a droplet dangling on his nose. “Watchers cannot touch water. Therefore, it should hurt. It- it doesn’t. Pearl, why doesn’t it hurt?!”

She bites her lip, glances back at Owen and Apo, then steps into the rain.

“Can I hug you?” she asks, quietly, kneeling on the wet, grounding gravel.

Grian doesn’t move, staring out across the river at nothing. Pearl waits, flapping her hands gently on her knees.

“You’re not a Watcher, Grian. You don’t have to be anything anyone tells you you should be. Not the Watchers, not Sam, not even me or Mumbo or anyone. All you have to be…”

“Is myself, right?” he mumbles, finally glancing away from the river. “I’d like that hug now.”

Pearl grins and relinquishes.

———

“Gem?” she says to the air later, tucked inside her alien settlement.

It’s a trick they’d used in the past- between the dreamwalker and the moth, they’d been able to open a pretty stable telepathic connection between their bases.

Not that Gem’s here, on Hermitcraft, or that she even wants to connect with Pearl- really, why would she?

Distantly, Pearl thinks, Oh, I’m spiraling.

She stares up at the ceiling, wishing she had Tilly’s warmth right now to help force away the memories of lonely nights in her tower. At least Tilly cared. At least she had tried to stay-

No. Gem and Impulse and Scott cared. They had tried.

Then why am I like this? she wonders bitterly. Why am I drowning alone? Shouldn’t they know? Isn’t it obvious?

She forces out a breath. “G- Gem? You here? I’m-” she laughs- “I’m kinda alone right now.”

There’s silence, the kind of suffocating silence that Pearl’s all too familiar with. Fear crawls down her throat and into her lungs. She scrambles for a comm she no longer has.

Nononono not again!

Pearl? Pearl, wait!

She slowly uncurls from her position against the wall, hands sticky and face wet.

Pearl?

“Gem?”

Are you okay?

She shakes her head.

Why’re you alone at night?

Pearl hiccups. “I- I thought I’d be okay. Everyone was worried about Grian, and half the Hermits are still missing, and I don’t have my comm and Tilly’s gone and-”

Breathe, okay? I’m going to go find someone-

“NO! Stay! …Please? I just- I can’t be alone right now.”

There’s a pause, and then:

Okay. I’ll see if I can divide a little more. But I’ll stay.

“Promise?”

Promise.

And when Pearl finally awoke the next morning to birdsong, she found her room decorated with sunflowers and daisies, with Wels waiting next door.

Chapter Text

“Magic? Magic, you there?”

“Hey Kab,” she says hazily, smiling. “Hi. Wait. What?”

She tries to sit upright, but hands gently pull her back down.

“Don’t try to sit up,” Maddy says. “You’re hurt, and probably exhausted.”

“Mmmf,” she agrees.

———

“I’m still surprised that Ivory managed to track her down,” says Kab.

“I’m still surprised she came with you.”

“Hey!”

Magic stifled a giggle.

“Shh, she’s still sleeping,” Maddy says, her long tail drifting over her cheek.

This time, she didn’t manage to stop the laugh bubbling out of her.

“Wake up, sleepy!” Kab says as Magic opens her eyes.

“Kab!” Maddy reproached.

“Aw, Maddy, it’s okay! She’s already awake, right, Magic? You’re awake?”

“Yep!” she agrees, giggling again. “I’m awake!”

She sits up, wincing a bit as her vision wobbles. “That’s funny, huh.”

“What is?” Maddy asks, concern in her voice.

“Oh, the world’s all spin-y! Kinda pretty, but ugh. It feels weird. Oh, hey Ivory!”

“What- how’d you know I was there?” Ivory asks as she slips down from the oak tree.

Magic twirls her hands around. “Oh, y’know, magic.”

“Okay then,” says Ivory slowly. “Great. Let’s hurry back to the town, then.”

“It’s a long journey oversea,” points out Maddy. “Maybe we should spend a few nights here?”

“Hey Magic,” Kab says. The bunny smiles at her when she momentarily meets her eyes. “Magic, did you do magic?”

She giggles again. “Yeah! Yeah, I did. That’s funny.”

“What… kind of magic?”

She bites her cheek. “…Watcher magic. Y’know. Eyes and stuff. Kaboom. Weird sun.”

Maddy stills. “Where have I heard of those?”

“Watchers?” asks Magic. “They’re from the End. They like to mess with players and pretend they’re gods. Their ‘games’ weren’t very fun though. We didn’t like them.”

“Watchers,” says Ivory, frowning. “Hmm.”

Maddy paces back and forth. “Magic, this is important. Could they do this?”

She kneels in front of her, next to Kab, and oh no, where’s she supposed to look?

The enderian holds out a hand and Magic watches as an eye unfolds in the center of her star-dusted palm. She shrieks and jumps backward.

“Ohhh no, oh no, Maddy-!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” she says placatingly. “Look, I’m fine, see?”

Magic shudders. She remembers Ash, with void creeping around her red hair; running from an explosion as eyes Watched her from the shadows; facing her father as the illusion crumbled and she stood before a creature with far too many wings.

“You’re not fine,” she whispers, “not if they got you too.”

She reaches for her comm as Kab, Maddy, and Ivory all look on in confusion, and presses the button for McPuffy’s.

“They got Maddy!” she cries, pushing open the door, bell jingling. She nearly falls over, the scrapes on her knees reopened, terror buzzing in her veins.

“Magic, Magic, slow down,” says El. “What’s happened?”

“The Watchers- they got Maddy! She looked at me, and there- there were eyes on her hands! And she said it was fine!”

She looks up at Eloise for the first time, and realizes that her eyes are glittering like potion bottles. She squeaks, hands going to cover her own eyes-

Her hands are covered in void like just Maddy’s, extending halfway to her elbows. She sneezes, and then her vision is fractured and mirrored in different many-colored shades.

Uh oh.

Chapter Text

“It’s awfully quiet in the End,” Niki says eventually to break the silence.

Exor twitches their wings.

“I know there’s no water, but is there wind?” she asks, reaching up to redo her hair, the pink now streaked with silver.

“Not naturally,” they say, finally, and then: “Close your eyes.”

She has a blindfold on already, ripped from the hem of her skirt, but she closes them anyway.

Exor reaches out a hand to steady her, and then images flash under her eyelids: a lush stand of chorus fruit trees, boughs hanging with ripe fruit; pens of endemites and shulkers; vast citadels rising in shades of purple and silver and pale yellow into the mist of the void.

Wind brushes her fingertips. Exor releases her shoulder.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Niki says. “Yes, it is.”

“Wind does not occur naturally in the End,” they continue, pacing in circles around the small obsidian platform the two stood on, “but certain Watchers can manipulate the air to create it. The void is everywhere, after all.”

She nods. “Seems right.”

Pride presses against her mind; it reminds her of the few times she’d met XD- well, not the pride bit, the mind-emotions part. It’s strange.

There’s a whooshing in her stomach, so faint and brief she barely feels it, then Exor says, “We’ve arrived.”

Niki takes an unsteady step forward, feeling steady endbrick under her feet instead of the slightly squishy natural version, and nearly stumbles. Her dragonfly wings buzz out behind her in an attempt to regain her balance; warm hands catch hers.

“Whoa there,” says a deep voice. “This stone is unsteady, careful.”

She nods. “Thanks.”

“Well met, Falce,” says Exor, voice rattling in a way that Niki instinctively knew meant power.

“Well met, Exor,” answers the newcomer. “Well met… what’s your name?”

“Nemesis,” says Niki.

“Well met, Nemesis.”

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” says Exor, and then Niki’s left alone with a stranger.

There’s silence, for a moment, and then rustling, and something is thrust into her hands. A current of something like electricity or magic or knowledge sparks at her fingertips, eyes opening along her ears.

She looks down at the white mask, at the broken rectangle painted onto the surface. It’s smooth, and perfectly curved, and despite the bad connotations, it’s beautiful.

“Don’t put it on yet,” advised Falce. “Reactions can be… volatile.”

“What does that mean?” Niki asks, a slight panicked tilt to her voice.

Falce smirks- how does she know that?- and says only, “You’ll see.”

“Cryptic,” she grumbles, and ignores Falce’s laugh as they move down the high-vaulted hallway.

“Library’s that way,” they say, pointing. One of Niki’s ear-eyes blinks. “Main hall, studying rooms- and the dorms- that’s where we’re going- are here.”

“Why aren’t there any doors?” she asks. All the rooms transition smoothly from one to another, laid out in a careful white-yellow-purple maze, but she can’t see any doors or even signs to show where things are.

“Watchers have no need for them,” Falce says simply. “There is nothing to protect against, and no reason to fear others.”

She pauses to twirl in a circle. “Huh. Looks like an inverted stronghold or something.”

Falce nods. “Doesn’t it? No one else here seems to have made that connection. By the way, Nemesis- your name is familiar. Should I know it?”

“It’s the name of the goddess of revenge,” Niki says, picking up her pace to match their longer strides. “She’s… Netherian, I think.”

“Sounds about right,” agrees Falce, bobbing their head. “The sort of goddess the wastewalkers would pray to before battle. Have you heard of Nike?”

“The goddess of victory? Of course. I had a friend, once-” she stumbles, there, thinking of days long by and the chill of snow. “I had a friend, he quite enjoyed the old myths. Gave all of us code names. Thanatos, Nemesis, Prometheus, Lethe…”

“Sounds like an honorable man.”

She sucks in a breath, claws tracing the lines of her palms. “He was.”

Falce pauses, looks back at her. She gets the feeling that they’re meeting her eyes under their mask. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to stir up old memories.”

She shakes her head. “I was the one who brought it up.”

“We’re here,” Falce says, changing the conversation abruptly.

Instead of paintings or stained glass, purple doors woven of chorus fruit fiber line the walls.

“Why-” she starts.

“Doors are a player invention. It’s the Watchers’ idea of a joke- and I will admit, it is funny.”

Seems more mean, to label us like that. Like we’re lesser.

“Well,” says Falce. “Watchers are better than mortals. Do you think they could understand this place- these people? Players have their benefits, yes, but… we can do anything. We aren’t bound to the rules of nature or logic.”

“You read my mind,” Niki realizes. “That’s what’s been happening.”

Falce grins at her. “Put on the mask.”

She looks down at the white oval in her hands. She glances up at Falce, at the walls around her.

“Sic Semper Tyrannis,” she whispers, and the world shatters into a million fragments.

Chapter Text

Hermitcraft seems bigger than the last time she’d seen it. The Rift glows a similar shade to the sky far above, Grumbot’s wide eyes staring unseeing at her.

Shelby shudders.

There’s a scream.

She turns, staff glowing yellow, and sees Martyn staring with too many eyes at Mumbo.

“Oh my gosh!” manages the redstoner. “You scared me! Wha- where’d you come from?”

“New Life,” says Fwhip. “Definitely didn’t expect to turn up here, though.”

Shelby shrugs. “We went through here last time.”

“Fair,” he says. “So, uh, Mumbo: what’s up?”

There’s a strange quirk to his lips. “Where do you wanna start, mate?”

“The beginning,” he says, a bit impatiently.

“It all started when Grian and Scott went to go find Phil-”

“Not what I meant!”

“You said the beginning!”

Mumbo laughs nervously. Fwhip groans. Shelby and Martyn look at each other, then Martyn shrugs.

“Right,” he says. “So I’m assuming everyone got split up, back to their original servers?”

“Mostly,” agrees Mumbo. “I… think Jimmy’s on Pirates with Cleo and Joe? And no one’s seen Pix.”

“Any word on Joel?” asks Fwhip.

Mumbo points up at the sky. “The weather’s been strange. And the sun. And, well, everything. At least time’s still working.”

“There was a chance it wasn’t?” wonders Shelby, a little terrified.

Mumbo blinks. “Have you never been in a time loop?”

“No…”

Martyn frowns. He starts to say something, then Fwhip interrupts: “Have you seen Gem? We heard her for a moment, then she was gone.”

“She visited Pearl, I think,” Mumbo answers. “Last night. She left before the Boatem sleepover, though.”

Fwhip deflates.

“Wait,” Martyn says suddenly, rising up on his tiptoes. “Grian and Scar are back?”

“Yeah,” Mumbo says, looking about a thousand times more worried than he had before. “They’re… not good. We’re all holed up in Impulse’s keep.”

“Can I see them?”

It was phrased as a request, but the way the words twisted and rattled through the air, it was clear it wasn’t.

“You can try,” Mumbo warns. “I dunno if they’ll want to see you, though.”

“I’m going to talk to X,” says Fwhip. “Any idea where he is?”

“His base, probably.”

Fwhip nods, then spreads his elytra and fires a rocket.

“And then there were three,” whispers a new voice, echoing from… somewhere in the vast space.

Shelby yelps, turning around in a circle to see who it is.

“Over here!”

She turns, stares right at the Rift, and locks eyes with something glowing and dark. Whatever it grins, smile stretched unnaturally, and steps of the purple.

Shelby blinks.

“Hiya!” calls someone, shorter, with tinted glasses and an orange, comfy-looking sweater. “Uh… this is the right place? HC-9?”

Mumbo comes over and sighs. “Hermitcraft? Yeah.”

They smile widely. “Oh, wonderful! I was hoping I got it right this time, I spent at least a week trapped in an alternate dimension…”

Chapter Text

Pearl was not expecting to See Mumbo, Martyn, and Shelby burst through the doors of Impulse’s keep, the witch followed by… well, it was obvious to her that they weren’t human, but if they wanted to keep that guise…

Who was she to stop them?

She leaps down from her perch on top of the forge, fluttering over to the quartet.

“Heey, so who are you?” she asked, letting a barely-there flicker of light buzz to her fingers.

“Oh!” The unknown blinks a couple of times behind their glasses. “I’m Squiddo, paranormal investigator. Uh. Apparently the Universe imploded, so I figured I’d check it out.”

“Where’s Grian?” Martyn demands.

“Over by the forge, but-”

Too late. He was gone.

“Where’s Tilly?” asks Shelby.

Pearl freezes. She shakes her head.

Alone alone alone.

She breathes, again, and again, until her head is steady-enough and says, “In the hands of Lady Death.”

It’s the same words she’d used for Tom, and Netty, and Salem, and Joeyish, back when she’d thought he was dead.

“I’m so sorry,” whispers Shelby.

Pearl twists her lips in a frown, then turns on her heel. “What’re the odds they’re gonna kill each other?”

A wave of magic bursts through the keep. Shelby coughs. “I… think I’ll wait outside.”

Squiddo follows.

Pearl’s groan is soon echoed by Mumbo, stepping forward towards the forge.

Impulse lifts his head, presses a finger to his lips, and points at Scar, still snoring with Jellie curled up against his side. Pearl nods, slides her gaze sideways to where Martyn and Grian seem to be having a staring contest with no less than fifty eyes.

She rolls her eyes and steps between them. “If you’re going to yell at each other, do it outside. Scar’s still sleeping.”

A few of Grian’s eyes flicker to the side, then, slowly, they all vanish.

“Martyn,” she says, narrowing her eyes.

With obvious reluctance, the fiery wings blazing behind him and the eyes poking out from under his bandanna disappear. “I thought you were dead.”

Grian squints. “I thought you were dead.”

“Flippin’ the script, huh?”

The Watcher snorts, trailing off into nothing. “I was at my base, and then… of course I thought you were dead! I thought I lost you. Again.”

“You didn’t,” Pearl says. “Look. We’re all here, safe. Not alone.”

Grian sneers. “Then where’s Tilly?”

The moth freezes.

“Mate,” says Mumbo. “Grian! You can’t just-”

“Why can’t I?” he demands, attempting to get to his feet, crying out as his wings spasm. “After all the terrible, awful things, I’m not allowed to be mad?!”

“You can be mad,” Mumbo says, spluttering, the feathers on the tips of his ears waving under his hair. “Of course you can! But Pearl’s not the one to blame, alright? If anyone is, it’s the Watchers!”

Pearl grits her teeth, pulling her hood over her head. She can’t think. She digs her teeth into her knuckles, waiting for the taste of iron to fill her mouth.

It never comes. Instead, blue magic wraps around her like a blanket, filling her ears with silence and pressing her soul back into her body. Pearl takes a breath and opens her eyes.

Scar grins lopsidedly at her, points at his hand. The moth releases her grip on her finger and blinks back at him.

The doors of the keep burst open. Pearl winces.

Owen comes racing through the dark halls, ears pressed back and tailing waving.

Martyn quirks an eyebrow from where he’s shoved against the blankets of the nest. “Gri.”

