Chapter Text
Streaks of light and bending colours, beauty and terror intertwined. The birth of the universe, and the death of a star.
Thousands of faces frozen in various states of death emboss an unforgettable image on the inside of Grian’s eyelids. Screams of fear mix with those of joy in a cacophony of never ending pain and delight. It’s inescapable, and it’s only reaching decibels louder than the second before.
Louder and louder they climb, screeching, piercing, like nails on a chalkboard or the grinding of a faulty cart on rails. It hurts, it aches, and it won’t stop. It’ll never end. Until it does end.
The noise stops.
The light flickers out at the edge of Grian’s sight line. Shapes and colours no longer battle for attention, the sudden terror and confusion that had overcome his senses dwindles to a buried memory.
Grian looks up to a darkened room, cold and quiet. Patterned tiles stretch as far as the eye can see, barred by columns of marble that stretch up to a ceiling. A ceiling that’s incomprehensibly high. It must be there somewhere, amidst the void-like fog.
Once the adrenaline settles and the exhaustion begins to creep in, Grian processes that he’s knelt on the cold floor. He looks up to find a figure shrouded in white robes before him, maybe 5 meters away. Grian makes an effort to stand before foregoing his attempts when a wave of dizziness overtakes him.
“Rest. Be not afraid.” A voice drifts over to him, quiet and amused.
“Please,” Answer me. “Who are you?” Grian speaks to the floor, eyes shut tight trying to fend off the overwhelming fatigue attempting to shut his body down.
“A fellow watcher.” The figure replies.
Choosing to ignore one statement in favour of another, Grian echoes,
“A watcher?” He looks up once more, visibly confused. It’s hard to make out any features under the hood but - there must be a person there...right?
“Yes, a watcher.” The figure stands tall, unattainable, mysterious. “I suppose you’re wondering what that means, am I correct?” A hint of amusement creeps back into their voice.
Grian’s eyebrows furrow in frustration. He looks back at the floor again.
“Yes...you have that correct..." He mumbles.
“Here, allow me to assist you.” The figure crouches lightly, making no noise other than a quiet shift of fabric. They then offer their hand.
It’s blackened. Not blackened as in charred though, black as in a lack of light. Black like the void. There seems to be no skin. Only the illusion of skin. Like an afterthought as to what skin should look like. It shifts as he looks at it, like fog trapped in the shape of a hand. Grian hesitates to take it, what if he reaches out and it’s not really there? He worries if he places any weight on it, his own hand will phase right through.
Despite these worries, something makes Grian reach out. He’s unsure why, maybe it was the confusing illusion of humanity this figure proposed. Maybe it was their amusement and hidden sense of humor. Maybe it was their apparent apt interest in...him. Of all people. He doesn’t understand their motives and like how curiosity does to cats, it kills him.
He leans forward and gently places his hand in the watcher’s own.
Nothing extraordinary happens. Sparks don’t fly, Grian doesn’t feel pain, there’s no loud explosions. Above all, Grian doesn’t phase through that hand and fall flat on his face like he thought he would. A miracle.
It’s the strangest experience. Holding this being's hand and being pulled gently to his feet feels nothing like anything Grian’s ever experienced before. It’s like floating on a cloud. If anything, it’s like what touching a cloud should feel like. Like what you’d expect when you’re a kid dreaming of holding a cloud in the palm of your hand.
Heavy, yet weightless. An illusion of mass.
“I’m sorry,” Grian whispers. “Thank you.”
“Please, do not be afraid. I need you in high spirits for what’s to come. Follow me.” The watcher replies.
That’s quite ominous. “Well thank you for the assistance.” He chooses not to think about the latter.
- - -
The strange pair make their way through endless hallways that are shrouded in shadows. The only light comes from the stars that shine softly through the fog that lines the polished stone halls. If Grian was alone, a shiver makes its way up his spine at the thought, he’d be lost. No doubt about it.
