Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Biology of the Earth - Introduction 

In this world, which functions as a well-oiled machine does, everyone has a place. 

Watchers: who shape the world but can not shape the people, 

Listeners: who guide the people in their worlds,

Speakers: who communicate in their places of worship. 

The people who were not of the gods were the Deviants, who throughout history, would intermingle with the gods, eventually becoming as diverse, and more than the ancient gods were. They were able to shape the world and guide each other and communicate freely by all sorts of means. With the Deviants fast filling the roles of the ancients, the gods began to fade, one by one, into the people similar to Deviants, with much diminished powers. All of them faded, except for one branch of the Watchers, who became the High Watchers.

Another divide between the Deviants and the Gods was their wings. Until the lines between gods and Deviants began to blur, only the gods had wings. After a long time, Deviants developed their own. As of the last century, Watchers had the wings of birds, Speakers had the wings of dragons, Listeners had the wings of insects, and Deviants had a wide range, including the mix and match of wing types. Many Deviants would forever be flightless, from genetic injuries or lack of wings at birth. No substitution for wings has ever been made. Deviants are weaker and less intelligent than the descendants of gods-

Martyn shut the book and shoved it back under his bed, hearing it thunk against the wall with a spike of hateful joy. It was too self-centered for a sane person’s taste, or anyone who didn’t want to be yelled at in the streets. He stood, stretching. The antennae curling from his eyebrows seemed to be more unfurled today. That was a good thing; it meant he was reaching maturity and would be able to interact with the other species as an adult would, according to the elites in Listener culture. Today would be his first banquet, which was for another treaty with the Deviants over trade routes. Martyn knew it would be boring as all get out, but his family needed him to be there. 

He looked in the mirror. Same clothes as yesterday would do. Martyn put on a bow tie, to humor the solemnity of the event. He didn’t care. 

Next, he spread his wings to admire their span. The iridescent yellow would contrast perfectly with his lime and camo green bomber jacket. He wasn't too vain, at least not as much as many other Listeners, but Martyn needed to look, at the very least, presentable. Satisfied, the Listener straightened his bowtie and left his room.

He lived in the library, now that his own family shunned him for not living up to their legacy or whatever. Just because he had a slim chance of marrying into the “true” royal line didn’t mean he had to take it. Martyn’s real dream would benefit the Listeners more: Being an explorer. Helping Deviants, like the Watchers and Listeners and Speakers did long ago. He has big dreams, ones that weren't able to get done via meeting of every nation known to anyone.

Eventually, he made his way out of the sprawling library (Listeners were the most intelligent species, of course) and onto the landing docks. Martyn secured his many pockets shut and spread his wings before taking off in the direction of the stronghold. His parents were probably there or on their way already. Not like they cared enough to ask if he was ready.

Listeners and Deviants lived in the Overworld, Speakers had, for some reason or another, been driven off into the Nether. Or they chose to live there for some reason. Everyone, except Deviants, had originated in the End. Only the Watchers stayed, to hone their power. At least that's what Martyn had gleaned from the textbook before it became too insufferable. 

As Martyn landed before the stronghold’s entrance, he stumbled over someone’s boot and fell.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the person said. They sounded less than eager to apologize. Looking up, Martyn saw a butterfly-like Deviant about his own age, dressed in what was probably formal Mezalean attire. As Martyn stared up at the Mezalean, they began to speak again. 

“Actually, I take that back. Why did you almost land on the prince of Mezalea?” he demanded. 

Martyn looked around theatrically. ‘I don’t see a prince,” he snapped, hoping to push the kid’s buttons. If this stuck up jerk got to be rude, then so would Martyn.

The royal seemed to swell in anger. “You Listeners are dumber than you look. And you look pretty dumb. Ha!” The prince stalked back over to his superiors, convinced that he had destroyed Martyn's ego. Martyn continued on his way, his advanced hearing allowing him to hear the annoying prince laughing longer than necessary. 

After exactly zero wrong turns, Martyn entered the portal room. A few more Deviants and a handful of Speakers and Listeners were still there, waiting. Martyn was late. Embarrassed, he entered the End and hurried over to the meeting tower. 

His parents were there, judging him already. “You’re late,” his mother complained. His father didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

“Stay here and watch the meeting, like the Elves,” his mother ordered.

So, Martyn sat. He fiddled with his belt. When he was handed a stemmed glass of water, Martyn blew bubbles in it through a hollow stem he'd brought from the overworld.

A stern but quiet cough got his attention. One of the Elves, around his age, shot him a glare. Martyn smiled sweetly back. The kid rolled his eyes, unamused. Such a stuck up guy, but some people are like that, Martyn decided.

As a short fanfare declared the arrival of the High Watchers, everyone stood up and applauded. Except for Martyn. He slipped under the long table and sat under it. Under the table was very nice. Once there were legs back under it, though, the table would become cramped again. But from there, he saw a small hand beckoning him. Martyn crawled in the direction of the hand. As the applause stilled, Martyn was pulled out from under the table by a variety of children. One of them was short with a smug expression. Martyn had an unfortunate reminder of the Mezalean from earlier, but this was a Watcher fledgeling. The kid looked over the outfit Martyn had on, including the now-crumpled bow tie.

“You’re not dressed for a party,” the kid remarked.

Martyn took a look at the kid’s outfit: a red knit sweater and shorts cinched above his twig-thin bird legs.  “Neither are you,” he shot back. 

The Watcher’s face split into a grin. He held out his hand. “Ah, you bested me. I'm Grian,” he said expectantly. 

Martyn supplied his name.

“Cool, cool. These guys are my friends: Pearl, Scar, and Mumbo,” Grian said.

All three of them waved in turn. 

Mumbo was a Speaker with short blond hair beginning to change to black, Pearl was a Listener with copious mood scales, and Scar might have been a Watcher, based on his green wings.

“Why don't you come along with us instead of being boring like Scott?” Pearl suggested, gesturing to the young Elf who had glared at Martyn earlier.

Pearl led him to the other children, who were around Martyn’s age, and they introduced themselves. Among them were two other Listeners. Everyone in the group seemed to get along well, as if Martyn was the only royal who didn’t go to councils. Pearl seemed barely old enough to fly and she still went! She must not have been from the same Listener branch as Martyn, then.

Grian hung out with a few Watchers and Speakers himself, seeming to be familiar with a couple of Speakers in particular, including Mumbo. They all seemed to know each other.A lot of the other Speakers and Deviants were building what turned out to be a scale model trebuchet, which they claimed would be able to launch TNT. Then, Martyn was handed over to Scar, who was best described as a handful.

“Scar, even though you just met Martyn, you two should hang out,” Grian stated. Scar had his wings flared out now. They were much smaller than Grian’s and mottled mossy green. He, as his name suggested, was covered in scars ranging from small cuts to burns to entire chunks of skin gouged off his arms. His small wings were miraculously in pristine condition.

“Hi,” Martyn mumbled. Scar started up a friendly conversation, and they chatted for a little while before a certain someone entered their area. 

“Joel! Glad you could make it!” Grian flitted over to the Mezalian prince. 

Joel scowled. “I would have been here earlier if some Listener hadn’t stomped on me until I was unable to walk,” he fibbed.

Grian didn't seem to believe him, if his bored expression was anything to go off of.

Martyn’s head snapped up. “Oh really? You wanna know what it’s like to get beaten up by a Listener? Being a doormat or whatever you claim will be nothing against what I’m-”

Someone put a steady hand on his shoulder. 

“Get off me, Impulse,” Martyn hissed. He unfurled one of his wings, letting it push the Speaker away.

Impulse fell backwards surprisingly easily, and no one came forward to restrain them again. They must have wanted a fight.

Now able to get to the point, Martyn launched himself at Joel.

For either good or bad, the prince put up a good fight. Martyn took a few hits from Joel, but Joel blocked most of the punches Martyn made. 

“Had enough yet, butterfly?” Joel sneered after a particularly devastating punch to Martyn’s gut. 

Martyn staggered back, but flicked open his wings and boosted himself in the air, landing on the Mezalean’s chest. Joel just lay there, looking angry. Martyn leaned down. 

“Look how fate plays out. Looks like this ‘being a doormat’ is your job now,” Martyn laughed to himself. Joel scowled but was unable to retaliate.

“Alright, alright. Break it up, you two. This meeting was supposed to be sacred,” A new person entered the tower. 

Guiltily, Martyn stepped away from Joel. 

Joel similarly didn’t want to pick a fight again and took a giant step away. 

“Scott! Glad you could make it outta boring land!” Grian walked over and extended his hand. Scott slowly  reached out and took it elegantly. 

“It’s a pleasure,” he said. 

To Martyn, Scott seemed like no fun at all. At least everyone else was on the same flight path for once. Especially as he flounced perfectly back to the adults at the council.

Another Deviant stepped forward. “Looks like Scott forgot to introduce his less-than-perfect big brother,” he said. Most of the crowd looked on, confused. Scott scowled. Scar gave a polite wave. 

“Looks like I’ll have to introduce myself,” he muttered. Sweeping into a bow, he spoke his title in a boasting voice. “I am Prince Xornoth, of Rivendell, and heir to the throne.”

“Sweet! I’m Grian, and these guys are…” 

Martyn tuned Grian out as he walked over to the balcony overlooking the End. 

“Why is it called the End if all life came from here?” Martyn wondered aloud. 

Jimmy silently crept up and took a position next to Martyn. The Listener with amber orange wings looked far into the black distance of the End, then spoke  “It’s because so many battles were fought here, for life. So many types of life were destroyed, leaving Watchers, Listeners, and Speakers. Everything else was slain,”

“Except for the Deviants,” Martyn added. 

Jimmy nodded. “They were spared, as they had only discovered the End, not spawned from,”

Martyn sat quietly. It was unlike Jimmy to be so… religious. Jimmy was only like this when he was brooding. The thought made him uncomfortable; Martyn got up and headed back to the adult meeting. 

All of them were standing up and shouting. Martyn could pretty easily tell who was who from meeting their children. 

Joel’s parents and Xornoth’s parents were arguing with Martyn’s own. 

“Well, how are we supposed to get the roots to your sky kingdom!” Joel’s father roared, green wings outstretched angrily. His wife nodded. 

Most of the others continued arguing, and Martyn stood quietly. Eventually and upsettingly, he was noticed. 

“Oh, Martyn. Glad you could finally make it,” his mother oozed. “I thought I told you to stay here, and not with those bad influences.”

Martyn could feel color rising to the flecks on his cheeks. “Most of them are older than me,” he pointed out, “and I wasn’t the one arguing over tree roots,”

His father stepped over, wings spread regally even though he was only a minor monarch. “I saw you fighting that Mezalean boy,” he pointed out. 

Now it was the Mezalean king’s turn to step over. “He antagonized Joel even before we made it to the meeting,” 

All the royals were arguing again, but it was now over what offense that Martyn ‘committed’ that was the worst.

“He’s wearing that hideous explorer outfit!”

“This is his first council, there should have been an attempt!”

“I just don’t like him.”

“He’s only ten!” Grian yelled. The Watcher fledgeling had come over to watch the commotion. His wings were beginning to flare out, a warning.

“Well, I was already to sign treaties at five, he’s not special,” Scott’s father muttered, flicking an ear.

Martyn’s mother turned to face the crowd. The scales on her cheeks were flesh colored, not showing any emotion. “So, I would like you to be a vote of judgement, since all of us gathered here have some knowledge of my son. On this day, guided by the Watchers, Listeners, and Speakers above, I am now banishing my son, Martyn. He will be unable to seek refuge in the kingdom of the Listeners as long as I or his father are alive,” his mother made a shooing motion in Martyn’s direction. “The new heir to our position will be the orphaned royal, currently a servant, by the name of James.”

Jimmy staggered from the balcony, looking shocked. Scar gave him a little nudge and he walked over to Martyn’s family, which would now function without him. 

“You are no longer welcome at this meeting,” someone who might have been Grian’s father snapped. 

Martyn left without saying a word. The world seemed to be spinning and slowly blurring into infinitesimal noise and light.

Back down the pillars, and before stepping into the portal down, Impulse caught up to Martyn and grabbed his arm. 

“Why don’t you come to the Nether with us, and be an explorer? There’s always new stuff being discovered there,” he offered. 

Martyn considered for a moment, then smiled. “Wouldn’t mind leaving the Overworld for a while, too. I’ll go,”

The rest of the children descended the pillar to say their goodbyes. 

“If you ever need me, I’ll be in some position of power in the Hermit Territory,” Scar said, much too confidently for the situation or any kind of foresight. 

Grian stepped up next to Scar. “Yeah, I’ll be goin’ with, I think, after I become a High Watcher.” Grian also spoke with a finality, as if he would just happen to do everything he wanted right the first time. 

Pearl didn’t say anything, just looked sad. Xornoth shook Martyn’s hand and said he’d ‘see him around’ or something. Even Joel managed to look upset.

“I bet Jimmy wanted to say good-bye, but couldn’t,” Grian said. Martyn didn't mention Jimmy's earlier mood swing.

Impulse put a hand on Martyn’s shoulder. “Time to go?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Martyn whispered back. The two stepped into the portal, transporting them back to the stronghold. Martyn didn’t look back in a metaphorical sense, but he did glance queasily over his shoulder at the portal before he took off after Impulse, starting his new life.

Chapter Text

Ten years later: Empires territory

Jimmy stretched his wings and looked in the mirror.

“Dapper as always,” he complimented the reflection, giving it finger guns. Then, he went and sat on the balcony. The balcony had Martyn’s name engraved in it, most likely done by Martyn himself. The other boy had never truly been able to use the room, and it was now Jimmy’s time to vacate the premises.

His parents, really his adopted parents, had given him land to conquest, all the way down in the Empires. The continent it was on was Imperia… and the founders of Empires must have been drunk and thought the name was funny or fit too well. Maybe it was just a very literal name. Jimmy didn’t care enough, only that he was leaving home. 

He climbed onto the railing and stood for a second, spreading his wings.

As he departed from the balcony, Jimmy felt himself drop a few feet before catching the wind, a problem that was becoming more frequent. 

“James… We've seen this problem before. And there’s no cure. You see… some butterflies live longer than others, and that sometimes doesn’t line up with a Listener’s lifespan,” Father had said. “And sometimes, the fragmenting of wings can be fatal. If these are to be your last few months, you should spend them on the ground,”

Jimmy looked up, confused. “But I’m fine! I can still fly!” he protested. 

“Make some friends, have some adventures. If you ever need to come back… don’t. This is a royal mission of utter finality, and your coming of age. The Listeners have a prince.”

Under any other circumstances, Jimmy would have been flying around the palace in joy. Now, he knew the implications of the goodbye. He didn’t protest. He would be better off gone.

“Alright. Goodbye,” He bowed formally and went to his room, where he packed his most important belongings and looked in the mirror one last time. Wings starting to fray and dull, mood scales openly sad and looking like blemishes, eyes tired and bloodshot. All the way, a put-together royal.

In the early morning light, the fog cleared. Just like in the movies, it retreated from Jimmy’s vision to reveal a sprawling, beautiful continent with many places to hypothetically call home. As he swooped lower, toward the center of the landmass, a house by a river stood out to him, mainly because of the many banners waving from the trees around it. 

Jimmy swung his legs out to land and his knees buckled, falling into a failed roll.

“Ow,” 

Thankfully, no one was around to see his embarrassing fall. In fact, the circle of logs around a burnt-out fire was empty. A small note was nailed to one of the logs. 

Dear James Solidarity,

You’re late. Well, it was a bit hard to reach you, but if you’re reading this, you’re either here or not who we are looking for. If you are really James, your empire is displayed on the map, along with everyone else’s. Good luck, future emperor! From, Pix.

Jimmy groaned as he looked at the map. His place was far away. Time to walk, then, since his wings couldn’t get enough lift from the ground due to their damage.

There were already manmade trails branching from the settlement point. Jimmy decided to forge his own as a good omen for his first independent mission.

He quickly regretted this decision, as the little dangers of the forest began to show themselves two steps in. 

Big pit? Jimmy almost fell in, only a hurried, desperate, exhausting, impromptu flutter across the canyon saved him. Brambles? His clothing began to catch, and little wing scales were left behind, sparkling on the bushes, unbeknownst to all except the creatures of the wild.

Why did you make me go on this stupid expedition? Why did you exile Martyn? In fact, he would have fit right in here, in this horrible environment! What are explorers for, if I have to do this myself? I would have been better off a servant, like before!

Lost in his thoughts, Jimmy tripped and fell into an ice-cold brook. 

Cursing every Watcher, Listener, and Speaker god there was, Jimmy climbed out of the water and shook himself off, almost crying with anger.

He collected resources and stowed them in his inventory bag, which was very wet. His leather tool bag, which would eventually be placed on a crafting table, had swelled with water and would be inaccessible until it dried.

A rather long time, but most likely a few hours later, Jimmy arrived at his empire-to-be, tired and bedragged. It was…

“IT'S A SWAMP?” Jimmy yelled. The visceral scream echoed through the weedy mire in front of him. He stomped a foot- which got stuck in the mud. Jimmy screamed in pure anger again, yanking his foot out of the ooze and sulking over to the only spot of dry land, a barren little hill.

He sighed, antenna drooping into his face. 

“What did I do to deserve this?” He asked, “I had a good life, then I was thrown out! Boom!” Jimmy threw his hands up in irritation. He looked over at his belongings: a (wet) change of clothes, his inaccessible crafting bag, a soggy sleeping bag, and a half propped up tent that looked depressed.

He sighed again and sat down on a log. “I'm gonna be flightless by the end of the year,” Jimmy whispered. His wings had been rather damaged, Jimmy noticed, and he didn't feel them getting frayed during the journey. Tears of self pity began to prick at his eyes. He sat like this until the sun set. Then he set up the damp tent and wet sleeping bag and went to sleep. 

As much as Jimmy hoped this would not be the case, his problems did not ease in the morning.

—

A few years earlier - The End

So, you want to become a High Watcher? The parchment read. Grian dipped his quill into the ink pot and set it to the paper. 

Yes. He signed. There was more to the document, but Grian’s attention was snapped away as someone called his name. 

“Grian! Hey, you have a visitor!”

That voice wasn't another High Watcher, it was someone Grian knew, but hadn't heard in a long time.

“Hello, it’s me, Scar,” Scar yelled. He managed to poke his head over the windowsill, which was quite concerning, as the window was ten meters above the ground. 

Grian got up and opened the window. Scar shoved himself in with a flap of his wings. The flightless Watcher stood up and looked around Grian’s room. “Nice place you got here,” he commented. 

Grian felt his lips twitch up at the corners, but tried to stay unamused. “That’s what happens when you try to do things with your life,” he said. 

Scar fluttered his wings in mock amusement and began to casually preen his tail. “Ah, my fair Grian, I have been doing things in my life outside of this dusty old dimension,” he sighed, “I joined this band of Hermits, and I'm a man of power, despite them not having a government yet. Maybe we’ll wait a couple of years.. You should come on down, they’re really nice, and I already told them about you a ton. So, unless you haven’t changed in the last eight years, two months, and three days since I’ve seen you, you’ll get along just fine.”

“Hang on, you’re been keeping track for that long?” Grian interrupted. He sighed. “Nevermind. I thought you went off to explore, not hang around for pepople like me who keep traditions,”

Scar shrugged. “You’re my friend, Grian. You are a good person, no matter what you believe. Unless you somehow become evil, of course,”

Grian finally smiled. Scar couldn’t stay that type of serious for too long, and neither could anyone in his vicinity. 

“Cool, cool. I’ll go with you,” he said, giving in. 

Scar perked up, despite already being happy. “I have a cat, her name is Jellie. She’ll be so glad to meet you!” By the way, have you done that High Watcher thing yet?”

Grian sighed. “No, but it can wait. Now that you’ve shined some light on my situation, it does feel a little cult-like,” he admitted. “Feels like they’re pressuring me into things too fast. I do have some cool powers now,”

“Like what?” Scar asked. He was bouncing on his heels, excited. 

Grian shrugged. “It’s just a party trick, really. Not much use,”

“But I wanna see,” Scar pleaded, “Please?”

“Oh, alright,”

Grian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He focused in, and opened his eyes while unfurling his wings to their widest. He heard a small yelp from Scar. Grian was glowing, or at the very least emanating light. Scar had his wings puffed up and tail spread in fear or apprehension. In the small mirror, out of the corner of his eye, Grian could see the magenta lights of hundreds of tiny, yet fake, eyes on his skin, feathers, and floating around him. Grian blinked. Hard. When he opened his actual eyes again, the glowing was gone and he was back to normal Grian. 

Scar was still petrified, his wings arcing over his body like he was trying to hug himself. After a minute, he spoke. 

“That was scary,”

“I guess it is a bit startling,” Grian admitted.

Scar walked over and took Grian by the arm. “Come on, let’s go to the overworld,” he said. 

Grian and Scar walked over to the portal in the center of the end. “Scar, I’ve never actually been outside of the End,” Grian admitted. Scar looked surprised, but he returned to his normal happiness a moment later. 

“That’s about to be fixed! Come on!” he said, grabbing Grian by the arm again and dragging him into the portal. 

It was horrible. Grian was falling, but he didn’t exist, he couldn’t flap his wings and it was all dark like the void- you weren’t supposed to fly into the void, the youngest chicks were taught not to go near the edge-

And then he was out and standing on shaking legs on the ledge of a stone staircase. The stronghold. 

“Welcome to the overworld,” Scar said. 

Grian looked around the stone brick walls, taking in the grey that only existed rarely in the End. “Woah, it’s…” 

“This is the boring, underground part,” Scar supplied helpfully. “Come on, it's so much better on the surface,”

When they got to the stronghold’s entrance cave, the torches began to give off less and less light, the room instead being lit by some clear glow from an unknown source. 

“Scar, why are there less torches?” Grian asked. 

Scar grinned. “Just you wait and see! You- oh, you’ve never seen the sun,”

Grian’s eyes widened as they continued walking forward. “Scar, what’s the sun?” Scar didn’t respond. “Scar, what is the sun?’

They had reached the front of the cave, a wooden door with the light shining through its cracks. Scar opened it and shoved Grian out into the light. 

The light burned Grian’s eyes, and he shut them immediately. It was still bright, and unpleasantly warm on his clothes and skin. Scar placed a pair of glasses into his hand. Even though Grian didn’t know how they would help with the light, he put them on anyway. 

“Okay, open your eyes,”

Grian opened one eye a sliver. The light had dimmed. He opened them fully. The glasses were somehow making the glow less powerful, and he could see the surrounding area clearly. 

There were green, short plants on the ground speckled with flowers, the cave behind them was embedded into a huge rocky hill, and the sky was brilliantly blue. There was one part of the sky too bright to look at, though. That must have been where the “sun” was coming from. 

“Only dimension with a sun,” Scar said. He pulled out some device and snapped a picture of Grian’s awestruck expression. 

“And there’s tech here! The End was very technology free, but sometimes some dignitary would sneak a film reel or record in for us fledgelings,” Grian said. He was liking the overworld more and more every minute.

Scar nodded in solidarity, pulling Grian along to one of the cobbled paths leading away from the stronghold. While they walked, Scar chattered about the friends Grian was going to love until they stopped for the night. 

“You see that glowing city in the distance?” Scar asked. Grian nodded. “That’s one of the areas the Hermits built, probably something like fifty years ago. I, well, hadn’t joined them because I wasn’t born yet. That one… I think it was the first one ever,”

“What’s it named?”

Scar looked at him in surprise. “I keep forgetting you know nothing about the overworld and its people. Hermits don’t name the kingdoms they create, just give them a number and let people inhabit them,”

Scar and Grian began walking again, only stopping when the sun set and the whole overworld became quiet.

Chapter Text

Present day - Jimmy's empire 

Jimmy had, for once, done something half good. Three days of gathering resources, sleeping in the tent, and attempting to patch his flaking wings finally resulted in a little house in the water. It was built in the style of the mountaintop Listener homes, with strong support logs holding it over the water, and a balcony jutting out from the house’s front. Due to the lack of a thousand-foot drop, the balcony wrapped around the house and merged with a dock.

There was a creature in the swamp that never seemed to go away; large, green slimes that kept on wriggling and fighting even after being cut up many times. The slime they dropped hardened into little balls that Jimmy was able to collect in baskets that he made. Except he hadn't made any baskets yet, so the slime balls just collected on the floor.

“I’m doing good,” Jimmy commented. He was actually making an attempt to weave the baskets due to an ocean storm keeping him inside for days. One of the other Emperors, Lizzie, has lost contact with the other leaders, as she lived in the ocean. 

Who was he kidding, nothing was going well. The roof was leaking, the wind was a constant howling presence, and he couldn’t weave under stress. Most of all, Jimmy was lonely. 

Just as he came to that conclusion, there was a thump from his dock. He paid it no mind. The thump happened again, then someone was knocking on his door. 

Jimmy stood up and opened it, jumping back as a gust of seawater burst in alongside a Listener. Their wings were soaked, and the explorer coat they wore wasn’t in much better shape. They stood up, fluttering their four wings to get the water out. 

“Hey, Jim. Miss me?”

Jimmy stared. It was Martyn. In the flesh. He stared for a moment, and Martyn stared expectantly back. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the Nether?” Jimmy asked dumbly.

Martyn pulled a stick out of one of his pockets and began peeling it. “Yeah, I was. Then a couple other explorers and I needed to go back to the Overworld for a discovery we found,” he said calmly. “Also, I brought you a present,”

Martyn pulled a basket out of his inventory bag. It was in a similar style to the ones Jimmy was trying to make, except it was a bright, faintly iridescent blue. The basket was also filled with blue and red things, which Jimmy guessed were from the Nether. 

“Got you some dried nylium and crimson grasses, along with some mushroom jerky,” While speaking, Martyn pulled out the pouch of jerky, tossing it to Jimmy. “Go on, try some!”

Jimmy carefully picked through the mushrooms until he found one that looked like it wouldn’t poison him instantly. He bit it. 

It was not good. It tasted like carcinogens and foam. Jimmy spit it out. Martyn didn’t look surprised or upset at this response. “It’s an acquired taste, you’ll get used to it,” he said. “Anyway, I’m gonna terrorize some other people once this storm lets up, do you mind if I stay?”

—

A few years earlier - Hermit settlement #6

After traveling for a couple more days, Scar and Grian finally reached the Hermits’ latest civilization. Most of the buildings were widespread across a juncture of different biomes, all of them a temperature hotter than Grian was used to . Scar seemed very happy in the territory, flitting about and jumping from rock to tree branch, using his claws to climb and wings to boost him along. Soon, they reached a body of saltwater with the faint outline of an island on the horizon. Scar quickly whipped out his crafting spread and made a boat. He pushed it in the water and hopped in. 

“Fly or swim?” Scar asked.

One thing not known about many Watchers was that some of the birds the Gods modeled them after were flightless. Shortly after Martyn was exiled from his own land, the same happened to Scar. Grian didn’t know much or pry about the incident, but Scar was firmly set on not talking about it. Nevertheless, he was welcome in the Overworld as a flightless Watcher.

“Can you row for the weight of two?” Grian inquired. 

