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I’m coming for you Pearl!” Scar sang merrily, sliding down into the ravine. “Where are you?” He looked around but the scarlet woman was nowhere to be found.
Scar felt the presence of an old friend wash over him. Warmth creeped along his back and he turned, but found nothing. Then a familiar voice whispered in his ear, “She’s dead, Scar. You won.”
Scar’s skin prickled, goosebumps rose all over his body, and a choking sensation filled his throat. He was overcome with grief as the memories of his wrongdoing flooded him. His grief turned into delirium as he stumbled around the ravine. “How did the guy with no friends win? I really didn’t expect to win.” He chuckled, tears spilling onto his cheeks.
A zombie attacked him from behind but the victor paid it no mind. He couldn’t think straight, everything was numb. Was he supposed to be happy? He didn’t feel happy. All the things he did, all those people he’d killed. All the damage he had done was finally coming back to haunt him. But he knew one thing. None of it mattered anyways. He didn’t win. No one really did. Only the Watchers.
Spotted with bruises and splattered in blood, only partly his own, Scar climbed out of the ravine and stepped onto the central plain of the world. It used to be beautiful. He remembered the jokes made during the first glorious weeks, the ones where everyone was safe. Now all that was left was ash and rubble.
He let the need to succeed his task drag him to the Secret Keeper, the far too blue sky faded into a more appropriate dark, and dreary midnight as he approached. The hooded statue loomed overhead once more as Scar placed his hand over the “Succeed” button. The rectangular symbol glowed a faint purple in anticipation and faint murmurs whisked around him as he drew in a shaky breath.
“Thank you for watching, everyone,” He shouted, his words full of bitterness as he looked around aimlessly for the creatures who doomed him to this fate. He pressed the button and stood in the circle. “Dust to dust,” he said as a single tear slipped from his eye.
The murmurs grew into conversation, then into chants, then into cries as the world around him melted into an endless void. Just as Scar believed it to be the end, three towering figures appeared before him. They were cloaked in long robes of black that concealed their whole body, except for their faces, which in turn were hidden by white masks, marked with the very same purple symbol emblazoned on the Secret Keeper.
“You have done well, victor,” the middle Watcher spoke, his deep, emotionless voice echoing around the space of nothing around him.
“Yes indeed,” The Watcher on the left agreed, nodding her hooded head slowly, “and you will be rewarded.”
Scar opened his mouth to speak, but found no words, and quickly shut it again. How could they reward him? Was he finally going to escape this torture loop?
“We will see you again, GoodTimeWithScar,” The Middle Watcher foretold, sweeping his hand across the air in front of him.
Once again his scenery changed, the void he had been enveloped in faded away, warping into a bright, and warm place. One Scar knew all too well. He stood atop a flaxen hill, with grains of fine sand shifting under his feet. Destruction surrounded him, craters dotted the desert and what used to be the Desert Keep lay in ruins, yet it still felt like home.
He turned to find a crude ring of cacti behind him, the sandy ground inside sprayed around and spattered with blood. He knew this too. He remembered it all.
(Scar and Grian stood squared up in the ring of cacti they created. This was the finale. Here at the top of their desert was where it would end. The feeling of invisible eyes watching surrounded them. He didn’t want to do this, neither did his friend but, did they really have a choice?
“3”
“2”
“1,” Grian counted down and attacked, swinging at his friend, eyes full of guilt.
Scar gave all he had, he punched, missing mostly but connected once with the side of his friends face even though he was taking much heavier fire.
“Scar I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Grian cried, his voice strangled with emotion, eyes watering uncontrollably.
“I’m sorry too,” Scar cried, blood dripping from his mouth, his face puffy and swollen. He tried to fight but it was no use, Grian would win. Scar’s weak legs buckled and he fell to the ground, Grian caught him in his arms, and wept as his friend left him for good this time.)
Scar tore his eyes away from the ring, and turned to the grave he had made for his fabled llama, Pizza. Standing in front of the grave was another cloaked figure, the shortest one who hadn’t said a word when he saw them in the void. The Watcher turned to face Scar, and reached a hand up to their hood. The hood fell from their head and the figure tore off the mask. A man with a mousy brown waffle for hair and a young, mischievous face was revealed. “Hi Scar,” he chirped in a familiar voice, looking a bit unsure of what Scar would do.
Scar’s body trembled, and he threw himself at Grian, wrapping his arms around him in a loving embrace. Grian accepted the hug and buried his face in Scar’s shoulder.
“I guess we both won after all,” Scar sniffled. Maybe he was trapped, but if he was with his desert ally, nothing else really mattered.