A gate reminiscent of a common threshold looms in front of Grian and the watcher. They approach it, passing quietly beneath it. Grian swears it creaks as they walk underneath it, swaying like a branch in the wind. When he looks over his shoulder after passing it, it’s as still as ever. No sound or phantom wind to cause it.
Grian tenses, choosing to look ahead again to wherever the watcher’s taking him. The cloaked figure twists to look at him, soundlessly. Bit creepy how it keeps doing that. Doing things soundlessly. Grian grimaces.
“We are here.” It cites.
“Where’s here?” Grian shoots back, raising an eyebrow.
“The meeting hall.” The watcher replies, calmly.
Really? I had no idea. Grian snaps sarcastically in his mind. He grimaces further. It’s hard to tell where anything is in this place. Everything looks like the same with hallways and marble columns overlayed with a vaguely purple hue. And an unsettling atmosphere.
Grian peaks around the watcher to see a kind of podium with a shallow pool in the center of it. It’s hard to see what’s in it but it glows with a reflective purple light.
“Please, have a seat.” The watcher motions to some chairs placed around the glowing pool. Grian hesitantly makes his way up onto the podium, carefully sitting down on one of the high backed chairs. He looks to the watcher now sat across from him, waiting.
“I think I’d like some answers.” Grian starts.
“You deserve that much,” The watcher bows it's head, submitting to Grian’s scrutiny. “Allow me to explain.”
Grian narrows his eyes and lowers his head, looking into the pool now in front of him. It’s like a dining table, now that he thinks about it. Except where the table top would be, there’s a shifting mass of purple haze. Fluid like water, yet shifting like dense fog. He nods, signaling for the watcher to continue.
“You are the administrator of a world, are you not?” The watcher begins. Grian nods.
“So you are familiar with the creation of worlds and the code required to do so? The code that is the fabric of our reality, yes?” The watcher prompts. Grian nods once more.
“Yeah, yeah I had to learn how to tap into servers to do commands for the world I was just on...yeah.” Grian shakes his head, puzzled. “How does this have anything to do with why I’m here? And who...what...are you?”
“I am a watcher.” The being bows its head. Looking into the shifting purple haze. “We watch over the worlds that you, admins, create. Some people make it their life ambition to create worlds for friends and family. Others hop between many worlds in search of new adventures and work...other people remain within worlds by themself, creating and surviving for their own fulfilment.”
The watcher looks up from the shifting fog. “You, Grian, have seen a lot of different worlds in your short time.”
Grian’s eyes flicker from purple pool to hooded figure. Sure, he’s seen a bit, but that still doesn’t explain why some otherworldly being has approached him about it.
“We watchers exist outside of these worlds and the code that binds you to it. We see everything. From an outside perspective.” The watcher seems to gaze at Grian, looking into his very soul.
“We see the things that people like you create. Above all,” the watcher gently lifts its hand and reaches out across the pool, “we are protectors.”
Grian looks at the hand raised over the glowing pool, capturing the light and glowing a muted lavender colour.
“We want to protect the beautiful things that admins and people like you create. It takes a certain kind of dedication to do that for others.”
Grian looks from the hand, to the hooded figure. He hesitantly reaches out across the pool. As he grasps the figure’s hand, it disintegrates into black fog. Grian’s eyes widen and he retracts his hand just as quickly. The watcher takes its hand back slowly and reaches up to rest its now solidified hand on the edge of its hood.
“We want to protect what is solid and real.” The watcher states, in a tone shifting towards melancholy. “The realities that you craft for others is something to be cared for and nurtured in whatever form it takes.” It seems to look back up again.
The watcher slides its hood down, finally meeting Grian’s eyes in full.
A swirling black fog forms into a shape similar to that of a human face. It lacks any discernible features as when you look long enough at one thing, it shifts and changes into another. Nothing is permanent for this being. Other than the eyes.
Two, bright, glowing, purple eyes stand out amidst the darkness. They’re round, all seeing, and Grian gets the sense of something that is all knowing as well. A being that is eternally watching, seeing and perceiving. A being that could very well be omnipotent.