Scar shrugged, and Grian saw that he was well-muscled and in much better health than Grian himself was. “I can do more than one little, tiny Watcher,” he said, smiling. Grian got in the boat, and Scar rowed away from the shore at a surprising pace. While he rowed, Scar chatted about the overworld and how much Grian would love building, if he was allowed to join. The river soon ended with a dam, and Scar docked the boat and got out, helping Grian out of the boat. They walked up to the trading area, which was empty.

“Aren’t I supposed to be meeting people?” Grian asked, looking around. 

“Oh, right! I got the leader to gather in the… peaceful, trading area we set up. This is where the first of #6’s buildings were erected,”

Grian nodded along. They had walked up from the docks to the top of the valley. The buildings were in a multitude of different colorful styles, all of them maintained very well. In what seemed to be the meeting place, there were still no people, except for one winged figure sitting on a park bench.

Scar waved them over. “This is Grian,” he introduced. “Grian, this is Xisuma, the current leader,”

Grian looked Xisuma over. He seemed to be a Watcher, wearing standard explorer-guard armor, colored green and tan. He was also wearing a helmet that obscured his face, covering his eyes in a purple visor. His wings were large and black, speckled with golden dots and stripes, while his tail was black and red.. 

Xisuma seemed to be studying Grian. He held out his hand. Grian took it and shook firmly. 

“Nice to meet you, Ic.. ix… ex… how do you pronounce your name?”

Xisuma chuckled. “I get that a lot. Most people just call me ‘X’ instead of trying to pronounce my name,” He broke off in a fake sigh, but got back on track. “You’re a Watcher, born in the end?”

Grian nodded. “I haven’t left until yesterday. Scar suggested that I join you guys, and it sounded fun,”

X perked up and pulled out a clipboard, seemingly from nowhere. “Alright, let’s see if you fit the criteria. Go on, fill this out!”

He handed Grian the clipboard. 

Grian sat down on a bench, looking over the form. It was eerily similar to the one he would have filled if he continued on his former path to becoming a High Watcher. 

Grian filled out the form and handed it back to Xisuma. He looked it over, seemingly pleased with the result. 

“I’ll have to get a meeting with the others, then they’ll vote if you’re in or not. How long are you sticking around in the overworld?”

Grian shrugged. “I don’t know. I was going to become a High Watcher-”

Xisuma cut him off. “Don’t.”

“Excuse me? What do you mean?”

Xisuma sighed, resting a hand on their helmet as if to take it off. The helmet stayed on, but Grian could see X’s eyes glittering behind the visor. “The Watchers are bad news. The gods, not the people, I mean. Stay in line with them and you’ll either go mad with power or wish you were any other species. Have you signed anything about becoming a High Watcher yet?”

Grian froze on the bench. Scar gasped, hands covering his mouth. “I was about to sign the first paper, then Scar climbed through my window,” he whispered. 

X contemplated something, but decided not to speak his thoughts. Instead, he patted Grian on the back. “Well, Scar might let you hang around his base. I’ll get back to you on your application, and… it might not be safe to go back to the End anymore, for the time being.”

Grian nodded, letting Scar drag him back to the boat again. The ride was awkward and quiet, and every time Grian tried to bring up the conversation, Scar vehemently denied its existence. Grian took the time to think about the Watchers, how he had a bit of High Watcher power in him. Xisuma would definitely not be pleased, and he really wouldn’t be allowed to join the hermits with that knowledge out in the world. No one in the End knew, and Grian had been rapidly turning away from his friends in recent years. 

“Scar, I can build my own house if you want,” Grian said as they neared the island Scar lived on.

Scar looked at him as if he was crazy. “No, no. You can stay with me for now. You need to learn about the overworld first, then you can become independent,” he pointed out.

Scar was right. Grian sighed, agreed, and the boat bumped up against the shore. 

—

Present day - Jimmy's empire

Martyn stayed in Jimmy's house for a few more days. The hurricane kept up, with no sign of the end or eye. 

Jimmy seemed to be awfully fed up with Martyn's existence in his house. Which, to Martyn, was ironic as Jimmy had interrupted Martyn's life and gotten him exiled.

You like how your life turned out. There's no reason to be mad at Jim, but if he keeps going on like this…

“I can go back to the Nether, if you want,” Martyn offered. 

Jimmy perked up at this, but his shoulders slumped as he remembered the outside weather. “No, it's too wet. Any Listener would get their wings soaked and torn immediately,” he sighed. Jimmy stood up, reeds from the baskets he was weaving tumbling off his lap. Unintentional or not, Jimmy revealed his ruined wings as he continued to lecture Martyn. 

Martyn looked out the window. Jimmy’s dock was shifting violently as the waves crashed into it. The sky was pitch black, even though Martyn’s pocket watch showed it as midday. 

“I’m used to doing stuff like this. It’s all part of an Explorer’s life,” he said. 

Jimmy looked sullen and unconvinced. “Prove it.”

Martyn cleared his throat and picked up one of Jimmy’s unfinished baskets. “It’s a long story, and we have plenty of time,”

Martyn looped around a geyser of lava, expertly maneuvering his wings around the embers flying off. He has lived in the Nether for eight years now, and most of his explorer duties had been about mapping out the far reaches of the Nether, building keeps, and various other, primarily Speaker based activities. 

One of the first things Impulse made clear was that Speakers were semi-fireproof. They could fly through a lavafall with minimal damage, but if Martyn even attempted then it would be game over for him. 

It had been hard to fly at first; Listeners were accustomed to taking up as much space as possible in the sky. Martyn quickly learned to tuck his large wings in, while using natural speed bursts to keep up with Impulse and his Explorer buddies. 

There was also the little fact that Martyn was breaking records just by existing. The Nether wasn’t very intent on supporting life, and the Speakers had to be hardy. Many of them were sent into an uproar just by seeing a young Listener, raised in the most plentiful dimension, come down into their world. And stay.

The outpost was in sight. He was the only one residing there at the moment- the others had gone to a dangerous bastion to trade, and Martyn had been reassigned from the actual explorer part of exploring. 

He’d never had a passion for science, but he was good at talking fast, improvising, and getting his point across. And that was what the scientists needed him for: going up to the Overworld to explain their new invention to the masses. 

“Alright, Martyn. Ready to set off again?” the scientist asked him. They were holding a clipboard and a Nether-wood box, but handed both to Martyn. 

Martyn nodded. “Where am I going this time? The Crimson Reaches? I haven’t been there in a bit,”

The scientist shook their head. “No, sir. You will be going to the Overworld, to a little tribe, of sorts. They call themselves the Hermits, you may have heard of them?”

Yes, Martyn had heard of the Hermits. From his time in the Overworld, he watched them build one of their sprawling civilizations. 

“We are under Convex, the corporation, which is run by some of the Hermits. They will be selling our ‘product,’”

“What is it?” Martyn asked. 

The Speaker scientist shifted their wings. “It's classified,” they sighed. They steered Martyn to one of the portals, and he stepped in. 

Going through Nether portals was just as bad as going through End portals. Both of them used the same magic, and Martyn hadn’t used either in quite a long time. When at last he arrived at his stop, one of the Hermits was there to meet him. 

Martyn held the box tightly as he stepped out of the portal. 

“You're here for my speech and the… uh… prototype?” Martyn asked, glancing at the box’s label.

“I am. You must be Mr. Littlewood? I'm Cub,” he said, patting Martyn on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Martyn confirmed. “You know what this stuff is?”

Cub gently pried the box from Martyn's grasp and opened it. Inside were a handful of delicate chains with little totems of undying on them. 

“Yes, these are what we developed. Just as I expected them,” Cub murmured. Martyn watched in confusion as Cub put one of them around his neck. “They’ve been tested, right?”

“Uh- I think they have,” Martyn stuttered, “It says on the box, I think,”

Cub smiled brighter, and went to shake Martyn’s hand. “This will revolutionize everyone- everything!” It’s a bit sad to say, but we Hermits have had quite a few… casualties during our travels and construction. This… oh, it’ll be amazing. You better stick around for a while, Martyn,”

Martyn nodded dumbly. Cub walked off, beckoning Martyn to follow, which he did. 

“Stay at spawn for now. I’ll gather the Hermits for the announcement.”

Chapter Text

Present day - Empires Territory

“After that, I went around between the overworld and Nether giving out new lives. You have one, I think. There was a shipment for the Listener kingdom last year,” Martyn continued. He had leaned back against Jimmy’s bed, propping his feet up with the wall. He was going to continue, but Jimmy interrupted him. 

“What lives? I don’t know anything about this,” he said. There was a sort of desperation to his voice, one which Martyn only recognized from his own abandonment. Gosh, his ex-family was worse than he remembered. 

“It’s okay, Jim. I’ll give you one now, how’s that?” Martyn suggested, already pulling one of the spares out of his coat. 

Jimmy shook his head. “No, I’m going to die here anyway. This was a one way mission,”

Ignoring his friend’s stubbornness, Martyn pulled out the chain and handed it to Jimmy. “You can’t die until the churches are built anyway. Otherwise, you just get tossed out to sea,”

Jimmy searched Martyn’s face for any sign of a joke. He was smiling. “Fine. How do I do… this,” he sighed.

Martyn calmly pulled out a knife. “Just get some of your blood on it, it’ll bond to you, in a sense,”

“How do you deactivate it?” Jimmy asked. Martyn shot him a concerned glance, but answered his question. 

“It’s simple. Go to a church, they’ll use a Curse of Vanishing on it, then it’s only good for one more death, after that you’re back to being mortal, instead of only being able to die from old age. I guess there’s always the Void, but that only has a little tiny chance of killing you,” Martyn said. If he was concerned with Jimmy’s question, he didn’t show it, being used to telling people these things. 

Jimmy held the totem delicately, the chain spilling over his fingers. 

“Put it on,” Martyn prompted. Jimmy did. Martyn took one of Jimmy’s hands in his, then raised the knife up to it. 

“I’m going to cut you now. Is that ok?” Martyn asked. Jimmy nodded. “After I’ve drawn blood, smear it on the totem,” he said. 

Jimmy held the totem at the ready as Martyn lightly held the weapon to skin, then pressed down. 

There was a sharp intake of breath from Jimmy as Martyn let him go to finish the bond. He practically shoved the totem in the cut, then winced. The totem and chain faded to mist.

“W- where did it go?” Jimmy asked. 

Martyn pulled out a handkerchief. “It’s yours to summon now. Will it into existence by picturing it,”

He wrapped the cloth around Jimmy’s bloody palm.

Jimmy stared at his chest in surprise. “I don’t feel any different. Is that supposed to happen?”

Martyn snorted. “No,  you’re fine. Do you want to know how to respawn?”

Jimmy nodded. 

“Just sleep in your bed, or if you want to stay awake, tap your totem on it,” he supplied. 

Jimmy obligingly got up, walked to his bed, and lay down. “I haven’t slept for like 3 days,” he said calmly. “I’m sleeping now,”

Martyn didn’t want to know what Jimmy did instead of sleeping, but shoved the thought to the back of his mind. He lay down on the thin reed mat Jimmy and him made while weaving baskets.

Through his closed eyes, Martyn saw the totem, now Jimmy’s respawn system, glow faintly. Success.

—

A few weeks before - Hermit settlement #7

The election was here, at last. 

Secretly, although he admired all the other Hermits, Grian believed that none of them were suitable for Mayoral Privileges. Except for X, of course, because he was the leader and had been the default leader practically… forever. 

Grian flew over to the Shopping District, letting the warm air carry him faster than the boats in the water. One of them, carrying a Hermit, waved up at him. 

Grian waved back. He continued gliding until the island had appeared and he had sunk out of the air current, landing on one of the buildings. 

The newly-erected city hall stood shiny and beautiful, but the whole island, and especially the streets leading up to it, were covered in election posters. 

Soon, all of it would be decided. 

Grian was excited, of course. He had accidentally started the whole thing.

Most of the other hermits were already at the city hall. 

Xisuma was standing on a small platform, speaking to the small crowd. 

He probably thinks that he'll be stepping down, Grian thought. 

The four candidates were seated on the steps of the city hall. Mumbo, Scar, and Stress all seemed anxious, but Joe looked calm enough to be just playing with a rubix cube.

Xisuma turned to Grian. 

Right. I started this.

“Hey, everyone. Today, as you know, is voting day. You have three candidates for mayor: Mumbo, Scar, and Stress, and one candidate for dogcatcher: Joe. You get one vote, and the first candidate to get to the top of the ‘voting thermometer’ wins,”

Grian gestured to the ballot boxes, which did look very close to thermometers. Grian stepped back into the crowd, grabbing his ballot from the table. He saw Mumbo and the others heading inside.

Slowly, everyone voted, and the crowd thinned to the sidelines. Grian cast his own vote.

Despite aiding, abetting, and heading Mumbo’s campaign, Grian would swear for the rest of his life that he never expected his friend to actually have a chance. Mumbo just didn’t have that in him.

He shoved his vote into Scar’s box instead.

… Thirty minutes later

“Our new Mayor… is Scar!” Xisuma announced. “And our dogcatcher… is Joe!”

The entire crowd cheered. Scar took a large bow while Joe waved. Mambo didn’t look upset in the slightest about losing, which for Grian, was a very good thing. 

Scar, once the applause was done, descended the city hall’s steps. “Grian! Thought you were going to go for Mumbo, but you didn’t! Why?”

Grian shrugged. “It was all a joke, to start. Didn’t expect any of this,”

Scar was beaming. “Well, it’s gonna turn out great! Watch and see, Grian, watch and see!”

The excitement of the other Watcher gave Grian an idea. “I think I can, don’t worry,” he called. “I gotta go back, the base won’t build itself!”

Grian flew off in the direction of the jungle. He did not, in fact, touch his base, save for a pen and paper. He kept flying until he was in the wilderness, and the Hermit civilization was on the horizon. 

Dear High Watchers, 

I hope this letter finds you well. It’s been a couple of years since I defected. In that time, I have been racked with guilt over my betrayal so close to becoming one of You. In repentance, I suggest an offering of souls, disguised as a game. The players will have no knowledge of your powers at play, but will bend to your wild will eventually, for You to feed. And then, since these are people of their own making, their souls will be returned and they will have no memory of the event. I will ask them to keep a journal, though, which will be given to the Watchers, the scholarly, as research. I understand that I will never reach the ranks of a High Watcher, and may never be accepted in the true dimension again, but beg for forgiveness with an offering of highest value.

At your disposal, Grian.

Grian set the pen down. The letter would certainly get their attention, with it being all sappy and weepy and religious. With a burst of magic, he sent it to the void. There, it would reform directly into the High Watchers’ consciousness. 

Within minutes, a new roll of paper appeared, sealed with the stamp of the Watchers. It was made from the stems of chorus plants, leading to a pale purple color for the paper. Grian opened it. 

Inside were surprisingly few words: Tell us your plan. Take your time.

Grian pulled a fresh piece of paper out of his inventory bag and began to write.

My plan:

• Get some friends

• Find a plot of land to fight on

• Use the respawn mechanic to our advantage

• Profit (for the watchers)

• Wipe everyone's memories 

Yeah, that seemed good. In theory. Finding participants, on the other hand, was a whole other matter.

Grian scratched down a secondary list. 

Participants:

Me, Scar, Mumbo, maybe 15 others? Hermits?

Maybe it would be better to send letters out. He already had paper, and some good friends proficient in transportation. This would work.

Grian flew out to the north, following the coast. There wasn’t much to see, no variation in the terrain. Grian wanted something extravagant, and preferably far away from civilization. 

He marveled in the beauty of the overworld; a place far more diverse and colorful than the End. He had lived in the overworld for three years, but never really took the chance to explore. 

After a good few hours, the sun was setting, casting shadows over the terrain. 

There wouldn't be any more time to search today, and it was getting dark fast. Grian found a tree to roost in and fell asleep.

In the morning, Grian woke to a calm landscape with a lush forest merging with a swamp and mountains on one side, and a vast desert on the other. It was perfect. Grian wrote down the coordinates and swooped down for a better look. 

—

The next day - Empires Territory

Jimmy woke with a dull pain in his skull. Nothing debilitating, but not fun. 

“Martyn, my head hurts,” Jimmy complained. 

Martyn woke up. “That’s just a side effect,” he explained, “It should go away eventually.”

Great. Not only did he have a high likelihood of dying very soon, he also might have a perpetual migraine to go along with it. 

“Can you go away now?” Jimmy asked. 

Martyn glanced outside. The storm had stopped.

“Yeah, I can, but I kinda want to stick around,” he said. 

Jimmy turned away to scowl at the wall. Why did people come up with perfectly reasonable responses to his complaints?

There was the creak of the door as Martyn went outside.

Jimmy waited for him to come back inside, but there was nothing. He headed outside himself after five impatient minutes of waiting.

Martyn was still nowhere in the vicinity. Jimmy looked around. Not on the dock, not near the bedraggled remnants of the tent, and not in the forest. He wasn't flying off into the distance, either.

And then the envelope hit him on the head.

Jimmy fell over out of surprise, stumbling over the edge of the dock and just barely managing to grab a pole affixed to the dock. The envelope fluttered toward the water, but Jimmy snatched it out of the air.

He looked up. Martyn was standing on the roof of his house, holding another envelope.

"Get down from there," Jimmy snarled.

Martyn smiled back, then unfurled his wings and flew gracefully around the house and down, landing gently on the dock. "You should open your mail," he suggested lightly.

Jimmy used his short claws to cut the top of the envelope off, then pulled out a piece of ink-stained paper.

The letter was less informative than the one Pix wrote to him when he landed on Empires.

Dear Tim, come back to the old continent. There's something me and my ole' friends are doing. Coordinates: (X, Y). See you there. - Grian

"That's sure informative," Jimmy said. Martyn showed Jimmy his paper, which said almost the same thing. "Also, he misspelled my name? Why? Yours is harder to spell!"

Martyn shrugged. "He was in a hurry, I guess. Now we know who he considers more of a friend," he smiled, prompting Jimmy to roll his eyes and turn away.

"How are we going to get across the ocean? I don't know if I can fly anymore, and there's nowhere high enough for me to glide off of, if I could!" Jimmy asked, distressed and quickly changing the subject to a more important one.

Martyn looked at him curiously for a moment, then pointed to the forest. "Someone's bound to have a Nether portal," he said. "I think you have a neighbor over there, I saw smoke rising this morning. Let's go,"

Jimmy put on a fake grin. "Great."

Before setting out, Jimmy pinned his antennae down to his hair and put a cloak over his wings.

"So no one sees a flightless Listener," he explained to a confused Martyn, "just a Deviant,"

Martyn nodded. Both of them, growing up in the Listener hierarchy, understood the importance of appearance.

"Let's go, and hope that my neighbor is a nice person," Jimmy said. Both of them headed out onto the swamp and over to the woods, which did have a noticeable smoke trail ascending.

When they arrived at the clearing, Jimmy gasped. In the time it took him to arrive, build a house, and shelter from the hurricane, his neighbor had founded an entire village. They were still working, it seemed, as a figure on a half-constructed roof spotted them and flew over.

They were a Deviant, seemingly half Watcher, with tall, pointed wildcat ears. As soon as he landed, he immediately shook Jimmy's hand.

"You're the new Emperor, aren't you. Jimmy, right? I'm Sausage," he said, all while shaking Jimmy's hand.

Jimmy pulled his hand away. "Yeah. Hi, Sausage. Nice… houses. Do you have a Nether portal?"

Sausage didn't answer his question. "Nice houses? C'mon, this is better than just a city street, this is Mythland! Soon to be the best settlement in this land!" He flung out his arms, possibly to show the scale.

"That's nice. But do you have a portal I could borrow?"

His neighbor nodded. "Of course I do! I know you arrived late, but you should have set one up already! Not to worry, you can still use mine! Where do you need to go?"

Martyn stepped forward. "I know my way around the Nether. I'll take him just fine,"

Sausage's eyes widened. "That's great! Follow me, and then you'll be off! Nice of you to stop by, by the way…"

And with that, he walked off. Martyn and Jimmy followed him to the portal.

As they stepped in, Sausage grinned. "See ya, hope you don't mind me taking over your empire!"

"Hey-" Jimmy started, but was cut off as Martyn pulled him the rest of the way through.

Martyn shook out his wings as soon as they were through. "Can you fly?"

Jimmy took off his cloak. It was too hot now, anyway. He unclipped his antennae from his hair. "I don't know. Maybe?"

Martyn shrugged. "We should walk. I'm the only Listener who knows how to fly like a Speaker, anyway. And so they walked. Jimmy's internal clock was scrambled, but Martyn was doing just fine, perhaps even better than he was in the overworld. 

Serves him right for going off to be a freak in the worst dimension ever with a species he had no relation to.

“We’re here,” Martyn said after a while, distinguishing one specific portal from the dozens they’d passed. 

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asked. Martyn shrugged, then stepped through, pulling Jimmy through with him.

Chapter Text

Diary - Day 1

This is Jimmy, hi. Grian told us to keep this, for the memories. He also told us to kill each other, but I'll get to that later. Me and Martyn met up with the others in this really faraway place. There were fourteen of us in total. I don't know most of them, but this will be a good time for me to make some friends! Back on topic, Grian said that we would be making a little community, but since we all had those respawn tokens, we were playing a game where we could die. But if we died, we'd go down a 'life' in the game. We have three, and when we go down to one we turn 'red' and can kill other 'players.' This will be fun! We first all ran off away from each other, and I got lost in this forest for a really long time. I honestly thought I was going to pass out from exhaustion when I found a cave, and Scott was in the cave! I feel like I know him from somewhere else, but we introduced ourselves anyway.

Also according to him we're married now. We found a place to build houses and settle down, so I'm writing this in Scott's unfinished house. It's halfway in a cliff, really cool!

I'm going to go to bed now, but there's one more thing that happened today: Some more scales fell off my wings, and a big chunk where a zombie tried to get me. Bit worried about what'll happen to them, so they're going under my cloak for now. Flying isn't allowed anyways, according to Grian. He put up a barrier around the place- magic, isn't it neat?- and discouraged us from flying. We still can, it's just unsportsmanlike. Does he pity me? Or is it for the flightless Deviants he asked to join us? I've seen at least one wingless player- one of them had dog ears but that's not the important part. I don't think I've ever seen someone flightless before, only heard of them.

Diary - Day 2

Well, I'm a bit traumatized. Two people died today. They came back, of course, and I didn't see it happen, but hearing Grian announce in a broken voice that 'Scar' and 'Skizz' had died- violently, too- was pretty shocking. I was starting to enjoy myself.

Scott started building a farm. We have a single cow and a lot of sheep and chickens. We're keeping the cow hidden, and I saw Tango going around and asking for cows earlier.

I also started building my house! It sucks compared to Scott's, but that's life, I guess. I'm going to try and scam people soon.

The cow is named Daisy, by the way.

Diary - Day 15

I didn't know we'd be here this long. I mean, I know it was going to be pretty long, but so many people have died. I also have died, twice.

The first time, I was playing Tango's game 'Dare To Flare' and I burned to death. Not even an hour later, me, Ren, and Skizz tried to disarm a bomb. They blamed me because I was the one to blow it up, which isn't fair, because the bomb was meant for Ren and Martyn. Meaning it's their fault.

Grian was the one who made the bomb. He's evil. I don't even know why we came here, except that it was his idea. I don't remember what happened outside of this little corner of the world. I want to go home. Did I have a home? I got kicked out of the Listeners' domain, then I went… did I go straight here? That doesn't explain why my wings are flaking away. The lava did them in, I think. And the explosion. I can barely see them in the mirror, and I can't feel them anymore. I haven't tried flying again. I'm as useless as a Deviant now.

Scott's still on green. Scar somehow hasn't died despite being on red. Some others have died but they're not too important. I'm scared of what'll happen in the future. My mortality is impending.

Diary - Day 28

Someone burnt down our wall yesterday! The only reason it's not in yesterday's journal is because it happened afterward. Me and Scott were out around the area, camped outside of the flower forest, and so I wrote my stuff out there. When we returned the next day, BOOM! Our wall was gone! Well, it wasn't as bad as Scott made it out to be. Just the top was burnt off, and we got to put out the fire. I did hurt one of my antennas, though. It got burnt and it's stuck looking like a wilted plant.

Also… we're going to war with Dogwarts soon. I talked about them a couple of times before, but they're being really aggressive and planning to attack Grian and Scar in the desert. And since we're Grian and Scar's allies, me and Scott are going to help them fight!

Diary - Day 30

Today's the day, I think. Yesterday night, I started having these strange dreams where I died. Over and over in different ways. None of them looked like they applied to me, so it might have been a Watcher or Listener power. My great grandmother was a Watcher, so that's where the visions would be coming from. I think. Except it never happened before. And I can't ask Grian, because he'll get suspicious, and I can't ask anyone else, since I don't think there are any true Watchers here other than Scar, and he's spent most of his time in the Overworld. I am well and truly alone here. My dreams last night were about death again. If I die, I want Scott to go to the last page and write down how it happened. I have no more faith in the respawns. If I die, I'm done, I fear.

But back on topic, today, we are going to try and destroy Dogwarts once and for all. Grian rigged the desert with explosives, We're heading over after lunch. Our last lunch, me and Scott. I think I may be developing feelings for him, like he has for me, but the red life has affected me so much I can't tell which emotions are truly my own. I miss how simple it used to be, but this is too enjoyable of an experience, to be able to kill freely.

See you on the other side.

—

In the back of the diary, penned in Scott's delicate, yet shaky handwriting, were the words: Jimmy, I watched you get shot through the skull. Skizz killed you, right after Etho shot me and I lay bleeding out. I took your body home and buried it under the willow. I am only on my yellow life now, but… my final death is soon. We will be reunited before the night falls tomorrow.

—

"Well, that's confusing," Jimmy remarked. He was sitting in his watchtower, holding a stained leather-bound book which he apparently wrote. Jimmy felt like he should remember being that poetic, but he didn't. There was just a blank from when he entered the Nether with Martyn that one day (why?) to him standing in this tower, which he didn't remember building, a book clutched in his hands.

The only proof that the "game" was real- other than the book- was the passage of time; a whole month had slipped away- and the lack of wings on his back. Jimmy could feel them- the little stubs that tried to fly, still frayed on the ends.

Am I going to die? Jimmy thought. He unconsciously reached for his totem, which he had taken to calling a 'lifeline', according to his journal. I'm probably not, because I feel fine, but…

I should go to church.

Jimmy carefully descended the tower. It was pretty obvious, now that he was seeing the insides, that he hadn't built this while fully conscious. There wasn't really a way down either, save for some slabs sticking out of the wall in a mimicry of stairs.

At least he didn't fall.

Jimmy got in his boat and began to row toward the other side of the bay. The only church so far (that wasn't dedicated to false gods) was in Rivendell, which meant that Jimmy would have to be crawling back to see Scott.

Hopefully, Scott didn't remember. Maybe he wasn't back yet, having stayed on the other continent. Maybe Jimmy would walk into an empty empire that would never have a prince again. No. Scott wasn't like that, Jimmy had learned. He would have to face Scott, even if they didn't remember each other.

—

Rivendell - Present day

Jimmy, at last, made it through the jungle surrounding spawn, and the mountains guarding Rivendell. He trudged through the village and up to the under-construction greathouse.

Scott's makeshift dwelling, a small wooden cottage, was situated right next to the construction project. Jimmy headed over and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" Scott called without opening the door.

Jimmy cleared his throat. "It's Jimmy, from- from the Cod Empire," he said.