The vaguely-bird-shaped mass of void cocks his head, trills at Owen. The shapeshifter trills back. Pearl mumbles something in Galactic under her breath, clicking.

Scar releases his magic, falling back with a muffled thump onto the pillows. Grian moves over to him, then picks him up with a talon and deposits the Vex next to Mumbo.

Owen blinks and shakes his head. “Um… Magic just sent a message, it’s a little concerning. ‘Voi d maddy hw lp.’ I’m pretty sure it has something to do with one of her friends? And the void, I suppose?”

“And?” asks Martyn, sitting up.

“I was wondering if one of you would like to go with me to Puffy’s.”

No.

The mental response was immediate and sharp. Pearl frowns at Grian. “If we need to investigate, Gri-”

No.

Mumbo and Pearl exchange a look.

“Going in a group is safer-” tries Mumbo.

If the shifter needs accomplices, he can retrieve them elsewhere.

“Oh, you are full bird mode,” teases Scar. “Or cat mode? Cats do like snuggle piles.”

Jellie meows in agreement.

Nest.

“Yep!” agrees Impulse. “Forge nest. Greatest Boatem sleepover idea ever, if I do say so myself!”

“Sorry, Owen,” Pearl says. “Not sure we’re getting out of this. I could Watch, maybe-”

Later.

“Then we won’t know what’s happening!”

Later.

“I’ll… go find someone else.”

“Good luck!” calls Scar cheerfully.

Chapter Text

Owen isn’t alone when he arrives. Kab, Maddy, and Ivory are with him.

Magic taps her feet on the ground nervously, hands skittering around the table. El sits next to her, leaning against her shoulder.

“Hello,” says Maddy softly. “I’m sorry if I scared you. Can I sit?”

Magic frowns. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Just- they got you?”

Her brows draw together in confusion.

“Oh!” Kab says, almost yelling in the quiet of the diner. Puffy pokes her head around the corner. “The Watchers! You thought they got Maddy?”

She nods.

“There was a wave of magic,” says Ivory, sitting at a nearby table, her scythe glowing faintly purple. “It… changed many of us. Did you feel it?”

Magic pauses to think. “The purple sky? And the eyes? And the void?”

“Purple sky, yes,” agrees Maddy, scooting over so Kab can sit next to her. “The others? Not that I know of.”

“Wait,” says Owen, drumming his fingers against the table. “Eyes? The void? Magic, that sounds like-”

“Yeah,” she says, miserably. “I know. It’s been building up for a while… that’s why I ran away. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

“Not to interrupt this sappy moment-” Ivory shoots Kab a death glare- “but back to the original question, please! Magic, you thought the Watchers had Claimed Maddy, so you ran away. Understandable. What I don’t understand is what you meant by ‘kaboom.’”

Magic and Owen both wince. El sucks in a breath.

“Remember when you blew that pretty hole in front of your house?” Magic asks. “It was. It was that, but it was El.”

“Geez, Magic!” the human scowls. “You didn’t have to say it like that!”

Magic blinks and tilts her head. “Like what?”

“You know what? Never mind. Just- uh- Kab, was it? Next interrogation question.”

“I’m not-” she sighs. “Fine. ‘Weird sun?’”

“The Watcher manipulated our sense of time using the sun,” supplies Owen. “Made a year seem like three.”

“A year and a day,” El says hollowly. “All that in a year and a day.”

“I’m sorry!” Magic says quickly. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

“What- hey, it’s not your fault!” reassures Owen. Kab, Maddy, and Ivory look on silently. “If anything, it’s mine!”

“No, they used you. My dad was in charge, I should’ve known-”

“You’re all pretty messed up,” observes Eryn, smirking. “Fries, anyone?”

“Oh, sure!”

Kab grabs a basket. Maddy sighs.

“What?”

“Anyways! The point I was trying to get across was: I’m sorry. I let my curiosity get in the way of friendship. I hope you’ll forgive me for that.”

Magic frowns and meets her eyes for a moment. “Of course! I do that alllll the time. Um. Why do I have purple hands now?”

Maddy pauses, her ears flicking backwards. “We suspect- me and Linc, I mean- that you’re now enderian. The void flecks are characteristic of End heritage.”

“Hmm.”

Magic blinks, taps on her cheek. “Is this?”

A singular eye opens up along her jawline.

Maddy squeaks. “Uh. Nope! Not at all! What… happened?”

Magic shrugs. “Watchers are weird.”

“That doesn’t actually answer anything.”

“They… do weird void magic?” she elaborates.

“Illusions too,” says El. “You ever look over your shoulder and nearly see something? Illusion.”

“Wonder if that’s what Pyro saw,” says Maddy, propping her elbows up on the table.

At Magic’s expression, she adds, “He disappeared… two months ago, right? After he found Muu?”

Ivory nods. “With how cold it’s gotten… I’m not sure how they would’ve taken it.”

“Has it gotten colder?” asks Owen.

El frowns. “Have you really not noticed?”

“No…? I’ve kinda been going through a lot!”

We need to talk about that, Magic says to him. It’s freaking me out.

“You and me both,” he mutters. “So it’s been colder, the sky is purple, the void is shifting, and Watcher magic is everywhere. Anyone else seeing a pattern?”

Puffy comes out of the kitchen, shooing Eryn and Fundy away. “Niki’s vanished. And Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo.”

“Pyro,” adds Kab. “And- the Funnee Boys have been acting weird.”

“Lizzie’s gone too, and Guqqie. Maybe Aimsey,” says Owen. “The gods are in disarray. This whole situation is shaping up to be another war, I think.”

“Another one,” mutters Puffy. “Seriously? Haven’t we had enough?”

Magic sings, under her breath, “And as the world fights for freedom, the void of anger expands… no more talk of survival, the world’s now in your hands-”

El grins, her eyes flashing. “Look, at least we’re planning instead of yelling.”

Ivory bobs her head. “I’ve got battle experience-”

The air flashes and splits. Apo tumbles out onto the floor. He gets to his feet, glaring daggers at Owen. “We need to talk.”

Chapter Text

Sunlight, framed by the walls, spills into L’Manburg, illuminating the inside of the Camarvan. Niki sighs, stretches, and dusts off the flour from her hands.

“I’d better go for a dip in the water while these are baking,” she mutters, tossing a glance at the dough rising in the oven.

She groans again, opening the door and stepping outside.

Tubbo, Tommy, and Wilbur are still snoring in the dim dawn light. Jack’s leaning against the walls, hat falling down his face, also asleep. Eret’s nowhere to be seen.

“Hi.”

Niki whirls, clutching her chest, a giggle slipping out between her teeth. “Fundy! You scared me! Good morning.”

Fundy’s eyes are dark against the sun. Niki frowns.

(You can do it, come on!

The void is glittering through the stained-glass windows.)

She blinks. The fox’s eyes reflect the light from the bloody sunrise as he says, “Early morning, huh?”

She yawns. “I’ve been baking-” Fundy’s ears prick up- “but the bread’s not done yet. I’m off for a splash in the river.”

“Be careful!” he calls as she retreats.

This feels familiar, she thinks to herself. Although, I’m not running on quite enough sleep- and I was baking yesterday, right? Or was that the day I mended the flag…?

She shrugs, the spines along her arms rising from where they were lying flat against her shirt. The siren sits and dips her bare feet into the water-

“-and so that’s why I always put a pinch of blaze powder in my cocoa,” Phil’s saying as the two sit next to the fireplace, clutching steaming mugs of hot chocolate. “Niki?”

She blinks. “Hu- oh, sorry, I must’ve spaced out for a second. You were saying?”

Phil hums, taking a sip of his drink. “Nevermind. Wanna see something cool?”

“Of course, yes!”

She sets down her cocoa and stands up. For a moment, she could have sworn her back pulsed with pain.

(Nemesis?

The air smells of cold brick and Ender pearls.)

“It’s down here,” Phil says, leading her to the Syndicate meeting room.

How’d we get here so fast?

The avian digs out a couple blocks of stone with his pickaxe. The hole leads out into a bigger tunnel, though it’s not nearly big enough for them to walk side by side.

Niki shoots him an uncertain look as he hops down. In the darkness, the white diamonds on his feathers look almost like eyes.

“Trust me,” he reassures, holding out a hand. “It’s worth it.”

Niki sighs, then takes his hand, talons in claws, and lets him pull her along the tunnel. He pulls out a torch, lighting with a flint and steel. Niki winces- she didn’t realize how dark it had gotten- and watching the light chase away the creepers and beady eyes of the spiders, she realizes that the tunnel slopes downward, steadily moving into deepslate and beyond.

“Phil,” she says slowly, “where are we going?”

“I was mining a few days ago,” he says, “when I found something… incredible. You know that stuff on the nether roof? Like air, but not?”

“Yes?”

“I found some of it underground.”

Her eyes go wide. “Really?”

“Really.”

She takes a step forward, just as she hears the click-clack of a skeleton firing an arrow. It lodges in her shoulder, and she falls into the void.

(Nemesis! Ne- you need to wake up! Ah- Sykle-

She sees, for a brief moment, bi-colored hair and a single white eye meeting her own, before unfamiliar hands pull her away.)

And Nemesis wanders the darkness, the stars around her glowing faintly and shifting with each moment, searching.

She spots the edge of a red cloak and brown hair and static and ink and-

A scythe flashes across her vision.

Chapter Text

“So… Pearl’s dog,” Squiddo starts, fiddling with a compass. “Well, uh. There’s a chance… she’s dead, right. So we find her.”

“How’d you-”

“I’ve, erm, got friends in odd places. We have to take a little trip to Lady Death’s realm, though.”

“Her name is Tilly,” says Shelby. “…what do you mean, ‘we?’”

“I figured you’d want to come, considering you know her better than me.”

“Yeah! Yeah, just- how?”

“…There’s certain ways to, say, break the rules. I know some, but they. They don’t work in a place like this,” she grins. “But I’m fairly sure a few of these ‘Hermits’ know different ways-”

“Howdy.”

Squiddo yelps. Shelby pushes her hat back up from where it had fallen down her head. Joe leans against the walls of Impulse’s keep, tossing a quarter up into the air and catching it.

“You- what- where’d you come from?!”

“Well,” starts Joe. “I heard you needed help.”

“O… kay then,” mutters Squiddo. “Got it. Like Er- That Guy. Yes. And you heard it… from across the oceans?”

“Sure thing. Typical eldritch know-how.”

The words are light, in the practiced way Shelby has come to know means I’ve got a secret. And, given how she has her own secrets, and also has messed around with enough curses to last a lifetime, she decides not to question it.

Squiddo raises an eyebrow and looks at him. It’s quiet, for an awkward moment, and then-

Gem floats on feathered wings down to where the trio are standing. “What’cha doing?”

“Trying to get Tilly back,” Shelby tells her. Then: “What happened to your wings?”

Gem blinks, turns her head to look at the white and purple. “Oh. I can’t turn them back- wait. Maybe-”

And then slowly orange and black spread across the frame of bone, the shape thinning and expanding, until the elf’s monarch butterfly wings are spread wide.

She sighs. “Much better. Now. Can I come on the dangerous Underworld trip?”

Squiddo blinks and shakes her head. “I mean. Bigger group means bigger energy, but you are good at this murder stuff, so. Why not?”

“The amount of people who know things about me is creepy.”

“Look, I have way too much free time and MCC is on every month-”

“This seems like a Hermit thing,” says Shelby, raising an eyebrow. “Creepy knowledge. And murder. Nearly forgot murder.”

“I suppose you could say that,” agrees Joe. The quarter flies up into the air again, then lands heads up on the grass. “I, uh, can’t actually get us to Kristin’s realm. Ball’s in your park- what did you say your name was?”

“Squiddo… but. I was hoping your lanes hadn’t closed.”

“Sadly, Kristin found my Gates.”

Shelby and Gem exchange glances. Shelby gestures at her staff. Gem grins.

“One moment!” she called, before flying back up to her castle.

She returned a short while later, clutching twinkling amethyst in one hand and holding onto her purple hat with the other.

“Crystals are awfully good at sucking up memories,” she explains, setting the amethyst carefully on the ground. “Pair that with a bit of void…”

She sticks out her tongue, then looks at Joe. “I need a memory.”

“Permanently?” he asks. “I’m not sayin’ that I won’t, but that seems a little-”

“Of course not! That’s big magic, like turning-the-sky purple magic! The crystals just need something to lock onto.”

“All right then,” he says immediately.

He gasps and his eyes are glowing and Gem’s wings are white and the sky is navy and then the elf shudders.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers to him. “Shelby! On three!”

She nods, raising her staff. “Got it!”

Gem uncorks the bottle of void, then dumps all over the crystals. “Three, two- wait! Now!”

Shelby lets her staff fall and gasps as everything turns cold.

———

“Hello?” Izzy asks cautiously, not exactly sure what to do with the shivering quartet who’s just stepped out of the arriving train. They’re not dead, that much is clear, but something about two of them are, um. Well. They’re familiar.

“Howdy! We’re looking for someone, reckon you can point us in the right direction?”

She squints at the face. “I’m… not a conductor, but I’m sure I can help. Who’re you looking for?”

“A dog,” says the antlered elf, smiling at her. “Her name’s Tilly, white coat, red collar?”

“I have a couple of friends who often take care of the animals,” Izzy offered, tail swishing around her legs. “Just- one question. Why do you-” she points at the thing of tentacles and dripping particles- “smell like-”

And then she can’t get the words out, her throat has closed, and she gasps for a moment before forcing out:

“-death- magic?”

“Because- because we’re in the land of the dead?” she points out.

“No,” she explains. “You’re not dead- none of you are, really, but. It’s- weird. Would you mind coming to my library? I’m curious.”

The thing shrugs. “Why not? A Death Library seems interesting.”

“You’re a librarian?” asks the man with the blue shirt, peering at her. “I’ve always found that to be a fascinating occupation. Cleo says it’s not enough out-of-the-box, but I think-”

“Joe,” says the elf gently, “we’re going to need your help getting back Tilly.”

He nods, looking back at her. “Objective first, side quest second. You’re right, Gem.”

“I haven’t introduced myself,” Izzy realizes. “I’m Izzyfoxy.”

“GeminiTay,” the elf says. “That’s Joe, Squiddo, and- hey, where’d Shelby go?”

The dirt of one of the planters parts. The ghost waves from where she’s investigating the golden flowers.

Squiddo races over, an odd sight, but says only, “Godstooth- don’t touch it, it’s deadly!”

Shelby drops the flowers immediately, retreating back to the group. “Sorry ‘bout that, I’m a plant nerd.”

Izzy shakes her head. “It’s nice to meet you. If you take the ice train north to the Clearing, you’ll meet my friends. Riice and Caitees’ll help you find… Tilly?”

“Tilly,” confirms Gem. “Thanks, Izzy! Good luck Squiddo!”

Squiddo bounces back over to the Enderian, floating on black nothing.

Izzy laughs as the trio walks off into the mist, waving shyly. Horror creeps along her spine. She turns and looks at Squiddo.

She blinks many many eyes and Izzy smiles softly.

“Are you ready to start looking?

Chapter Text

Cleo is alone. Cleo is alone and the air is still. It shouldn’t be scary, but it is, how the jungle trees are unmoving and the birds are silent. The sky is twisted and the ground is littered with leaves in all the wrong colors.

They have a hand on their sword as they move through the Faction Isles, ears pricked, waiting for it to go wrong. It’s like playing Decked Out, but without the comfort of a respawn.

Really, it’s like running through a forest with a pack of dogs biting at their heels.

A shriek pierces the air. Cleo pulls out their sword and bounds forward. The trees clear and the mists hang around the darkened corners.

Shades of purple paint the ground, even more disorienting than the bright-striped violet-orange-red sky and the cerulean leaves.

Aimsey screams again as light the color of tulips spills out from the cracks in their skin. One arm lays shattered and dissolving on the ground as the magic holding them together fades.

Cleo doesn’t need to breathe, to suck in a breath, but she does anyway. Because she’s seen this before, she’s lived it, undead metaphors aside, and she wouldn’t wish death corruption on her worse enemy.

She stumbles toward them, kneeling on the ground, ignoring the wrongness of it, and asks: “Who?”

She has a feeling she knows already, that it’s far too late, but she has to be sure.

Aimsey’s eyes drift over to her. “Cl-Cleo?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” she answers.

The enderian shudders, rabbit ears pushing their way past their skull.  “It- it was… Gu-”

“Guqqie?”

“Yeah,” they rasp. “Gone.”

Cleo growls, deep in her throat, eyes widening. And then the realization hits her like lightning: she’s not the only zombie-Watcher-spirit around. If she can get the both of them to Hermitcraft, they’ll be home free.