A watcher. Nothing more and nothing less.
“I want to protect your world, Grian. I want you to have the ability to protect your own world.” The watcher places its hands gently on the edge of the swirling pool of purple haze. “I believe that you want that too.”
Grian looks at the strange being across from him, swirling and confusing, unexpected, yet posing a level of understanding that Grian has sought for a very, very long time.
Yes. Grian thinks about Taurtis, everyone on the EVO server, Martyn, the world of Wynn, even, he grimaces, Sam. Everything he’s been a part of has a special place in his heart and memories. Worlds and people he cherishes and wants to protect if not for others, than selfishly for himself.
He wants that. He wants to watch over and protect these things and encourage others to do the same. Something about creating a world is special. It opens new opportunities to others to build and create new things and to connect with one another. That’s a kind of magic all on its own.
“Yes...” Grian whispers. “I...” He looks down at his own hands, pale in the reflected light of the pool. “I really do...care...I care about what I’ve created....”
The watcher nods, its eyes squinting a little bit. If it could, Grian thinks, the watcher would be smiling.
“You care so deeply,” The watcher blinks slowly. “It’s wonderful. I can feel it.”
Grian raises his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Yes,” the watcher flickers and tilts its head to the side, gazing at Grian with its big, luminous eyes. “I can sense your emotions.”
“Wow that’s-” Weird. “Amazing! I-It’s amazing.” Grian stutters.
The watcher stares. As the silence stretches out, Grian grows more and more uncomfortable.
“I have to say Grian,” the watcher starts, making Grian jump, “You’re taking this information incredibly well.”
“I am?” Grian smiles awkwardly.
“Yes. Any other person would be incredibly suspicious of this kind of situation,” Grian winces, “that’s not to say you yourself aren’t suspicious, I can tell you are.”
“You can sense it.” Grian confirms.
“Yes I can. I can sense it.” The watcher agrees, “but you are still displaying an outstanding amount of caliber for someone of your limited years.”
“Thank you?” Grian shifts in his seat, a little bemused.
“I am sorry, I am making you uncomfortable.” The watcher apologises.
“No no, it’s quite alright!” Grian raises his hands in front of him in a placating gesture.
“Let’s move on, are there any further questions you have for me?”
Many. Grian thinks, glumly.
“Well I do have one, I suppose. You still haven’t answered why exactly you’ve approached me.” Grian says, hesitantly.
“Grian.” The watcher starts. Grian seems to fold in on himself, unsure with the answers awaiting him.
“I wish to see you thrive with the worlds you have created. This isn’t a decision on my part wholly, but a decision shared amongst myself and many others. We believe that you could benefit from being donated some of the powers that make us watchers what we are.” The watcher starts, gently.
“We can share knowledge with you under our tutelage, and you would be able to continue to share your creativity with the worlds you form. You will have the ability to see more, learn more, and reach further than you ever would have before.” The watcher’s eyes squint, in that way that could indicate a welcoming smile.
“We, in turn, will have the honour of you entering our ranks and providing a worthy insight into the emotions and challenges of mortal beings like yourself.”
Grian’s eyes widen in surprise and understanding.
“I can help?”
“You certainly can.” The watcher chuckles. “We may be omnipotent, but I, personally, do not wish to lose sight of what we are aiming to protect.” The watcher says in a soothing tone.
“That is where you come in.” The watcher reiterates. “To provide insight.”
Grian looks down at his pale hands once more with a gentle and hesitant smile.
“I can’t speak on behalf of all mortals,” Grian huffs a soft laugh, “but if anything I can provide helps others to stay safe and create their own worlds and ideas...” Grian looks up, “That’s more than I could ever ask for.”
A sincere expression graces Grian’s face. His dark eyes reflecting the purple from the pool below. The watcher nods.
“Then follow me.”
Grian sighs, “Again?”
The watcher chuckles, “Yes, again. Come with me.”