The door was yanked open. Scott stood there, wrapped in fabric and fur. There were two small antlers on his head. Jimmy realized that any memories of modern-day Scott had been wiped and that he hadn't truly seen the Deviant since the treaty meeting ten years ago, when Jimmy became royal. Back then, he had a more youthful face, along with no traces of antlers and barely fledged wings.

"What are you doing here?" Scott asked, his voice warm.

Jimmy shrugged. "I want to go to your church,"

"Don't you have that one Sausage made? That… 'blood sheep' one?" Scott stepped outside and began leading Jimmy along one of the gravel paths.

"Eh, it's not really my type. I need to speak to the Watchers,"

Scott's eyes widened slightly. "The gods or just a normal one? There's always Joey," he suggested.

"Joey's a Watcher?" Jimmy asked.

"Not a High Watcher, just of the species," Scott clarified.

Jimmy groaned. "I'll just stick with the church,"

"Then, here we are,"

Scott stayed behind while Jimmy walked inside. The church was medium-sized and small, made of the same spruce and blue terracotta that the rest of the buildings were made of. Motes of dust drifted through the warm sunlight warming the stained glass windows, unhampered by the outside air's chill. Jimmy reached the altar and slid down to his knees.

"Hello, Watchers. I have always looked up to you. You always were given more offerings than Listener or Speaker gods. I revere you as I would my own savior. Please, I beg you, just do me one favor."

The air was silent. Jimmy swallowed involuntary.

"I will give my life for you. Praise you more than your own people do. If I was able… I would become a Watcher just to worship you more fully. You have been there in my darkest times, until now. Please, speak to me."

The air stirred, dust flurrying around an invisible presence. Jimmy felt something brush his face. He looked up at the cloaked, unknowable face of the statue above the altar.

"What is it you wish, my subject?"

Jimmy blinked, then swallowed again, words sticking in his throat. "I wan- I wish to fly again. I have been outcast from my own lands, but don't wish for vengeance. They left me to die, wingless and alone. Just being able to touch the sky again would be the most powerful response,"

"And why do you think We would help?"

Jimmy looked around. There was no one speaking, no echo of words, just dust spiraling.

"Well, you're the Watchers. You can do anything, and I can be a vessel for you to not only Watch, but…" Jimmy thought back to the textbook he was made to read as a child, "you can shape the world and the people through me," he spread his arms weakly. "I can help,"

"We will consider this. One month."

Jimmy was alone again with the dust. One month…

"Scott, do you mind if I come back here in one month?" Jimmy asked, letting Scott lead him back to the village.

Scott, if surprised, didn't show it. "Of course, Jimmy. You're always welcome in Rivendell," he said.

Jimmy nodded. After a slightly awkward silence, he tapped on Scott's shoulder. The Deviant turned to look at him.

"Do you remember?" Jimmy asked before he could stop himself.

Scott regarded him curiously. "When we met as children? Or is this something else?"

"Have you recently gotten hold of a journal that claimed that you wrote it? Or seemed to be missing a chunk of your life for no reason?" He met Scott's eyes. "I need to know, please,"

Scott flared his wings around Jimmy, muffling the outside world. "Have you?" he asked.

Jimmy paled. I didn't think he'd be this straightforward. I thought we'd both try not to rip the bandages off.

"Have you?" Scott repeated.

At last, Jimmy admitted that he woke up in a tower he didn't recall, holding a book of a game he didn't recall. While he talked, Scott's expression softened and melted into one of sympathy.

"I found one of those journals today, too. I haven't read it yet, though," he said curtly.

Jimmy's face burned. He doesn't love you he doesn't remember you he "Okay,"

Turning to leave the mountain, Jimmy unconsciously tried to spread his wings. As nothing happened, his shoulders dropped and he began walking home.

Chapter Text

Jimmy's Empire - one month later

The next month passed in a blur. He was fighting with Sausage and Fwhip, but it all seemed distant. There was a new ravine gouged out of the ground and a wall he was building, along with a town, but none of it mattered for the moment.

Late in the day, Jimmy was working on his own church that he would have in his own empire. Along with the wing and eye motifs of Watchers, he was adding fish and scales to a lot of the carvings and stained glass. There were a lot of fish in his empire, and it would feel rude not to include them.

With a rush of wings, Scott landed. Jimmy yelped and fell off the roof of the church, landing with a crunch on his spine.

Jimmy woke up in bed and stalked out to Scott standing over his tools, which he had dropped. "Scott, you didn't have to do that," Jimmy pointed out. Scott was smirking slightly, trying to suppress a giggle.

"Sorry, Jimmy," he said.

Jimmy picked up his tools, heavily aware of Scott watching his every movement. "Did you read the diary?" he asked to break the silence.

Scott took Jimmy's hand and pulled him into the church.

"I did. I didn't know… There must have been something about the game," he said quietly.

Jimmy pulled his hand away. "Is this about us getting married? You were the one who suggested -"

"No. Why don't we remember, and why do I know a lot of the people there? Someone both of us know, who know these people as well…" Scott muttered.

"I only knew Martyn. Why do you care this much?" Jimmy snapped.

Scott shrugged. "Coincidences,"

"I have to get to the church," Jimmy said. Scott nodded.

"I can focus on that stuff later. Fast through Nether?" Scott asked. Jimmy agreed, and they were off to Rivendell again.

This time, Jimmy headed straight for the church. He could feel the presence of the Watchers tingling in his bones. He barely got seated in one of the pews when They spoke to him.

You are back. You are wise.

Jimmy did not respond to the compliment, but bowed his head.

Do you wish to fly again?

"Yes," he whispered.

We do not have the powers of Listeners. With this gift, you are no longer one of your kin. Serve the Watchers as you would them.

Jimmy's throat prickled. I'm throwing away my whole life. But... I have nothing left as a Listener...

"I'll do it," he said.

The voice was gentler this time. What is your favorite bird?

Jimmy's mind raced. He liked seabirds, but none of them would be at home in a swamp. The only birds he'd seen in the Listener kingdom were birds of prey, and he didn't want ties back to his past.

Then, he remembered the little birds flitting around the swamp, eating the seeds left by flowers, fast and colorful. He would be able to be at home.

"I... I like finches," Jimmy said slowly.

It is done.

Jimmy stood up His head felt light, but he stepped toward the altar. He barely made it into the aisle before a headache pierced his skull and he fell forward, slipping into unconsciousness.

"Jim, Jim, you've been in there a while, are you alright?"Scott called from outside.

Jimmy sat up- when did he get on the floor? and walked over to the door. Something about him seemed unbalanced, and it took him a second longer to stand up straight. He purposely walked for the church door, throwing it open into Scott's face. Physically. Scott stepped back, cupping his nose.

"Ouch," the Deviant remarked. "You seem… different,"

Jimmy blinked curiously. "How?"

Scott's eyes narrowed. Blood tricked down his chin, but he didn't seem to notice. "You're a bit skinnier, and you have… wings,"

Jimmy made Scott take him inside the greathouse, where there was a full-length mirror in Scott's quarters. Indeed, he was thinner, having gained a bit of weight while his wings shredded, and his new wings…

They were beautiful. They seemed to be around the same size as Scott's, maybe a bit smaller - it was hard to tell, as Scott had his wings tucked in and Jimmy's were splayed out, and shaped similarly to a half circle. They were a pretty yellow color, the longer feathers were more cream while the rest of the wing was more saturated.

"I'm pretty," Jimmy said. He missed his orange and sandy wings a lot, but they were starting to fade from his memory. At least he still had his antennae, although one was slightly tattered and drooping. And a tail! He'd never had to worry about that before!

"What are you?" Scott asked, his normally mellow voice oozing with curiosity.

Jimmy did his best to spread one of his wings for a better view - it was hard with a different muscle structure than a Listener's wings - and tried to guess. "I did say I liked finches, and I guess maybe a goldfinch for the color, or maybe a greenfinch?"

Scott's brows furrowed. "You are a finch, but…"

"What?"

"Not really a finch. Jimmy, you're a canary."

Jimmy tensed. "Oh. Is that a bad thing?"

Scott walked over, reflected in the mirror beside Jimmy. "It's interesting, is all, especially how you clarified finches specifically," he said. "It's probably nothing to worry about."

Jimmy could sense Scott's worry prickling the air, but said nothing except his goodbyes and entered the Nether to travel home.

Back in the swamp, Jimmy climbed to the top of his watchtower. It was around 70 feet high, just peeking over the giant trees surrounding Mythland. He stretched his wings, feeling the new muscles move for the first time. They were more complex than his Listener wings and much heavier. The Watchers must have taken a bit of mass from the rest of his body to form his wings, causing Scott to see him as skinnier.

It was time. Jimmy clutched his respawn token for good luck, then jumped, opening his wings. The air immediately blew them inside out. Hurriedly, Jimmy flapped his wings, feeling the resistance of the air. It was hard. His new wings were much smaller than his old, and he was already rusty. Jimmy crashed and respawned in the tower.

And again. This time, Jimmy unfurled his wings as he fell. Again, he crashed and respawned.

And again. He jumped, keeping his wings spread the entire time. His fall slowed and he was gliding, but quickly losing altitude. He crashed again, but not fast enough to kill. Jimmy dragged himself up the tower, wringing the mud out of his new tail.

Wait… why do I even have a tail if I can't use it? What if… Jimmy spread his tail feathers for the first time. As he stood on the edge of the tower, he spread both his wings and tail, and jumped. The ground loomed closer, he started flapping, and ten feet off the ground, he leveled off, continuously flapping, slowly rising back up.

And then he faltered, one of his wings numbing as he stalled, hovering in midair.

How do I land? Jimmy thought, feeling his strength draining quickly. If I'm not a Listener, then I can get wet… I can land in the swamp!

Jimmy banked around the tower; despite his draining strength, he was adapting quickly. Spying a large stretch of river, he angled downward and -

Splash! Jimmy dove into the river with the elegance of a brick. He surfaced and made his way onto dry land, reminiscent of his first arrival to the swamp. A few fish looked at him curiously.

Fish! Jimmy thought. He grabbed one and looked at it. The codfish thrashed in his grip until he dropped it back in the river. This can be my symbol. Fish go through metamorphosis… like I did.

Jimmy dragged himself out of the swamp and into his cabin. It was still a mess one month after he arrived, plus the one he was gone for. The slimeballs had been sorted into baskets, which in turn were balanced on chests and shelves, (that he didn't place) held together by a collection of spiderwebs.

In one of the chests, he found what was once a royal tablecloth, now slightly stained on one corner. The royalty that had this must have spilled something and deemed it useless.

Jimmy felt himself relating to the tablecloth. Thankfully, that thought quickly left his mind as he cut out a banner-sized rectangle and started drawing his cod flag in green, gold, and brown. When he was done with the first, he hung it on his wall.

Banners were important in my diary, too, Jimmy thought with a shiver. I don't want to be repeating history.

He hung the flag anyway.

Up in the tower again, Jimmy watched the leaves drift down from the trees. During his time lost in the game and waiting to get his wings, summer had given way to autumn. There was a definitive chill in the air. Since he had hung the banner, the alleged discoverer of Imperia, a half-Speaker named Fwhip, had popped over to Jimmy's empire almost immediately.

"Glad you're settling in, Jimmy," he said, shaking Jimmy's hand rapidly.

"Sure." Jimmy didn't know how to respond.

Fwhip finally dropped Jimmy's hand. Jimmy promptly folded his hands together to ward off any new attempts to shake hands. "I just have to warn you, Jim, you made one of my allies pretty mad,"

Jimmy groaned. Sausage needs to chill. "I'm the innocent party here," he said.

Fwhip considered this, using one of his wings to scratch his head. "I don't think so. You built that tower pretty tall, and it's an eyesore to Lord Sausage. You don't have a title either, how dare you challenge him,"

The comment made Jimmy bristle. "Hey! I'm the Codfather," he pointed out. Except it wasn't really a jab, just a title that had popped in his head in the last hour. But it was official now, more or less.

Jimmy crossed his arms defiantly, and Fwhip's mouth quirked into a smile. "That's stupid, how did you come up with it?" he asked.

Calm, calm. He's just messing. "What about you?" Jimmy asked, "I know nothing about you, and you come traipsing in to insult me. I could declare war, you know,"

Fwhip straightened proudly to his full height, still shorter than Jimmy. "I am Count of the Grimlands," he said. "The largest exporter of redstone on Imperia,"

He must have seen Jimmy's unimpressed face, because his own face fell and his wings tensed.

"Respect us," he hissed, spreading his wings to fly.

Jimmy took his bait, like the fish he was relating to. Spreading his own wings, he was more threatening than the count had been. "Respect me," he shouted, watching the other man arc away into the sky, then heading inside his cabin, slamming the door behind him.

On Jimmy's bed lay an envelope sealed with red wax. Jimmy knew that wax. It was on the last envelope, the one Martyn held, the one stamped with an eye that seemed to wink…

Jimmy peeled open the letter with claw-like nails. Inside was the letter once again dooming him to memory loss.

Except it wasn't, because it didn't exist, and Jimmy wouldn't let it into his home…

Jimmy walked into his cabin, still fuming from the conversation with Fwhip. There was nothing on his bed, save a letter sealed with royal red wax.

"Oh, Watchers, he sent me a letter…" Jimmy groaned, peeling the envelope open with thorn-sharp claws. It was signed by Sausage and sealed with the Mythland crest stamped into the wax.

Not-dear Jimmy,

I can't believe you decided to declare war. That wasn't very nice, so I'm going to retaliate. Consider any potential trade with my allies… revoked!

Also, there will now be a wall between us. Hope you enjoy looking at your failure! <3

- King Mythical J. Sausage of Mythland, Imperia.

Jimmy crumpled up the letter and threw it into the sea. He watched it dissolve, panting. Almost wishing the first letter… no. It won't happen. I'll move on.

He stayed away from his house the rest of the day, even spending a night in his watchtower. The rest of the town was coming along well, even with the threat of Sausage's empire next door.

The next day, Jimmy woke to see the shadow of wings circling his house. Webbed wings. Speakers.

He pulled a cloak over his new wings - best not reveal them too soon - and ran down the tower as fast as he could. The Speaker landed, and Jimmy could see it was Lizzie.

Lizzie hadn't been seen much since she founded her Empire, but it was rumored that she'd gotten into a fight with the ruler of the jungle, but neither of them gave information about it. Despite this, she still held her wings proudly and was beaming.

"Jimmy, did you see the letter? Oh, it's so exciting! Pearl got one too, and she told me you got one, and maybe a couple of other Emperors… but what if we become enemies?"

Jimmy's heart started flopping around like a dying fish. (He had seen too many of those recently) That letter… "Who's the letter from?" he asked, hoping it was from someone normal like a Hermit or a fellow Emperor.

"It's from Grian! You know, I used to see him at councils a lot," Lizzie provided. She pulled out an envelope familiar to Jimmy.

Jimmy's heart gave one last pathetic flop and died. "That's great," he said blankly, hoping Lizzie's excitement would be enough for both of them.

Lizzie grabbed his hands in hers. "Let's go, right now. That way, we can explore Eremita together, since we both lived there!"

"You didn't live in the Nether?" Jimmy asked. Lizzie shook her head.

"I grew up on the coast," she explained, "There used to be a lot of nomadic Speakers in the before-time,"

Jimmy bristled. "I know, I know. History stuff. Lemme get my inventory bag, and let's head,"

He ducked inside his cabin, grabbing the bag, and on second thought, the letter, which was back on the bed, somehow.

Lizzie was on the edge of his dock when he returned. "Let's go, let's go!" she cheered, practically levitating with happiness.

Jimmy looked around. "How are we going to get there? I can't fly long distance,"

Lizzy eyed his new wings critically, then grinned. "Get your boat, we're swimming,"

Chapter Text

Grian swooped around another mountain, the range leading him away from civilization yet again. One week before he left, the High Watchers sent him another message telling him he was doing well. Taking initiative from this, Grian decided to set up another game.

He landed, looking over a natural valley. It was close to the first game - Grian could see the residual smoke clearly - but much different. Still set halfway in the mountains, Grian mapped out a different square that reached inland and into two thick forests. This time, the Watchers would be happier with the new rules.

Last time, the letter they sent back was scornful. Grian still remembered how proud he was when he got it, and how quickly his hope dissipated after he began to read.

They told him that his offering was unworthy, that he should never have tried to become like them, that deserters never find solace. They also added a threatening line - he was like them, but would never be them. So, Grian decided that they meant that he would have the same insatiable appetite for tortured souls that made the High Watchers so fun to interact with.

In fact, he was hungry right now! Maybe he was already like them! That was the whole point of remaking the game!

With a sigh, Grian summoned 13 identical letters and sent them off to the corners of the world his participants were residing in.

—

Up in the high mountains of Imperia, Scott extracted a letter that was embedded in his doorframe. Reading it, he sighed and spread his wings.

On the floodplains, in the small farming village of Helianthia, Pearl watched the skies and waited. She was holding a well-worn envelope that had been opened and read tens of times. Finally, with a chilly rush of wind, Scott of Rivendell landed lightly outside her cottage.

“Ready to go?” he asked, smiling.

Pearl nodded. "I've been waiting, and it's gonna be fun, right?"

Scott paused. Pearl watched his brow furrow minutely, then he smiled. "Of course it will be fun, it's a game," he said, reassuring his friend.

Pearl grinned toothily back at him, then spread her wings and launched into the sky without him. 

"Hey! Wait up!" Scott called, laughing as he followed her.

—

Across the ocean, in his desert, Ren quietly stowed his valuables in chests, a letter open on his bed. The Watchers had been bothering him for months, convincing him that he was… better than the others, that he was special… and now they were sending him to play a game. One he would win. 

Putting on his elytra, Ren picked up the letter and read the coordinates. 

Those seem familiar, he thought in the back of his mind, You used to live near there, before you became a Hermit,

Ren shook his head briskly and flew into the gathering twilight.

—

"Lizzie, I think we're lost," Jimmy said. He was wet (again!) from the Speaker convincing him to swim with her. A bad idea, for as a Listener with fragile wings, Jimmy spent his life entirely out of water. Lizzie spent the next ten minutes trying to keep Jimmy from drowning and to get him back on the boat.

Lizzie wrinkled her nose at him. "We're not lost," she said, "a Speaker is never lost,"

"Doubt," Jimmy grunted. Lizzie chose not to reply and instead struggled her way out of the water and into Jimmy's boat. Jimmy yelped and clutched the sides as the boat almost capsized.

Once she was situated, Lizzie took the oars from Jimmy and began rowing.

"You wanna know something?" Lizzie began. Jimmy nodded. "I wasn't actually invited to the game. I took Joel's letter… he said he didn't want me to come. That I would get hurt. Now that we're so far from our empires, it's really setting in how badly I wanted the thrill,"

Jimmy remembered how excited Lizzie was standing on his dock. "You mean that all your excitement was an act?"

Lizzie shook her head. "No, no! Since… well, you should know. Joel and I are dating, and he brought his letter over. I read it and wanted to tag along… I didn't tell him, though. It's exciting to do something secret like this, you know?"

Jimmy thought back to the times he would get his empire in trouble, then he and his allies would miraculously get off scot-free. "Sure," he replied. Lizzie seemed satisfied with this answer and continued rowing until they saw the Eremetan coast fading into view. Jimmy gasped lightly as he saw it - he never saw it disappear behind him as he flew to Imperia and was in the Nether last time he travelled.  rise up in front of them.

Would they let me home now that I can fly? Jimmy thought fleetingly, before immediately dismissing the idea. No. I'm closer to a Watcher now, so maybe…

"Look at that, there's the signal!" Lizzie exclaimed. Indeed, the thin light of a beacon was piercing the growing-dark sky. She rowed for a little while longer, and just as the stars were coming out, the boat bumped into the wood of a makeshift dock. Judging by the other boats laying around, many others had taken a sailing route.

As they disembarked, Grian ran over. He was older than the last time Jimmy consciously remembered him (he must have been a similar age a few months ago, but…) which was pretty obvious in hindsight. The last time they'd met outside of the Game was when they were both children.

The rest of the crowd followed. One familiar one - Joel - ran over to Lizzie. 

"How did you get here?" he asked breathlessly.

Lizzie looked confused. "Boat, with Jim," she said. 

"Why are you here? Where's my letter?" Joel begged. 

"I wanted to see what this was," Lizzie said. Grian, listening in, began to look uncomfortable. 

He cleared his throat. "Er - did anyone else tag along without getting a letter directly?"

Lizzie awkwardly put her hand up, along with Martyn and a Speaker that Jimmy didn't know.

"Right, it's up to you then. Do you want to stay or go? I don't recommend staying," Grian said. 

The unknown Speaker arched his wings. "I'm staying, no matter what. Me n' Impulse got to stick together in these matters,"

Lizzie nodded. "I don't want Joel going alone into this… thing. Now that you're trying to make us leave… it just seems suspicious,"

Grian sighed. "Lizzie, Skizz, that's fine. Martyn, what about you?"

Martyn shifted his balance, the light catching his face as he moved. Jimmy realized that he looked pale and slightly ill. 

"Can we talk alone?" Martyn asked. He spread his yellow-and-black wings. "Over on the mountain,"

Grian nodded and spread his own brown-and-white speckled wings. Both of them flew a short distance away. Jimmy slunk off into the trees in the direction they headed. 

Soon, he could hear voices that were in no way trying to be quiet. Martyn was louder, while Grian kept trying to cut him off.

"Martyn, if you'd just try to understand-" Grian said.

"What else is there to understand? You tossed us in this place, told us to survive, then wiped our memories! The only reason I'm back is to find out why,"

"Then go, then, because you're not going to find anything!" Grian yelled.

Jimmy heard Martyn take a deep breath and a step back. He spoke again in a calmer voice. "Grian, we kept journals. Do you want to know what mine said?"

"Martyn, you don't want to go down this road," Grian warned.

Martyn growled. "I don't care. My book said I was in love with Ren. That I died for him, that I killed for him. Do you want to know what of that love I remembered? Zero. I didn't know who Ren was until I met him today."

Grian shrugged. "Just don't get attached. It's that simple," he snapped.

"Does anyone else remember? Or is it just you, the Watcher in charge of torturing us?" 

There was a rustle of feathered wings. Grian was getting annoyed. "There's a good reason for that, Martyn. It's all the Watchers, I'm just their pawn. They want me to make a death game? I comply and stay in their good graces,"

Martyn laughed. "That's what we all say,"

If Grian picked up on the fact that Martyn didn't address only him, he didn't show it. He continued to banter with Martyn, but it all faded into the background for Jimmy. 

They don't care about me, is that it? No. They have to. I've got to be better than those two, and whoever else there is that the Watchers like. 

He was making that up. He was running. He was back and standing in the circle like nothing happened. Grian and Martyn came back, smiling blankly and casually.

"Shall we start?" Grian asked cheerfully, no trace of the argument on his face.

—

Two days later - Death Game

Martyn forced himself to stay awake. 

He can't get me here. The Watchers dwelled in the dark and depths of the subconscious, at least in Listener mythos. They were never really a factor unless they were doing some massacre or another of the ancient people. But Martyn still wouldn't sleep, because Grian was a Watcher with power over him, and he didn't want to take chances.

He was just so scared…

They had all built towers. Grian was there, he wasn't the leader, they were all equal. They stayed away from each other, because they were all so scared. The others were unknown to him, he felt like he knew them. Grian was untrustworthy, Jimmy had changed… 

and Martyn himself was sick.

It wasn't noticeable at first, a little bit of muscle fatigue one day that slowly worsened. He wasn't dying, at the very least, but he wasn't good. That must have been why Grian tried to keep him out of his Games. He was a burden. He was paranoid. He could unravel Grian's secrets.

Martyn knew he didn't used to be this skittish, he didn't jump to conclusions this fast. He had written in the new journal Grian had given to him along with everyone else, and his handwriting was blotched and shaky. He was writing like a madman.

He must have been. Everyone else was fine. Martyn felt his forehead with the back of his hand. Hot. He looked in his mirror shard illuminated by the light of a small candle. The mood scales on his cheeks were a sickly greenish color similar to the sky before a storm. His antennas were drooping, and there were hollows under his eyes.

Martyn had seen Ren looking like this, too. The Deviant had been on high alert, ears swivelling in the direction of whoever was being the loudest at any given time, flexing his clawed fingers. And Jimmy, too, but in a different way. Jimmy was irritable and tense, not to mention his new wings, which weren't Listener wings, he was a Watcher now, and there were two people Martyn had to look out for in his alliance alone…

He could feel his fever growing. With a trembling hand, he grabbed the communicator watch that Grian had passed out with the journals. He quickly messaged Grian. 

<Martyn L.> <I might die in my sleep. If I do, can you make it not count against me?>

<Grian X.> <As long as it's from natural causes and not you being dumb! (the message will show up here so I'll know)>

Martyn turned the communicator off. His eyelids were drooping. He was fighting a losing battle, but he didn't want to give up. If he could just…

Martyn! 

His eyes snapped open. Or, at least they tried to, but everything was moving too quickly and his eyelids didn't work and he seemed to be melting. Oh.  He had a severe fever, and knowing his luck, it was probably his mystery ailment trying to do him in. 

Martyn dragged himself to the edge of the tower and threw up. He tasted blood. Wiping his mouth, he sunk to his knees, taking great gasps of air. Something in the atmosphere was buzzing, the feeling making Martyn's hair stand on end.

And then he heard it.

Martyn…

Chapter Text

Weeks later - the Southlands

Jimmy blew a strand of his bangs out of his face. His hair had grown long in his time exiled, and the rest of his ex-teammates looked similarly worse for wear.

"How's everyone doing?" he asked weakly. Four faces stared stonily back.

"I'm doing good myself, do you think you can let me in?" 

"Jimmy, you were banished," Grian pointed out.

Impulse stepped forward. "He can come back, Grian, we unbanished him. Don't you remember?"

Grian mumbled something under his breath about red lives and redemption but nodded. "Fine. He can come back, but he's on thin ice,"

Gratefully, Jimmy clambered over the wall. As his feet touched down inside safe walls, a wave of dizziness swamped him. 

"You good?" Martyn asked, at Jimmy's side and steadying him.

Jimmy nodded. "You got no idea what I've been through, man,"

Martyn sighed. "We'd see you over on the hill, being all lonely. It's not been much better in the Southlands, either,"

"Grian left a bit ago, I know that,"

Grian sighed. "I was just on red. I'm back and better now,"

Jimmy could sense the tension in them that wasn't there before. It was curious, and for some unknown reason, he wanted more. 

Aren't you forgetting something?

Martyn stopped dead. "You betrayed us, Timmy,"

"I was desperate! Probably everyone here has betrayed each other!"

Martyn gestured to a trapdoor rigged over a campfire. "Get on the platform for your trial,"

The rest of the Southlanders looked at each other nervously. Their faces said it all. Is this really happening?

Begrudgingly, Jimmy crawled onto the trapdoor. 

Martyn, who seemed to be in charge now, began announcing "The Trial of Timmy," which was rather inaccurate in Jimmy's eyes. First of all, they were making a rather big deal of nothing. They could have let him die in the wilderness, or in the lava trap he'd seen Scar perish in! But no, Martyn seemed intent on letting Jimmy roast alive on a campfire, even with the possibility of letting him back into the Southlands hanging over all their heads. 