They scoot over to Aimsey’s arm, pain crossing their face as the enderian screams again, and works on quickly reattaching the crumbling limb; pale green, glowing neon, scatters and mends the broken fragments of orange still lingering in the air.

Once Cleo’s finished, Aimsey has thankfully fallen unconscious, the tattered bits of magic and flesh and bone slowly stitching together. They gather all their magic into one burst, wishing they had more than a jagged sword and a bundle of cloth to work the enchantments, and counts.

One (the air is silent, now, purple sludge boiling in the seas).

Two (gunpowder and ink coat their tongue, twin fingerprints of the gods’ lost dreams).

Three (the corruption finally comes to a head and the world shatters into a thousand thousand pieces and fizzes into nothing).

Chapter Text

“Apo’s gone,” Pearl says, suddenly, Gaze fixed on the dark, icy towers of Decked Out. “Oh, there goes X and Fwhip. Wonder what they’re gonna do about that.”

“Did he teleport out?” asks Scar, voice muffled around Jellie’s fur.

Pearl hesitates. “If by ‘teleporting out’ you mean summoned a portal and vanished, yeah, he did.”

“…That’s interesting,” Mumbo mumbles after a moment.

Another wave of magic bursts over the server, green and neon and white, bringing with it the smell of rot. Pearl chokes on the taste, the dry air in the keep rattling in her lungs.

“Oh god, Cleo!” Martyn shoots to his feet, scrambling for the door, Impulse and Pearl at his heels. The Buttercups don’t move for several seconds, whispering reassurances to each other, but eventually they catch up.

Pearl waits those extra moments, and therefore gets to witness the moment Grian jumps up into the air with broken and featherless wings and immediately crashes into the dirt.

She gasps, in spite of herself, and hurries over. The Watcher spits out soil, refusing her and Mumbo’s help to get to his feet.

“I’m fine!” he snaps, something dark and haunted lurking in his eyes, and tongues out a broken tooth. “I’m fine! Go help Cleo.”

She bites her lip, but in the end, it’s not really a decision: the four of them stay sheltered under the shade of cherry blossoms, cold air nipping at Pearl’s face and the purple sky overhead twinkling with an aurora.

A voice, carried on the wind, yells in her ear, nasally and distant. “Pearl! We need you here!”

“Jevin?” she asks, antennae flicking. “Where?”

“It’s Cleo- she’s- we need you! At the button!”

“I have to- Gr-”

“Go,” he says, breathing in the cold. “Just- go.”

She nods, silently, and weaves with a builder’s fingers a portal of glowing light. Pearl takes a breath, glances back, and then steps through.

———

It’s chaos, in the shopping district. Fwhip is gone, by now, and X and Martyn are pacing, the former with his hands on his comm. Jevin is sitting next to Cleo, whispering something; Sloy’s resting against the concrete and redstone lamps, elbow-deep in magic.

“‘Ello,” she says to the group at large.

“Hi Pearl!” Sloy says, looking up. “Would you come over here, please?”

She does, and the zombie gestures faintly at Aimsey tucked inside a stasis pod that’s far too familiar for her liking. “I’ve stopped time in there, but I’ll need your help with the regen piece.”

She blows out air from under her hood, wishing that Tilly or Tiny or anyone else was here. “Okay, sure. Restoration?”

“Rot removal, actually. And a, er, dash of growth, to replace her hand.”

“Rot removal,” the moth repeats. “I’ll do my best.”

She picks up a leaf that’s drifted from one of the trees and stands, letting her wings fall limp and readjusting her hair. Her antennae flicker, once, twice, as the last traces of copper golem-glamour fades and shiny metal is replaced with black.

“You might wanna stand back,” Pearl warns, and that is the once warning Sloy gets before she flicks her hands and crushes the leaf. All the plants, from the trees to the weeds trickling through the cracks of the path, swerve to face her; sunflowers sprout around her feet, bringing with them the smells of freshly sown seeds and cut hay.

The flora are imperfect: broken stems and torn leaves, spots and missing petals, and Pearl searches for those imperfections, drawing them towards herself. The energy hums under her fingertips, the sun and the rain and the soil and the memories. They’re exactly what she needs, and soon she turns her attention towards the Enderian lying unmoving and frozen in the pod.

All living things need nutrition to survive, whether that’s sunlight or meat or souls, and the hungry eyes of the sunflowers are certainly ready to devour whatever she wishes. The power is intoxicating, and Saint Pearl- Pearl- takes a moment to ground herself- one two three, clouds in the sky, earth below, wings at her back- before guiding the flowers.

The golden petals turn abruptly away from her, the few bees that have chanced the scent fluttering to safer haunts; and she lets the flower eat their fill, growing growing grow-

She stops, suddenly, her power drawing back as her body sucks in a breath.

“Pearl?” Sloy says, distantly, but she ignores him, poking again at the bright-dark ball of purple and pink and orange and a thousand other colors (but those are the ones she sees, the ones she knows the mark of, and those-).

The ball squishes and gives the magical version of a hiss, the purple raging against the red and the newly-formed orange; the pink coils closer around Aimsey’s still-unmoving heart.

She retreats, then, anxiety rushing back in as she takes a breath, and sighs. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What is it now?” 

Martyn groans, Jevin close on his heels.

“There’s about three different magics battling for dominance in there. There’s the death magic, that’s the oldest, and then there’s… a weird goopy corruption thing. And there’s me and Mumbo and Apo and a bunch of people from the whole Watcher-explosion thing. Um. And the protections- Owen, Exor, that’s probably Guqqie…”

“What.” Jevin says, blinking slowly.

“Doomed if we do, doomed if we don’t,” translates X. “That about right?”

“Yep,” she says, popping the p. “The ‘plosion is trying to fight off the corruption, but because necromancy is also technically corruption…”

Someone swears, she’s not quite sure who.

“There’s no way to reverse the wave?” Jevin asks.

This time, it’s Cleo who answers, glaring daggers at Sloy as he moves to tie off his remaining strings of magic. “No, don’t think so. Even if we did, the corruption would kill them anyway. Getting possessed by ancient primordial evils doesn’t do wonders for the immune system.”

There’s silence, for a moment, and then Pearl sighs. “Doomed if we do, doomed if we don’t.”

Chapter Text

“You’re an idiot!” Apo yells, stomping over to Owen. “You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving! I thought-”

He trails off, and Magic breathes.

“I told Boatem,” Owen says, weakly, flashing a watery smile.

“And then vanished into thin air!”

Apo sighs, then wraps him into a hug.

There’s the sound of metal scraping against metal. Magic looks over at Kab and squeaks. “Kab!”

“Who are you?” the rabbit demands, waving her sword, the diamond flashing in the lights of the diner. “What are you?”

“Hey!” Puffy calls. “No weapons in the restaurant!”

Kab ignores her, leveling her sword at Apo.

The demon yelps, wincing as Owen drags him behind him, tail swishing. “Owen-!”

The shapeshifter stares at Kab, tension hovering in the air with the dust and the Eyes, until she crosses her arms and lowers her blade. She huffs. “I better not regret this.”

“This is Apo!” El jumps in. “Let’s not, uh, murder each other, please!”

“You’re a god,” Ivory says flatly. “Both of you are.”

“Uh,” says Owen. “Um-”

“You- hey! Maddy!”

“We can’t do this again,” says the enderian, hand on Kab’s shoulder. “Kab. Please. Listen to what they have to say.”

“K,” she says. “Kab was- she’s not! Not me.”

“K,” Maddy repeats. “K. Okay. Listen to me, just-”

“Fine! Fine, Maddy, I’m listening!”

“How’d you know?” Apo asks Ivory.

Magic grins at El and whispers, “Finally.”

She nods, then tilts her head.

“-before,” Ivory’s saying. “You had to be gods or fae, and fae make terrible technical admin.”

Owen sighs. He starts to say something, but a flash of lightning, not unlike the one Apo had used, interrupted him.

“Finally!” drawls a familiar voice. “Took you long enough.”

Kyle smirks from where he’s leaning against a wall. Puffy curses, drawing her sword- hadn’t she said that they couldn’t have weapons?- but Kyle flicks a hand and it vanishes.

“You three-” he points at Owen, Apo, and Magic- “are coming with me.”

“Hold on!” El shouts. “Kyle- what happened to you?”

“Stay out of this,” Owen warns. “And you- where do I even-”

“You killed Zam!” K yells, pointing her blade right at Kyle’s void-flecked eye.

“And if you don’t want to follow after him, sister, you’ll leave well enough alone,” he answers, not even glancing her way.

She laughs, low and dark, in that way that Magic knows means she has something up her sleeve. “If you think I won’t kill you right now, you’re dead wrong.”

The only answer to that was a flick of an ear.

“Berate me all you want, I was right. It’s an honor to be where I am, and until you can see that, I’ll just have to make you.”

Those words send a chill up Magic’s spine, and she looks, wide-eyed, around the room. Maddy glances over at her, lips downturned, and holds a finger up to her mouth.

Her breathing comes ragged and fast, vision splitting as Kyle turns to look at her.

“You can come willingly or not, I don’t care. You’ll be coming either way.”

She shakes her head, hair spinning out around her as she sinks to her knees. Kyle stalks closer on silent feet. He kneels, staring her right in the eyes, exactly where she hates. His white one, just like hers, flashes, and he says only, the sound muffled in her panic, “You know what you are. Remember.”

Her anxiety fades in an instant, replaced by calm. Magic looks at him unblinking.

The shattered remains of Everything in the Universe, of the stars in the void, are beautiful.

A sword pierces through Kyle’s red cloak, the blue shimmering with bloody stardust and crimson.

Magic remembers to breathe. The waves of calm and the vision of the perfect void vanish.

K stands behind her brother with her hands on her sword and darkness behind her green eyes.

Chapter Text

“We can’t wake them,” says Falce to Exor, one set of eyes on Sykle, another on the older Watcher; a third swivels in a circle, from the high ceilings to the cool tints of the small medical bay (Watchers are not mortal, but even gods have need of such things, much as they sneer) and back to Nemesis.

Exor pauses, folding inward in a way that Falce, if they weren’t accustomed to the screeches of Withers and world-breaking powers, would wince at.

After a minute, presumably of searching through Nemesis’ mind, they retreat from the small position and says only, “Taken.”

They suck in a breath, a tiny one, but a breath of the thin air nonetheless; Sykle’s reaction is much more intense.

“Taken? Nihachu of the Syndicate was taken?”

Falce could’ve heard a pin drop in the vast silence that filled the med bay after that question.

“You know them.”

The words were not directed at them, but they still swallow hard. Exor is dangerous to their enemies, Falce knows that well enough, and if you happened to be in the path of their misfortune, well…

Everyone, from the newest recruit to the highest Watcher, knew that fate that had befallen the trickster Xelqua.

Sykle freezes, a single slimy hand half-raised. “Nihachu of the Syndicate? Yes. Of course!”

The temperature in the bay drops further, aggravating the instincts Falce’s pushed down for over two months.

“How do you know that name?” Exor hisses, and all Falce can hear is their own heartbeat.

“We were- Las-” Sykle babbles. “Uh.”

“Tell me, and perhaps I will spare you the torture of rending your bones from your body, slime.”

“My old server!” Sykle yells. “We were. We were servermates.”

“And how did you know?”

“I’ve got a nose for these things, y’know! The good ol’ sniffer sniffed it out! Like knows like, and all that!”

“Like knows like,” the Watcher repeats. “Hmm. You will not speak of this.”

“Yep! Gotcha! Won’t tell anyone!”

Exor turns their Gaze to Falce. The world melts into frozen shards.

Pyro forces out a nod from within locked joints and thinks that he’s never been so cold.

———

“Pyro.”

Falce nearly drops their Orb and scrambled for swords that are no longer at their side.

“Clown?” they demand.

He crosses his arms. “We need to talk, Pyro.”

“Don’t call me that!” they hiss. “I don’t know how you’ve- what, projected yourself here, but I’m not dealing with you. I’ve had enough of that.”

Even though they can’t see his face, Falce can tell Clown is smirking. “It’s about Nemesis.”

Falce freezes. “What?”

“I knew that’d get your attention. You always were… one-minded.”

They growl, low in their throat, fire hissing on their tongue. “Get to the point.”

“I have Nemesis. You have Magic. This your one opportunity.”

Falce lifts an eyebrow, transmitting their distain. “You have Magic. She’s Void, isn’t she?”

Clown shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

The projection starts to disappear, but Falce reaches out to block him. He flicks a hand and the light realigns itself.

“What do you mean, ‘she’s ours?’” Pyro shouts. “The whole point- this entire time, you’ve been going on and on about how she’s got secrets and she’s connected to the void! There’s no way- there is no way that she hasn’t been Claimed by Kyle!”

“Kyle,” Clown’s tone is scathing, “not me. I need her power, Pyro. Get me Magicsings, and I’ll return the siren.”

“If you think-!” he snarls, “that I’ll help you, you conniving rat-!”

Clown looks at him, the grinning mask staring soulless past his own dull one, right into his red eyes. He tilts his head, and Pyro suddenly has a vivid image of an Enderman wandering the wastes, waiting for someone to stare it in the eyes- and he’s just taken the bait.

“If you refuse,” he says, softly, “I’ll go after that little town of ours. I’ll start with Rae- make you watch as I rip her apart. Then Maddy, Muu, Ivo- do you understand?”

Falce snaps their mouth shut.

“Do you understand?”

Their hands twitch, wanting to reach for weapons that are no longer there. The voices of the Wither are silent. They have no doubt that Clown could run them through with their scythe.

“I’ll get you Magic,” they say, just barely managing to hold onto their anger.

The tension in the air releases, somewhat. “Excellent.”

  He vanishes in a swirl of lightning and red.

Pyro unlocks his jaw, finally daring to breathe.

Falce releases a breath. They had work to do.

Chapter Text

The train is quiet. Unlike the one they had rode to get to Kristin’s realm, it doesn’t give the illusion of aliveness that always accompanied trains in the Overworld, or elytra-flying through the void, or hoglin wrangling in the Nether. There is no hum of electronics, no whirling of gears, no whooshing of air or release of heat as the train moves. The floor itself is as settled and still as gliding on a lake.

It would be calming if it wasn’t so spooky, Shelby thinks, pulling down the brim of her hat to run her fingers along the edge. The fear factor is helped along by the fact none of the other riders- except for Gem and Joe, and she’s still a bit unclear on whether they need to or just want to- breathe.

“You okay?” Gem whispers to her, running her hands through her hair, wincing whenever she brushes her antlers.

Shelby nods. “Just- spooky, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Gem breathes.

“Do you want me to braid your hair?”

She shrugs. “It’s kinda short, but you can try.”

Shelby sinks her hands into Gem’s mess of curls. “Do you have a brush?”

“I’ve got one!” Joe passes it over.

“Thanks,” Shelby whispers.

The time passes quicker while she weaves Gem’s hair the best she can and Joe regales them both with stories. The silence is filled with soft laughter.

———

  The Clearing is exactly what it says, with a few extra bits and bobs. Shelby steps out of the train last- it vanishes before she can turn to glance at it- and blinks in the sunlight. Wild grasses and flowers grow up to her knees, vines twisting upwards through an orchard decked in apples and lemons.

A pond ripples softly in a shady corner; the main attraction, however, is the wood and cobbled stone house, the chimney reaching just above the canopy and the shutters thrown open. It instantly reminds Shelby of the Undergrove, of her first empire.

The front door opens. In it’s place stands a teen, dressed in a soft-looking gray hoodie and a black-and-yellow-striped shirt. She blinks at the trio. “Uh. Hi.”

“Riice!” she calls, craning her head upwards. “Hey, Riice! We’ve got visitors!”

Another head pokes out of one of the windows: bi-colored hair and curved horns. “Coming!” they call. “Hold on-”

In a few quick movements, they’re standing on the windowsill, and then to Shelby’s horror, jumps from the third floor.

Her yelp is cut off as they tumble to the ground, and then halfway through it. “I’m good!”

“What?” says Gem, in that indignant manner she adopts when incredulous. “What? How?”

Riice shrugs. “Just- dead, y’know?”

“Truuue,” Shelby realizes. “Yeah. Dead.”

The other girl comes out and bumps her shoulder. “Show off.”

“So,” they say, not responding to the other. “What’re you here for? You’re alive, right?”

Shelby, Joe, and Gem all glance at each other.

“In a manner of speaking,” says Joe. “You could say. That’s. Yeah.”

Hoodie-girl says, pressing her lips together, “You’re fae.”

“Caitees!” Riice says. “I’m sorry. But. Um.”