"First off, you stole my life," Martyn yelled, a bit louder than necessary. Jimmy flinched slightly. 

"And your heart," Jimmy replied sarcastically.

Martyn, usually a fan of jokes like that, growled. "Jimmy, you don't deserve to come back here," he said icicly.

Grian fluttered over to Martyn. "Do we have any other evidence?"

"You were there," Martyn pointed out callously, "All of you were there,"

Impulse looked uncomfortable. "Maybe we should let him let him come back," he suggested, "It's not really the Southlands without Jimmy,"

Martyn shot him a look that clearly screamed you should be on my side! before looking to Mumbo for support. 

The Speaker shook his head slightly, and Martyn gave up. 

"Nevermind, you're clear of all charges, get down."

Jimmy scrambled off of the platform. Impulse was right. He had destroyed their bond. 

"I'm going off to forage," Martyn announced, and without waiting for confirmation, stalked off into the thin forest.

The remaining group stood around for a moment, acclimating to Jimmy's presence. 

"You've got nice wings, Jim, when did you get them?" Grian asked.

Jimmy froze. "I've always had them,"

Please don't question this, please don't question this, please don't-

"They're looking a bit worse for wear, you should take care of them- but I could have sworn that you had Listener wings," Grian commented blandly. "Remember not to fly, it's against the rules,"

It worked. He's oblivious! I'm actually liking these new powers. They pay off in the long run.

With Grian gone, Jimmy walked up the dangerous spiral staircase in his tower, oh-so-reminiscent of his watchtower back in the Cod Empire. 

Wonder how Sausage is doing without me. Did he build that wall? Did he take over my Empire? What's going to happen to Lizzie and Pearl and Scott's kingdoms?

Jimmy shook his head, trying to move on. From his vantage point, he could see the little, winged figure of Martyn making his way to another base in the northwest. 

That's Lizzie, right? He must be worried about her, although I don't think they've ever met, Jimmy thought. Maybe they're secret allies. Too bad he didn't trust us.

Jimmy slumped into his bed, a headache growing behind his eyes. "I'm going to win," he decided loudly, "no matter what."

—

Martyn made his way through the dark oak forest to the Shadow lands. It was probably Ren who named them, given past-Martyn's description of the Deviant. In this iteration of the Game, Martyn had only interacted with Ren a few times, having offered him a place in the Southlands once, sneaking him Nether wart in another. 

The door was made up of a hole broken into the barrier wall, then a mishmash of wood planks was slapped over it. Martyn knocked on the door.

The planks were shoved to the side by Lizzie. Since the first time Martyn had seen her, the Speaker had grown disheveled, with a faraway, cold look in her eyes. She had pulled her hair up into two buns instead of her typical half-up style. 

"Hi, Lizzie. Is Ren here?"

Lizzie nodded, swallowing. "You're our secret ally?" she asked. 

Right. I haven't shown them my face yet.

"Of course,"

Lizzie shoved more planks out of the doorframe. "Well, come on in, then,"

Ducking and folding his wings slightly, Martyn entered the small fortress. 

"Is Ren here?" he asked. 

Lizzie nodded. "He's busy,"

Martyn groaned. "Can I see him?"

Even though the fort was small, there was a lot of clutter around. The tower seemed to be getting reinforced, the walls were in the process of being built, and thorn bushes ran rampant around the area.

"He… well, I can tell you, since you're our ally. He's building a secret meeting bunker under the fort," Lizzie admitted.

Of course he is.

Without further ado, Martyn marched into the fort, Lizzie anxiously trailing behind him.

"You're not the Boogey, right? Because I'll have to fight you, after what happened to Cleo… and Ren doesn't have that many lives…" Lizzie kept up a steady stream of one-sided conversation the whole way.

"I haven't been the boogey in a while, I believe it's a one time thing," Martyn clarified. "Anyway, I wouldn't kill Ren,"

Lizzie clasped her hands together. It slowly dawned on Martyn that the Speaker was covered in half-healed burns. That must have been from her last betrayal, he realized. She's scared.

"Just down the ladder," Lizzie said. "I'm coming too, of course,"

They both descended in silence. Just as Martyn was starting to think that the shaft led to a pit instead of a base, his feet touched the ground and he was there.

Another chunk of wood was wedged in front of the entrance. Lizzie knocked, then removed. It.

And there was Ren. Half-memories swam to the surface of Martyn's memory, comparing themselves with the Deviant standing in the small room.

Ever since he was sick, back at the beginning, Martyn was starting to remember his past. The previous Game, to be exact. Ren was included in these memories, along with many familiar people that Martyn had allied with before. This time, Martyn shied away from his former friends in fear that they might not be his friends anymore.

Stop getting distracted. Stop thinking about what memories might not be real.

Martyn focused back on Ren. Even though they had interacted a few times over the weeks prior, this was their first time they could truly reconnect.

The first time they'd met, Ren was wearing a pine green cloak over his loose tunic and pants, giving off the impression of a peasant one would find working in a field. It had draped over his entire right side, leading Martyn to wonder why he skewed the coat like that. Now, the cloak was off, hanging on a nail on the wall. With a quick glance at Ren, Martyn realized why he had worn it in the first place.

"Where's your arm?" Martyn blurted out.

Ren jumped. "Oh, Martyn, didn't notice you!" He walked across the room to his once-friend, limping slightly, and Martyn heard the faint scratch of metal on stone.

"Are you missing a leg, too?" Martyn asked. That's a bit rude, he thought instantly.

If he took the comment as an insult, Ren didn't show it. Instead, he pulled up his pant leg, revealing his prosthetic leg.

"Got a bit more robotified after a battle against some Bad Watchers, got tossed into lava and burned a bit," Ren remarked, as if that was the most normal reason for loss of limb.

Martyn hesitated, then answered with an "okay." He didn't want to pry to deep, because knowing Ren, the answer would bring more questions.

"Are you still allied with the Shadow Mist?" Martyn asked, referring to himself.

Ren nodded slowly, not understanding. "I don't know how you know about him," he said cautiously.

Martyn decided to pull the bandage off in one fell swoop. "I am the Shadow Mist," he admitted.

Ren's eyes widened slightly behind his sunglasses. When he spoke next, his voice held the same huskiness it had when they had talked undercover. "Shall Lizzie join us, too?" he growled.

Martyn nodded, also choosing to use his more mysterious tone of whispering. "Yes. The Shadow Queen shall lead us,"

Ren beckoned Lizzie over with a flick of his hand. "Shadow Queen, we request your presence,"

At this point, Lizzie was not quite used to Ren's antics as someone who was a friend or fellow Hermit. She crept over nervously, wings pinned tight to her body. "What is it, Ren?"

"This is the Shadow Mist, our ally from the South," Ren whispered dramatically.

Lizzie nodded, catching on. "And how will he help us?"

"I will come to your aid when called," Martyn vowed, "I will sacrifice my first alliances for you,"

Lizzie nodded. "That's very good. If you want, you can stay for now,"

"We should have a meeting at the next full moon," Martyn decided.

Lizzie nodded grimly. "That is, if we survive that long,"

Outside of the Game - HC-8

Xisuma lowered his spyglass. Although it was meant for use on the ground, it also doubled as a telescope.

That's not a normal asteroid, he thought. It was a ball of End stone, incomparable in size to anything on the continent. It was almost the size of the moon.

According to Watcher mythos, the Watchers of olden times were not defeated, and not living on through the High Watchers. Instead, they became the islands of the End, and seeing the descendants of the Speakers, Listeners, and Deviants, would try and destroy them every hundred years.

Xisuma had grown up surrounded by that story and many similar ones. He felt the feathers on his wings start to press down, ready for an unseen attack.

The Watchers are trying to destroy us.

It couldn't be. Not the Hermits, who didn't deserve any hostility from the Watchers. Grian, who could be considered the most dangerous to the Watchers, was far away, trying save himself.

Xisuma fumbled with his helmet, pulling it off and letting the cool night air wash over his face. Without the purplish tint the visor had, Xisuma could almost see the meteorite, just a little speck among the stars.

Maybe Grian wasn't as trustworthy as Xisuma wanted to believe. He still remembered the first time he had met the Watcher. So inexperienced and nervous, always tagging along with Mumbo. Maybe it was a good thing that Mumbo had left with Grian. Their companionship usually managed to keep Grian on track.

But if the Watchers were influencing…

Sighing, he pulled out his communicator.

<Xisuma V.> <Grian. The Watchers are putting us in danger.>

<Grian X.> <No, you're not in danger. I'm making amends.>

<Grian X.> <trust me>

<Xisuma V.> <What?>

<Xisuma V.> <GRIAN!!!>

<Grian X. has disconnected>

Chapter Text

Martyn looked up at the sky. The east was beginning to tinge with pink."I'm going to have to go. I wasn't meant to stay this long," he said.

Ren nodded. "See ya,"

"Stay safe out there," Lizzie said, handing Martyn a basket of sweetberries. He took it, and exited the fortress over the wall.

Half an hour later, the sun was peeking over the treetops and Martyn was not yet at the Southlands. Stowing the sweetberries in a hollow tree, he climbed into the canopy and looked into the mountains.

Although his vision was not as good as a Watcher's, he could see team B.E.S.T. in their fortress, with Bdubs a ways away from the others.

He was red, I believe. Wonder why he's sticking around.

Further over, Scar was standing outside his mountaintop home. Down below, Joel was constructing a… something connecting to the forest from his cave.

He's red, too. What is with those reds hanging with greens and yellows? I thought they were supposed to be at each other's throats. Oh well, easier to kill.

Martyn shivered at that. His intrusive thoughts hadn't bothered him much since after the first Game, after he returned home. He tried to recall what it was like in those weeks, but found a gap in his memory from when Grian flew in and delivered the first letter, to standing in front of the barrier he was currently trapped in.

His hands tensed on the branches. He felt cold.

Remember. One day at a time. Your memories are still here.

The first few days were the blurriest. Martyn remembered darkness, and a voice. Eventually, he became lucid enough to hear wind rushing through his hair, and to understand that the clothes he wore were not his regular ones. As soon as he realized he was falling, he woke up, sitting bolt upright in a sleeping bag with a pounding headache.

And then I was back in the explorer camp, outside the Nether portal.

Speakers from the Nether did not need sleep. Martyn's band of explorers was composed mostly of Deviants, with only one Speaker. When the group got tired, they would build a portal and sleep in the Overworld.

After that, nothing really happened.

Martyn remembered seeing the letter, although he did not know if it was the first or second. He blinked sleepily, then settled back into his sleeping bag. He was staying at an outpost in the Overworld, inhibited by an unknown illness. His group had left them, he had asked them not to wait for him.

He must have nodded off, because when he wrenched his eyes open again he was in a lush pine forest, surrounded by familiar people he had never seen before.

The branches rustled, and Martyn quickly balanced himself. In his thinking, he had almost fallen out of the tree.

He squinted. The sun was much higher than he had realized.

Martyn scrambled down, grabbed the berries, and headed back to the Southlands.

Grian was sitting out next to the hidden sugarcane farm, stitching his jumper back together.

As soon as Martyn vaulted over the door, Grian looked up.

"Where have you been?" he asked. "Everyone else has gone off to do their own thing, and you've been gone since last night!"

Martyn shrugged. "Spent the night in the forest. You all need to work on getting along better."

Grian sighed. "Martyn, you know the Southlands is breaking up. It's not gonna stay together another week at this rate. Can you at least try and pretend that you still care about us?"

Martyn set his basket down next to the chests, pulling out his crafting bag and pretending to make something.

"It's just a game to you, so I don't know why I should care," he said casually.

Although he didn't look up, Martyn could hear Grian's sharp intake of breath.

After a silence, Grian spoke in a clipped voice. "You're overreacting, Martyn. You shouldn't have come back,"

"Come back to what?" Martyn dared. I don't even care anymore. Grian can't do anything to me.

Less than a second later, Grian snapped. "You shouldn't have come back to the Southlands, get OUT!"

Both of their weapons were drawn now. A yellow and a dark green, about to fight.

Until Martyn lowered his sword.

"I'm sorry, Grian. I don't know what came over me. We've just been fighting for so long here, I don't know what to do in peacetime,"

Martyn shivered. He had unintentionally parroted the speech Ren had given him, hidden in the wool castle, so long ago.

Why do I remember - Grian can't know - I miss him - all of them - need change -

Grian, thankfully, took the apology at face value and agreed, but Martyn couldn't hear him anymore.

The voices ringing in his ears were too loud.

As darkness pressed in on his vision, Martyn felt himself walking into the forest again.

Martyn…

"Go away."

We are not pleased with your progress.

"I don't care. How about you leave me alone and I go back to my life?

You only have one chance to save them. Remember what We told you…

"We'll all be together in the End?"

The End. Follow our cause.

"Fine. You'd better actually keep your promises. And, one more thing. You caused my sickness, right?"

Martyn wiped his face. The dark spots in his vision were clearing. He really hated that entity pestering him, Watcher or not.

Weeks later

Jimmy was on his last life. Even if he wasn't checking in the mirror for red eyes and pale skin, he could feel it thrumming through his veins.

The need to kill, which at first never existed, then stayed buried, was finally breaking the surface.

He had sat in the exile shack for a long time, and then he killed Lizzie. It wasn't even hard, and that made him sick. She was so trusting, even as a yellow life in grave danger, she believed they were still friends while he was red. At least now she was reunited with Joel. Jimmy just didn't like the means.

Jimmy's antennae pricked up. Mumbo.

Mumbo had changed a lot since the Southlands. He had dyed his hair red and lost his blazer, only wearing his stained button up shirt. He was still in better shape than Jimmy, who had a bad head wound and the red-life-standard grey skin.

At least I'm not burnt this time, Jimmy thought. The memory was so out of the blue that he had to stop and puzzle about it for a short while.

He didn't even notice he was out of it until Mumbo came and waved his hand in front of Jimmy's face.

"Uh- Jim, you wanna… try and sneak back into the Southlands again?"

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah. Maybe we can try to get back in Grian's good graces? You are his best friend, after all,"

Mumbo perked up. "Yes! I almost forgot, red life and all."

Both of them laughed. A real laugh, not the scared ones they had been making as they tried to fight certain death.

"Yeah. Grian'll- He'll have missed us, for sure,"

They made their way down from the barren hills they'd been hiding in, down to the empty shell of the forest, down to the burnt tree stumps surrounding the destroyed Southlands.

Mumbo and Jimmy stayed beyond the burnt parts, keeping to the shadows. It was almost laughable how they were trying to infiltrate the defenses that they had set up.

Laughably sad, at the very least.

"We can get in my bunker from the side," Mumbo suggested. Jimmy agreed, and they skirted the base until they were back in the thick, unburnt trees on the side closest to Mumbo's bunker.

Mumbo sighed as he looked in one of the windows. "After we're done, we should blow the place up,"

Jimmy nodded sadly. The Southlands were already burnt and gone. Losing Mumbo's bunker would be the final nail in the coffin.

Jimmy had just reached his hand out to try the door when his antenna twitched, sensing someone nearby. He turned around.

"Grian!" he exclaimed, "What-"

Grian's hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. "Tim, Mumbo… get away."

Mumbo made a choked sound and backed up. Jimmy stepped closer to Grian.

"You can't stop us,"

Grian advanced as well. "Get away from the Southlands," he snapped.

Jimmy readied his own sword. He glanced up, seeing Martyn in the forest above Grian. He tried to gang up on us. Not today.

"You can't fight me, I haven't attacked you," Jimmy pointed out.

Grian's hands tensed again.

Jimmy backed up, Mumbo grabbing him and pulling him onto the bunker roof. Grian followed them warily, staying a few steps behind.

"Didn't you feel this alone while you were red? Didn't you want your friends to spare you? Or did you just want them to join you?" Jimmy taunted, and Grian froze.

What happened next took less than thirty seconds.

Grian lunged forward, swinging his sword. Jimmy dodged backwards, not even trying to hit, just to escape.

"That's it, you're done!" Grian yelled. He swung again, cutting across Jimmy's chest. Jimmy unfurled his wings. As Grian's sword smashed into his ribcage, Jimmy stepped backward, his boots meeting empty air.

And then he was falling, and before he had time to process what happened, he felt something hit the back of his head, making his vision fade to black.

Jimmy wasn't alive to see the chaotic aftermath of his death. Grian screamed in surprise, his outburst turning to a choked laugh as Mumbo attempted his daring escape.

As if in a dream, Grian called for Mumbo to come back. As the other man turned, Grian rammed his sword through Mumbo's throat.

As his friend fell, Grian let go of the sword. He was shaking. Tears were blurring his vision, a silent vigil for his fallen friends. Jimmy was out first again. Mumbo was gone and wouldn't remember any of the ordeal. The rest of the Southlands had split, allying with other survivors or falling to their last life.

"That was neat," Martyn said.

"Great help, Martyn," Grian snapped, breath hitching.

Martyn's antenna laid flat against his head, a sign that he was much calmer than Grian. Or more distressed. Grian wasn't too good at reading Martyn's body language.

"The Boogeyman is going to be chosen soon," Grian said flatly.

"Didn't it already happen this week?"

Grian sighed. "Pearl's… incapacitated. She's out."

"Like dead? Out of the game? I thought Timmy was first,"

"Out like a lightbulb. She'll be fine, but it's Saturday. She won't have time to kill,"

Martyn groaned. "So one of us will have to within the span of three hours. Great."

Grian tensed as he felt the Boogeyman get chosen. His vision blurred again, but this time it was for the text appearing in front of his eyes.

"It's not me," he said quickly.

"Same," Martyn said. His face did not reveal any emotion, his mood scales kept blank.

Grian turned around, now facing the locked bunker door. "At least they didn't get inside. Do you think they were right to blow it up?"

Martyn didn't respond. In fact, he had moved from where he was standing and was out of view when Grian looked back behind him.

At long last, he spoke. "The Southlands is over. No reason to keep it around,"

There was a slight humming in the air that reminded Grian of Mumbo's End crystals. His hair began to stand on end, also like the End crystals. Grian opened his mouth to ask Martyn what he was doing, horror building again.

Martyn is the Boogeyman.

And then an arrow went straight through his chest.

Chapter Text

Jimmy woke up. He wasn't in the Southlands. He wasn't in the Cod Empire. There was nothing around him and he was weightless.

"Is this the void?" Jimmy asked, mostly to himself. He really didn't want something to answer him in the never-ending sea of darkness he was stranded in.

Every memory he had ever forgotten was back, Jimmy realized, including the ones wiped for the Games. Multiple games.

Oh no.

More than anything, Jimmy just wanted to go home. He missed his Empire.

As if the void was listening, Jimmy heard a voice.

Although he did not know this, the voice was the same one that Martyn had been hearing in his own head for months.

You have died.

"I know, you didn't have to rub it in!"

Jimmy crossed his arms and pouted.  Self-sorry tears were beginning to fill his eyes, blurring the vision he did not have.

Would you like to try again?

"What do you mean?"

There was a pause.

The world materialized, placing Jimmy in an End spire. The room was elaborately carved, but there was no furniture except for a desk and chair. On the desk was a scroll and a quill.

We are giving you a chance to start over. When you received your wings, you swore yourself to us. When you sign this contract, you will serve the Watchers, but be unburdened by any other law.

Jimmy skimmed over the words quickly.

"So all I have to do is do basically what Grian did? Feed you?"

Yes.

"And you'll let me go free, without anyone to stop me? I could do whatever I want?"

Yes. With the powers of a Watcher, none will be able to stop you.

Jimmy picked up the feather quill and signed the paper.

He was back at home.

Someone was knocking on his door. Jimmy sat up. Opened the door to his cabin to reveal Lizzie, standing on his dock. Jimmy was reminded of two months ago, when Lizzie took him to Eremita for the Game.

"Hi, Lizzie?"

Jimmy mentally kicked himself. Why did it sound like a question? Get it together, Jim.

Lizzie didn't seem to notice, instead seeming to have an internal struggle. When she finished, she handed him a letter. Her mouth was moving, but Jimmy couldn't hear her.

Not again. I'm not ready.

"Jimmy, why are you backing up? What's wrong with it?"

Jimmy's wings hit the frame of his door, and he stopped short. His eyes refocused.

The letter was purple. In blue writing, Lizzie was inviting Jimmy to a wedding.

"There's nothing wrong, it's just…"

Lizzie didn't look surprised. "Is it because I'm an axolotl?"

Jimmy focused on Lizzie. She was less Speaker-looking, more… blue and feathery, in an underwater way. Her long hair was done up in a braided bun, and she was wearing an off-white dress reminiscent of a sail.

"Yeah, it could be that," Jimmy quipped.

At least Lizzie didn't seem offended by the comment. "Yes, Scott helped me find my true form, and Joel still loves me!"

So that's what the invitation was for.

"Thank you, Lizzie," Jimmy said, genuinely meaning it.

Lizzie beamed. "I'd best be going now, but I hope you'll come!"

With that, she dove back into the ocean and swam off, using her wings to propel herself faster.

Jimmy watched her go, clutching the letter.

I do wish I knew Lizzie better, he thought. She's an interesting one.

Grian returned from utter chaos to utter chaos. As soon as he landed in Boatem, he could see the shape of Xisuma flying over the mountains. As soon as Xisuma landed, he grabbed Grian by the shoulders.

"Do you know what you've done? The Watchers are trying to destroy us!"

Oh dear. What is it this time? Grian thought, mentally going through all of the recent things that might have set both them and X off.

"What happened?" Grian asked.

Xisuma pulled out his spyglass. "See for yourself,"

Grian climbed up on his train. He got out his own spyglass, taking a long look over the valley, sweeping over the mountains, and even examining the sky. There were no vengeful Watchers anywhere.

"Looks fine to me," Grian said.

Xisuma groaned. "The legends, Grian, the legends! Don't you remember?"

"X, in the five years I've been out of the End, I've become quite the heretic," Grian pointed out.

Both Ex-Watchers took a moment to think.

"Maybe you should stop taking my Hermits to kill each other for sport," Xisuma suggested.

Grian pretended to think about this, although he already knew the answer. "I'm doing this to avoid the Watcher's scorn, maybe it's something you've been doing,"

Xisuma bristled, his wings beginning to flare. "We are in danger, Grian! Please, for the love of all the gods, stop killing people!"

With that, the admin jumped off of Grian's train and flew off.

Grian watched him go with a straight face.

Five days later

Grian had just finished wiping everyone's memories of the Game when the sun set. None of his players would wake up until morning. People from a less community-oriented setting, like BigB or Joel or Jimmy, would find it easier to get back from the loss of time they had experienced.

The Hermits, on the other hand, would experience confusion, so it was better to put in some false memories, ones of building their base or mining miles away from everyone else.

Did Grian feel bad about this?

No. He was just doing what the Watchers wanted him to do. They liked his killing. The latest letter they sent him praised his latest idea, but wanted more variety. Grian had earned himself a rest, though.

He was using his current time to hollow out a mountain for his current base, an alleyway built inside a preexisting cave.

Grian was rather preoccupied by his base's ceiling to notice Mumbo. He was harnessing his Watcher powers to create an illusion of the End's sky, and was rather in the zone.

Mumbo cleared his throat.

Grian yelped and jumped back, the magic dispersing in a cloud. Grian fluttered down from the ceiling in front of the Speaker.

"Hi, Mumbo," Grian said, the shock evident in his voice.

Mumbo nodded back in response.

"You have a good time?"

Mumbo adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. "There's something you should see,"

"Now? I'm a bit busy," Grian gestured up at the unfinished ceiling.

Mumbo glanced outside. The sun was setting. "Wait until the middle of the night. It will be clearer," he said.

Grian nodded. "Cool. I'm going to get back to my rather important project,"

"Cool, cool, I will, too," Mumbo agreed.

And they went their separate ways again.

Many hours later, the other Hermits were waking up, right as the moon hit its highest point.

Mumbo was right outside Grian's mountain again, dressed in pajamas. Grian himself was still fully dressed and creating a fake sky.

"Grian, it's ready," Mumbo called.

Grian flew down, half expecting another Boatem prank to hit him in the face as they had so many times before, but there was nothing. His glide even felt gentler than it had the last time he came down. It was almost soothing.

Grian followed Mumbo as he walked wordlessly and urgently outside, then both Hermits flew up to the mountain range in between their bases.

"Look up," Mumbo instructed.

Grian looked up.

The moon was slightly larger than normal. If Grian was anything other than a Watcher, he might not have noticed.

"The moon's bigger," he said.

Mumbo nodded. "I told X a couple of days ago, and he flew up there, almost to the border of End and Overworld. It's still in the End part of the sky, but-"

Grian interrupted him. "Xisuma was telling me about this! He acted like it was the end of the world, but it's just a rock! I can ask the Watchers-"

Mumbo started fidgeting with his sleeves again. "Grian, Xisuma asked me to tell you not to talk to the Watchers anymore," he said.

"Oh, X already told me himself," Grian said confidently. "But he doesn't know what he's talking about,"

Mumbo's tail was flicking nervously now. "But if you won't listen to the admin, maybe you'll listen to your best friend?" He materialized his life totem. "Grian, we're linked, you should be able to trust me,"

Mumbo's totem was made of blackened bronze, smoky from constantly being in the Nether. There was a streak of silvery-gold running through the metal, the same color as Grian's totem.

"You could give me my soul back at any time," Grian reminded him. "Now, I need to go get some sleep.

Mumbo watched as Grian flew back down to his mountain, then popped open his own wings and flew to the center of Boatem. Grian would see, one way or another.

Jimmy decided that it was time to write a letter.

Lizzie's wedding had just finished, with Scott's brother (who turned out to be evil now) showing up. Although most of the Emperors were happy to see Jimmy, Fwhip hinted that he had stolen Jimmy's Codfather crown.

Now, he sat at his spruce desk and dipped his pen into ink. The Watchers liked formalities, even though quills had gone out of fashion some two hundred years ago.

Dear Watchers,

I hope this letter finds you well. I have thought it over, and want to take over the life games for Grian, since I don't think he's doing a very good job.

Could you tell him that, maybe?

I don't really have any ideas at the moment, but I can take some from Grian.

…

Jimmy continued writing, even going so far as to pour his feelings out to the Watchers. Eventually, when one of his lamps burnt out and it was pitch-black outside, he signed it and put it in his mailbox. It would find its way up to the gods somehow.

Something in the water splashed, and then dragged itself up onto his dock. Jimmy couldn't see who it was, but he could hear heavy breathing and scratching that sounded like someone trying to dry out heavy armor.

Jimmy grabbed a lantern from his porch and held it in front of him, trying to cut through the inky night.

A figure in black armor with purple highlights stared back, frozen in the act of taking off their helmet.

"Xornoth. Get off my dock," Jimmy snapped. The Deviant-turned-demon tossed his helmet into his inventory bag.

"No," he replied, voice distorting the same way it did in the church. "I have something to tell you,"

Jimmy lowered the lantern slightly from the defensive position it was in. "What?"

Xornoth moved forward again. He opened Jimmy's mailbox. Thankfully, the letter to the Watchers had already switched dimensions.

The demon shut the mailbox. "Can I go inside your house?"

Jimmy bristled. "No! Go away and haunt someone else!"

Xornoth tilted his head. "You know, it's very lonely being a demon. You're outcast from all that you love, stripped of your status.. All that's left is the voices in your head," he said calmly.

"Whatever you're insinuating, I don't have voices in my head," Jimmy snapped. "Now get out of here before I get Scott,"

Xornoth spread his wings. In the lamplight, Jimmy could see that not only had his flight feathers been roughly cut off, there were bald patches where feathers had fallen out and not grown back.

And like Jimmy had once instinctually tried to fly with his former, ruined wings, Xornoth slowly folded them back up as he remembered. Jimmy felt a stab of pity for him.

"Take a boat and leave," he said, turning away and going back inside.

Chapter Text

HC-8 - Days later

The moon was falling.

Grian knew this now; he cursed his earlier self for brushing off the signs. Three weeks later, it was easy to see, and the moon's gravity was beginning to cause earthquakes, ripping off the ground and tossing it into the sky.

Xisuma still blamed the Watchers.

When the Hermits had an emergency meeting yesterday, the admin looked up to the stars and blamed those who had given Grian so much.

Boatem was beginning to drift apart, too.

Impulse had temporarily left to the Nether, claiming to be checking on one of his friends.

Scar was running evacuations and turning a profit at the same time. Mumbo had started a cult.

Cub had straight-up gone mad.

Although Pearl was unaffected, she spent more time on Imperia than with the Hermits.

Grian himself had decided to join Mumbo's cult. He hadn't slept in two days. And then Jimmy flew in.

The Listener flew in on golden-feathered wings, taking a look at the damage the moon had done to the area.

"Someone's made a mess," Jimmy said.

Grian sighed. "Hey, Tim. It's not my fault this time,"

Jimmy blinked. "When's the last time you slept?"

"Two… I think. Days ago." Grian said slowly.

What the heck is happening over here?

As if he could read Jimmy's mind, Grian pointed a limp finger to the sky. "Look up," he instructed.

Jimmy looked up.

There was a giant asteroid blotting out the moon.

"Oh," was all he said.

Grian nodded. "Yeah, I'm planning on maybe writing a letter to the Watchers, since Xisu… Icks… X said they might have sent it,"

Jimmy nodded again. "Nothing's happening in the Empires other than a demon, but we think he's under control," he said.

Grian looked satisfied. "How's Pearl doing?"

"Pearl… isn't one of my allies, and my empire isn't near hers," Jimmy thought a bit. "I think she's doing okay,"

Grian's wings sagged in relief. "Anyway, how's your Empire treating you, Jim?"

Jimmy considered this question.

After the pause, he asked, "How about you come over and see for yourself?"

Two hours later, Cod Empire

Grian looked around. "This place is…" He paused, not really knowing how to describe the muddy, stilted houses littering the coast, and the archaic might-be-a-castle, church, and watchtower farther inland, all overlooked by the giant wall to the left. "Homey,"

Jimmy nodded. "You bet it is!" To Grian, he actually seemed proud of his empire.

Grian couldn't help but compare it to… anywhere else.

They walked around the small harbor town, Jimmy showing off important places and whatnot until they got to the large fort at the center of town, the one that Grian had mistaken for a castle earlier.

"Do you live here?" Grian asked.

Jimmy shook his head. "I live in that coast house," he said. Grian looked behind them, seeing another raised house that looked slightly older than the others.

"That's a Listener architecture style," Grian noticed.

Jimmy tensed. "Is there something wrong with that?" he demanded.

He's salty about that. Right.

"No, I'm just noticing. My whole lifestyle is about building things, remember?" Grian said, trying to placate his friend.

Jimmy's shoulders relaxed. "Do you want to go up the watchtower?" he asked.

Grian nodded and popped his wings open, flying up to the top. He expected Jimmy to be right behind him, but there was no sound or sight of him flying. Looking down the tower's trapdoor, Grian watched as Jimmy climbed up the rickety ladder. He hoped it was just his sleepless brain making the way up look more dangerous.

Jimmy made his way to the top. "Isn't it nice up here?" he chatted. There was something about him, the way he held his wings, how he glanced around…

But it was probably nothing, as Grian was doing the same thing.

Jimmy continued. "I know there's a demon and all, but he doesn't like water, so I'm not bothered as much as someone like Sausage or Scott, or Joey, but he's in love so it doesn't count…"

Grian let his friend ramble on as he looked over the swamp.

Everything is styled the way a Listener would make it. But Jimmy isn't a Listener, he's a Watcher like me… right? Stilt houses are good for water as well as mountain peaks, and stained glass is common anywhere. Like, look at the empire over there! It's a Deviant style, but very old. Anyone can do what they want.

As Grian kept listening to Jimmy's constant speech, he felt his eyes droop.

No. Stay awake.

"Jimmy, have you ever found a leather-bound notebook in your house?" Grian asked.

Jimmy stopped short in the middle of a story about something fish related. "Yeah, I have," he snapped with sudden acidity, "and you were the one who made them important,"

"How?" Grian feigned innocence.

"You made us fight in a death game, then wiped out memories!" Jimmy howled.

Okay, that might have been a bit bad. "I'm sorry, Jimmy," Grian said, and he actually meant it.

It made no difference. Jimmy was beyond reasoning at this point.

"I bet you got to keep all of your memories, but you're going to LIE to me and tell me you DON'T!" he raged.

Grian flinched back, but Jimmy kept ranting.

"There was SO MUCH that you could have told us, but no, you had to protect your little Watcher secrets,"

He doesn't know what he's talking about. He's just going on with no goal in mind.

"Jimmy, please listen," Grian pleaded, "I didn't want what you had seen to affect you, so I wiped your memories. Everyone's. Mine too,"

Jimmy shut up. His chest heaved. "I don't believe you," he said in a choked, betrayed whisper.

"How do you know about the… everything, then?" Grian asked. He watched Jimmy slowly wilt, turning his head to the sea.

Still facing away from Grian, Jimmy responded. "The Watchers told me. They wanted me to know."

That's not good. I can't go against the Watchers if they wanted him to do this.

"Do you want to create another life game?" Grian suggested. This should tide him over. I hope.

"Sure," Jimmy replied in an emotionless voice.

Grian swallowed the lump of apprehension in his throat. "If it makes you feel any better, the Watchers wanted me to do this. They told me to. And I guess they recruited you too."

His face was still obscured, but Jimmy's wings were tensing up unconsciously. "I would like to," he said flatly.

"Then we can do that," Grian offered, voice gentle. "You can help me, and we both can help the Watchers,"

Jimmy turned around. He was calm again. It worked. Good. "When can we do this?" he asked.

Grian looked out into the ocean. Even in the early morning, Grian could see the giant asteroid larger than the moon heading straight for HC-8.

"It'll have to be a while, I'm afraid. There's something we Hermits are dealing with back home.

It's not weird anymore to think of the Overworld as home. But with everything going on with the Watchers, I've never been more glad for it.

Jimmy must have caught sight of the falling rock. "Is that the moon?" he gasped.

Grian was too tired to correct him. "Sure. That's a bit of a problem, but it's getting taken care of," he mumbled.

"You should go now," Jimmy said earnestly. "Safe travels,"

"Bye Timmy,"

Grian flew down to the portal, hearing Jimmy's surprised laugh fade into the distance.

As soon as he entered the Nether, Grian expected his head to clear, but it didn't. Although the scrambling of his internal clock was refreshing, it wasn't enough relief.

It'll be fine. Mumbo's harebrained scheme will work, and everything will be happy. The Watchers love keeping an eye on us, maybe they'll reward us.

Despite his own reassuring thoughts, Grian made sure his trip through the Nether was long.

There had always been legends told about the time-warping properties of the most hellish dimension: Ones where an explorer popped in for a few hours and came back weeks later, or another theorizing about the Speakers' longevity.

Grian deduced that he must be going insane faster than he expected, as no sane person from the Overworld or End would think about the Nether that much.

And I sure am not obsessed with this place, Grian thought to himself, dodging a magma cube's lunge.

Despite his respite from tiredness, Grian was glad to be rid of the Nether. In the Overworld again, it was slightly past midnight. The falling moon was larger than it had been… whenever.

Grian headed to his observatory. The small building perched on a mountaintop had no need for a telescope, instead, the domed roof was split in two to gauge the full extent of the moon.

"Aaand, we're almost at the edge of the roof," Grian remarked to himself, charting the new width of the asteroid.

With that, the ground rumbled and gravity lessened, sending Grian floating up to the ceiling. He sighed as the earthquake stopped and gravity returned him back to the observatory.

Outside, Boatem was active. Phantoms swooped from the heavens and crashed against the buildings.

Mumbo's cult must have spread.

Grian flew down to the valley - definitely more gently than before - and touched down outside his train. It was absolutely littered with more posters than usual. The posters from Cleo and the Big Eyes and Mumbo and so on had been covered up with: Scar advertising his evacuation business, one of Cub's "predictions," and various other doomsday-related articles.

Spotting a poster from Xisuma, Grina leaned closer to the wall.

All citizens, please evacuate by October first. Head at least 100 square miles away from HC-8. HC-7 will be safe and accepting refugees. Count Fwhip of Imperia is also allowing people to stay on his continent. Please, get away as fast as you can!

A chill ran down Grian's feathered spine. The phantoms ceased screeching for a moment, and Grian realized how empty Boatem was. In previous nighttimes, there was always some sort of bustle, whether it was those who preferred night or those who woke up early to go to work. But now, the Hermits were the only ones left.

Grian didn't want their beautiful island to be destroyed by the High Watchers. It just wasn't fair! All they did was take and take and hurt everyone else in the process. As he thought about the Watchers, Grian found himself flying back to the spawn village in the center of the island.

Calling it "spawn" was a bit weird, since it was more technically a "landing." The Hermits travelled on their own paths from city to city, meeting in the new center of a soon-to-be civilization.

Eight months after he arrived with all of his friends, Grian touched down in an abandoned village. Xisuma had chosen a preexisting settler town to build off of, and the old citizens had left with the rest of the evacuees. What remained was a egg-shaped building, the original village, and notice boards holding similar papers to the ones in Boatem.

Inside the Spawn Egg was the Library. The library was barren, all of the texts already being moved to the safer Nether. Grian entered the portal, exiting to find stacks of books everywhere, with scrolls locked in fireproof chests.

Watchers, Watchers… I just need knowledge about them. They did a darn good job of hiding records outside the End.

"I'm not going back there," Grian mumbled aloud. He selected a leather-bound book and began to read, sitting on a recliner that someone had moved into the Nether.

The End

Cleo had just said goodbye to Xisuma and Wels at the Stronghold. She was going to the End, while they were heading to the Nether. The two Speakers would be at home there while Cleo, a Deviant, would not fare as well. The End seemed like a fitting place for her, with all the mysteries she didn't know about. Poetic, in a sense.

She had stepped into the portal, felt the dream-falling that she could not wake from, then landed on the obsidian platform. Unlike the Overworld, the End was alive with activity - Endermen were teleporting everywhere, Endermites were evading pursuers - but there were no Watchers. The spires on this End island were empty, no one coming through the gateways.

Cleo ran to the center of the island, trying to shake off the feeling of loneliness.

The portal back home was gone.

No. No. Please, I want to go home -

Cleo would be fine in the Nether, maybe X and Wels were still waiting. They would rather be anywhere except this miserable, last resort of a biome.

In a final bid for freedom, Cleo ran to the edge and jumped, the Void reaching up to meet her.

And then she woke up, sitting up in her bed, gasping for breath. The morning sun blazed through her window.

Maybe she would talk to Joe, see what he was to do. They weren't ready for the end of the world.

Chapter Text

Just find something that will work. Take away the Boogeyman, I didn't like that. Force players to team? I'll have to make friends with somebody. Also, people need to die easier. I can't go out first all the time!

Jimmy set his pen down. He had been writing for hours by this point, although he was frequently interrupted by checking the window.

The moon was so close to the ground that even the Emperors could see it, and even though the real moon was still above them, it was a lot easier to say "the moon is falling" than "an asteroid is going to crash into Eremita and destroy an island."

Pearl was absent from her Empire again, helping her fellow hermits evacuate.

Grian had gone radio silent, leaving Jimmy alone.

With yet another apocalypse, because why the heck not!

Jimmy's a fish, he always takes the bait!

Jimmy shuddered as he remembered the End. He had been tricked by Fwhip into releasing Xornoth, all because he wanted his Codfather head back too badly.

"It won't be my fault again, since I'm doing good things now," Jimmy reassured himself. He leaned back in his chair and imagined how happy the other players would be, now that Jimmy was making their game. They were always proud of Grian when he did.

And that was when Jimmy decided he was ready. As soon as the moon touched the ground, his new game would start, born from his weeks of daydreams and work. He would ignore whatever would happen to his kingdom, because the end was in sight.

He started writing again.

Pearl stood in the center of Boatem, looking up at the rocket Scar had made. Although he had beamed proudly when he showed it off earlier, his face was tense with nervousness. They had opened up the Boatem Hole to the Void, or more correctly, a portal to somewhere in between where the bottom of the End met the top of the Overworld's atmosphere.

Pearl felt cold, either from the cool summer night creeping through her spacesuit or from nerves. All her animals were safe in the Nether. Scar had sent his Offworld Escapes rocket through the portal earlier in the week, proving it was safe.

The moon's gravity was so strong now that everyone was floating near-constantly, the ground plagued with earthquakes every few minutes. This was the end.

Xisuma had already declared the end of the civilization, scouting out another place. HC-8 might have been short lived, but it was the best time in Pearl's life so far. And now it was over.

Grian and Impulse stood next to Pearl, wearing defeated expressions on their faces.

"No one else is leaving," Impulse reported sadly, "I talked to the Big Eyes, Bdubs is staying put. At least 3 Hermits blockaded themselves underground, the Nether and End portals stopped working a few hours ago, trapping a few more, and…"

None of them wanted to mention the Hermits who had lost themselves in space. Tango, Cub, and a few of the remaining Hermits had either escaped on their own rockets or tried to stop the Moon.

"Well, this portal will hold up just fine, since I'm the one stabilizing it," Grian said firmly. "Let's get in the rocket."

The remaining Boatem members flew up to where the rocket was suspended. They were almost as high as the mountains surrounding their home.

"Take one last look around, and we will begin our voyage," Scar said in his oddly persuasive, gentle voice. And Pearl did. Through the tears blurring her vision, the Listener watched the twinkling lights in the valley, so proud of what they had done, scared for the others, waiting to leave for the last time. The others were crying, too. After a minute, Scar sighed gently and unclipped his elytra. "To parts unknown!" he cried, pulling the lever that would drop them into the nothingness below.

The rocket fell, magically slipping past the Boatem Pole and down into the bottomless pit without damaging it. One last gift from our home, Pearl thought fleetingly.

"High five?" Grian asked Mumbo, voice shaking. Instead of responding to Grian, Mumbo hugged his friend.

Pearl felt sleep tugging at her body. Similarly, the others were beginning to drop. Jellie curled up on the spaceship's warm console.

"To parts unknown," Pearl whispered.

Nearly a hundred miles away, Xisuma stepped out of a new Nether portal. He looked out over a peaceful river valley, surrounded by low mountains on one side, thick wilderness on the other.

This is perfect.

Tapping his comm, he sent the coordinates to the other Hermits. They would get there in their own time.

Even from here, X could see the asteroid's cloud of destruction, overlooked by the real moon. He took off his helmet, watching the river flow gently instead.

Please let it work, let it work, I need this…

Jimmy was standing on a high, forested ridge now, having sought out his own place for the Life Games to take place. The area was perfect, his newfound magic was working well, and he was just waiting for the others to teleport there.

As soon as the shockwave from the fallen moon ripped across his Empire, Jimmy Nether-travelled to the right spot and set up the barrier.

The first ones to arrive were Scott and Joel, then in quick succession Pearl, Grian, Scar, and Impulse. A few seconds later, Ren, Etho, BigB, and Martyn arrived. Last of all came Bdubs, Tango, and Cleo.

All of them wore varying expressions of shock.

"How?" Tango breathed.

Jimmy opened his mouth. Grian beat him to it.

"I used a new Game to save you," he said confidently.

Darn Grian, using up my hard work to get popular, Jimmy though.

Impulse looked around. "Where's Mumbo?" he asked.

Jimmy's stomach dropped. I forgot Mumbo and Skizz. Oh crap.

"He didn't want to come," Grian smoothly replied. "Now, everyone run off, you'll understand in a minute!"

Everyone dispersed. As Grian walked by Jimmy, he hissed "Aren't you glad I saved your skin?"

Jimmy stood open-mouthed for a little while, then unfroze and walked away.

Several minutes later, he felt the twinge of his new mechanic. Basic understanding of it would be broadcasted to the other players' comms, but Jimmy knew all of it already.

Two players, sharing a lifeline. Soulmates. When one dies, the other follows.

Jimmy believed that this would give him an edge, hopefully not going out first again.

He began to go about his regular setup, creating a new crafting bag, getting simple tools, all the good stuff. He wandered further around the mountain, until -

He was back at spawn again, feeling like he had just blown up. Tango was there as well.

"Owch," Tango said.

Jimmy nodded. Oh no. We're soulmates.

Tango seemed intent to continue talking to him. "Looks like we're together now,"

"Yeah."

"Do you want to build a house?" Tango asked. "I lost everything, and you probably did too,"

"Sure," Jimmy said again, blankly. He was probably going into shock, but that wasn't really important right now.

Both of them walked down the ridge. Automatically, Jimmy began making new supplies, and Tango followed suit.

By the time the two soulmates had finished getting basic tools again, it was already night. Tango sat on a log and wrote in the leatherbound diaries that Grian had summoned. Somewhere over the hill, a horn echoed.

The next morning, Jimmy woke up on the ground. His wings were dirty and unpreened from their time in the mud, and he ran a hand through them quickly.

Tango woke up and rolled off his log. "Morning, Jimmy," he yawned.

Jimmy nodded.

"Want to work on the house today?" Tango asked.

Surprisingly, Jimmy found himself agreeing.

Tango paced around the clearing for a minute. "This looks like a nice place," he decided. "Do you want to get some logs? I'll design this,"

He must know that I can't build that good. If I make it in my own style, Grian will know and call me out for being a Listener. He's out to get me.

Jimmy scurried off into the forest. He actually tried not to get hurt this time, since Tango would feel it as well.

After getting some birch wood, Jimmy came back to the clearing. Tango had drawn out a cute house and a material list.

Another morning later, the house was done.

It also looked nothing like the drawing.

Tango laughed nervously. "Well, that's… something. Nice try, though,"

Jimmy's eye twitched. What the heck went wrong. Why can't I do anything NORMAL?

"It's a decieving home. No one will know that two smart, innovative soulmates live here," Jimmy said, lying through his teeth.

Tango opened the door, which involved prying it out of the mud. The inside of the house was not much prettier, and included more mud. There were holes in the walls from where the planks couldn't be nailed down. Speaking of nails, Jimmy narrowly avoided setting his hand down on an already-rusty one sticking out of a wall.

Nope. It sucks. I hope Tango can't tell how recently I've come into lying.

Tango set down two sleeping bags. "There we go! Nice and warm,"

Jimmy pretended to smile. You know what else is warm? Sleeping in a bonfire created from our suspiciously bonfire-shaped house.

One of the small things Jimmy prided his new self on was his premonitions. Whether they were visions of the future or accurate predictions, they came true an awful lot.

Which was probably why his bonfire-shaped cabin was smoldering, with a Scar-shaped Watcher running away from it.

The stupid house hadn't even lasted a month, but it weighed on Tango a lot.

"I'm going to KILL him!" he wailed. "Those. Pandas. Are. GONE!"

Jimmy patted Tango on the back.

"Don't try to calm me down," Tango hissed.

"I'm not!" Jimmy protested. "Just… I need to do something."

He walked into the forest, away from his soulmate's cries. Although emotions weren't transferred through the bond, Jimmy felt the ache on his chest just the same.

Or maybe he was just sad. He hadn't felt that emotion in a while, though, so it wasn't likely.

Jimmy focused. Scar had better trip up big time. Maybe Grian gets too daring. Maybe Scar falls off that stupid panda sanctuary or gets lost and dies. They deserve this. They do.

Taking a deep breath, Jimmy walked back to the clearing. Martyn's house was an extra eyesore on the horizon, now joined with the old ranch.

"We can build a new one," he said. Tango met his eyes.

"We will. But first, I need revenge."

While Tango did his thing (trying to summon a Warden), Jimmy began to clear out the ruins of the house and rebuild

It wasn't fair that they were getting picked on by Scar. It wasn't fair that back in his Empire, everyone was picking on him. The demon had forced him to leave his empire after killing everything. His dogs were the only ones left. He didn't know what happened to Lizzie. And now…

Time had passed. The house was mostly rebuilt. It had gone dark. Tango's laughter broke through the artificial night. Jimmy ran, following the sound.

Tango was standing in front of a pit. It was small, but large enough to fit both of them comfortably. Something was rising out of the pit, creating the darkness.

"Rise, my child, rise!" Tango laughed maniacally.

Oh Watchers, we've lost it.

The Warden was free now. Insane as he was, Tango knew that they would have to run away. Jimmy was already backing up slowly, carefully, not making any noise.

As luck would have it, Jimmy stepped on a stick. The crack it made was almost comical with how loud it was. It was just like those crappy films he used to watch, save for the dramatic music.

The Warden turned its head in his direction. Jimmy felt his stomach sink to the bottom of the mountain.

It lunged, and Jimmy threw himself down the mountain. Tango would probably be in so much pain, but he would be running. Jimmy's fall was stopped prematurely by the panda sanctuary, and he scrambled up and kept running. The Warden was chasing him, and he could lead it to those who had wronged him.

Chapter Text

The Cod Empire, one week earlier.

Jimmy knew the end was coming. He had seen it in the falling moon, in the dying crops, in the corrupted tendrils forcing their way through the ground. The whole world was going to hell, and Jimmy sincerely hoped that the Listeners in their kingdoms would go down with them.

Now was not the time for thinking this way. Jimmy needed to leave, or find anyone to help him.

Jimmy flew over the artificial gorge to Mythland. Every sentient creature was gone. Even Bubbles had vanished into thin air. That stupid blood sheep altar was absolutely surrounded by blood sheep, as were the streets. It was honestly horrifying to behold, and as Jimmy stayed aloft, it looked like the streets were filled with real blood.

That did not change the fact that Sausage was gone. It was Jimmy's fault, too.

He was the one who got the entire Grimlands to explode, and even though Fwhip wasn't dead, Jimmy felt the same way he did when he thought that his worst enemy-turned-ally was gone for good.

As Jimmy landed on the wall, an aftershock rattled the entire world. He crouched under the battlements as a terrible noise filled the air.

When Jimmy looked up, the air had changed. A giant piece of rubble had smashed into one of Sausage's buildings, but Jimmy hardly noticed it. His attention was instead drawn to what the shockwave had done to his empire.

There was no more water. Every single drop had dried up, and the oceans had receded over a hundred feet back. As Jimmy landed back in his home, the mud that usually clung to his boots merely let out a sad puff of dust.

Panicking, Jimmy ran to one of the pools.

It was empty. The smell of dead fish permeated the air, confirmed by the bodies in the pond.

Jimmy might have thrown up. He didn't know anymore. The world didn't make enough sense for him to worry about that. He whistled for his dogs.

As the dogs crested the hill, Jimmy silently thanked the Watchers.

"Let's get out of here," he whispered. He took one last look at his Empire, salvaging anything he could. Memories sprung up unbidden, all about the good times he had. The watchtower. His house. The ally-sacrificing platform. Although the church was undamaged, Jimmy didn't bother checking. He didn't deserve to be the Codfather.

Jimmy left his empire. Maybe, he would come back when the area was safer, if that ever happened. He had more important things to worry about.

The moon was about to make landfall.

Pearl didn't really mind the Warden, to be completely honest. It was a nice change of pace for everyone else. She was used to running around in the dark, and now everyone else got a chance to.

They were also being a bit too screamy, in Pearl's opinion, for fighting a creature that hunted its prey by sound.

Tilly ran along silently at Pearl's heels as they both made a beeline for Scott's own ranch. The few others that were there regarded her warily. Pearl didn't bother to recall their names on purpose.

Pearl took notice of Joel. Fellow insane person. What's he doing?

Joel had drawn his bow back. There was a flurry of frantic, whispered shouts as the Deviant looked behind him as if considering their fates, then let the arrow fly.

Silence.

Then came the wounded cry of the beast as it turned slowly, like in a nightmare, toward the group.

Pearl took the moment of silent horror to punch Scott in the mouth. As she ran into the night again, Pearl relished in the feeling of blood pouring down her chin, of Scott trying to stem the bleeding and run away at the same time. She didn't care if either of them lived or died, as long as Scott would pay for ever befriending Cleo.

Pearl made sure Tilly was hiding under her tower as she ran back into the fray. Tilly had been lost once before, and Pearl knew she would not be able to bear it happening again.

The Warden was still terrorizing the group, although they had scattered more. Joel had disappeared, probably back to his ship. Martyn was crouched near the Tango and Jimmy's wall, blood staining his hair and the shoulders of his jacket.

The Listener's wings flared open as she ran; however, she was not using them to fly. She would scare the living daylights out of the creature, maybe giving it an opening to be killed, and then everyone would like her again and Scott would leave Cleo and she wouldn't be abandoned anymore and

It must have heard her coming, for it turned straight at her. Pearl realized a crucial flaw in her plan. It doesn't have eyes.

Several voices shouted at her, but Pearl only heard the faint beginnings. The Warden unleashed its blast of concentrated sound, so loud it entered the physical realm. Pearl was blown off her feet and into a bush. Her eardrums popped as she swallowed, hard.

Blood was dripping down her cheeks. Martyn must have gotten hit, too. Pearl shoved the ends of her cloak into her ears. Best to not lose hearing, she reasoned.

When she could hear again, Pearl extracted herself from the bush and began to skirt around the mountain. It wasn't too long ago that she had met with Ren and Martyn at spawn, where they promised to be allies. Maybe Ren was still there, as Pearl hadn't seen him since they had first heard the Warden.

Pearl was almost at the top of the hill now. Her antennae twitched. Ren! Running around the side again, she saw him. The Deviant saw her as well, looking up and smiling at her.

And then, Pearl watched him collapse. Her comm buzzed.

BigB died? Ren? Oh no.

Just as suddenly as he had collapsed, Ren's body disappeared. Pearl stared at the ground as messages of fear and confusion were sent through the chat.

"Red," she said blankly. "My allies just died again. It's my fault, again."

As the Warden roared in the distance, Pearl slowly sat down in the soft grass. It was a warm summer's night, no matter the horrors unleashed.

I feel like a red life. I don't know why. No one's ever been red yet, but I don't have anything better to be. Scott, I'll make you pay.

One day later

Martyn rubbed his face. He was safe in his "house." Everything from last night felt like it could have been a bad dream. Except…

In the cracked pocket mirror, Martyn observed the blood crusting his face and neck. His ears still rung, which was not a good sign. His antennae were also not in very good shape, leaving him with a muted feeling.

To add to Martyn's concern, the Warden itself was floundering in the river directly below his house.

The perpetrators, Tango and Jimmy, were rebuilding their stupid ranch for the second time in a week. Not only had Scar burnt it down, but the Warden had caved in half of the roof when it got trapped behind their wall.