“In a manner of speaking,” Joe repeats. “Although, ‘alive’ is very broad! We could be any sort of things, and really, what does ‘alive’ constitute anyways? Breathing? Hmm. Not breathing. What were we talking about?”

“The reason three strangers have turned up on our doorstep,” says Caitees. A brown wolf darts of the orchard, carrying a bone still with flesh hanging off of one side.

“That!” exclaims Shelby.

“…the bones?” Riice asks, bemused.

“No, the wolf,” she explains. “We’re lookin’ for one! Her name’s Tilly, someone at the train station said you could help us?”

“The someone wouldn’t happen to be IzzyFoxy, would it?” asks Caitees. “Enderian, fox-deer hybrid?”

“Yep!” agrees Gem. “Friend of yours?”

Caitees nods. “She’s a librarian, but she gets out more than we do. Ironic, really. Kinda weird how that works, huh?”

She waits a beat, as if waiting for something, but then adds, “Um. Yeah, so lots of the animals come through here. They like us- well, they like Riice, and I’m not leaving, so-”

“‘Course not!” agrees Riice. “Nope! Who cares if it’s a little weird that I’m dead and you’re not? Not us!”

“Huh,” mutters Gem.

“You can try to call her, if you want?” offers Caitees. “The canines like the forest, mostly. We have to keep them away from the sheep, though, they like to get into them-”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a blue sheep, would you?” Joe asks suddenly.

Caitees laughs. It sounds a little bitter. “Nah, that one’s under Lady Kristin’s care. She’s. Well. Not the most approachable, if you get what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Shelby says, though she doesn’t, really. There some context missing, somewhere. “Hmm. Tilly!”

The name echoes through the Clearing, bouncing off the branches and disappearing into the leaves.

“Split up?” suggests Gem.

Riice laughs nervously. “I dunno. That never ends well.”

“If something’s there, we might as well let it take us,” says Joe. “It’ll happen.”

Shelby looks at him. “How many times have you been here?”

“…A lot?”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” Gem says suddenly. “There…”

She trails off and vanishes into the shadows. Shelby races after her.

Chapter Text

In the space between nothing, two Watchers meet. They’re similar in many ways, and different in several, but ultimately, Primula and Nemesis are motivated by the same thing: peace.

Hey, says Aimsey. I think I’m dying.

Oh dear. Well… I… think I’ve been kidnapped? answers Niki. I’m not too sure, honestly.

Nice wings, he says. How much did the mask hurt?

Thank you! she says. I got kidnapped during it. And. I had memories. So.

Not good, then, agrees Aimsey. Who kidnapped you?

Why are you dying? she counters.

Touché. If he had teeth, and air to suck through them, he would’ve winced. You first.

I saw… uh… a red- what’s the word!- cloak. And a scythe. A person, too, but they looked scared.

What did they look like?

They had blue and brown hair- in little buns, it was nice- and a white eye. They were scared, though. I don’t think they were supposed to be there.

Huh.

Your turn.

Right! Um. Death corruption- basically, when your body starts to reject the magic holding it together after you’re supposed to go to Kristin’s realm, it sort of… tears itself apart. Burns like-

The nothing pulses with light. Both Aimsey and Niki flinch.

“It’s time to go,” says another voice, quiet, filled with the sort of hum that accompanies magic. “Come along, Nemesis.”

She doesn’t say anything. Aimsey gets the feeling that she can’t.

“Wake up!” the voice snarls, rising in pitch. “It’s time to wake up.”

And then, suddenly, he is left alone in the nothing, and the loneliness crashes down so fast it’s like it never left.

Don’t leave me here! he calls. Please! I- come back!

And of course, as always, there is nothing.

Chapter Text

Mumbo comes barreling down the paths of shopping district, followed closed by Grian and Scar- honestly, Pearl’s surprised they haven’t surpassed him yet.

“What-” he wheezes, “What’s happened?”

Cleo stares at him. It’s not that surprising, is it?

Then she throws her head back and laughs. “It’s that simple. God.”

“What?”

The question comes from Sloy, but it’s surely what they’re all thinking.

“Is the ship still the same if you replace all it’s parts?” Cleo asks, pacing back and forth. Jevin reaches out a hand to steady her; she pushes him off. “It’s- you were. Take away what doesn’t work, replace it with something that does. Easy.”

Pearl feels horror creep along her spine. “Cleo- what-”

“This seems unethical,” Mumbo proclaims.

“Hush,” she says. “We do it every day, don’t we?”

“…No,” says X. “What?”

Martyn says, “Changing.”

Cleo spins to look at him, and for a moment Pearl swears her eyes are as crimson as burning coals.

“Yes. Yeah. Patch it up. Ta da.”

“Uh,” mutters Jevin. “Cool. Sure. How?”

“Eye for an eye,” she says. The zombie grins, pointed teeth dripping strangely with blood. “You ready to make a deal with Death, Jev?”

———

“Witchcraft?” says Scar, looking uncertain. “That, uh, Cleo, that doesn’t go well!”

“…maybe you’re just looking for the wrong thing,” they answer. “Look. Unless you know a necromancer I don’t, this is our only option.”

“You’re running out of time,” says Zloy.

“Awesome,” says Cleo. “That’s my thing. Time.”

“Cleo-” starts Jevin. He sighs. “Yeah, right. What do we need to do?”

“We need to make the Goddess of Death so mad she shows her face in a place she’s sworn never to.”

There’s silence.

“…Uhh,” says X. He sounds, Pearl thinks as she too blinks in surprise, like a deflating balloon.

“WHAT,” Grian squawks.

Cleo sighs. “We have to do something so world-breaking she’s forced to step in.”

“…Oh,” says Mumbo. “Easy! What?”

They hold up a clump of wool.

“Zed?” he guesses.

“Zedaph,” the zombie confirms.

In the end, it’s Cleo, Martyn, and Pearl who make the trek to Zed’s base. (Mumbo didn’t want to leave Scar and Grian, and X and Zloy had admin-y things to do. Jevin ruefully admitted that the smaller party was probably best.)

“Hello!” Zed calls from the Hall of All as the trio swoop down to meet him. “What’s up, Cleo- ooohhh okay, scary Cleo, got it!”

Cleo scowls. Martyn and Pearl glance at each other. The former lifts an eyebrow.

“Say, Zed, done anything particularly world-breaking lately?” Pearl asks, fake-casually.

The goat grins. “Oh, you betcha! Hold on-”

He scampers into the depths of his base.

“I can be not scary,” Cleo mutters.

Martyn snickers.

Zedaph returns soon enough, holding something that looks like a cross between a compass and an eye of Ender. He holds it up to the light, showing how the glassy pupil flashed with violet sparkles.

“…What is it?” Pearl asks skeptically.

“It captures the energy in End Crystals and turns it into living matter. At least, theoretically.”

All three of them stare at him.

“What?” says Cleo.

“That’s world-breaking, in, like, three different ways,” exclaims Martyn.

“Several more than that!” Zed agrees cheerfully. “Wanna test it out?”

“Here?” Pearl asks.

He shrugs. “Of course! Where else?”

That was… a fair point.

“Stand back,” warns the goat. “I haven’t tried this iteration, it might not… go smoothly.”

They do as he says, Pearl drumming her fingers on the railing, as he points the thing at the ground and flips a switch. There’s a sudden surge of heat and magic and wind and power, like when an End Crystal is struck, and the tingle of electricity and vague energy that comes with such an action.

The light fades, revealing Zed thrown against a wall, hair blown back to expose more of his horns- and a tiny purple creature, like a crab or a coral, gazing woozily around.

“Is that Cruppy?” Martyn demands, which seems weird to Pearl, but really not that strange compared to Zed’s life-creating-contraption.

The thing moves, and so does it’s shadow, growing and growing until the air is freezing and Pearl can see her breath.

The Goddess of Death reaches inky wings to the sky and asks:

“What is it this time?”

Chapter Text

K shudders.

Magic is frozen, wide-eyed, and so is everyone else, until Maddy moves.

“Ka- K. K, can you hear me? I’m here.”

“Maddy. Maddy. Maddy,” she rasps. “Maddy, is this- real?”

“Yes. I promise it’s real.”

In one swift moment, K draws her sword across her palm. Blood splatters on the ground. She releases a breath.

Magic thinks she’s going to throw up, looking at the blood on the ground and the body still slowly disappearing into oil slick.

“It’s real,” K mutters. “This is real. This is real. It hurt. It’s real.”

“Yes,” agreed Maddy. “Can I- you just cut your hand.”

K giggles. “Huh, it still hurts.”

She looks at Magic. “Oh. Oh. You okay?”

Magic opens her mouth and nothing comes out. She blinks at her, rocking back and forth on her knees. She thinks it maybe hurts. The floor is… cold? No? Maybe?

There’s blood on the floor.

“Magic?” says K again.

That was- hmm. She looks slowly up.

“Can you talk?” Maddy asks, gently.

Magic tilts her head, and then her body seems to realize Maddy needed an answer. She shakes her head.

She blinks once, twice, then shakes her head again. She can’t seem to make the spots in her vision go away.

“Breathe,” someone coaches, and it’s so very loud.

She sinks further down, covering her ears from the whining coming from… somewhere. Oh. Maybe it’s her?

“Magic, Magic, please-”

There’s a scream, then, and everything is quiet.

———

“She’s gone,” says Owen unnecessarily.

“Oh really?” K snaps. “You sure?”

“Stop arguing,” says Ivory.

“Oh, that’s rich,” snorts K, anger roiling in her blood still steadily dripping onto Puffy’s floors.

“Hey! Hey!” Fundy yells. “Listen. There’s no way you’re finding your friend if you’re bloody arguing.”

“Well, yes, and also look out the window.”

They all, in unison, turn.

The staticky, purpled-suited man outside bolts.

Owen chases after him, out the door in seconds, and Apo and Ivory and K are right behind him, shouting.

“Ash!” K hollers. “Stop it! Ash!”

“Go away!” he yells back, the call cut off as he vanishes into thin air.

“Who was that?” says Apo a second later, catching his breath.

“Ash,” Ivory answers. “He just- appeared, one day. Pokes around into other people’s business demanding coin. I- think Izzy and Ivo summoned him?”

“Like Herobrine, allegedly,” agrees K.

“He’s not,” says Owen. “Unless- is Eret-”

“…Yes?” Apo says after a moment. K has no clue what they’re talking about.

“Look, Ash’s gone for now,” says Ivory. “We could-”

“I bet Doc or Scott could track him,” Owen interrupts. “Oh- sorry-”

K squints at him. “Don’t you have weird god powers?”

“Wrong god,” says Apo. “And it’s not safe here, anyways. I vote we head back to Hermitcraft.”

“Hermitcraft?” Maddy squeaks, coming out to join them. “What.”

“What?” K agrees.

“Figures,” Ivory mutters.

There’s a distinctly foxlike yelp from the diner. K flicks an ear and turns to look at Fundy. He’s trembling, paws on his comm, tail lowered.

“Something’s happened,” realizes K.

Owen and Apo look at each other. “Phil’s gone.”

Chapter Text

Falce grins, needle-sharp and clouding the air with smoke, staff clutched in one hand and pressed against a deepslate wall. They Watch from above, not nearly certain enough to fly the skies, as the Players scurry like ants below.

There’s three in one little group, they know one and have heard tale of the others. They’re interesting, certainly, and if they weren’t on a quest to find Magic, Xelqua and his allies would be at the top of their retrieval list.

There’s another flying away from, on butterfly wings layered with gunpowder and god-power. He’s familiar too, the godkiller.

(Pyro ignores the thought that says he might’ve played with any one of them in MCC, if only he hadn’t followed Exor.)

They See all of them pause and check their comms. Ah. That would have been the gods-

Wait. Kaboodle? Millkberry? IvoryCello?

They ignore the flash of panic the notifications send to their head and focus on the fact that it’ll be easier to interrogate one of them for Magic’s location than anyone else.

But who? Not Ivory; she’s as ruthless as they are. Maddy- Millkberry- Millkberry would be easier to press (and less unhinged). But…

There’s really no choice. Falce will have to hurt their friend to get what they need.

No. Watchers do not interact with Players.

Falce will have to use all the resources at their disposal in order to achieve their goal.

———

“Nemesis.”

Niki glares at the strange grinning mask.

“Huh,” he mutters. “Well. Nihachu.”

She straightened and shuddered as magic thrummed under her skin, under her bonds.

“Now that I’ve got your attention, I’d like to start over. I’m Clown.”

She shifted slightly but didn’t say anything. Her mask was gone, and her cloak, wings folded against her back. The chair was wood, which really seemed like an oversight (if not a good one), if they wanted to get information out of her.

Then again, he- Clown?- had her name, so it wasn’t like he needed to resort to violent methods.

“You going to say anything?”

She pursed her lips and glared at him with all of her six eyes (one pair nestled in the fins of her ears, one settled normally, and a last pair peering across the room from her second wings).

“No?”

She sighs, a long exhale. “If you think I’m saying anything to a fae holding me captive, you’re more stupid than I thought.”

“I could command you to,” he suggests lightly. Niki bites down on her nausea. “But that’s the hard way. The easy way is… this.”

He raises his scythe. Niki braces herself.

…He cut the bonds?

———

“There’s someone up there,” says the Vex.

“What? I don’t see anyone?” the shapeshifter says, squinting up at Falce’s hiding place.

“No, there is! I can feel it!”

The Vex tugs on his elytra- Falce can see the glimmer of broken Vex wings shimmering under the artificial ones.

Oh. Oh. If the Vex could bypass their illusion, it stands to reason he’s not the only one who can.

Falce turns to flee, escaping on silent sulfuric wings.

“Hiya.”

The Vex stares at him with the grinning blue smile he’s seen in far too many nightmares.

…They end up in spawn.

“Look what we found!” the Vex calls cheerfully. The shapeshifter’s ahead of them, Xelqua trailing behind, seeming sullen.

Falce ignores the curious gazes of the trio they’re familiar with, and locks eyes with one of the creation gods. “I would’ve thought gods would put up more of a fight,” he spits.

The other snarls, caught in indecision- and leaps for the Watcher.

“HEY!” someone shouts.

The two tumble over the stone. The god is biting, scratching- anything he can do. Falce can see the fire of rage in his eyes.

They, on the other hand, are much more rational.

“Whoaa, whoa, whoa, stop-”

At least until their mask is torn off somehow in the struggle.

Then, Pyro screams.

———

Clown offers a hand. Niki doesn’t take it. She stands cautiously, wings flaring instinctively, eyes opening in their places.

“They didn’t train you very well,” he remarks.

She raises an eyebrow. “Where’s my mask- or are you too focused on tormenting your enemies?”

“Oh, I enjoy that,” he says. “But you and I are not enemies, Nihachu.”

That same surge of magic hovers just under her skin.

“Then what are we?” she asks, noting that he had never answered her question.

He pauses. “Think of it as… potential allies.”

“And if I don’t agree, you keep me here anyway.”

“Something like that.”

“How do you you know my name?”

“Everyone knows the great Nemesis, goddess of revenge, the nationbreaker.”

“My true name, Clown, or so help me-”

“Watch your words. But I’ll answer your question. I ripped out of a god’s consciousness with barely a breath.”

Niki stares. Horror creeps along her spine.

“Nihachu, I took your name straight out of the Angel of Death.”

Chapter Text

“Gem?” Shelby yells. “Gem- where’d you go?”

Her voice echoes off trees that have suddenly become low-hanging and marred by fog. Shelby shivers. Her foot goes straight through a pile of bark and rotten leaves, and she falls.

“AHHHH-”

Gem stares at her, head tilted, eyes as crimson as sweetberries.

“Gem?” It comes out as more of whisper, a cry against the chill creeping up her spine.

Her friend grins at her, and her teeth are sharper than Rivendell’s icicles. Shelby freezes.

Gem’s eyes widen, just a little, and Shelby thinks she sees a swirl of violet nestled in her irises. That same dread comes out in billowed clouds of breath, faster and faster as Gem circles and Shelby turns to follow her.

The cold air picks up, lightning sparking across the night sky. Gem fluffs her feathers, the sleek shafts catching the light as thunder crackles again. They look more like False’s, to the ghost’s untrained eyes, than something Gem would choose.

She has the uncomfortable revelation that her broken antlers look like claws.

Finally, finally, Gem hisses deep in her throat and the spell is broken. Shelby runs.

Gem laughs, a cackling wild thing, and as she runs, she hears the familiar, spine-chilling groan of the undead.

Shelby yelps and wishes she had her elytra and realizes that it wouldn’t make a difference and she stumbles and-

Gem looks down at her and grins like a predator who has caught her prey.