Maybe I should go see Ren. He'd know what to do.

The Watcher, or whatever it was, hadn't come back to haunt him since the prior Life Game. He almost missed the nagging of it in his skull, trying to get him to betray his allies. Now, he had no one. Ren had a soulmate. Cleo was off on their own, cheating. Pearl was a public safety hazard.

Martyn missed being an explorer. He had only wanted to defy his estranged family and ended up making the best decisions of his life. And somehow, that led him to being in a death game led by the kid he met the night he was exiled. It wasn't fair!

He opened the hatch of his roof and climbed out onto the top. Unfortunately, his balance was still screwed from the Warden's sonic attack. Splaying his wings under his coat, Martyn half-crawled to the Rancher's side of the ravine and jumped off, using a water bucket and his wings to cushion the fall.

"That's against the rules," Jimmy called from his house.

Feeling petty, Martyn fluttered his way up to the top of the ravine, right in front of Jimmy. "Your soulmate got killed for wearing a helmet," Martyn called back.

Jimmy looked confused. He smiled blankly, trying to comprehend. Martyn cursed himself to the Nether and back. No one else remembers the previous iterations. This is how you end up at the bottom of a gorge with a creature from the literal underworld. Good going.

The Watcher did not make an attempt on Martyn's life, instead laughing and repeating the conversation to Tango.

After a minute, Jimmy called out, "At least we don't intentionally kill each other!"

That spawned another laugh from the pair.

Ouch. That stings.

Cleo's death was only partially his fault. In fact, she only got what was coming to her.

It had happened before the Warden arrived.

Martyn had seen her building a bridge to his house. He climbed over to their side of the ravine - no one had been considerate enough to build a second bridge closer to him - and right behind Cleo.

"Hi," he said.

Cleo jumped slightly. "Martyn, if you do that again, I will kill you," she swore.

Martyn nodded, promising that he wouldn't scare them anymore. And Cleo, bless her soulbound heart, believed him.

"Look over the edge, the shadow of my base looks like a heart," Martyn prompted.

Cleo followed his instructions, crouching on the edge. "I can't really see it," she admitted.

Martyn paced back and forth on the floating bridge. "Look harder," he suggested.

His soulmate leaned further over the edge.

Martyn had the intrusive thought again. It won.

Not even half a second later, Cleo was pushed off of the bridge by Martyn himself. Almost immediatly, Martyn felt his neck break, and he respawned in his house to see Cleo hurrying down the cliff again to collect both of their inventories.

Martyn shrugged his waterproof undercoat onto his wings and jumped into the gorge to help. His body still hurt as if he had flown straight through a lavafall, and floundering around in unfamiliar territory didn't help.

Scott had come down from his house across the ravine to help Cleo.

"You don't get your stuff back," Cleo called as soon as Martyn was within shouting distance.

Martyn swam closer as best as he could. "Come on, don't have Scott gang up on me," he snapped.

Cleo turned on him, dragging him out of the water by the scruff of his coat. "Why did you push me, Martyn?"

Martyn shrugged. "Felt like it." That was the best way to explain, other than the classic "I've been hearing voices for months and now that they're gone I have intrusive thoughts about murder."

Still holding him by the coat, Cleo managed to lift Martyn off the ground. "I never asked to be your soulmate," they said.

"Neither did I," Martyn replied. He struggled slightly, and Cleo dropped him. Martyn didn't doubt that the Deviant could hold him for longer, even while he was fighting to get free.

Cleo tossed him his inventory bag. "Forget it. You can't keep the simplest of promises, you go off on your own adventures, and you didn't even try to find your soulmate." They leaned in closer again. "I know Pearl was innocent for most of your act. You dragged her along, and look where it got both of you,"

"Broken hearts make broken promises," Martyn said, as if it was the clearest thing in the world. "You never tried to get me back. As soon as we met on that hill, you abandoned me,"

Cleo must have seen that she wasn't winning the argument. She stalked back over to Scott without looking back or saying a word.

Martyn stood there, feeling smug.

Chapter Text

"She deserved it," Martyn said.

Despite only being partners for a few short weeks, Tango and Jimmy looked uncomfortable at Martyn's dismissal of the murder of his soulmate.

"That's a Pearl thing to say," Tango pointed out.

He was right. Pearl had tried to murder Scott with his own axe when she found out about his and Cleo's ritual of hitting the other with axes. Pearl had also nearly drowned herself in powdered snow on purpose. She was much more determined than Martyn to make her soulmate suffer.

Martyn shrugged, then wiped some blood flakes off his shoulder. "I've got to get back to better things, see you,"

With that, he slipped his way down the cliff, avoiding the Warden as he made his way back to the Broken Heart Bastion. Martyn stayed there as the sun rose fully, his head still spinning.

When he could see without his vision warping, Martyn looked out his window to see Joel and Etho making their way down the cliffs, holding fishing rods and sharing mischievous glances.

Martyn quickly made an impromptu bridge to their side of the ravine and hopped down next to them.

"Nice day for fish?" he asked.

Etho glanced down at the river. "Not for fish," he said.

Below them was the Warden. Who was currently waging war on the fish in the river. Despite being safe high up on the cliff, Martyn found himself balancing on his toes and crouching lower.

Joel noticed this. He also must have remembered meeting Martyn nine years ago when they both fought, since he snapped, "Get over yourself, Martyn! We're doing a good thing,"

"For once," Martyn muttered under his breath. Joel's antenna twitched, but he pretended not to hear.

"Get your fishing rod," he instructed Martyn.

Martyn pulled open his inventory bag and pulled his out. It was worse for wear than the soulmate pair's fishing rods, but it seemed to satisfy Joel.

All three of them stared down at the improbability of their task.

Grian broke the silence. "What's going on here, fellas?"

They looked up to see the Watcher making his own way down the ravine.

Joel paled. As Grian reached their platform, Joel jumped off the ledge and fluttered over the Warden, getting its attention and leading it downstream.

"He's playing a dangerous game," Grian commented.

Etho nodded. His soulmate was practically playing with both of their lives, and he was unable to stop the expected chain of events if it were to happen.

"Follow him before he gets shot!" Martyn instructed. The new group made their way up the cliff, running along the top in the direction that Joel was flying.

"There are so many ways that this could go wrong," Grian panted. "Joel could get shot by the Warden, he could fall in the water and drown, he could fall in the water and get shot or bludgeoned…"

Under his mask, Etho looked ill. "Please stop," he begged.

All three of them skidded to a halt as Joel flapped his way up to Scott and Cleo's bridge.

"It's there!" he said, eyes glittering with excitement.

All four were on the bridge now, vaulting to the opposite shore under it.

Another platform was made by Etho. As they readied themselves, the fog in Martyn's head cleared.

"Go," Grian whisper-yelled.

The rods were cast. Martyn felt his catch on the Warden's skin, and looking down, he saw the rest of the group had fared similarly.

"We're nearly at the end of our lines, he's got to come up now," Joel called.

Martyn shifted his hands into a much better position, easier to pull the rod up. Like how one would hold an axe, the back of his mind whispered.

He shuddered. "NOW!"

As Martyn's yell echoed across the gorge, his party jerked the fishing rods backwards, almost in sync.

There was a blur of blue as the Warden flew up the cliff directly at them. Someone screamed, and they all scattered.

Martyn found himself falling down the cliff again. Grabbing wildly, he found a handhold in the bridge's support.

"IT'S DEAD, IT'S DEAD!" Grian screamed from the top of the cliff. He walked into Martyn's view, holding a skulk catalyst. Martyn pulled himself the rest of the way back up, where Scott, Cleo, Tango, Jimmy, Joel, and Etho were clustered around Grian.

Grian deposited the catalyst - which might have been the Warden's heart - in Tango's hands. The Speaker was sobbing like a baby, and Jimmy looked equally distraught, save for the tears.

"You killed him!" Tango howled.

He was rewarded with a pat on the shoulder from Grian. "We did everyone a favor," he said.

Tango looked like he wanted to argue, but refrained. Instead, him and his soulmate began the slow walk back to their ranch.

Martyn began to ponder the axe thought from earlier. He knew what he had done with an axe - not only was he fond of using a halberd, but also hatchets and the like - but not why. He had killed Ren, but for what reason? It sure wasn't the love he remembered. Besides, asking the Deviant would only raise more questions than answers, on both of their sides.

Memories will come with time, no matter the promises broken.

He didn't know if the voice was from him or the Watchers.

Jimmy knew that the funeral was happening. He saw the grave being dug, the headstone erected, the watching crowd mocking the fallen Warden.

It wasn't fair, and Tango had been dragged along with Jimmy's misfortune.

His feathers were molting again. Last time he was red, his feathers reflected the change. This time, they just seemed to be falling out with no end in sight. The feathers spiraled like falling leaves over the grave.

Time was beyond him, now. Jimmy felt the hopelessness of death creeping up on him again. The warm summer air felt choking and oppressive. His dreams were filled with the deaths of past, present, and future. Very soon, two of them would be his. It didn't matter which onn\e.

The first came as an irony.

High above the Red Velvet Keep, Jimmy and Tango cowered with the property owners, Scar and Grian. As Scar managed to jump down safely without dying, Jimmy wasn't so lucky, getting hit with a well-placed arrow and falling the hundreds of feet to his and Tango's deaths.

As if in a blur, Jimmy lived out his remaining days. He knew he was going to go first. This was in the Watchers' plan for him.

When the moment came, he wasn't prepared. An enderman ambushed him, choking the final life out of him.

Tango wouldn't have been proud of him. Tango would have found a way to lift the curse, if he was in Jimmy's shoes.

He finally knew what the canary meant, what Scott had missed, what the Watchers had planned since Jimmy was in their clutches. A canary was a finch, after all. Jimmy would fly again, but lose who he was.

And none of it mattered anymore. He was in charge now.

The Void reached out for Jimmy again.

James Norman Solidarity, Codfather, reached out and took its hand.

At the very same moment, Grian succumbed to another Warden. Jimmy observed his body, far underground, then returned to the surface with the fellow Watcher's ghost in tow.

"Jimmy? What?" Grian sputtered. He wasn't used to being a ghost, just the feeling of Watching until everything was over. Neither was Jimmy, but that wasn't important.

"It's complicated," Jimmy admitted. Not a lie.

Grian sighed, wings drooping. "Poor Scar…"

"He didn't know what hit him," Jimmy said.

"What do you want from me?"

Jimmy considered Grian's question.

"Not you, really, but I want your Games. The Watchers love me more, you see. You've been used," Jimmy didn't know if the words were his anymore, but he continued speaking. "There's a reason that your island got obliterated. They were trying to kill you, but you escaped. Grian, you're the least of my worries now. Crawl back home, and have something to remember me by,"

With that, the tips of Grian's flight feathers were sliced off, fluttering into the Void. Grian tried to yell, but his ghost was fading back to reality.

Jimmy felt nothing. He knew he should have been victorious, or the opposite, but there was just a sense of completion.

Someone better would know what to do.

The sound of a final death - akin to the beat of a bass drum - echoed through the Void. Jimmy faded back to reality, still a ghost. He realized that he had missed the last few during his conversation with Grian, and a check of his communicator showed that there were only 4 players left.

Jimmy hovered above Pearl as she closed in on Cleo, her dogs leading the hunt.

Cursing, Cleo made a final dash out of a tree, but collapsed on the ground. The bass drum roared again, and Pearl and Scott were the only ones left.

Despite his plans, Jimmy paused to watch the final conflict. As the new creator, he would have to welcome the victor to their memories. Although Grian had never told him, and neither had Scott, Jimmy's premonition told him so, backed up by a diary stolen from Scott after his winning Game.

He took a deep breath and watched the end play out.

Pearl stood over Cleo's body for a moment, considering her choices. She spat on the body and left, ready to wander again for the rest of her life. Winning didn't matter anymore. If living itself in this world was such hell, what would victory bring her?

Pearl found herself in front of Tilly's body. Her faithful wolf was burned almost beyond recognition, save for the yellow collar. Her yellow life.

Maybe Tilly would come back. Pearl just had to wait.

Her communicator buzzed.

<Scott S.> <Come back to the start.>

<Pearl M.> <What?>

<Scott S.> <Where it all began.>

Where did it all begin? Pearl's mind raced as she recalled everything. Somewhere nearby, she sensed the Warden's presence. It wouldn't be able to stop her anymore, now that she had nothing to lose.

Pearl got to her feet. She slowly walked over to Cleo's body and took the flower crown they wore. Then, on shaky legs, the Listener returned to Tilly's body, placing the crown on her chest.

Now, there was truly nothing left to lose.

With no other options, Pearl began the short trek to the central mountain. She was already on the side, but the thick underbrush stopped her from entering. She circled around and found Scott. He was standing calmly at the highest point, weaponless.

"Scott."

He should have been mad at her. She killed the last person he cared about here. She was the crazy one, the mad witch with a blood-stained scythe, bringing death and misfortune as she went.

"Pearl, I didn't expect it to come down to the two of us," he said.

For a heartbeat, the Red bloodlust took Pearl in full. She drew her bow.

The moment passed. Scott didn't seem surprised.

"Are you ready to fight?" he asked.

Pearl's breath hissed through her teeth as she shifted into a more agile position. "Never better."

Scott's next words made her pause. "Wait," he said. "I want to do something first,"

Pearl watched as Scott pulled several bundles of TNT out of his inventory. He talked continuously as he scattered them around his feet.

"You deserve what happened to you, Pearl. You were a bad person. But we made a promise, and I want to fulfill it. Tilly death do us part, Pearl."

Scott lit the fuse. Pearl's dogs milled around her. "No, Scott, wait-"

The world went white. As Pearl's body came to terms with her death, her surroundings dimming like an afterglow, a familiar figure appeared.

It was not Scott, ready to celebrate a joint victory. Instead, a scruffy, molting Watcher with Listener antenna stuck out his skinny hand in a gesture of goodwill.

Pearl hesitated, then took it. The world fully cut to black, the end of a film. All that was left to do was switch the reel.

"Jimmy, what are you doing here?"

He looked shocked to hear her addressing him so soon. After a moment of sputtering, he managed to spit out a greeting.

"Hi, Pearl. I'm here because you won. It's… tradition. To see- for the winners, to be greeted by the loser. Because that's fair, because he saw the least. Except it's me. Um, every time,"

Pearl was thoroughly unimpressed.

Chapter Text

"What other winners? There were other… things… before this?" Pearl asked.

Oh, I didn't prepare for this, Jimmy thought. He put on a fake smile, as if talking to a particularly slow child.

"Yes, there were, but your memories were wiped," he said, hoping Pearl would think about this long enough for him to come up with a feasible answer.

She did not hesitate. "Why?" Pearl demanded. "What did they not want us to see?"

Jimmy shuffled uncomfortably. "I'm sure there's no 'they' behind this, but Grian did mention something about trauma,"

Pearl's wings flared out behind her, the ghostlike forms with eye-like markings making her seem larger than she was. "I don't care about memories. Give me Tilly back."

In the back of his mind, Jimmy was panicking, already beginning to open a portal to send her back to Helianthia. He put that on hold for a second.

"Sure. You can have both. Not really worth having a dog if you don't know the story behind it," Jimmy quipped.

"I saw Tilly die twice in front of my eyes. That won't leave me, no matter what."

Pearl, you always have something nice to say. Jimmy concentrated on summoning Tilly. She had respawned, which was good. Her red life behavior was much like her preexisting personality, which was also good. Jimmy took a deep breath and -

She was there. Pearl squealed happily and embraced her wolf. (At least, it was the size of one!)

"And now you can go home," Jimmy said, finishing the spell in the back of his head. Pearl popped back out of existence again, leaving Jimmy alone in the Void. He could have very well gone home, but his home was destroyed and he had errands to run.

Martyn was next. Jimmy didn't really want to commit to his plan, but Martyn was smarter than him. Able to figure him out. Jimmy really wasn't a better replacement, so he was going to do just what his adoptive parents did to their true son.

"Hi, Martyn," Jimmy said. Martyn's home was strange. The man himself was unconscious and floating up and down in the air, and the walls were as dark as the Void. On second thought, Martyn might have just been in the Void.

Martyn woke up, shifting to an upright position. "Timmy?"

Jimmy ignored the nickname and put on his dealing-with-children smile. "Well, Martyn, you figured me out."

The Listener's eyes widened as he realized what Jimmy meant. The look on his face said it all: I've gotten into a load of trouble.

"Do tell," he said coolly, "don't be afraid to monologue,"

Jimmy sighed. "Can you promise not to tell anyone? They won't believe you, anyways. I wiped their memories,"

"Just wipe mine, then," Martyn dared. "If the Watchers blessed you so much, try fighting someone on the same level as you,"

"The Watchers tolerated you?" Jimmy asked, surprised.

Martyn shrugged. "As much as they could. Back to business?" He readied his fists.

Jimmy put two placating hands up. Martyn, no Listener has become a Watcher before. No one knows I'm special, and that's for the better,"

"I've lost more than you," Martyn hissed. He pulled the collar of his shirt down, revealing raw flesh crisscrossing over his heart in the shape of a compass rose, then shifted his head to the side, showing older scars on the right side of his face.

"That doesn't change the fact that I'm powerful now, and you can't just stand up to my plans like this," Jimmy said, stretching his elliptical wings behind him. They were much smaller than Martyn's still-pristine Listener wings.

Jimmy summoned Martyn's totem. Martyn let out a small cry of shock, attempting to grab the lifeline.

Jimmy jerked it out of his reach, mentally thanking his tall stature. "Ever wonder what happens when you die in the void, Martyn?" he asked conversationally.

Whether his question was rhetorical or not didn't matter to the upset Martyn. "There's a chance you won't respawn," he answered. "A small chance, but big enough to be a risk,"

Jimmy nodded. "What about losing a respawn token in the Void?"

Martyn blinked. "It would lose its purpose as it gets destroyed, and you would get a new one," he said. "You know, I got some good information about these things, and if this is a test, you're not going to get a failure out of me,"

"This isn't a test. This is for you to remember," Jimmy said. As Martyn made another grab, he pulled it out of the Listener's reach again.

"Now. What happens if you're in the void, safe beyond the event horizon? You can't die, there's nothing to get killed with. All you can do is watch the world go by," Jimmy said. Martyn was getting scared now.

"I've been here a long time," Martyn spat. "The first time, I was falling, and then I woke up, and then it was back to the game and falling again. The next time, I didn't get to go home. I was in the Void, then I was in the game again. You have an empty threat, Timmy."

Jimmy put Martyn's lifeline in his pocket. The imaginary wind rustled his hair. "Goodbye, Martyn,"

"You'll never do anything right! Jimmy-"

And then Martyn was alone.

Jimmy returned to the Overworld in the same spot he died. Springing into the air, he dove into the Nether and travelled to the remains of his empire. They still brought a tear to his eye, especially now as they were beginning to return to nature.

Jimmy's house was untouched, save for what the weather had done. His shoddily-built watchtower had crumbled like a stack of dominoes, and the roof of his fort had caved in. The church had its glass cracked, some of the stained chips missing from their frames altogether. Inside, weeds were sprouting through the wood floor.

Inside was his Codfather head, with a note telling him that he earned it.

No he didn't. Back then, he did, but two months had made Jimmy a different person. He put it in a chest and quickly forgot again. A small aftershock from somewhere took his mind off the matter.

Jimmy's dogs had returned, having survived the empire's fall and subsequent abandonment. They were still happy to see him, bringing another pang to Jimmy's heart.

He built a campfire that night, sleeping on the same hill he had on his first night here. In the morning, the most pressing matter of all came to mind.

"Is there anyone left on Imperia at all?" Jimmy asked, mainly to himself. I wonder if Scott…

One of Jimmy's dogs stared in the general direction of Mythland.

"Good idea, I'll check if Sausage is still alive."

Jimmy honestly didn't have much hope for his neighbor. Whether the man was dead or missing, it didn't really matter, since he was already far gone into the dark side.

Nevertheless, he flew over the two broken walls and into the city.

In the few weeks since its fall, Mythland had become overgrown with unpruned foliage. The overgrowth was much worse here than in the Cod Empire. Tree branches and brambles loomed over the cracked stone walkways, weeds pushing up between the cobblestones. The remaining Blood Sheep were not able to eat enough of the wilderness to stop its descent onto the city.

Jimmy made his way to the Blood Sheep Altar at the center. What remained was a crater and a few charred feathers stuck to debris.

What happened here? He's probably dead. I should still check…

He descended into the crater. There was a lot of blood, probably from the sheep. Jimmy dug through the rubble and found nothing, not even more feathers.

I wish someone would tell me what happened. Anything.

Just like that, Jimmy had a vision. He saw, from a third person's view, the fall of Mythland. He saw Lord Sausage sacrifice himself, only to crawl out of the altar's crater hours later.

He's alive, Jimmy thought as he saw past-Sausage shake his wings out and launch into the sky. Now, I can worry about better things.

Better things included Scott, whom Jimmy promptly set off across Imperia for.

Now, Scott was a particularly tricky person to save. Although he was a man who played it safe, he was also a man who would sacrifice himself whenever the situation called for it. Jimmy remembered hearing through the grapevine about his selflesness in the second Game - how he didn't betray his friends as the Boogey. Or, as Jimmy had seen with his own eyes, letting Pearl win the previous Game. He would probably do something selflessly stupid to stop his own brother.

Half a day later, Jimmy arrived in the mountains. His wings ached, but he kept in the air, not slowing down.

As he touched down, Jimmy realized that Rivendell was absolutely ruined. Most buildings had been reduced to char or rubble, and the closer Jimmy got to the greathouse, the more decimated the buildings got. Even the corruption tentacles were withered.

At the top of the hill, Jimmy saw the reason. A summoning circle, with Scott laying at the center and the demon in a crumpled heap outside of it.

There must have been a shockwave when Scott broke the spell, Jimmy noticed, examining the half-formed crystals in a ring of the circle.

The reason for Scott being on the ground was a lot clearer when Jimmy finally made his way into the center and saw the stupid greatsword embedded in Scott's abdomen.

"This isn't good," Jimmy said. When did this happen? It must have been after we came back from the Game, but less than a day ago…

Jimmy gently grabbed Scott's body and laid it flat on the ground.

I've never had someone die before me, his mind commented. Jimmy tried to ignore it. He pulled the sword out.

Scott twitched and sat up as if waking from a nap.

"You do know you're not supposed to do that," he said.

It took a lot of self-control to keep from fainting on the spot. Jimmy blushed instead. "Well, you're alive now. Happy?"

Scott looked him straight in the eyes. "So is my brother," He made a grab for the Rune Blade.

"But you'll die!" Jimmy protested.

Scott shoved himself to his feet, propping himself up with the sword. "That's a risk we're going to take. This time, it'll be permanent. My church is destroyed, my totem with it," he gestured at the ground, where a broken necklace was laying.

By the gods, he's actually going to disembowl himself again. What a madman.

Before Scott could continue his heroic sacrifice, Jimmy pulled the sword away from him.

"Look. You can't just do this. Xornoth won't be any harm to Imperia anymore, I'll promise you that. Just don't kill yourself and we'll all be fine,"

Scott sighed. "Fine. There was a happy ending waiting for us, you know,"

"In a dramatic sense, right?"

"Magic sword," Scott explained. That makes sense.

Jimmy sighed. "Let's get you patched up, then we can try and find survivors,"

Their impromptu search-and-rescue took a lot longer than Jimmy would have liked to admit. Even with Scott's ice magic and Jimmy's various abilities, they could only find so many people.

To Scott's displeasure, these people included Joey. Thankfully, Joey only cared about his empire and Xornoth, one of which was able to be saved.

They were currently on the island of New Mezalia, taking refuge with Joel.

Joel didn't know where Lizzie had gone, if she was even alive. As soon as he had seen Jimmy, he rushed over and asked about her. In the days since Jimmy had seen the Deviant, his hair had turned grey and his personality had taken a complete 180-degree turn.

"It's his empire," Scott explained. "He poured so much into it, as soon as it fell, he fell."

Jimmy didn't like thinking about that. Unfortunately, the rumor that the same had happened to Pearl was becoming more likely each day. Some of the Helianthians claimed that their leader had dissolved to ash as Gilded Helianthia fell, while other, slightly saner people reasoned that she had been on Eremitea the day of the empire's fall.

Whatever had happened to her, she clearly wasn't coming back.

Jimmy had another theory about Joel's heel-face turn, which involved his wife. Maybe he loved Lizzie so much… he can't even live without her.

The days flew by, and Jimmy almost forgot he was supposed to be rebuilding his own empire. He had grown into the rhythm of rebuilding the world.

When the ocean began to return and fall cooled the air again, Jimmy remembered. He flew over the shallow waters to his old home.

It was more decayed than ever. The humid sea wind had sped up the destruction of the soft wooden buildings. His home was just a pile of floating sticks in the sea, and the only thing remaining of his fort was the stone base.

I wish I could have remembered in time to save this place, Jimmy thought. He wished as hard as he could, and there was a sudden brightness. When his vision cleared, the buildings were in a much better state, just as they were the day he returned.

He smiled. See? I can do good things. Martyn was wrong.

The sea was still low, but the swamp was returning to its previous, moist conditions.

Jimmy cleared the leaves and broken glass out of his house, then sent a message to Scott.

Dear Scott,

I have decided to return to the Cod Empire. I feel it is time to rebuild, and the water is returning. Do not worry, I will always come over to New Mezalia to see you and the others.

Until next time, Jimmy.

Writing letters to his fellows was much different than writing to the Watchers.

Jimmy teleported the letter to Scott's tent, then continued refurbishing his home.

Chapter Text

Two months later - Cod Empire

Eventually, when the trees had lost all of their leaves, Jimmy decided it was time for a new Game. A thick carpet of snow blanketed the swamp, freezing the water that had returned. The ground was hard as a rock again, save for a few patches of freezing mud.

Scott had fully abandoned Rivendell, as told in several of his letters. Xornoth was working on becoming more than Exor's Champion, and Scott was recovering from his brush with death months earlier.

Fwhip and Gem had returned. Jimmy would never forget the moment when the herd of dragons flew over the swamp, buffeting the trees with the wind from their wings. The small figure of Fwhip waved down at Jimmy, and surprised, he waved back.

The Grimlands, like most other Empires, was uninhabitable. Jimmy would carry the guilt of its destruction for the rest of his life, but Fwhip was alive and the casualties were minimal.

Letters from Eremitea were arriving, too. Grian talking about his new base in HC-9, old friends… everything he could have wanted.

Everyone on Imperia was hopeful… except for Jimmy. Despite all the good that was happening to him, he felt empty.

"Is it because I'm alone? I do feel terribly lonely inside," Jimmy asked his dogs. They did not respond, being dogs.

"I should probably get to planning the next Game," he said, "It's been a while, and Grian's not in charge anymore,"

Winter brought its chill to Jimmy's door, but he was back to blocking out the world. Letters piled up in his mailbox, and Jimmy was still planning and working his magic.

The day before the equinox, he was done. This time, no ends of worlds were rushing him, and he was able to plan and create in peace. The Watchers were more accepting of this Game than the previous, which was sprung upon Them.

Jimmy continued the tradition of picking a spot on the Eremitrean coast to set the Game's border. This time, the sea was his friend. The coast was a unique place, with a thick forest cutting straight to the beach, and best of all, an abandoned mansion from when the Pillagers ruled the continent.

He set up the border and began writing his letters.

Scott, Grian, Cleo… most of the others from last time. Skizz would be a great addition again, shame I forgot him last time. And Martyn…

Jimmy shivered.

Martyn can get replaced by Ren. I don't care if he's still injured from the last time, their personalities are close enough. Mumbo can stay away, same with Lizzie. I think she's gone for good, to be honest.

With each letter, Jimmy slipped a small clock into the envelope as he sent it. They were not working yet, but that was part of the magic.

And then came the waiting game. He wouldn't use magic to get the participants this time. Each would have to come of their own accord.

Ever since his battle against Bad Watchers in HC-7, Ren had always had a wariness around all feathered Hermits. It was a little bit hard to live in fear, however, when your admin was a heroic Ex-Watcher with the battle scars to prove it. Probably. That was the reason he wore a mask, most people reasoned.

Watchers were also the most superior over wingless Deviants, the flightless of their own kind, punished Speakers, and injured Listeners. They really just liked wings.

Ren, and most Hermits, had the misfortune of being flightless under the rule of the Watchers.

Joe, Scar, and Wels were flightless-born Watchers, and Impulse was, for a time, punished by the Speaker kingdom by having his wing membranes cut.

But that didn't matter, since all of Ren's Watcher friends were the Good Kind of Watcher.

Bad Watchers, like the kind that made him lose two limbs, were probably also responsible for the severe concussion he woke up with one day in his pie factory.

Doc blame it on the machinery, but Ren knew better.

Now, he had a letter from someone (Probably a Watcher, but he wasn't paranoid!) inviting him to a game for fun, which involved death. Something about that seemed familiar to Ren, but he couldn't put a claw on it. He would probably remember after his concussion went away.

Taking his elytra, Ren flew to the coordinates given. He had already tied the included timepiece around his wrist, next to his watch.

There was a circle of stones where a few people Ren recognized were standing around in. He landed and deposited his elytra in the waiting Ender chest.

When enough people had flown in, one of the blondes stood up on a rock and began to speak.

"You start with three lives: One green, one yellow, and one red. On yellow you can kill greens, and on red you can kill anybody. There should be hour markers on your clocks that show you when you will turn. Killing someone correctly gives you 30 minutes, and dying loses you an hour. Being killed by the Boogeyman means you lose two hours. The timer pauses at 9 pm and resumes at 5 am. You have 24 hours to live, good luck!"

With that, he ran for the hills, both figuratively and literally.

This was the easy part: Basic survival. Ren quickly remade a crafting mat and filled his inventory bag with food and tools. Everything seemed familiar about the scenario.

You just started HC-9, surviving as best as you could. This is no different.

For the rest of the day, nothing truly terrible happened to Ren. He made a few mistakes, but none of them were too bad, and tried to be friendly with Skizz and Etho. It was only at the end of the week that things started to go wrong.

He died. Embarassingly.

It was an attempt to get Etho's cows, which was a bit of a change from the friendship they tried to have. In a last, childish attempt, Ren dropped a stick of TNT down the hole they had in the ceiling. It blew up the cows. And then, Ren fell in and died.

When he respawned, Scar, and Bdubs clapped and cheered from the top of a hill.

"What?" Ren called.

"The deaths are entertaining them," Cleo yelled from further behind them.

Ren nodded. He didn't understand, but one look at the duo told him that they were currently less than hinged.

He headed off down to the shore. Ren could hear waves crashing onto the beach from his respawn on the hill, and it seemed like a nice place to be. He had gone down there while looking for resources, but denied Scott's requests at an alliance. Ren was beginning to regret that decision.

Scott looked surprised to see him when Ren walked across his grass bridge to the artificial island. "You're coming crawling back, aren't you?"

Ren shrugged. "I suppose. There's no one else who wants to team with me,"

He flattened his ears, hoping to look like a bedraggled puppy.

It must have worked, since Scott's expression softened. "Alright, you can be my ally.

Later that night, they made a small fire.

"I've never really seen you before, who are you?" Ren asked. "Are you a Watcher?"

Oh, please don't be a Bad Watcher, I really need someone who won't kill me…

"I'm a Deviant, like you. Elven,"

Ren studied Scott. He had two white wings speckled with black, and his feet were bare with two clawlike hooves for toes, but nothing that would define him as specifically an Elf.

"Where are your antlers?" he asked.

Scott laughed. "It's winter, Ren. They get shed, and we regrow them during spring,"

Ren blinked. "Oh. That's…"

"It's normal for us, Ren," Scott interjected.

Ren decided not to press any further. Scott had a lot of questions for Ren as well.

"What do you do? Outside of this, of course,"

Ren shrugged. "I'm a Hermit. Got a letter one day, turns out one of them had passed through and saw my magic-work and thought I was a good pick. The rest is history!"

Scott nodded. "Like Watcher-type magic?"

"Enchanting, mostly. My work used to be metalworking, so I guess I found out pretty easily,"

Both of them chuckled.

"I just wish it wasn't so warm," Scott complained, "I've had my winter coat for a while, and this is too… balmy. Just like it was on New Mezalia,"

Scott was sitting further from the fire than Ren.

"I like the warmth," Ren supplied.

Martyn could feel that another Game was happening. While in the void, he had been slowly healing from the ailments that had been dished out to him over the years of death games.

Mainly, his fractured memories were beginning to pull themselves back together.

Over the prior three Games, Martyn had had his memories erased, then the Watchers gave some choice ones back, and then deleted them again. All while wearing down Martyn's body with an incurable illness.

In the Void, a lot was better for Martyn.

The rest was a hell of a lot worse. Jimmy had left him with a little window to the outside world, where he could float as a ghost.

He respawned in the Listener's mountain kingdom, floating a foot off the ground.

Martyn's father could be seen through a window, if Martyn was interested.

He wasn't, and instead ran to Jimmy's room, which was formerly his.

It was empty. Everything of Jimmy or Martyn's had been piled up in this room now used for storage.

The library Martyn used to spend his time in was similarly empty, the books piled up and collecting dust.

Martyn felt sad. He had already floated through enough walls to understand that he couldn't interact with his family, if they wanted to at all.

With that, Martyn left the Listener kingdom forever, the way he wanted to do it nine years ago.

Martyn made his way back to the first Game. Everything was covered in some form of overgrowth. The Red Desert had blown sand back into the TNT crater, and the destroyed castle was eroding back into the sand.

Scott and Jimmy's home, whatever they had called it, was abounding with wildflowers and shade trees, even in winter. Their hobbit holes were in a perfectly weathered condition that made Martyn want to stay there forever, basking in the forever sun.

The Crastle was covered in creeping vines, but otherwise perfectly intact. Bdubs realy did know how to make a perfect castle.

Last came Dogwarts. Martyn was honestly avoiding going back, but he needed to see. Just one more time, with his new memories of Ren and their home.

It was silent as Martyn floated his way into the collapsed walls. The wood had rotted away in the moist winters and hot summers between its abandonment and now. The Black Heart Altar was cracked, a tree growing in the center. There were no more traces of blood stains.

Martyn was at peace with the place now.

"I'm sorry, Ren. I failed you. But I won't anymore. I swear, I will find you and protect you once more."

He swallowed back tears.

Martyn gently floated down until his feet were close to the ground. From here, he could see rusty swords in the overgrown fields and arrow tips littering the mud.

"I did bad things. But at least I was justified," An old memory resurfaced. "Those filthy desert hippies will pay,"

And then he left. Unlike when he left the Listener kingdom, Martyn had intentions of coming back when he had a body again.

Over the next few weeks, Martyn wandered the remains of the other Games - there were three in total! Grian must have had a lot of time on his hands to go through everything and wipe everyone's memories so often. It was strange that they were all in the same geographical area.

As he headed to the coast, Martyn felt something strange in the air. Even in another dimension, his antennae were picking up something electric. Something magic. It was just like the portals between dimensions, making his hair stand on end. There was something else to it as well, a memory that was still evading him.

Still, he pressed on, even as the feeling of static electricity became stronger. Martyn felt his vision blurring, tinting red. Even in the Void, Martyn felt he was looking death in the face. Pushing forward became harder, as if a wind was blowing him back.

It's almost like someone doesn't want me here.

As Martyn came to his conclusion, another thought ran through his mind.

I have to see what is going on.

The fight to move forward became harder, and Martyn was soon forced to do a sort of flying with his wings to push himself forward.

His vision flashed pure, bright red for a moment. Martyn gave one last leap of faith…

And was through.

Wheezing, Martyn turned around. There was a wall stretching up to the sky's infinity, transparent and striped blue.

A barrier. This is what kept us in those Games.

"I'm trapped now," Martyn realized. He put a claw on the barrier. It felt just like a wall at perfect room temperature, like a thick chunk of nothing. Still, it was the first thing Martyn had touched for weeks.

Martyn finally noticed his surroundings. Under him, an ocean was unaffected by the barrier, the waves passing through like nothing. Up ahead, a coastline with a thick forest and a bare hill. Beyond that, Martyn couldn't see. There were foothills blocking his vision, along with…

"That's a woodland mansion," Martyn breathed. He was jealous, of course. Not many explorers had ever found one, and there had been one under their noses the whole time! Of course, it was going to get destroyed by Martyn's arsonist friends, but he would have loved to explore it. Too bad he was on a mission.

He could see a few people moving around in various locations. Martyn floated to the closest ones, who were building a house on an artificial island.

Scott and Ren.

Chapter Text

Building on the sea was a novel concept for Scott. He was not like Jimmy or Lizzie, who set their kingdoms in the water in an instant.

"Give me a nice mountain any day," Scott complained.

Ren set the wood planks he was holding down. "I once built a city next to an active volcano," he supplied.

Scott decided that he and Ren were two very different breeds of normal. "Did it explode?" he asked.

"It was only oozing lava and stuff, the city will be fine," Ren reassured him. "Elves like the mountains, right?"

Scott nodded. "Mountains, tundras, pine forests… mainly cold areas. I grew up in the Far North,"

Ren sat down excitedly. "Can you tell me about it?" he begged.

Scott sat down next to him. "Well, I lived in the Ice City. Royalty and all, y'know? I had a brother, but he left after he turned sixteen. We were twins. Three years later, I was told to go to the newly-discovered Imperia. After that… I never really went home,"

His story seemed to satisfy Ren.

"What about you?" Scott asked.

Ren stretched, then settled back into place. "My backstory isn't as fancy as yours, but I grew up on the Blackheart Isles. Nothing fancy. You already know how I left, though. Had a good family, happy childhood, was a bit poor. All the good stuff,"

We really don't have anything in common. I can still befriend him, Scott thought.

"Ready to finish building?" he asked.

Ren stood up again. "Heck yeah, let's get to it!"

Ren likes teamwork. I can do this.

Scott kept building into the evening, even as Ren went to socialize. He did have the feeling of being watched, but it must have been just being tired.

The Watchers, his mind suggested. I know the stories. I know what they can do. But,the other side of his mind argued, the ones I know are not the same Watchers. High Watchers are stuck in the End, never to be released again.

Scott set down his supplies. The base was more or less complete, save for a few details he could add in the morning. Sitting under a lantern, on a newly-built chair, Scott pulled a copy of The Legend of Aeor and Exor and began to read.

Scott knew that the events, although rooted in legend, were more or less true. Heck, he had lived through many similar ones himself while being Aeor's Champion.

The legend started out pretty simply. Gods walked the world before Elves - this was true in any history book - and eventually, they turned on each other and either died out or went back to their respective dimensions, becoming part of the land. Except for the Deviants, every species had a race of gods. Eventually, a High Watcher, descendant of the gods, fell in love with a mortal Deviant. Their children were the first Deviant gods: Aeor and Exor.

Scott had the rest memorized by heart. Exor became corrupted, gaining impossible powers and causing unimaginable chaos. The Elves separated themselves from the rest of the Deviants, taking their gods with them.

The carnage did not stop. Although Exor was defeated, and Aeor falling with him, the gods would return every ten generations, to a set of twin royals. Such had happened since the beginning of history.

He never wanted to be part of a prophecy. But he had beaten a rigged game. In a fluke, both he and his twin lived past their expiration, breaking the cycle.

Scott shut the book and returned it to his inventory. He heard Ren walking up onto the deck, settling in the chair next to him. I should tell him.

"Ren, did you know I'm technically a god?"

One week later - Death Game #4

Jimmy liked the woodland mansion that him and his allies had stolen. Grian and Joel were accepting him and not treating him like a liability for once in his life!

Assuming that Grian had not wiped his own memory, he was trying to learn from his mistakes. Joel, on the other hand, was actually being a good friend to him.

"Martyn would have liked this, before we burnt it down," Grian lamented.

He can't know. "It was Scar and Cleo, not us," Jimmy reassured him.

Joel was emptying buckets of water onto the roof, trying to flooding it. "They're the Clockers, Jimmy, get it right."

Jimmy laughed. "With how Scar mispronounces the name he came up with, I'm not sure I want to,"

Grian snorted loudly.

"Are we flooding this now?" he asked. "I just tried to repair it over the weekend, and you're destroying it,"

"I'm making escapes for when we loot this thing," Joel crowed. "I heard it's haunted by ghosts of Pillagers,"

Jimmy decided not to be part of the conversation.

Grian was deadpan. "There are no Pillager ghosts. The explorers would have found them already.

Joel was undeterred by Grian's arguments. "Well, every explorer who found a woodland mansion died!" he shot back, confidently crossing his arms as if that was the end all be all.

"No, they didn't. Otherwise we wouldn't know about them!"

"You can fly over them and not go in," Joel said.

Jimmy looked in one of the mansion's upper windows. "There's no ghosts, Joel," he said, hoping to break the tension.

Joel flung himself through the window as soon as Jimmy finished his sentence, dragging Jimmy behind him.

"Ouch, that was my wing," Jimmy complained, wrenching it out of Joel's grasp.

Grian carefully climbed in after them.

"Make sure to keep your wings safe, Joel," he warned.

Joel shrugged, showing off the undercoat that protected them. "I'm fine," he said, "Now let's go kill some ghosts!"

He rushed off, leaving Jimmy and Grian by themselves. Grian checked his new pocket watch, mumbled something to himself, then put it back.

"I can afford to die twice. You?"

Jimmy flicked his antennae back. "I don't want to lose any hours," he responded.

Grian nodded. "There's a first time for everything, Tim,"

With that, the other Bad Boy ran off into the mansion, Jimmy trying to keep up.

It wasn't long until they had their first casualty. Joel proved his own theory correct by finding actual Pillager ghosts.

Jimmy cringed at the bloodcurdling shriek and subsequent boom of Joel dying and respawning.

Grian paused. "Great, they're active now," he groaned.

"So there were ghosts the whole time?" Jimmy asked.

"I don't know, but they're here now. Try not to die,"

With that, Grian was off again, with Jimmy running behind.

They met their first ghost, an Evoker.

Grian struck it down, but it summoned Vexes as it died.

Jimmy ducked behind his shield, hoping the Vexes wouldn't sense him. They were too focused on Grian anyway.

"Timmy, get up, they're gone," Grian gasped. Jimmy uncurled from under the shield.

"Don't call me that," he mumbled halfheartedly.

Grian was crouching down where the Evoker had died. "Look. They had some form of respawn, like us," he breathed.

Jimmy fidgeted uncomfortably. "Are you an explorer now?" he muttered.

Grian ignored him, too caught up in his own theories. "Joel was wrong," Grian said, holding up a broken gold chain. "How else would we have made respawn totems? These are the original, the Totems of Undying,"

Jimmy blinked. Grian returned to his original posture, no longer posing with the broken chain heroically.

"We can use them as an extra death in the games," Grian explained.

Joel raced over. "Our secret's up, the others are here!" he yelled, a look of hate burned onto his face.

"I haven't heard anyone," Jimmy said.

Joel glared at him. "Can you listen downstairs, stupid?"

Grian wrenched open a trapdoor. "Yeah. They're here. Jig's up."

Joel slid down the trapdoor, Jimmy following him, and Grian taking up the back. The trio emerged from behind a moldering tapestry, confronting a very guilty-looking Etho.

"What are you doing here?" Jimmy demanded.

Etho glanced around. His teammates were nowhere to be found, which was either a good thing or they were raiding the mansion.

"Just… looking," Etho said, unconvincingly.

Joel groaned. "Get out, Etho,"

I can't believe they used to be soulmates. Now, it looks quite the opposite, Jimmy noticed.

"Better get loot while you still can," Etho said. Before Joel could do anything rash, the Deviant slipped away, disappearing into shadows.

Grian sighed, bringing his hand to his face. "Try not to die any time in the next hour, please?"

One hour later - On top of the mansion

Jimmy forced his way through a window, screaming at the top of his lungs.

The Vexes' swords cut through his flesh easily, and the shattering glass didn't help matters.

If I can get to the edge, the trees will cushion my fall, Jimmy thought. He made a sharp turn, almost crashing into one of Grian's farms.

The Vexes were going to catch him any moment now, and he was probably going to bleed out if the chase kept up.

Joel could be seen out of the corner of Jimmy's eye, fighting off his own swarm of Vexes.

Grian hadn't even made it out of the mansion yet.

Another sword sliced into Jimmy's wing, punishing him for his lapse in concentration.

Jimmy stumbled into a faster gait, but his strength was waning. His shield was a last resort.

For the second time, Jimmy curled into a ball under his shield. This time, the Vexes were less deterred.

Jimmy felt a bed materialize under him. I'm dead. I have to get off the roof. He swung his legs out, standing and hurrying to the edge of one of the farms. None of the Vex or Pillagers were after him anymore.

The battle of the Bad Boys, Pearl, and Team TIES versus the Pillager ghosts (which were real, that much had been decided) was coming to a close. Grian respawned next to Jimmy, still shoving away enemies that were no longer there. Joel cut down the rest of the Vex, then turned his attention to the remaining, unshattered windows.

Grian scrambled to pull him back to safety. "Joel! You'll die if you go in there again!"

"We have two totems, it'll be fine," Joel said.

Grian made some sort of angry arm flailing, blocked from Jimmy's view by his wings flaring out angrily. "We ONLY have two! They are for emergencies!"

Jimmy hurried over, putting a hand on Joel's shoulder. He batted it off angrily.

"It's probably been looted already," Jimmy reasoned.

This did not put Joel in any better spirits.

To make matters worse, the Boogeyman announcement thundered through their heads a second later.

Instantly, Joel groaned. "It's me, guys. I'm the Boogey,"

Grian facepalmed. "Better and better," he muttered.

Jimmy tensed. "Who are you going to kill?" he asked.

Joel shrugged. "The Clockers have really been annoying me, burning and pillaging our beautiful mansion and all," he said.

Grian perked up. "How are you going to get them?"

"Minecart, but we'll have to conceal it. What if…"

"What if we expanded the farm?" Grian interrupted.

That's going to be a lot. Okay.

Joel considered the plan.

"Sounds great. Let's go,"

The work began near instantly. Joel began building a platform toward the Clockers' mountain, Grian lay dirt down on top of the wood platform, and Jimmy farmed and planted new seeds.

Around a half hour later, the Clockers began to notice the encroaching bridge.

"What are you doing?" Cleo asked. It was more like demanding in Jimmy's eyes, though.

"Makin' a bread bridge," Grian said.

Cleo narrowed their eyes. "What's the rails for?"

Grian placed a minecart down. "Look how far it is from our base," he lied, "we need this to go back and forth,"

"If this gets burnt down, you wouldn't need to travel so far," Cleo suggested in a dangerous voice. Jimmy knew enough about Cleo to know that they meant business.

Grian snapped his wings open, shielding the bridge from Cleo's view. "Don't threaten it!" he snapped.

Cleo looked unamused. "You're getting too close to us," she sighed.

As Cleo stalked back to the mountain, Joel and Jimmy came running over.

"That's why we're getting them," Jimmy reassured his allies in a low voice.

Joel looked excited. "Soon, and the bridge is almost done!"

Cleo came back with a vengeance. While Jimmy was sowing the field with wheat seeds, he heard an explosion that shook the entire Bread Bridge.

Scrambling to his feet, Jimmy and Grian ran to the edge of the bridge, where Cleo was standing with a flint and steel in her hand, Scar next to her with an expectant smile on his face.

Before Grian could start chewing his latest enemy out, both him and Jimmy stiffened, listening. A minecart. On the track. Both of them stepped to the sides automatically, and a blur of TNT minecart whizzed by.

There was another deafening explosion. More of Bread Bridge collapsed. Cleo was vaporized, along with poor Scar, who came to watch the commotion. Joel was cheering.

Grian extracted himself from the mud. "Why didn't we just build a rail without a farm on it?" he groaned.

Joel checked his pocket watch, making sure that his kill was rewarded correctly. "For dramatics, Grian. She didn't suspect that a minecart was going to blow her up,"

Jimmy sighed. He was a bit shaky on his feet from the two explosions, but not enough to put him out of commission. "How about we finish the bridge?" he suggested.

As the words left his mouth, Jimmy saw Cleo sprint, for the second time, to the woodland mansion.

All three Bad Boys exchanged a doomed look.

"Who wants to live on the bridge?" Grian suggested, his words ending in a maniacal laugh.

Chapter Text

Ren didn't like the feeling of being watched. Scott felt it too, but neither of them could find a source for the apprehension they shared.

Late one night, Ren found the answer. It was just after Skizz and Bdubs had dueled to the death - cheers still rung across the water like in a stadium. Ren had been there, cheering with the entire population of the game.

He went into the under-deck storage room to stow some gear away, and when he returned, there was something sitting on his chair.

Ren squinted at it. There was something familliar about it, even though it was composed only of a faint glow.

"Who are you?" he asked.

The ghost looked shocked. "Ren? I didn't know you could see me," he gasped.

Ren's ears flicked up. "How do you know me?" he asked

"It's me, Martyn! You've got to remember," the ghost said.

"I don't think I'm the Ren you're looking for," Ren admitted, "I've got a few cousins that share my name, maybe you're supposed to be haunting one of them?"

The ghost named Martyn turned away from Ren and began muttering to himself.

"He should have known me, but… I forgot about the memory wipe! Dang it!"

Martyn turned around with a smile on his face. He must not have known how loud or obvious he was being. "I'm Martyn, I know you from a death game," he introduced.

Ren was at a loss for words. "We're in a death game now," he explained carefully. "Grian never told us about any other ones,"

"You didn't even find a journal about something you can't remember?" Martyn begged.

"Nope," Ren said.

Martyn looked him dead in the eyes. "I was in love with you. Our memories were wiped. I was allowed to remember,"

Oh not, that's not good. I don't remember this man at all, and he says he had a romantic relationship with me. I've never seen him before!

"I'm going to ignore that first statement," Ren decided. "How did you become a ghost?"

Martyn sighed, his large wings drooping. "My story could be dangerous for you to hear," he warned, "and I know you can't keep secrets,"

"You can tell me, I've been getting better," Ren promised. Maybe he was lying a little bit, but there was something about this ghost that made them feel trustworthy.

Martyn got to his feet, floating a few feet above the deck. "Let's go somewhere safer," he suggested.

Ren slipped quietly into the water and swam to the secret cache Scott had made below the island. His prosthetics were enchanted to be waterproof a while back, and Ren had refreshed the enchantment as soon as he got to the latest enchanting table.

As soon as he entered the small room, Martyn floated through the ceiling. "This place works," he said. "I guess now I'll have to tell you everything,"

Ren sat down on a chest. "Please do," he said.

Martyn's tale took hours to tell. Midnight passed, then 3, and it was almost time for the clocks to unfreeze by the time Martyn finished.

He told of the three prior games, of his time outside, of the suspicious coincidences that surrounded quite a few of the other players, and of his untimely banishment to the Void. When he finally stopped talking, Ren stayed frozen, open-mouthed.

"So, that really happened?" Ren asked slowly.

Martyn nodded. "Unfortunatley. I'm sorry this has happened to you,"

"Don't care about me," Ren decided. "You need to come back to life, and Jim needs to be taken down a notch,"

His watch chimed, signalling the start of the timer again. Ren flinched. "I've gotta go back. Are you going to follow me or something?"

"I'll be here in the background," Martyn reassured him, fading out of view.

Ren swam back up to the surface. Scott had woken and was in the act of looking for Ren.

"I thought you went and left," he said, laughing in the relieved sort of way one does after a scare.

Ren laughed, too, although more honestly. "I was just checking the secret room," he said.

He could feel Martyn bristling with distrust from behind him.

Scott nodded. "What's happening today?"

Ren looked over to the mainland. The woodland mansion was burning again, and by the looks of it, had been burning for a while. "A lot, apparently," he said.

Scott's ears flattened to the sides of his skull, disappearing under his hair. "That's not good," he said.

"Do you think it was Cleo?" Ren asked.

"Probably," Scott groaned. "I'm going off to talk to Pearl,"

With that, the fellow Deviant dove into the water and swam away.

Martyn made himself known again. "I didn't know deer could swim that bad," he said, watching Scott go.

Ren rolled his eyes. "Martyn, he's fine,"

Still, they both flinched as Scott went under for a bit too long before reappearing.

Floating into Ren's field of view, Martyn shrugged. "You swim better with a missing leg," he pointed out.

Ren groaned as he set off for the mainland as well. "You can't swim either, as a Listener," he said.

I don't know how we were ever friends, let alone lovers. Martyn doesn't seem to get along with me.

"I'm going mining," Ren announced. Martyn popped away to watch something more interesting, and Ren descended into the mine.

Working in the stone gave him a lot of time to think. If he concentrated hard enough, Ren could remember the feeling of cold on his skin, looking down on pale hands, and Martyn. Maybe the previous games were real, and Martyn was right. Martyn didn't feel like enough of a trustworthy person to get a missing chunk of the past relayed from.

Ren didn't really remember finding a journal of his. Maybe, when this was all over, he would be able to go back to HC-7 and dig his unimportant things out of the attic. There was no point in looking at HC-8, since the entire island had been destroyed. Ren and Doc didn't leave in any conventional manner, either. Instead, one of Doc's machines opened a portal to the middle of the Farthest Whirlpool. It had taken a while for Xisuma's magic to find them and take them to the soon-to-be HC-9.

He had no way to trust Martyn, but also no way to trust anyone else. Martyn showed up in his memories, while Scott did not. Martyn was the better choice.

Ren headed back upstairs, inventory bag full of iron.

Scott was waiting for him.

"I thought you were exploring!" Ren said.

Scott glanced behind him. Grian, Jimmy, and Joel were standing there awkwardly. "Can we build a bridge over to your island?" Grian asked.

"The bridge is made of bread, if that helps," Joel added.

Ren shared a look with Scott. Scott shrugged. "I think it would be a good idea," he said.

"You'd become our allies," Jimmy chimed in. Ren felt Martyn bristling over his shoulder, but staying behind Ren and trying to be as small as possible.

Martyn doesn't like Jim. He's done bad things.

"Scott, are you sure about this?" Ren asked. He needed a second judge of character.

Scott shrugged. "You can build your bridge, it's okay," he assured the Bad Boys.

All three of them looked relieved.

As soon as the trio left, Ren turned to Scott. "I didn't know you trusted people this easily," he said.

Scott raised a dainty eyebrow. "I know Jimmy and Joel. Jimmy's too sweet to do anything truly wrong, and Joel just works himself up over nothing. They'll be fine,"

Ren thought about this.