“Join me.”

And then there’s a blade through her-

Snap!

———

“Found her!” Joe calls, kneeling beside Tilly. Her coat is dirty and fur patched all over with brambles, but she has the same starsense as Pearl and the same scrappy glint in her eyes.

“Oh, good!” Riice calls back. “Come over here and-”

She cut off suddenly, and Joe realizes suddenly that all the birds have stopped singing and the undergrowth is still.

Uh oh.

Joe glances at Tilly. “You want to go see what that is?”

She pants, wiggling her tail.

“Great! Team up! I think it’s over there.”

They travel slowly through the forest, though not silently. Tilly, for all the things she is, is still mortal-born (though Joe has a feeling Pearl might change that) and he’d prefer not to be banished from Death’s Realm again.

He crouched behind a particularly large fern and watches (but not Watches, he’s never been one for that) a hoof step delicately through the tangle of roots. Gem or Riice, then.

“What do you think?” he whispers to Tilly. “Oh- they’re hunting?”

She flicks an ear, the whites of her eyes showing.

The air turns cold suddenly. Joe gulps. He turns.

Riice grins at him, her horns pointier than they have any right to be.

He shoots to his feet and runs. Tilly snarls at Riice, nipping at her ankles.

“Tilly!” he yells.

The wolf follows behind him, a barrier between him and the ghost, and Joe knows that if he had a heart it would be pounding.

“Over here!” shouts someone else- Caitees, he realizes, as he turns a corner and the house comes into view. She waves at him from the doorway.

An arrow flies just past his ear. Joe keeps running.

Shelby laughs, a laugh that doesn’t sound like hers, and the air smells like gunpowder. He turns.

“Caitees NO-”

The house goes up in an explosion of heat and light. Gem, Shelby, and Riice turn to look at the destruction. Caitees is there, in the center of the destruction, purple streaming from her eyes and darkness in her features.

Joe keeps running.

Chapter Text

“We need your help,” says Cleo. Kristin’s eyes land on her, and there’s a barely perceptible shift in her stance.

“Really?” she drawls. “You demand my help? After all the rules you’ve broken? With your experiments and tests and determination?”

“It’s not for us,” says Pearl, and she takes a breath before flashing her wings with protection and belonging and everything she is. “It’s for Aimsey.”

“The chosen, the taken, the star-crossed,” recites Kristin. “Ah. And here I thought you’d finally learned your lesson.”

“We’re not too good at that,” Zed remarks wryly.

“Every one of you are meant to be dead,” Kristin says. “Why should I stop the natural process of the Universe?”

“They’re not going to die,” Cleo says, finally. “They’re corrupted, you won’t get their soul.”

Kristin’s eyes flicker for a moment.

“The consequences of your actions.”

And this time it’s Martyn who answers:

“Not ours. The Watchers- they-”

“Changed,” she finishes. “As they do. And I agree- they were only ever meant to Watch. But if you wish to rescue them, I cannot help you. The Nothing is not my domain.”

“The- Nothing?” asks Pearl.

Kristin waves a hand. “The Inbetween, limbo- there are many names for it. No god rules it.”

She huffs- it’s the most emotion she’s shown so far. “If you’re finished, I will take my leave. Things are… unsettled, at present.”

She warps and vanishes as swiftly as a shadow, taking the purple coral thing with her.

Martyn stares, for a minute. “Guess we don’t need the Cruppy Cleaning Crew, then.”

Cleo fixes him a look, then sighs. “Limbo. Perfect.”

“That sounds familiar,” mutters Zed. “Uh- what is it?”

“It- it’s the space between the dead and the living. It doesn’t really… exist. It’s only there when it’s needed. It’s also technically impossible to get to. There were ways to get to it, but…”

“Let me guess, they’re gone?” Pearl finishes.

“Yep. But I’m pretty sure there is a god of the Nothing. Just. No one knows who they are.”

“Oh,” says Zed. “Amazing, then.”

Pearl and Martyn look at each other. Cleo’s and Zed’s comms beep.

I really should get one of those, she thinks. “Who’s it?”

“Owen and Apo,” says Cleo. “And… Kaboodle, Millkberry, and IvoryCello? I know the last one, at least.”

Martyn frowns. “Weird.”

“Owen says, ‘they’re friends-’ oh my goodness, Scar found a Watcher!”

“He what?” Pearl demands. “Where?”

“Spawn-” Zed says, hurriedly, strapping on his elytra.

Pearl vaults into the air and shoots off like a rocket. Heat brushes at her heels- Martyn had fire-wings?- and comes up to join her.

———

They land some time later to far too many people at spawn. Scar, Apo, and a rabbit hybrid with brown hair are arguing; Owen and Grian are whispering to each other; Mumbo keeps glancing at the dark-winged Watcher huddled next to the crafting table shrine while an Enderian and demon look on.

“Okay, so who’s this?” Martyn asks.

“That’s Pyro,” says the demon. “Pyroscythe. Hi. I’m Ivory.”

“Pearl,” she answers. “That there’s Martyn- and hi Cleo!”

“Hey,” she answers simply. “I told Zed to go home. I think he’s headed to Tango’s.”

“That’s not my name!” he yells. “And if you would let me get up-”

“Nope!” calls Grian.

“What were you doing?” Pearl asks, moving over to him. “Here, I mean. If Exor had found us, they would’ve come themself.”

Grian nods, lips pressed tightly together.

“You can torture me all you like, I’m not telling you anything!”

“That’s easier said than done,” Martyn mutters darkly.

“Then will you tell me?” asks the Enderian. “Pyro. You were the second Netherian I met- one of my closest friends. Please.”

His face twists for a moment. “You are nothing, Maddy Millkberry. And when I escape- and Nike only knows that I will- I will crush you like the insignificant gnat you are!”

She reels back.

“Hey!” yells the rabbit, fire in her eyes and venom in her voice, “you don’t get to say that about my best friend!” She draws her sword and Pearl notices faintly that it has blood on it.

The Watcher laughs and struggles to his feet despite his bonds. “You want a fight, Kaboodle? I’ll give you one.”

“How about we… don’t?” suggests Mumbo. Pearl’s surprised- by now, she’s about geared up to fight. And she’s not the only one: Martyn’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, Owen’s got his tail lashing, even Scar’s pacing.

Wait. Is she-

She swerved back to look at Pyro, who’s grinning, present in the way only iron can do. “Are you doing this?”

His eyes- all six-ish pairs of them- are as red as blood-splattered stone. “You mortals are so easy to use. Give you an objective, apply pressure, well… what are you willing to do to win the game?”

You deserve this more than me.

Tilly death do us part!

She’s trembling and there’s a bruise across Pyro’s face and her hand hurts.

“Woo, Pearl!” Martyn cheers. “You go!”

She whirls around, barely feeling the magic thrumming through the ground around her, and snarls, “You left me! You all-”

She chokes on a sob as sunflowers and orange and dark red wave around her like mirages in a cornfield. “I’m alone.”

Her loneliness expands, a stardusted ocean, until something tugs sharply at her chest. She gasps as her palms burn with sunlight.

Have you heard the story of Sanctuary?

Pearl smiles and lets herself

          F

    a

             l

                                  l

Chapter Text

Ash? Magic calls. A- anyone? K? Am I-

Hi!

Hi?

Who’re you?

I’m Magic! Who’re you?

Oh, I’m Aimsey. I’ve been here for a while. Are you here to get me out?

The words seem hopeful, like so many days in the Maze were. Like they didn’t really believe that someone had come.

Sure, she says. I’m- where are we, Aimsey?

I dunno. It seems familiar… but hey, I’m not dying anymore!

You were dying?

Yeah, I was. Sucked. Someone else came, for a little while, but she’s gone. Wait…

What?

Niki mentioned someone. Someone with blue and brown hair, and eyes like yours. Was it you?

I don’t think I know a Niki. You’re funny, though! I think I’ve been here before…

It’s not the void, I know that much.

The void! Do you know Kyle?

…Don’t think so?

Oh! Well, he’s this guy. He’s trying to destroy the world, or, at least, that’s what K and Ivory told me. He’s, like, the void. Like me.

Like you?

Aimsey tilts her head, or, at least, gives the impression that that’s what she’d do if she had one. Magic giggles.

Of course, silly! Why else would I be here?

Are you Endkind, then? I’m Enderian.

Endkind. Huh. Nope! I’m the void!

People can’t be the void! Aimsey protests. That’s not a thing!

How do you know? I am! I didn’t know it, but I do now! Kyle told me!

You just told me Kyle was trying to destroy the world.

Yeah?

Are you trying to destroy the world, Magic?

I don’t- I don’t want to. But I think… that’s what they told me to do. I’m supposed to do what they tell me.

Who?

I dunno…

Who, Magic? If you’re in danger-

I’m not- Aimsey- they made me forget. I don’t wanna forget again. I messed up, and they made me forget.

Magic. Magic, hey. Let’s uh… breathe. You still have a body, here, don’t you?

You don’t?

Nah, my body’s sorta… tearing itself apart, y’know.

Oh. Hey, check this out! I can fly!

She twirls in a circle, dancing among the Nothing, a grin on her face, humming a familiar tune.

Magic-

Aimsey, please- can we just… stay? It’s safe here.

There’s a pause.

Okay. Just- you’re going to have to explain sometime.

Why?

So we can get out of here. So I can help you.

Why?

Why- so we can get back to our lives, Magic. They’re important.

No, no, why do you want to help me? I’m not-

Because I like to help people. And I might’ve only known you for a little while, but you seem like you need it.

But I’m not- I’m not supposed to be people. I’m just… I messed up. But I don’t want to forget. I-

You sure seem like a person to me, Magic. I’m gonna find a way to get us out of here, I promise. I won’t leave you alone.

Magic feels her breath pause in her lungs. Thanks, Aimsey. I’m glad we’re friends.

I’m glad we’re friends too.

Chapter Text

“Then-” Niki whispers, fins expanded and a chill rising up her spine. “Phil- you-”

Clown moves closer, a hand extended, as Niki looks desperately around. The room, like the chair, is made of dark wood- an iron door is locked on it’s hinges in the doorframe. Unhelpful- unless-

She takes a step back, towards the wall. Clown steps forward; they continue this dance until one of her wings hits the back wall. Niki bites down the revulsion she feels at being cornered and digs her claws into the wood, pulling at the grain until it snaps.

She pulls out her makeshift weapon and thrusts it forward into Clown’s chest. It hits metal and screeches, sparks flying. Clown moves, but she moves faster, turning sparks into embers into flames into boiling heat and burning wood.

She plunges past him into the burgeoning hole in the wall and runs.

The rest of the building is wooden as well- a light sort of construction that will burn easily. There aren’t any windows, but that’s okay- she only needs to get space between her and Clown.

There’s someone else coming down the hall as well, a guy with frizzy hair, but she pushes past him before he can do anything. Niki, after all, has a lot of experience running from fires of her own making.

…At least until she dashes into a side room to catch her breath and someone teleports in front of her. She doesn’t have enough time to slip into a shadow; he spots her near-instantly.

“Uh,” he says. “What? Clown! I found your person!”

She bites out a swear and bolts.

Teleport-guy is right behind her- he’s surprisingly fast.

“Ugh. Just- stop! There’s nowhere to run!”

She keeps going, of course, because when has she ever listened to someone else?

“That usually works,” she hears him mutter, and then louder, “Where is he?”

Niki pants and turns another corner. There! There’s a door, sunlight streaming around the corners. She runs for it.

She thrusts open the door and-

There’s an open field, and a forest blanketing one corner, but beyond that lies the shimmery, filmy border that marked a sharp drop off to nothing. Her heart sinks from it’s position in her throat. He was right.

There’s nowhere to run. She’s ruined her only chance to escape.

Unless she could get through the border, which-

A fizzle of electricity bursts past her head. She jumps from the doorstep, nearly stumbling on the packed dirt path.

A vine from a nearby bush snakes it’s way across her ankle. She yelps, trying and failing to pull her leg free. There are other tendrils as well, plants and earth sinking her halfway into the soil and down to her knees.

“Guess we’re doing this the hard way, then, Nihachu.”

Chapter Text

Fundy stands, again, at the edge of world, and, again, is not alone. Ren stands to his left, and on his other side is Doc. They had decided, rather abruptly, when Fundy told them he was going to go find his grandpa to join him. (Look. At least he wasn’t going into this alone and blind- better odds than most of his life.)

“I am surprised he has a Waystone,” says Doc. “All the way out here. You would’ve thought he wanted to be alone.”

Fundy shrugs. “Probably for Niki and Ranboo.

“Well!” chimes in Ren, already trudging through the snow. He points a paw at the sky. “He’s gone- and his Claim too.”

The aurora, once decking the night sky in shades of pink and yellow and red and green, is now dark blue and raven-eye blueberry. There’s tiny sparkles of neon yellow and pale violet, too, like the dead remains of misfired fireworks.

“Oh,” Fundy says, only. “Oh. That’s the- Watchers, aren’t they?”

“Seems right, dude,” agrees Ren. “Martyn and BigB said- well, green and yellow were for the Listeners, and purple and white were Watcher colors.”

Doc nods. “You mentioned, Ren- he had a Claim?”

“Yeah, it was the broken-portal stuff, but it was yellow. All weird and dusty.”

“A Claim forcibly changed like this… there’s not much that can do it. Even if it was the Watchers, they would need a way in.”

“You’re not sure it’s the Watchers?” asks Fundy, pricking his ears. “It kinda- there’s been a lot of missing lately.”

The creeper shrugs. “I dunno. Yellow isn’t their thing. And the lights… it doesn’t feel right.”

Fundy shivers in the cold. “Maybe Carl or the dogs’re still around.”

“Not the birds?” Ren questions as they make their way towards the house. There’s no movement coming from the windows, nor smoke from the chimney; it spooks him more than he’d like to admit.

“Nah, they’re his,” he answers after a moment. “His- brain, or- I dunno, dedicated animal? Do they still have those?”

“Yes,” both Hermits say at once. There’s… something in the air. Like fog, or…

“I thought they were just- I don’t know. Pets,” says Ren, leaning against the wall of the house. “Hol’ up, Doc-”

They wait. Fundy watches his breath cloud in the chilly air.

Ren struggles, hacking out a cough.

“Dude?” asks Doc, looking over at his friend with a tone even Fundy can tell is concerned. “Ren?”

The dog stills, ears pricking, still wheezing, and says, “Anyone else feel that?”

His hand goes to the back of his neck. “I think-”

Ren falls to the ground, suddenly, and his gasps sound more like growls.

“Ren!” yells Doc. “Man- Ren, let’s get you inside-”

And then as as the creeper leans over to help him to his feet, the dog closes his jaws across his friend’s neck with the strength of something much stronger. He grins, feral and wild, as green blood drips down his chin and points his red, red eyes in Fundy’s direction.

“Ren!” he shouts, voice alight with terror. “Ren! What-”

“You’ve done well, Perdix,” says Ren, in a voice that is not his. “How would you like a reward?”

“Let him go,” he says, and if it comes out weaker than anticipated, then at least he’s not a coward. “And Doc, too.”

“Oh, I like them,” says Ren, stalking lazily closer. “They’re fun.”

He squeezes his claws into his palms. “You’re not a Watcher.”

“Not quite. Tell you what, guess what I am correctly and I’ll release one of them for free.”

Oh, it definitely couldn’t be that easy. “You’re not a Listener, either. Not Vex-”

He takes a step back, away from the house, and draws a paw into his pocket.

“What’ve you got there?”

He grits his teeth, and says, through a vicious grin of his own, “Iron bomb.”

He pulls out the trigger and tosses it in Ren’s direction (he’ll be fine after the respawn, he can respawn, we’re not-), then he runs.

———

If there was one thing Fundy was good at, it was running. Especially if it was snowing and his pursuer was a dog much less accustomed to running over snowdrifts. And so, he ran, leading not-Ren on a wild chase across the snowy plain.

He was bound to tire out eventually; he was, already, unused to the chase, and not-Ren seemed to have an endless supply of energy. That was okay, no matter how his brain screamed it wasn’t. He already had what he needed.

He pants, slowing despite his unwillingness. “You’re-”

Not-Ren stalks closer, tilting his head, and grins. “What was that, forgotten hero?”

He coughs. “You’re- you’re fae.”

“Correct. Now, the creeper can go- this King-” and here he sneers, like the term did him a disservice- “this King is mine. And you, hero, will be as well.”

Fundy goes stiller than an icicle. “That wasn’t in the deal.”

“Cheer up. You’ll soon see your friend- Nihachu, was it?”

He gapes, and then he’s giggling, because the air isn’t cold, anymore. It’s warm, and sunny, and he looks at the fae and they smile at him and that is the world and-

He would do anything for that, really.

“Now,” it says, still beaming at him with his friend’s face- Ren. Ren was there, as well!- “What’s your name, hero?”

———

Doc jolts awake, gasping, in his bed in the Perimeter, knowing that something is desperately, desperately wrong.

Chapter Text

There’s purple boiling in her blood and red lining her marrow. There’s four of them, now, but there’s still-

Joe’s gone, vanished among the wilds of Death’s Realm with Tilly by his side. Shelby can feel the magic in her blood surge at the reminder.

She has to kill him, and to do that, she has to find him. Maybe then she’ll be-

Normal? Is that what it is? There’s a sense of desperation to the hunt, a wild, caged feeling that sets her eyes to violet and hands to claws.

Why would she want to be normal when she can hunt?

———

She has a bow. They all do. There’s four of them, and Gem has a-

Gem has a-

A-

Gem can find Joe, is the point. She leads them deeper into the forest, and then out onto the plains, and then they fall and the Nether floats past them-

They are at the top of the mountain. They are at the top of the mountain, and so is Joe. They split up, into pairs; Gem and Shelby, and Riice and Caitees. Shelby’s bow is charmed with fire, and Gem’s ghostly blade shimmers in the darkness. It’ll be easy.

They crept downwards, past the craggy snow and the ice and the stone, and-

She sees him, crouched in a little wedge between an ice spike and the mountain’s lichen. Shelby cocks her head, blinks at Gem, then bares her teeth and takes her shot.

He is not there.

He is not anywhere on the mountain, Gem says, and then admits that she was wrong. The voices were wrong.

They travel back to the train station; they do not take the trains, because the voices say that would be unwise, and Shelby has purple roiling under her fingers and blood on her teeth. They needed the string, and she was quick to oblige.

They cut a small patch out of the dirt, like they did in the Clearing, and when it is finished, the same image is tattooed somewhere in her soul.

The train station is busy, as it often is, but the specters ignore them. There is fear in their eyes, and she revels in it, for the best thing about the hunt is having your prey cornered and squirming. She laughs when one yelps as they pass, and the voices say that it is fun, and Shelby agrees.

There is an enderian waiting for them at the library, like she knew they were coming, and she is familiar and she says-

“The Hunt?”

“The Hunt requires your assistance,” says Gem, and Shelby grins when she looks back at the shelves.

“I don’t know where Joe is, if you’re asking.”

She’s lying. Shelby knows it, and so do the others, and so does Izzy. She hesitates for a single second and then-

The enderian is running, hooves loud and stomping on the tilted ground, and Shelby knows exactly where she is and she isn’t Joe but-

Izzy screams and the ghost’s head buzzes and it is glorious.

In the end, it’s a shot from Caitees’ bow that pins her to the wall. She isn’t hunting, not yet, but-

“I’ll shoot her!” Caitees yells, and she grins and it is wild and Shelby is- “You come out right now or I’ll kill her.”

Shelby is hunting. And she hears the faint, muffled sound of a yell, and she pivots and there-

Joe, Squiddo, and Tilly, crouched behind the reception desk. He’s real, this time, and he is her prey. And as Caitees fires her shot, Shelby races towards them and-

Joe closes his hand around Squiddo’s own and Tilly’s collar, and the trio vanish. The voices roar, and Shelby-

She is no longer the hunter.

Chapter Text

Pearl vanishes as silently and quickly as the Moon of her name, leaving behind only the smells of sunlight and gunpowder. Grian feels his blood turn to ice.

He turns all of his Eyes to Pyro, fingers balled into fists seeping with purple light.

“I didn’t do that,” he says. “That- that was not me.”

“Sure,” he sneers. “Give her back, or you’ll be the one with broken wings.”

“Grian,” Mumbo says, coming around in front of him. He locks eyes with him for a moment. “Grian. Hey. Look at me.”

“I’m fine, Mumbo! Let me-”

“Your eyes are lavender- I’m not-”

Grian stares at his friend. Mumbo doesn’t give.

(The air is filled with the coldness of his breath.)

Mumbo looks away before he does, but he doesn’t move.

(Cleo reads out a notification: PearlescentMoon fell out of the world.)

And Grian swears and crosses his arms and blinks.

Mumbo grins at him. Then he looks past him. “Scar, uh, Scar-”

“Hug?” suggests the Vex.

He nods, desperately, and the ice fades, just a little.

(The air, at least, isn’t frozen. And then it parts.)

“-ills trying not to die as I always do-”

“JOE!” Cleo yells, and the Buttercups aren’t the only ones hugging.

“Cleo,” he says, and then:

“Squiddo? Tilly?”

“Here!” yells someone with brown hair and a sweater. “We’re here!”

Grian blinks. “What?”

Scar releases him, and so does Mumbo, but-

But he’s got a hand in each of theirs, and they’re here, and they’re real and the thing missing is Pearl.

“We’ve got a problem,” Joe starts. “Oh- Tilly- where’s Pearl?”

The question hangs in the air for a moment before Apo answers. “Uh- oh. Ohh. Death loop, look.”

He shows them his screen.

PearlescentMoon suffocated.

PearlescentMoon suffocated.

Zedaph was slain by nothing, they survived Decked Out!

PearlescentMoon suffocated.

Keralis1: pearl?

xBcrafted: pearl?? you stuck in a death loop?

PearlescentMoon suffocated.

BdoubleO100: coords? pearllll?

Tango: she was at spawn, wasn’t she? not respawning?

PearlescentMoon suffocated.

Xisuma experienced kinetic energy.

Etho: uh, X? You good?

Xisuma: yeah, just trying to track pearl 

Xisuma: it’s not working. grian? scar? tango?

Tango: nothing here

PearlescentMoon suffocated.

Apokuna: they dont know where she is either

ZombieCleo: anyone get a hold of sausage?

PearlescentMoon was slain by Aimsey using HELP.

PearlescentMoon hit the ground too hard.

Tango: WHAT

BdoubleO100: pearl?

Etho: where’s she??

Apokuna: hod lon

He takes back his comm. Grian blinks away the spots in his eyes.

“That was Aimsey,” says Martyn slowly. “What.”

Cleo shrugs. “The- the Nothing? Is here?”

“Oh,” says Squiddo. “OH. Oh my god! Limbo!”

“…Yeah,” says Cleo after a moment. “You know it?”

“You could say that…”

Cleo muttered a few swears Grian was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear. Apo blows out air from his mouth. “Owen? I think I got a signal? Confirm it?”

“Got it,” he says. “Protection-sanctuary-healing?”

“Yup.”

Cleo says, “Etho says he was right, whatever that means.”

Apo snorts. “Right, so- that bit with the green and yellow and… the spin-y thing? Next to the orange?”

“Oh, there’s a portal to Sanctuary over there,” Owen says. “Hold on- this might look-”

And then he vanishes.

“Another Ash?” groans Kaboodle. “Wait. You.”

This, seemly, is directed at Joe, who shrugs. “Perfectly normal human, I am.”

Martyn laughs. So does Grian, actually. And that- that gets a smile out of Mumbo and Martyn both.

Owen returns- steps through the air like there’s nothing there, and then there’s Pearl.

And then there’s Pearl and Grian, knees clunking together and battered wings outstretched as much as he could. It hurt, by the stars, it hurt- but for Pearl? He would give her the sun.

———

“So…” this, of course, is spoken by K, drumming her fingers on Cleo’s table. Ivory, next to her, straightens her feathers. Martyn sighs.

“Who wants to go first? We could play it icebreaker-style, but I dunno if you’d like that.”

“The Hunt’s coming,” says Joe lowly. “And I think-”

He’s cut off by protests, people asking what the Hunt is and yelling and-

Pearl winces next to Grian. He groans, then calls out, “Everyone shut up!”

And their motley crew, strange as they are, quiets under his Gaze. He wonders, distantly, if that’s the first time he’s actually silenced a crowd instead of riling them up.

“Right,” continues Joe, after a second. “Thank you kindly, Grian. The Hunt- as I’m sure many of you are aware- is a magical.. well, Hunt, often used by the Fae Courts to track down prey and intimidate the others. In this instance, well..” he winces. “The Watchers are using it to corrupt the minds of our friends to complete their bidding. It spreads like an infection- tell me if I’m wrong about that, Squiddo- turning them vicious and unrelenting in their goal. Which was, this time, to procure use of me, Tilly, and Squiddo.”

“All good so far.”

“So,” says Cleo, then. “Zombie apocalypse?”

“It. Well,” says Grian. “It kind of sounds like the boogey curse.”

The words hang in the air for a moment before Ivory frowns. “The Watchers have a long history of inference, but I’ve never heard of this boogey curse. What is it?”

“You don’t want to know,” Pearl warns. “So, that’s where Joe and Squiddo went- thanks for that, by the way, I’ve got my baby girl back!- but where were Shelby and Gem?”

Tilly comes around and sniffs her hand.

“They got boogey-ified,” says Joe. “I think. We split up to look for Tilly-”

“Bad plan,” muttered Cleo.

“And Gem vanished. Shelby followed, and when they reappeared, they were. Like that.”

“Wait,” says Martyn. “Wait. Where’d Mumbo and Scar go?”

“Sleeping,” Grian answered. “But- I can tell you. We found Pyro sneaking around Mumbo’s vault and brought him to spawn. While you- and Pearl and Cleo- were messing around with death.”

“Oh yeah,” he says, like it had slipped his mind. “So we needed to save Aimsey, so we went to Zed. Because he always has crazy ideas, right? And then he… brought Cruppy to life? It was weird. But it did get Kristin to visit.”

“Who then told us that Aimsey’s stuck in limbo,” continues Cleo. “Like I should’ve known all along. We went back to spawn after that, to regroup and such, and then-”

“Then I went ghost,” finishes Pearl. “And… somehow went to limbo? I was trying to get to Sanctuary, but because it’s gone, I guess my power just rerouted? So I ended up in limbo?”

“What’d you see?” Squiddo asks, looking keenly at her in a way that made Grian’s feathers stick up.

“Kinda like the void,” she says, after several seconds’ pause. “But… darker? And I wasn’t the only one there. Aimsey, of course, but there was someone else. I didn’t get a good look, but I did see that one eye was void-marked. Watcher- or Watcher-adjacent, definitely.”

Ivory, Apo, and Owen all lock eyes.

“Magic,” Ivory breathes. “That’s the missing piece. They’re not void, they’re Nothing!”

“The Nothing needs a god,” Apo says, quickly. “It hasn’t had one since we saved Zed. You think- you think they made Magic as the god?”

Saved Zed? Pearl mouthed to Grian. He shrugs.

“A place no one can escape from, where no one can reach them,” muses Squiddo. “Whoever controls limbo has complete control over whatever they want.”

They all consider in silence for a moment. Rain patters outside.

And Grian runs.

And it doesn’t hurt, and his friends are right behind him, and he needs-

He needs to feel it, to know it’s real.

And so he jumps, instead.

Grian fell from a high place.

Chapter Text

I’m not going back, says Magic as Aimsey’s sword vanishes into a poof of dust. You- you can, I guess- I- it hurts.

What does? he asks.

Magic bites her lip. It being real. I don’t want it to be real.

I know, he says. Sometimes life gives us a s- a terrible deck of cards. It’s just- hard. But we have to get through, okay? I’m here for you.

Thank you, she whispers. If I’m here- if I’m here, they can’t use me.

I won’t let them, Aimsey vows. I won’t. And that’s a promise.

It’s not charmed like hers, or like Apo’s, or even like Clown’s, but it holds weight just the same. Magic thinks that promises you don’t have to keep are maybe the truest ones of all.

The enderian holds out a hand, seemingly almost lit by light, and Magic takes it and lets her namesake sweep her into reality.

———

Breathing is- weird. So is seeing. The light is bright, nearly too bright, and she winces.

“What?” says Aimsey, aloud, hand still tangled in her own.

There’s a cackle. “I- I’ve created life!”

She looks at the- zombie? Yeah. Zombie (Watcher).

“Dude, Zloy, no you didn’t,” says someone else, a slime. It’s- it’s something, at least. She doesn’t know what.

“Hey, Magic, you okay?” Aimsey asks, sitting up and looking at her.

She squints and looks away. She Sees, though, his eyes widen. “No eyes?”

She nods.

“Okay.” This time, he doesn’t look her in the face, instead peering at the grass at her feet. “How you feeling?”

“Mmhf,” she manages. She scrambled for her comm, but-

It’s gone. She stares at her bare wrist, heart thundering where it isn’t supposed to be.

It’s-

Her communicator’s gone.

A hand squeezes her own.

She yells, then, sounds coming too hard and too bright and too fast and she can’t move.

And then she can and it’s too fast and blood crystallizes clearly on the stone and it’s the confirmation she needs that it’s real.

“Whoa,” says someone else- the slime, because the zombie’s gone and Aimsey’s right next to her. “Whoa- kid, stop, stop-”

And it isn’t the confines of a Maze and it’s not the great open, void-touched plains, but it’s real and she doesn’t understand.

Her hand hurts and she pokes at the exposed bone and that hurts more. It’s real. It’s real, and-

“Magic?”

And her friend is right there, brown hair and blue ears and green eyes and wrapping her in a hug. Magic sobs in the too-bright, too-thick air and there’s-

There’s Maddy, standing on the edge where the stone meets sea, and Aimsey, hesitating, and the zombie and the slime are gone and it’s just the four of them. She trills, deep in her throat, and the Enderians trill back, and then, at long last, Magic is warm.

———

Her magic says hers and she has to agree. But still- the magic of this place is not hers alone, and she’s not the only god who’s laid Claim to it. And gods, she knows, don’t take kindly to others. Out of the many things the Watchers had told her, she remembers that much.

The sun reaches out and brushes along the edge of her- yellow and mossy green and brown- and she hisses as it burns. It retreats, quickly, “I was just curious! Etho! Shut up!”

She giggles and dips a hand into the flames of the torch resting next to her.

“Magic!” K says, ears pinning. “Uh-”

She laughs again. “It’s fine, K! See!”

The fire is warm but not hot, sparks jumping all around her. She tilts her head. “Atlantis? Sure. Oh- someone just woke up- you might wanna go check that-”

“What?” asks her friend, raising an eyebrow. Magic stands, brushing dirt off of her pants.

“We need to go find Atlantis.”

“The Drowned City?” questions Aimsey. “The- y’know. The Ender King’s city?”

She shakes her head. “Atlantis.”

“Oh…kay,” says Maddy. “Where?”

She points up, to the gathering of mechanical butterflies buzzing overhead. “They can take us.”

Two of them, circling overhead, spiral down. There’s someone riding one of them; a creeper with pink-red wings.

“You need a ride, dudes?” he asks.

K stares at him, ears twitching. “On giant bugs?”

“Ah,” he waves a hand dismissively. “They’re trained. I believe you are headed to Cleo’s?”

“Yeah,” says Maddy. “Yes. Sure. Ride on the giant butterflies.”

Magic hums to herself. Aimsey jumps in: “Sounds fun! I’m in!”

She tilts her head, observes his wings. And then they’re draping behind her, delicate scale-spun things the color of the clear sky. “Yes!”

He blinks at her curiously, then turns to K and Maddy. “Well?”

———

“Magic!” Owen yells. “You’re okay!”

“No,” she says, biting her lip. “Not really.”

“What’d you do to your hand?” he says, horror dawning on his face. “This- this is- I’ll get you a potion, one moment.”

“Where have they all gone?” Doc asks of Ivory.

“Well,” she says, awkwardly. “Grian jumped off a cliff.”

“You know each other,” says Maddy, eyes narrowing.

“Like knows like,” agrees Doc. “You might ask your comrade how he knows Zedaph.”

Owen stiffens as he comes back with a shimmery potion. “I heard that, Doc, come on!”

“What?” he says. “No sharing circle?”

He sighs, then pours a bit of healing potion onto a washcloth and hands it to Magic.

“…Thanks,” she says, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? The healing is pink, and sparkly, and tingles a little. Kinda like bubbles.

“Now,” starts Doc, “we have to catch a fae.”

Chapter Text

Falce stalks out of a glowing lavender portal, dragging Magic along behind them, quiet and still, with the light of the void behind her eyes.

“Clown!” they yell. “Come on out! I got her!”

The fae steps out of the house, as brooding as ever, and says, “Finally.”

Kyle snorts. “I could have done that.”

“Yes, but then he wouldn’t have proven himself, would he?” asks Clown lightly.