"He's changed," Martyn hissed into Ren's ear. Scott tilted his head as Ren jumped, startled by the ghost.

"What if - what if Jim got some sort of character… development after you got to know him?" Ren blurted out.

That seemed to strike a chord with Scott. He stepped away from Ren. "Jimmy was gone quite a while before this," he said, thinking out loud.

Ren nodded. "Your brother left too, right? I'm guessing you saw him again. Was he any different than you remember?"

"I don't want to talk about him," Scott snapped. "Not here."

Dead or estranged brother, oookay. Don't mention him, either.

Scott began pacing. "He has been acting strange. There were journals I don't remember writing appearing in my house, he kept going to my church despite building one in his own Empire, and of course, I could have sworn he didn't have those wings before,"

Ren felt his stomach drop. Scott continued talking. "He has antenna. One and a half, which means he used to have two. He's never referred to himself as a Deviant, he uses building techniques made for the mountains…"

Oh no. Oh no. I don't like where this is going. Ren could feel Martyn over his shoulder, listening to Scott's every word.

"…And he gets mad whenever someone mentions how he builds. He looks like he's never seen the End, unlike a real Watcher. Never seemed to be banished, either. Ren… He might have been a Listener at some point,"

"Have you seen him fly?" Ren asked. "Every wing flies differently,"

Scott's ears flattened against his head once again. "He flew like he was used to four," he breathed. "Tail spread, wings stiff… I don't know how this wasn't clear before,"

"I didn't mean for you to come to a realization about him," Ren apologized. "I was just trying to keep you from falling into a trap. I've done it before."

Scott gave him a pained look. "Jimmy wouldn't do that to me. You see… I fancy him, Ren. And I believe he loves me back."

That's almost worse than me and Martyn's situation, Ren thought. He adjusted his sunglasses.

"How about when this is over, you go and tell him that," Ren suggested.

That seemed to cheer Scott up. "Maybe you're right. We did go on a date, after all,"

Ren was sorely glad that Martyn chose not to comment.

"He might be trying to be a better person than he was in the past," Ren said, partially trying to convince himself.

Scott nodded. "Let's just go back to the mainland, shall we?

An hour later - near the border

"Why did you bring me out here?" Joel complained.

Grian sighed. "I need to show you something," he said.

Joel did not look convinced. "Show Jimmy," he demanded. "I have things to do,"

"No, Jimmy taught me this," Grian lied. In reality, Grian was still wary of Jimmy. Both of them were bad liars, and Grian might not have convinced him well enough when telling the other Watcher that he had wiped his own memory. Jimmy was also absentminded enough to leave the same bread in the barrier spell that Grian himself had.

That satisfied Joel. "Okay," he said. "What is it?"

They were nearing the border. Grian had the mechanism already set up, but with another person viewing it, it looked a bit… crude.

"What does it do?" Joel asked.

Grian shoved himself into the gap between the piston setup and the barrier. "If you activate it like this, you'd just get crushed. But, if you put a boat down…"

He dragged one of the boats left over from earlier into the piston machine. Grian got in and lay down at the bottom. "Could you push that button, please?"

Joel complied.

The piston pushed him through the barrier, warping around the boat. Immediately, Grian felt the crushing pressure outside of the barrier trying to shove him back in. It was like standing against a roaring wind.

"You can come on through," he called.

Joel grabbed another boat and activated the machine, poking the button with a stick. On the other side, he stood up, hands over his antennae.

"This hurts," Joel said casually. "How far can you go back?"

Grian was reminded of two games ago, the last time that he had played around outside of the barrier. "Not very far," he said.

Joel took a daring step forward. "Let's find out,"

Not wanting his fellow Bad Boy with a couple hours less of time to get hurt, Grian jumped ahead a few feet. The pressure practically doubled, and Grian had to force air into his lungs. His vision was getting quite red as well.

"If you go further, you'd probably get crushed," he wheezed.

Joel nodded. Unable to take the pressure any more, Grian quickly moved backwards and into the correct side of the barrier. Joel followed him out just as fast.

"We can walk along the edge of the border outside of it," Grian said. "You can't get hurt outside,"

"Except for the pressure," Joel added.

Grian nodded. "But when would that ever happen?"

They headed back, using the time away from civilization to stretch their wings.

Chapter Text

Week 7 of the Game - Bread Bridge 2

It was Grian's idea. It was always Grian's idea. Jimmy could see it now. He wore down Jimmy and Joel's times with his stupid ideas for killing, and now Jimmy could see the final result.

"What if this is a bad idea?" he said to no one in particular. The other Bad Boys were gone, off on their own thing, and Jimmy was left alone.

Visions of possible and past deaths swam past his eyelids, making themselves known. Jimmy whimpered as he saw himself die over and over, instances flashing by faster than he could proscess them.

It was night now, clocks stopped. Jimmy took flight and headed up past the clouds. He could see the remains of the other Games from up there, his and Grian's creations laying destroyed.

Stretching his wings felt nice. Jimmy missed his old Listener ones though, knowing he would never truly feel right being a Listener. That's okay. You might not be a true Watcher, but you'll be the best one yet,

Diving down, Jimmy landed on the highest layer of Bread Bridge. It was time to pay a visit to Martyn.

Jimmy slipped into the Void. Martyn had done some work while he was imprisoned, even managing to scrape enough energy together to open his inventory. There was a red banner with white accents perpetually falling, and there was a torch in the same predicament.

Martyn emerged from behind… somewhere. A shadow, probably. He only looked mildly surprised to see Jimmy.

Martyn was always good at keeping his emotions in check, Jimmy remembered.

"Hi, Martyn," he said.

Martyn studied Jimmy for a second, then nodded a cold greeting back. "What's your problem now?" he demanded.

Jimmy snorted, affronted. "No need to be hostile," he said, "I was just checking in,"

"I'm fine," Martyn said. "How many people have you killed?"

"Not many," Jimmy admitted. "I've got a better team than you,"

He reached out and grabbed the red banner. Martyn's reaction was instant.

"Don't touch that," he hissed, inches away from Jimmy's face. The infinity of the Void suddenly felt claustrophobic, Martyn a reigning presence over the realm. Jimmy dropped the cloth.

"You don't understand anything," Martyn raged. He pressed the banner to his chest, shielding it from Jimmy. "Always trying to be the best person. Just admit it, Timmy. You have a place, and it's not at the front,"

Jimmy tried to take calming breaths. It was not enough. "Says the Listener who got himself exiled when he was ten," he shot back, voice shaking with the effort of staying level.

Martyn stiffened. "They're still influencing you," he reminded Jimmy, "You're still trying to fit in,"

Jimmy didn't respond, and Martyn took the moment to keep talking.

"Be like me. Go against the grain," he begged. "Turn back when there's still time,"

We could run away together! You and me, Jim… we don't need any of the Southlanders.

History was repeating, no matter how Jimmy tried to stop it.

I can't believe you were that stupid. Go away, Tim.

"You're one to talk," he growled.

Martyn held up his banner. "You never got one of these," he taunted. "No friends,"

He's so stupid. He doesn't understand that taunting's how he got here.

"I have friends," Jimmy said, hands wrapping around his leather jacket. "Grian and Joel,"

Martyn seemed to be considering something, running the banner through his fingers. "Have you ever felt love, Tim?"

Jimmy was so taken aback that his mouth fell open. Martyn broke his facade to snort a laugh.

"Scott took me on a date-"

"Did you love him?"

"We are not making this about love," Jimmy objected. "You are a heartless coward who abandoned me for the Nether,"

Martyn crossed his arms. "Look where it got me. Where are you?"

"Stop asking rhetorical questions!

"Then we're done here," Martyn said. He crossed his arms and turned around.

Jimmy let out an exasperated sigh and exited the Void. He was standing on Bread Bridge 2 again, earning nothing but lost sleep and a bruised ego.

Another vision flitted past his mind. The winner. The victor was standing in the middle of the fight arena constructed for Skizz and Bdubs' fight. In some flickers, they looked like Ren, and in others, like Martyn.

I've stopped that one, Jimmy thought proudly, watching the vision of Martyn fade away. Soon, it'll be my turn.

The vision of Ren remained, along with two new ones, Scott and Impulse.

Jimmy hesitated, eyes locked on the wisp of Scott. He already won once. Slowly, he grabbed the vision, ensnaring it with magic. He clenched his fist, shattering the possibility.

Impulse… He had come close before. Ren had as well. They could stay in the cards.

His antenna pricked up. Grian was calling his name. Jimmy leaped off the bridge, landing safely in the flooded mansion. His routine fall was interrupted by another pesky vision of someone (was that Grian?) dying from the same plunge.

"Hi," he said, smiling as cheerfully as he could muster.

Grian waved back. "Hey, Jim." By this point, Grian had been worn down by the near-constant death. "Ready to go up?"

Jimmy sighed, shaking his head. "I just came down from up there, you could have sent me a message to stay,"

Grian looked around for Joel, who was running toward them from the direction of the Clockers' base. "Let's beat him," he suggested.

Jimmy and Grian entered the soul sand elevator, popping out in their sky-high base moments later. As Jimmy was wringing out his button-up shirt, Joel flew out of the elevator, carried up by the momentum of charging in. He flopped on the wood floor, sopping wet and catching his breath, but refusing to look exhausted.

Above them towered Bread Bridge 2.0, along with their incarnation of the Skynet. Grian led the climb, then Joel, then Jimmy. They had been in this order since the beginning of the second Bread Bridge.

This morning, however, something was different. The water could have been a bit more wet than normal, or they were a bit less sure-footed than usual, but first Grian, then Joel, fell off the ladder with twin shrieks of horror. Jimmy stood there, clutching the sides as the death messages appeared. When his knees unlocked, he headed the short trek back down.

"What was that for?" he demanded as Grian and Joel returned.

The two shared a look. "We slipped," Joel said.

"How did you both do it at the same time?"

Grian's fingers tensed. "Does that matter? It happened,"

Jimmy looked back at the ladder. "Prove it, then,"

They were back at the bottom. Grian began climbing again. "I wasn't concentrating," he yelled. "I am now, so it's a bit harder to fall to one's death!"

Jimmy drew his bow. Just fire a shot off to the side. Spook him a bit, make him prove his point.

Joel didn't bat an eye as Jimmy drew back his bow and fired a shot at Grian. Despite how bad the morning might have been going for Grian and Joel, Jimmy somehow managed to have worse luck. His arrow went straight in between Grian's wings. As any person would react, Grian jumped off the ladder as soon as the arrow landed. He unfurled his wings, almost in slow motion, but it wasn't enough to slow his fall.

There was a long, awkward silence after Grian's body disappeared. Joel shrugged and adjusted his glasses to be in a more convoluted position.

Grian charged out of the base, holding a sword with a maniac expression in his eyes.

"How do you like accidentally killing someone?" he spat.

It was probably supposed to be a feint of some kind, but just as Jimmy had accidentally shot Grian, Grian had, for some reason or another, slashed Jimmy across the chest. And then again. And then Jimmy died and woke up in his bed, the feeling of dwindling time pounding in his chest.

"It was an accident," he whispered. He slipped out of the bed.

Grian, up at the top, was talking with Joel.

Jimmy felt like avoiding them. But looking at his time, this would be his last day standing. He made his way back up to the duo.

"I need more time," he said.

Grian nodded. "We can try and kill more people," he said. Jimmy was sure he didn't imagine the desperation in his voice.

Jimmy shrugged. It was worth a shot, at the very least. "What about TIES? Or the Mean Gills?"

"Let's go for it,"

The morning turned to afternoon and passed by. Jimmy had been hit with a boogey kill. Respawning, he checked his time.

I'm supposed to be dead. Jimmy realised he must have bent the rules unconsciously, unlike the other times he had fudged his luck.

He was still dangerously low. Later, less than 10 minutes from death, he convinced Bdubs to give him some time. It still wouldn't do.

"Should we try TNT dropping again?" Joel suggested. "I have a lot to spare,"

Jimmy didn't catch the premonitions trying to warn him, too caught up in his own survival. "That sounds great!" he said.

They were up on Bread Bridge 2.0 again, the trip up safer than the last. It wasn't the highest part, either. Just enough for the TNT to hit terminal velocity, then BANG! Off went a few hapless competitors.

Grian pushed one in the direction of the Clocktower. It missed.

"They're moving to the right," Grian called. Joel bridged out slightly, then -

"Let Jim do it, he needs the time," Grian suggested. Joel handed Jimmy a handful of TNT. Gauging the distance, Jimmy threw it as hard as he could.

There was a moment of silence where Jimmy could only hear the rushing wind. It must have been the wind, then, that caused him to overbalance forward. Falling was not much of a problem for Jimmy. Listeners were so light that even if they fell, the slightest breeze could blow the wind back into their sails.

Jimmy wasn't a Listener anymore. He fell like the explosives he had just thrown, tumbling head over heels down toward the mountaintop below. At least the last thing he saw was his best allies staring down at him from what felt like a mile away.

Terminal velocity.

<Jimmy S. hit the ground too hard.>

And that was it. Just like that, everything that Jimmy had worked for had been undone. He opened his eyes. Instead of the Void, he was just a ghost. Cursed to watch his latest endeavor turn against him.

"Why can't I do anything right?" Jimmy asked himself. "Is it because I try too hard? Even the universe has got to take pity on a guy like me once in a while, right?"

The universe did not take pity. The seconds ticked onward. Jimmy's clock was ticking into the negatives now, but he couldn't bring himself to remove it or put it in his pocket.

Jimmy watched his own funeral. He watched Skizz sacrifice himself.

I could have been him. I could have given up nobly. I could have helped Grian and Joel.

The feeling was made worse as Joel made one final stand in Jimmy's honor. Joel had practically broken over Jimmy's death, it seemed.

Joel and Skizz did not join Jimmy in watching the rest of the players. There was a chance that Jimmy was the only one who could exist in this state, since the others were less magically gifted.

The next day, Jimmy didn't even bother watching until the final three were left.

"That's strange. That shouldn't have…"

Scott was there, standing with Ren and Impulse. He looked resolute, while Impulse looked determined, and Ren simply looked scared.

Scott was the one in charge. He suggested a fight just like the one Scar and Grian had so long ago. Impulse had agreed. Ren stayed silent.

And then, there it was. A flicker of green clothing. What seemed to be Martyn was hovering right next to Ren.

Ren's hand drifted to the flag around his waist. His other reached for his weapons.

Oh no. That's the -

Jimmy's thought was never finished, as Ren struck, killing Scott near instantly and charging after Impulse. He watched, mouth open, as Ren dispatched Impulse just as fast. Ren was celebrating now, and he wasn't even hiding the fact that he could see Martyn.

It was a good thing that Jimmy sent down the classic, victor-killing lighting instead of letting him run out of time, it seemed.

Ren appeared in the Void, Jimmy travelling there as soon as the lightning struck.

"Hi, Ren," he said cheerfully, just as he had done to Pearl.

The Deviant was looking around, unable to comprehend what was happening. Ren was still covered in blood and slightly smoking from the lightning, in fact. "Hi," he said.

"You've won. Congratulations," Jimmy offered his hand for a shake. Ren took it delicately, his clawed fingers shaking.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

Jimmy made sure his speech went better than with Pearl. "It means you get to keep the memories of the game," he said.

Somehow, Ren didn't seem to be surprised that his memory would be wiped. Weird.

Ren brushed a bit of ash off of his ear. "And then I get to go home. Are there any other memories I might need?"

"Yeah, there actually are. There were three similar games before this. You also get the memories of those," Jimmy said. How does Ren keep guessing what I'm going to say?

Ren nodded. He seemed uncomfortable. "Can I go home now? I have things to do,"

Jimmy gave a thumbs up. Ren was much easier to work with than Pearl, but much more confused.

As Ren was sent back to the Hermits, Jimmy sighed in relief. There are better things to do now.

Jimmy really wanted to see one outcome, if it was possible.

Chapter Text

One month in the future

Lizzie had possibly done a few things she might have regretted.

She remembered the Ocean Empire's destruction, but before that, there was nothing. Lizzie had arrived on Imperia, then she woke in the smoldering destruction of an empire she didn't know. There was a ring on her finger as well - probably important - although the engraving on it had been scrubbed away by sand. Her long hair was matted in what was once a braid.

Lizzie sat up. A book fell off of her chest. Picking it up revealed a letter stuffed between the pages. The scroll invited her to a game.

Sounds fun. I wonder if anyone I used to know will be there, Lizzie thought. It was a strange feeling to know that she had friends, they had memories of a time she didn't even know existed.

She arrived one week later, to faces she should have remembered.

…

Jimmy looked further.

Two months in the future

Lizzie regretted quite a lot. She regained her memories, at least. They had come back to her slowly over the course of the prior month.

It was a mild summer's night. Secret Tasks had finished up for the week, and she was going to pay a visit to Scar.

Scar was eccentric, outside of the narrative forcing him to be evil. Still, he was the only one who could do this certain favor for Lizzie.

"Scar?"

Scar opened the door to his trading post. "Hi, Lizzie," he said. There was a melancholy to his voice that hadn't been there when they had first met.

"I need you to do something for me," she said, choosing her words carefully.

Scar nodded. "What is it? I can do quite a lot, y'know,"

Lizzie pulled out her life totem. "Can you fix this?" she asked.

"It's cracked," Scar said. He gently took the totem from her. "I can probably fix it, but this was a really bad time for this to happen,"

She nodded. "It was just like that one day, I don't know why,"

Scar spread his wings. "I swear, Lizzie, this promise won't be affected by whatever the Secret-Keeper throws at me," he said grimly. "Cross my heart and hope to fly,"

"Thank you for this, Scar. You're a good friend,"

…

But… who dies first? That totem is an omen of death. Not just a first-out, but a permadeath.

Three months in the future.

Lizzie had her totem temporarily fixed by Scar. He said it was good for one more death, which was good, since she was on her last life. They hadn't told Grian. Scar still had it, since technically no one had to hold onto their totems but did so anyway.

She was in the End with Scott. It was rather interesting that they had an End gateway island, since the Watchers didn't really like Overworlders encroaching on their territory.

"Be careful," Scott warned, "This is the Void,"

"You think I don't know?" she muttered.

Scott sighed. "I'm scared, you're scared, I'm just trying to get a balance," he said.

Lizzie thought that was fair.

There were larger things to worry about at the moment. An Enderman was watching her.

Yes, yes yes! Jimmy thought, a moment of weakness causing his mind to slip into competition again. Get her. I want to win.

The Enderman attacked. Lizzie drew her sword, attempting to slash it. She wasn't to good at combat, but it was the standard in a death game.

Scott rushed forward, trying to hit it, but the Enderman knocked him backward and tumbling head over heels. He was hurt, but Lizzie was preoccupied.

They fought on, Lizzie switching to a more defensive tactic as she grew weaker.

Scott began to stir, pushing himself to his feet.

The Enderman managed to land one more hit on Lizzie, despite her shield. Lizzie overbalanced, falling backward.

Scott tried to get up, catch her, but his wings wouldn't move and he could only watch as she fell down, down, down.

<Lizzie S. fell out of the world>

Thunder rumbled in the Overworld. In Scar's outpost, the totem belonging to Lizzie exploded, sending Scar ducking under his workbench for cover.

He brought his cracked communicator screen up to his face.

She can't be dead, Scar thought. She can make it. I know it.

Jimmy returned to the present. The Void faded away, leaving him sitting as a ghost below the clocktower.

He laughed. "Oh, it finally happened! I'm not first! At least, in the future I won't be!"

I didn't know I could control events like that. So much could have gone better if only I knew earlier.

Without a thought spared for Lizzie, Jimmy respawned back in the Cod Empire.

Fall was in full swing, and the abandoned buildings had been filled with leaves in his absence. Jimmy groaned as he picked up a broom and began to sweep.

Last fall, he wasn't even on Imperia yet. He was still happy in the Listener palace on Eremita He was still a Listener back then.

Jimmy finished shoving the leaves off the dock and returned inside, leaning the broom against the wall. He was still the only resident of his Empire, the others still living on the island of New Mezalia.

Jimmy thought it was high time to visit the cemetery there. Although it had originally been created by Joel for when his empire spanned generations, it was now used as a memorial for those who had died during the Rapture.

As he landed, a morose Joel waved to him from where he was sitting on a bench. He sat by Lizzie's headstone every day, not even leading his kingdom anymore. She was one of the many presumed-dead Emperors, even though Jimmy knew she was alive. Lizzie had appeared to fill in for Pearl one week of the previous Game, the High Watchers fishing her out of somewhere and taking her out just as fast.

Jimmy definitely wasn't thinking about what would happen to Lizzie in roughly seven months.

There was a memorial statue in the middle of the garden, the base engraved with the names of the lost Emperors.

The list of names was long, to say the least. Sausage. Lizzie. Shelby. Pix. I could have probably helped them, but it's too late. They're dead now.

He drew a flower out of his inventory bag and set it down on the statue.

Jimmy didn't really know what to do afterward, so he just bowed his head and left. Joel didn't move or look at him.

Scott waved him down as he was exiting the graveyard. "Jimmy! I found this weird little book a few days ago. Do you know what it could be?"

Jimmy was then handed a leather bound diary, slightly warped by seawater. He flicked through it.

Scott did a lot, I guess, Jimmy thought. "Interesting," he said. "I think I have one of those, gimme a sec,"

"You don't need to show me, I have a few more. They mention you, so I'm assuming you have at least one,"

Jimmy continued to feign ignorance. "Woah! What are they about?"

Scott laughed. "Not to get your hopes up, but it's a death game. You died pretty creatively, from what the books say,"

"Yeah, I have a habit of that," he said.

Scott nodded. "I was wondering, maybe you and I could go on a date in the near future? Our last one was very enjoyable,"

He goes back to formalities when awkward. Nice.

"Sure," Jimmy said.

Scott looked pleased with the answer. "I'll see you back here sometime," he said. "I'll be staying here for a while,"

Jimmy spread his wings and flew off into the late afternoon sky. He kept going inland, even as his weak-muscled wings failed and he was forced to walk again. The Stronghold was waiting.

Fwhip's castle that housed the trapped Stronghold was crumbling, and Jimmy had no doubt that all the traps were safe once again.

As he ducked inside, the darkness seemed comforting. His eyesight was getting better, anyways. Perks of being a Watcher, probably.

Indeed, all of the traps were decayed into nothing. The water had evaporated and the lava had cooled, leaving not much in the way of the End portal. Jimmy reached the room very quickly and jumped in.

As he reformed in the End, the strength seemed to come back to Jimmy's wings. He flew onto the top of the island, where a Watcher was waiting for him. When they spoke, it wasn't in the slanted, prophetic style that Jimmy was used to. The High Watcher used normal speech, if not a more archaic version.

"Hello, James," they said, "I am Xenith, the eldest High Watcher."

Jimmy shuffled nervously. "You can just call me Jimmy," he said, "No formalities needed,"

They nodded. "Continue referring to me as the Watcher, names are sacred,"

Jimmy didn't want to ask them what that meant. He was a bit on the edge now, and the High Watcher's behavior was not exactly normal. Jimmy had met normal Watchers before, like BigB or Grian, although neither of them were normal in the regular sense.

"What am I doing here?" he asked. Is this what it feels like to win? Did Grian channel this energy each time a victor was crowned?

The Watcher seemed to cock their head in his direction. Sideways, like a bird. The eyeless mask they were wearing didn't help.

"You are here to replace another. One who has failed his duties a multitude of times. One who ran out of second chances long ago."

Jimmy tried to swallow. His throat was too dry. "Was it Grian?" he choked out.

The Watcher nodded silently. "Will you finish his contract?" they asked.

A scroll was summoned. Jimmy took it in his hands, and without skimming it over, signed at the bottom.

"You may return to the Overworld. And remember… We are Watching. We are hungry."

As soon as he was behind an End pillar, Jimmy sprinted for the portal. He fell through, landing on his bed and throwing up immediately. Not because of the dimensional change, but due to the sheer amount of regret sweeping through his body.

When he finished dry heaving onto the floor, Jimmy sat up and stretched his wings out. He felt more powerful, and his magic must have grown as well. Maybe, his regret wouldn't be worth it in the end.

Two days later - Ocean Empire ruins

Scott finally got the date he wanted. They flew over to the archepelago together, soaring through the sea caves and seeing who was faster. (It was Scott.)

They sat on a cliffside, looking towards New Mezalia. The palace had been rebuilt, but Jimmy could see the fracture line faintly running across the giant dome.

"It's nice here," he said.

Scott nodded. He was braiding a crown out of willow branches and poppies. "Joel's been rebuilding well," he agreed.

Jimmy laid back in the grass, stretching his wings. Scott finished his crown and placed it on his own head.

"Are you ever going to return to Rivendell?" Jimmy asked.

Scott sighed, his whole demeanor changing. He seemed to sink into himself as he pondered the question.

"I don't believe so," he said.

Jimmy tilted his head slightly. Stop being like that Watcher, just be normal, Jimmy!

Scott lay down next to Jimmy, spreading his own wings. "There's a lot of history there, to be completely honest. The city was my life's work. My brother destroyed it. He's back to being a normal person. Jimmy, I can't just move on from that,"

"I understand," Jimmy said, being completely honest. "I wouldn't go back home if they paid me in Netherite!"

Scott snorted, cheering up slightly. "Maybe you'd take a little," he teased.

"Maybe. But I've never held any before!" Jimmy relented.

Scott began making another crown. "Jimmy, most other Emperors managed to get their hands on at least a trinket gilded in it! How are you just like that?"

Jimmy fished around in his inventory bag for a second before pulling out a fish charm made of gold. "I've got one half of the Netherite recipe right here," he said, laughing.

Scott plucked the charm away from him and examined it. "Jim, this is a fish. Not Netherite,"

Jimmy grabbed it back. "One day," he swore, "I'll have all the riches I want, no matter the type!"

The crown Scott was making got finished, landing unceremoniously on Jimmy's head. He pushed it up out of his eyes.

Back to the Rivendell conversation. "Have you talked to Xornoth recently?" Jimmy asked.

Scott's ears pricked up. "I saw him in the palace. We didn't interact. He's planning to go to the Nether to make amends there, I believe,"

"Didn't he already do enough damage there?" Jimmy asked sarcastically.

Scott shrugged. "Shrub's a bit dead, I don't think she'd mind him in her home," he said.

"Right," Jimmy said. He didn't really know how to follow up to Scott's bluntness. "Do you want to head down to the sea? I'm learning how to swim,"

"Sure," Scott agreed. "What will I do when you drown, though?"

Jimmy ignored the jab, spreading his wings and diving down to the small beach at the bottom of the sea stack. In a more perfect world, the beach wouldn't exist. Since Imperia didn't exist in a perfect world anymore, the sea had retreated during the Rapture, revealing the beach and a number of its kin.

Jimmy slowed his descent by popping his wings open and gliding, while Scott straight up dove into the ocean head first.

Scott resurfaced, looked at the dry Jimmy, and flapped his waterlogged wings at his date.

Jimmy shrieked in surprise. Scott laughed.

"I'll get you for that," Jimmy yelled, laughing.

Scott dodged the splash Jimmy tried to send at him. "You'll have to catch me first," he called.

Jimmy ran after him, making his way through the water as best as he could.