“I’m right here,” says Falce. “I got your target. Now prove the town’s alive.”

Clown seems unfazed by this. “Ivo! Get over here!”

The Enderian pokes his head through the doorway, nearly overbalancing as Ash runs into him. “Man, you can teleport!”

“Bro,” mutters Ash. “Purple Eyes! You can too!”

Pyro presses his lips together at the familiar nickname. “Are you done with the childish bickering?”

Kyle glares at them. Clown sighs.

“For once, we’re in agreement. Show us the town, Ivo.”

He hesitates. Magic stirs, just a little, blinking.

Falce glances at her, taps a foot pointedly.

He sighs. “Fine. Here.”

He pulls out a modified Orb, like a cross between a spyglass and an eye of ender, and then everything moves very, very quickly.

Kyle lunges for the Orb.

Ash teleports across the lawn.

  Pyro grabs a sword out of his inventory.

Magic blinks and vanishes like air.

Clown sighs and raises his scythe.

“Ivo!” Pyro yells. “NOW, MAN, OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR TONGUE!”

Ivo grins, a half-formed thing, and drops the glass Orb.

The world

           s     h

                       a

                           t  t

                    e

           r

      s

like a windowpane.

Two godkillers smile, similar fanged things, at their prey.

(It is, after all, a rule that tyrants will always fall.)

The battle is quick, strangely enough. Ash stands at the edge of the fighting and only sighs when Clown falls. Doc lets K have the final blow.

Kyle hisses and spits, and when Ivo looks into his eyes, he only sees hate.

“I did this for you,” he says, voice cracking. “For you, Kyle! But- you’re not the friend I knew. I have to wonder if you ever were.”

The Void roils under his once-friend’s skin, but doesn’t burst. “We could’ve had everything, but you ruined it! If you had trusted me-”

“I did!” he shouts. “I did! And look where that got us!”

Ivo stands back up and turns away. “I’m sorry.”

He looks at Ivory and Doc. “Whatever you do to him, make sure it’s not too painful, all right?”

Doc nods. “We have a place.”

The Enderian takes a deep breath. “Say hi to Izzy and Riice for me? I’m headed out.”

“Bye, Ivo,” says K. “Bye. Sorry I was, uh- not the nicest.”

“Not your fault,” he says lightly. “Ash! See you later?”

“Sure, man. I dunno.”

And then there are only six.

Ash groans. “I just wanted to go home. Whatever that means.”

“Uh, question,” says K. “What do we do with Branzy?”

Ivory shrugs. “Chuck him back in Lifesteal.”

“Much as I’d like to do that, I don’t think anyone deserves to go back to the hell the Watchers bring,” says Doc. “As a matter of fact, I’m bringing this up at the next meeting. So… raincheck?”

“Fair enough,” she answers.

“…Is this about you murdering Delilah’s cousin?” K asks.

“I’ll say that my justice is very different from most people’s.”

Pyro snorts. “You could say that again.”

“Honor above justice, then?”

He sighs. “Honor. If the Wastewalkers could see me now-”

“Uhhhh-” K’s voice is pitched high and strange. “I- uh, you might wanna come see this.”

Lining the walls of a room, covered all in gold and silver and iron, are clear-glassed pods glowing with redstone.

Chapter Text

She is nothing and she is everything and for once there are consequences.

She would be Icarus, falling forever; however, that moniker is reserved for another.

She does not fly, because she does not have wings, and if she did (of her own making, of course) they would be burnt wax paper.

She burns from the inside, from needles bursting from pores, from magic in her veins that was given- and of course, she cannot repay that simple debt.

Circe is rewarded with Prometheus’ punishment, and her failure is one that cannot be corrected.

It does not stop, and it does not slow, and this hell is a making of her own mistakes.

The Watchers do not take disappointment lightly, after all, but perhaps.

Perhaps-

She can redeem herself, slightly. There are those who would value her life (not that it was hers to be begin with):

A Monsterhunter.

A God.

A Wolf.

Yes. She will be the trap, and when they step into the jaws of the anglerfish, well…

Who would be foolish enough to challenge the might of Gods at their doorstep?

Chapter Text

Pearl was ready to challenge the gods. Her brother wasn’t missing- with most of Hermitcraft’s visitors away, the burgeoning storm of a uneasy Watcher’s magic was more palpable than ever. Still, even through whatever had happened to him during Limited Life 2.0, Grian was still a good hider. Which was. Honestly not helpful right now.

“Griann!” she calls among the waving waterfalls of Atlantis. “Hellooo?”

She’s checked all the obvious spots already- his base, his shop, the little copper starter house he made all that while ago. Nothing in the Soup Group’s area, or the Perimeter.

Pearl sighs. She’s about to leave, when-

A golden coin, a bit smaller than her palm, sparkles in the water. It looks familiar. She hesitates, then, blaming her over-curiosity, pulls it out.

It’s wet (obviously) and a bit worn-down, but under the grime and smoothed edges is the engraving:

MCC 17

Orange Ocelots

Huh. This is one of the Hermits’. I wonder-

She turns it over.

Bin-go.

———

There is a place on the Hermitcraft server where reality warps and holes in space/time are common. Actually, there are several, but considering how a house keeps flickering in and out of view in the Rift, she decides to venture there.

It’s simple, really. To open a door, you need a key- and the best key is hidden in plain sight.

Pearl steps through the door, reassured by the promise of safety, and what she finds on the other side is a vast agglomeration of stars and mountains and deserts, constantly shifting like the winds of time.

(A house is not a home, but sometimes it can be. After all, liminal spaces are bigger on the inside than the outside.)

Pearl steps between two lilacs taller than her by several heads and slides down a slick sculk tentacle.

“Hi,” she says, the words bubbling brown-red.

Grian’s answer is a blue sigh as he flops down on the golden grass.

“You- I like it.”

There’s quiet, aside from the parrots and the chickens.

“At least I made it,” he mutters. “At least I’m the one in control.”

“At least the flames are warm,” she offers. “Instead of- cold.”

She continues. “Which. We need therapy- but what’s new?”

A few of her voices protest, saying something about a ‘reddit’, but. They protest a lot of things, so.

“Tried that. Didn’t go so well.”

She thinks, for a moment, about how little she truly knows about her brother. They had met at an architecture school, just outside of a city, when he was human and she was two antennae more than that.

Pearl ponders the time after, between meeting new friends and countless misadventures and wings and Eyes and Sainthood. It’s been… a lot, actually. She’s not even sure how long it’s been since that sunny afternoon.

“We could try again,” she suggests. “After all this.”

“I’m not sure it’ll ever be just a ‘this.’”

The words aren’t spoken to her, but to the fairytale world surrounding them. Grian lifts his head toward the breeze and leaves space for the silence. Pearl waits.

“Maybe,” he says eventually, “I should just go. Because- you. And Scar. Mumbo. Whatever the heck happened to Jimmy and Martyn.”

Pearl feels her heart freeze. “No! I- we wouldn’t let you anyways. You know how the Hermits are.”

She pauses for a breath and continues. “They wouldn’t stop. They wouldn’t. They’d take more, and more… and that’s why- that’s why. Why we’re still here. Because we have hope.”

“‘A thing with feathers-’”

“Don’t you dare.”

“-which I no longer have.”

“If you didn’t have hope, you wouldn’t have let me in.”

“…I feel like you and Nexus would be friends.”

Pearl snorts. “What, the goddess of loyalty? Might want to check that.”

“You found my little Rift, so…”

“Grian, you left the key in Atlantis.”

“And where else would you have me put it?!”

“In a shulker, like a respectable-”

“You and your cleaning-”

“At least I’m organized!”

“At least I get to annoy you! Wait, did I say that out loud?”

“Yep.”

“…It’s true!”

“Ditto on that, mate.”

“The Poke-”

“No! Come on, let’s go before they think we’re both dead.”

“Pearl.”

Something in his voice makes her turn and look at him. “Yeah?”

Something cracks. “Th- thanks. For everything.”

She sniffles a bit herself. “You’re welcome. Hug?”

And all is right with the world- at least, until they step outside, hand in hand, and see Etho holding two envelopes.

———

“‘God council?’” Grian reads out, an eyebrow raised. “What’s this?”

Pearl groans and rests her head on the table. “Basically, a bunch of posh gods get together and yell about nonsense.”

“I mean, you’re not wrong,” Etho agrees. “And this- ‘cordially invited to the Mojang Council of the Gods. Arrive by sunset.’ It’s the entire council. Everyone from Malitae to Lady Death is coming.”

“Why are you coming?” Grian asks, somewhat grumpily.

Etho shrugs. “I go every time. All the NHO do- me with ‘dubs and Beef with Doc.”

“And now they want Gem,” mutters Pearl, still facedown.

“What?”

She sits up and blows hair out of her face. “They want Gem. Look.”

The two lean forward and observe the smaller lettering on the bottom of the page: ‘GeminiTay, minor goddess of the magical woodlands, is also invited.’

“…Well that’s not going to happen,” Etho says drily.

“Where did the others go?” Grian wonders.

“They went to take care of that Fae,” explains Etho. “And that’s- why the meeting was called. They a. killed the Fae; b. captured the void’s vessel; and c. found Gigacorp stasis pods. And Fundy. But not Ren, Lizzie, or Phil, so…”

“Is he-”

He shrugs. “Physically, last I heard. Pretty sure they’re going to make him testify.”

“Testify?” Grian parrots.

“Oh, yeah. It’s court but worse. They uh.”

Someone else comes around the doorframe: Squiddo.

“Make you validate everything that happened and then fight over it? Yeaah, it kinda sucks!”

Etho blinks. So does Pearl.

“That’s new,” she says of the black holes where their eyes once were.

Squiddo does a little twirl, many-clawed tentacles spinning. “You like it? Figured I might as well, since the council hates keeping secrets unless it’s about themselves.”

“It looks like something out of Phasmo,” says Grian.

Squiddo chuckles. “Thanks.”

The sun stretches ever closer to the horizon. And then the sun is no longer there.

Pearl takes a deep breath and opens her eyes to starry darkness.

Chapter Text

In the same instant that Pearl, Grian, Squiddo, and Etho appear, so do Magic, Owen, Apo and K. Squiddo looks over at the rabbit and rather quickly decides not to say anything about multiverses or Gregs.

“Oh, there’s another new god here,” says Owen, nudging Magic’s shoulder.

“Huh…” she says, looking with bright eyes at their multi-colored coat.

“Hi!” she squeaks a second later, having rushed off in the direction of the rainbow. “I, um, I really like your jacket.”

“Aw, thanks!” they answer, offering a blink and hesitant smile, as if new to this whole ‘people’ thing. Magic can relate.

“I’m Magic,” she continues after a moment. “And- heey Owen!”

“When I said there was a new god, I didn’t mean- oh. Do I know you?”

“Probably not?” they say. “Uh. Midas.”

“What?” Owen asks.

“What?” Magic parrots in his voice.

“It’s my name. To answer your question.”

“Can you turn things to gold?” Magic asks, not entirely sure where the question comes from.

“Sadly not. Uh. You wouldn’t happen to know- uh oh, I’d better go.”

And then they vanish into the crowd. Magic sighs. “They seemed fun.”

“…I’m sure we’ll spot them later.”

“Hi guys!” says Squiddo, coming up behind them.

“…Hi?” answers Magic hesitantly.

“Oh! I’m Squiddo. Paranormal- you know what? I’ll just say it. I’m the Paranormal.”

“Like the-” Magic waves a hand. “Ghosts?”

“Yeah, that’s part of it. Ghosts, ghouls, fiends, boogeymen, night monsters-”

“So you’re not an investigator,” interrupts Owen.

Squiddo shrugs. “I am. Sort of. The multiverse won’t fix itself, you know!”

“The-”

There was a bang. Magic winces.

“This commences the 7179th summit of the Mojang Council!”

And so it begins.

———

“We are here to discuss four things: the allegations against the Endborn sect known as the Watchers and against the Fae ClownPierce; the trial of the Void Vessel Kyle Chase; and, of course, the making of new Gods to this Council. Firstly, we would like to receive testimony from several alleged victims.”

It is, out of everyone, Martyn who is called up first. He hesitates for a moment, eyes widened in slight surprise, then strolls up to the podium with all the bluster of a ten-foot god. He stands still for a heartbeat, hands splayed, and then he begins.

“Nine years ago, I joined a server. It’s uh- it’s important to know that I hadn’t joined any before. I was wandering for a while, and… during my travels, I found myself a name. In Evo, I found myself a home. I’m not sure what I was ten years ago, but now? I think I do.”

He tugs down the collar of his shirt a bit to reveal a scar running along his neck. Violet light shimmers in a diamond on his cheek. “I got these during Third Life.”

Martyn looks out across the crowd and grins with sharp teeth. “I was human, once. A lifetime ago. Then- well, we all know what happened next. The Watchers. Originally, it was Telescopium. Now it’s Exor. Back then, they only wanted a few of us. It’s- different, now. They know they’re outmatched. They think themselves Gods, did you know that? Supernatural vision, immortality, and shapeshifting isn’t enough. They want more. I think my fellow pirates can attest- greed leads to corruption. To death.

Now, look. I’m not saying there aren’t good Watchers out there- I’ve met a few. I’ve also met the bad sorts. And-” he leans forward to survey the crowd- “they won’t. Stop. Not until the whole universe is theirs for the taking.”

“Thank you,” says the Council’s speaker, somewhat haltingly. “You may go.”

Martyn pauses. “Most of you don’t care. But for the record- I never cared much for government, anyway.”

And then he steps off. And the room is quiet.

And then there’s the ticking of redstone and a gasp from somewhere in the crowd.

“Oh! You want- me? All right then.”

The next person asked to talk is one infamous among the gods. He’s not a god himself, not really, but if you asked, the rumors say he’s lived as long as one.

Among the mortal populace, he’s well-known for redstoning, and like many of his peers, for his hermit-like nature.

Etho steps onto the stage, wildly underprepared but facing the crowd anyways.

“Uh, hi?” he tries with a quiet laugh. “Now look, I’m not nearly a good speaker as Martyn- that was impressive!- but I’ll give it my best shot.”

He pauses to clear his throat.

“Rogue Watchers have been a problem for as long as I can remember. Power… goes to your head. Especially if it’s the kind of power that can control others. It’s- um. It’s been a lot more of a mainstream thing recently- we all remember the last two trials, right?- and that means that more and more of them are convinced that it’s okay. That it’s okay to alter people’s minds and Watch things that shouldn’t be.

A few of you- actually, most of you- were here last year when we found that the Void had chosen a vessel. We didn’t know who it was, and we couldn’t communicate with them, so we thought nothing of it. That was. That was a bad move. We should have asked around. When the Witches of the Arcane reported spikes of Enderian magic, when the Netherian rulers mentioned gold losses, we should have asked. We didn’t. And now- well, now I’m gettin’ some deja vu. Because war is brewing, and this time, there won’t be anything left to save.”

He exhales. “If you can’t be bothered to care about the fate of the worlds, think about your own. Then tell me how much the Watchers are affecting you.”

Someone starts slow clapping. Etho turns his head and looks at Kyle, grinning. “Good speech. Conveniently, you left out the part where Magic fails again. Come on! You had one job!”

“…What?” says K from the crowd. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He sneers. “And! This is the cherry on top- you were dumb enough to focus on the spooky jester. You put the missing piece right into the center of your power! It’s funny, actually. Key, meet lock.”

No one moves. Kyle sighs. “Fine! Just- fine! Oh my god, where are the Hunters-!”

A flaming arrow descends from the ceiling and crashes right at Etho’s feet.

“Oh,” Kyle mutters.

Chaos erupts.

In the midsts of the screaming and the flames, Gem jumps down from the vast shadows and points her sword right at Etho.

He raises his own with a grimace. Diamond clashes in a burst of sparks.

In the closest corner, Magic collapses to the floor, eye glowing and hands curled into fists around her hair. Owen kneels at her side. “Magic?”

She gasps. “Oh my god oh my god I think-”

Something glitches in and out of sight: a crossbow, layered in violet and black, shimmering with power.

“Ma-”

She lifts it to her head and dissolves into sparkles.

Chapter Text

A multicolored trident stabs Caitees right through the torso and extracts with a squelch of blood. She gasps and falls to the ground, the wounds healing over as purple dissolves from her eyes.

“Kill them!” shouts the hybrid, eyes hard as his trident returns to his paws. “Death is the cure!”

Gem waves a hand, raising a bubbling shield between her duel and the rest of the trial. Etho shouts wordlessly.

“This’ll be fun!” she cheers, braid twirling through the air, spinning blood in every direction. “Wanna join me, Etho?”

“No!” he yells. “Nope nope nope! C’mon, Gem, just-”

Her blade slices through his hair.

“-die!”

“How about you do!?”

One of them screams. Ichor splashes across the floor.

Gem stares at him, gold dripping down her face, and slowly lifts a hand to where his diamond sword had slashed right through the stump of one of her antlers and into the tip of her pointed ear.

Etho gasps. “Gem! I-”

Then she grins, tilting her head, and plunges netherite deep into his chest. “Got ya!”

Gold hands stutter.

———

“Magic!” Owen screams.

“Oh no ohnoohnoohno,” K murmurs in a steady stream.

Kyle should be happy- he should, there’s one less loose end in the way and the Void has the Nothing all to itself- but.

He can feel his heart pounding in his heart for the first time in years. His breath is freezing on his lips. He can’t force a smile.

There’s something horrible about it, about seeing people he care about grieve a loss he created. Kyle hadn’t grown particularly close to Owen during those years in the Maze, hadn’t had the chance to, but seeing the fallout in the brief time before he left had brought something concerningly like sadness bobbing in his mind. K, of course, he knew much better from their childhood, from Watching her while he waited for the right time to strike.

It was odd. He hadn’t felt this bad about Zam, and there were strange fragments of familiarity there, he thought. He didn’t remember much, really, and what he did of that lightning storm was blurry and distant.

No, he hadn’t grieved Zam- or, did he? No. Of course not.

He grieved Magic, though, and maybe it was weird to miss someone you killed (though he didn’t, that was the Void, he wasn’t the one who-), but he did.

I can fix that, Kyle thinks, among the storm of his mind. Yeah, I’ll do that.

The Primordial’s Husk reaches out a hand for the Defuser just as another one clasps around his wrist.

“Oh no you don’t,” K hisses. “You killed her, I know you did!”

“I can fix it,” he says. “We’re the same, her and I.”

She shoves him away. “I’ve had enough of your fixing!”

Still, he waves a hand through the air and searches desperately for the tugging of the Void. It’s there, waning as the Hunters slay and are slain, hungry.

There. Eyes unfolding like the wings of butterflies, sparks like the first blooming of spring flowers. He pulls, and pulls, and something snaps like unraveled thread.

The last dredges of light from where Magic once was dissolve.

Owen or K or Kyle shout, and then there is a flash of a blade and blood pooling in his gut.

And Time stops.

———

“How about you do?!”

One of them screams.

Etho pauses. His sword has passed straight through Gem’s ear. He raises his mouth to apologize-

And some instinct pushes him to the side, and just in time. Another breath, and Gem’s sword would’ve gone straight through him. As it is, it plunges deep into Etho’s shoulder.

The pink bubble keeping them from the chaos shattered. Pearl flares her wings, blooded cloak pooling around her, and grins like midnight personified.

“Protection is my domain,” she snarls victoriously, and in an instant sunflowers slithered up through the stars below and wrapped around her. Gem growls.

She takes her crossbow and fires a single shot through her heart. Gem gasps and crumples as much as her bonds let her.

Pearl sniffles.

Etho pants.

“How’s about we patch that up?” Pearl asks him eventually, after an eternity or five seconds. “Looks painful.”

“Mmhm,” he agrees. “Gem-?”

“Oh, she’ll be fine,” a new voice says, walking over. “The Watchers’ Hunt is rare, but it’s easy enough to cure. You did the right thing.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“It never does,” the raccoon says with a small grimace. “The fight seems to be wrapping up; I figured a headcount’s our next priority.”

“You’re not lookin’ so peachy,” Pearl says to Etho. “Uh, I think there’ll still healing rooms-?”

“‘M fine,” he mumbles, and promptly blacked out.

———

Kyle reaches for the Defuser just as a hand clasps around his wrist.

“Oh no you don’t,” K hisses, tragedy in her eyes. “You killed her, I know it!”

“I can fix it,” he says. “We’re the same, her and I.”

Another shape, horned, barrels into their corner. “Wait! Wait wait wait!”

“Zed?” Owen breathes, “what-”

“Nothing,” he pants, “Nothing is Void. They’re mirrors. Pull too hard and it snaps, but-”

He turns and looks at the Chase siblings. “Anchor, loom, thread.”

“We need to fix it together,” Kyle jumps in. “Please, K. This is my chance to make it up to you.”

“How do I do you-”

“You don’t,” Zedaph says. “But you can always kill him.”

Owen and K exchange glances. “Fine, then; and do it quickly.”

The two set to work, the hungry tentacles of the Void and the last scraps of godhood pushing and pulling in tandem.

It’s easy, this time around (what?), and familiar, almost like the Void was made for this job. As if it was destiny to rewrite the buried fragments of light and song.

Zed snatches the Defuser once they’ve finished, Magic laying unbreathing and whole before them, and points it at Kyle.

“Wait, I-”

“It’s time to put the Void to rest,” he says. “It’s not you, I promise.”

He fires a crossbolt and something inside of him Splits.

The Void is ever-hungry, swirling and angry like a whirlpool; it finds a home inside someone desperate for a thing they’ve lost: knowledge, family, home. There’s been something missing inside Kyle for longer than he remembers. He thought he’d found it, when he sacrificed himself for Acho; he thought he’d found it, with Ivo; he thought he found it, tormenting his sister; he thought he’d found it, fulfilling his ambitions with the Watchers.

Only now does he realize the thing he’s been missing is himself.

The Void roars, seething and starving and as bottomless as his failures, and finally retreats.

All at once, the Hunters sit up, the purple in their eyes fading, and the hunger settles. Kyle gasps. His hands are warm.

(The Sun God holds a clock in his hands, peering through the layers of reality nestled inside a promise. The clock is gold, scratched and dented, scrubbed clean but still with bloodstains in the cracks. It has a tiny inscription on the back, a familiar bolded ‘i’.

There’s a lifeline wrapped around the simple hands, warped after years of wear and tear, and as Bdubs winds the gears back, it stretches taut and finally dissolves.

The face of the clock shatters into tiny glass splinters, redstone and lapis and glowing delicate gold pieces. He sighs. The last wisps of Time whisper it’s way to a new Goddess’ hands.)

Chapter Text

“Well,” the announcer says awkwardly. “That was… unexpected.”

Ae’s shoved to the side as Midas climbs to the podium. “Hello! Uh, hello, everyone, Midas here! Epros is… resting, now, and that means we’re safe again! Please defer to the Multi-”

“Hold on, now!” Joe shouts pointedly. “There are still the missing to think of.”

“I daresay the Primordial’s vessel has redeemed himself,” points out someone else.

“What was that?” Pearl whisper-shouts.

Kantje rolls his eyes, meets gazes with Owen, Apo, Midas, Zedaph, and Doc respectively, and strides up to the podium. He taps the microphone, and when that doesn’t work, bangs the hilt of his trident against the floor.

“We’ll hold it to a vote. All in favor of pardoning Epros’ Husk say ‘aye!’”

There’s an overwhelming shout of agreement.

“Any objections?”

“I have one.”

K raises her hand to draw attention to herself, then cringes.

“Yes?” the Hybrid asks.

“Kyle’s the one who killed Magic in the first place!” she protests. “He brought the Hunters here, and- we all know how the world’s doing right now. It’s cold as-” someone beeps pointedly- “and reality’s been tossed in a blender and shaken up!”

“That’s true,” Kyle admits. “But that wasn’t- it’s complicated, okay? Playing both sides doesn’t end well, and- the Void’s so intense-”

“You’re not helping your case!” K snaps. “I know you! You can’t just- just say you’ve changed, not when you’re the reason my life has a living hell since I was born!”

He cringes back. “That was- that was Before. Before the Maze. I-”

“It’s been a long day,” Joe says. “How ‘bout we retire for now, and resume in the mornin’?”

Sleep sounded unreasonably good to K. She nods, all her anger draining out of her in an instant.

———

“Shelby’s still missing,” Katherine whispers to Pearl quietly, anxiety running through her eyes. She can see it, clear as the summer’s sun, through the wolf’s gaze. Pearl reaches down to stroke her flank as she answers.

“Yeah, that’s… I know me and xB can cover for her and Lizzie a little, but-”

“She’s still not here,” Katherine interrupts. “I miss her, Pearl. We need to find her.”

I’m right here! Shelby shouts, the only sign of her distress a quick flick of Tilly’s ears. Come find me!

Pearl frowns at her. “You alright, girl? Still a little freaked out from the… uh, the underworld stuff?”

Tilly whines, reaching up to lick Katherine’s face.

“Ew! Hey, what gives?!”

Shelby bats at her collarbone on the way down. Katherine wipes her face off, grumbling, then blinks.

“Wait a minute… didn’t I give Shelby my necklace? The House Blossom emblem?”

“Did you?” Pearl asks.

The princess fidgets with the hem of her lacy sleeves. “Yeah, I think I did. I wonder…”

Shelby cheers. Tilly, picking up on her happiness, barks, wagging her tail with joy.

Katherine closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. Slowly, phantom wings shimmer into being behind her, insect-like and glittering. Pearl gasps as she topples suddenly, Tilly weaving around limbs to cushion her fall onto the strange starry sky.

(It looks like the void, nearly. She doesn’t want to think about that. About how it hurts-)

The moth struggles, her own wings pumping, as she slowly lower the princess to the floor, for lack of a better place.

Just as quickly, something shifts, curling around Shelby and Tilly’s senses, and Katherine jolts, hands clawed into fists, and rises with eyes bluer than the sky.

“I couldn’t- I couldn’t find her,” she heaves, shuddering. Shelby remembers suddenly that scrying… wasn’t fun for most people. “Where-”

“It’s okay,” Pearl whispers. “It’s okay, it’s okay; Katherine, breathe. Like me, alright?”

Tilly leans up against them both and shoves her head into Katherine’s hands. The princess laughs, wetly. “You are a good therapy dog, huh? Oh, you’re very soft! Aw!”

“Here,” interrupts a new voice, handing over an indigo piece of cloth from grey paws. “Tears are a hell of a hassle to clean.”

Three faces look up. The raccoon shrugs and sits down. Tilly sniffs his ear. He growls.

There’s something familiar about the smell, something earthy and ancient and oh so vital to the blood that pools beneath their open wounds that nearly sends Shelby drifting again. They breath.

“-who helped Etho, aren’t you?” Pearl is asking.

“The name’s Kantje,” he says with a toothy grin. “I, uh, happened to overhear your conversation? I’ll be the first to apologize for that, but… I know someone who could find the Witch.”

Katherine, dabbing at the wet on her face, looks up, face sharp. “How did you know that? That they’re-”

“One of the greatest Nature Witches of the century? Arcana might not be my first Magick, but I know a student when I see one.”

The princess smiles. “She is good, isn’t she.”

“Who’s your friend?” Pearl continues after a beat of silence. “And- how did you know? About the Hunt?”

“Trustworthy,” he not-answers. “The truest master of Rootwork I’ve ever met. She can find your friend. We only need… a few things.”

Katherine and Pearl lock eyes.

“Okay,” agrees the princess. “Just…”

“I can vouch for him!” Doc calls from across the hall.

Pearl raises an eyebrow. Katherine giggles.

———

Circe doesn’t get many visitors, and that’s by design. Located in a secluded taiga, her cozy cottage is enforced with every ward and hex she could think of. When someone knocks on her door, sending her familiar under the sofa and her book tumbling to the rug, she’s more than a little surprised.

Opening the door to a face she hasn’t seen in nearly a millennia shoots the shock factor up ten times.

Kantje grins at her. “Circe! It’s been a while.”

“I…”

“I’m sorry for intruding upon your space, but it’s urgent. You were the only one I could think of for this job. May we come in?”

“‘We?’” the witch repeats, fear coloring her voice, and wedges the door closed.

Pearl shoved an arm into the crack. “O- uh. I’m Pearl.”

“Okay.” Circe frowns. “Will you move your arm?”

“I’d like it if you just gave us a chance,” says the moth. “We could talk outside, if you like?”

That would, in fact, be better. Circe sighs, nuzzles her cat, and steps outside. “What is it this time?”

“Must it always be a work call?”

“With you?” the witch asks drily. “Yes.”

“Well, you’re right, this time. May I introduce you?”

After nods from the trio, the raccoon continues.

“PearlescentMoon, Goddess of Protection and the Saint of Sanctuary, and Katherine Elizabeth, archfey of the Undergrove… meet CirceLives, Great Witch of the northern taiga and the best sorceress I know.”

Circe’s jaw drops. “You’ve brought Gods to my doorstep?”

“Kind ones,” Kantje corrects. “Ones in need of aid. They know Apo, if it helps?”

“Also Phil,” adds Pearl. “Or, um. I do, at least.”

“A recommendation from the Angel of Death isn’t much of one,” Circe mutters.

She considers. “Are they still banned from the Council?”

“Who?”

“The… the Fisher and the Archer?”

“Uh, yeah,” says Kantje.

Circe laughs. “Who are you looking for?”

“We didn’t…” Pearl starts, cutting herself off.

“Everyone’s looking for someone. Besides, with the sky… the crows have been circling, as if they’re lost. Clearly, the world has changed.”

“Do you need a Name?” Katherine asks.

Circe considers, then shakes her head. “Common will do.”

She kneels, her black dress pooling around her, and sinks her fingers into the earth.

“Um. Shelby. She’s a Witch, like you, and she specializes in nature magic. She has a cat, and…”

Katherine continues, her voice fading into the background as Circe’s breathing slows, heart pulsing in time with the beat of the trees. The podzol is cool and smells of peat, of history buried under layers of snow and bark. She stretches out her senses and at once pulls them back in, honing in on the spirit of the ghost the fae describes. Something tickles at her nose, along the lining of the ley lines, continuing down, down, down…

A crack in the bedrock, a trickle of hungry Void aching for sustenance. A voice calls out within it, brief, faint, like a shimmering star, and Circe follows, for it’s all she can do.

She surfaces, briefly, whispering a note of a melody, and Kantje comes up behind her, a hand on her shoulder and mana streaming between the two like a circuit.

The Witch takes a deep breath of cold air (in, out, in, out) and continues.

The voice screams, blood flowing like a fountain, and Circe locks onto the vibration like the trembling lifeline it is. Rootwork is delicate, difficult; there’s a reason most Witches don’t continue beyond drowsing. She plucks the string gently. It holds, though shudders.

Finding her way out is even harder than burrowing in. The violet swirl of stars tangled in the hair falling off her face is the only thing tethering Circe to her body.

Eventually, though she could not describe how long, she returns, and finds her lungs heavy. She inhales, coughing up dirt, and brushes the green leaves of her circlet. “She is there,” she says hoarsely, breaths wheezing in mycelia unused to speaking. “Follow the setting star, and you’ll find her.”

She shakes the raccoon’s embrace off. “Your demon friend left someone behind, someone important. You’ll find them in the same place.”

“Thank you, Circe,” Kantje says, the words heavy with unsaid words. “Genuinely.”

She scratches at the soft leaf litter, fingernails of bark wanting to settle and return. “You can fix it,” she continues, the words flowing desperately like a rushing river. “Just- just plant the right seed. Would you- help me inside?”

“Of course.”

Together, they lever Circe to her feet; Pearl’s interest is piqued when she discovers he’s a lot stronger than he looks.

Katherine swallows slowly, audibly, and the moth glances her way. “How’re you?”

The fae shrugs. “I don’t really know what all… that meant. But- Shelby’s alive. Or, well- y’know.”

“Yeah,” Pearl agrees. “Alive-ish.”

“Mmm. Someone’ll know. Pyro, or someone.”

“‘Demon friend’ could mean… literally anyone. Any Netherian.”

“Yeah. Maybe it’s Apo.”

“Seems like they have history.” Pearl grins. “Wanna open a betting pool?”

Katherine laughs. “Why not! It’ll be fun- ooh, Oli’s not good at gambling, I bet-”

“It cannot be poker. Or we’ll lose. Somehow.”

“Good point. Diamonds or bits?”

“Hmm… bits.”

“Sounds good!”

They grin at each other, teeth flashing, and promptly fall into giggles.

Kantje returns soon after that, one less pouch of goods lighter. “Ready to go?”

Katherine and Pearl glance at each other again and stifle their laughter. “Yep!”

“Sure am!”

He jerks an ear towards the trees. “Let’s.”

Behind them, the cottage vanishes into the woods, leaves painting a mural of colors, light haloing in triangles and half-circles. None of them look back, and it’s not just luck; it’s by design. Circe only means to be found by a select few, and after her adventure amongst the living things, she’s content to settle down with her familiar and a book.