Archive of Our Own ^beta

Grian would've never believed - not even for a second - that he'd reach the point where he would start to miss the desert.

Well, start wasn't the word he'd particularly use. Grian had probably been thinking it for a while now, even if he didn't quite realise it.

Being trapped in an entrapped area even smaller than the previously claustrophobic world border of 3rd Life was torture. It felt crowded, with too much going on in a space with such small boundaries. Sickening was another word that came to mind; everything felt like too much and too little at the same time, he had no idea how to navigate the intense feeling.

How he'd gotten here, along with every other player in their world, he had a hunch. It always came down to Them. Every out of world experience was always because of Them, and this time, it had the distinct mark of misery scorned into the walls.

The way Grian remembered it all was fuzzy. The end of the server came about quicker than he'd wanted, and he and Scar were left to fight to the death.

He could clearly remember the sand sticking to the tears that rolled down his face. Striking his most loyal ally over and over and over again was something that clung obsessively to his mind, latching on like an immortal parasite.

The man that stood in front of him had made up every minute of his life there and being forced to face him in a ring that was built by their own hands felt beyond cruel. He would never wash away the blood that coated his palms, nor would he ever undo the memory of Scar's grimaced expression carved into his knuckles.

After the fight that crowned him the spiteful victor, he'd made the easy decision to join his friends, finally ending the barrage of blood lusting thoughts that felt like they were ripping his head apart. And for the second he did, he awoke and rose off of the sandy floor and caught sight of the man that had, just seconds prior, been at the mercy of his hands.

His hands that could only hurt. His hands that could only fail and bring pain. His hands that were forever stained with the guilt of what he had to do.

He didn't pause to take note of the gold shine caught out of the corner of his eye and passed out again into a bittersweet darkness.

The next thing he knew he was waking up in a horribly dark room, lined with concrete walls that felt empty and uninviting. The room was large in scale, but somehow more nauseating than being in one of Scar's coffins - how he sold those was still a mystery to Grian, one that he used to smile fondly at.

The walls were a cold grey, not a single crack in the walls, not a single imperfection. The place was either new or enchanted to stay the same for the rest of eternity. Though by the pulsing thrum of magic that reverberated around the room, Grian easily deduced the latter to be correct.

Lines of medieval looking torches sat in stands fixed on the walls, illuminating the room to some degree. The floor was freezing and unwelcoming - the complete opposite of how the Red Desert had felt.

(The memory of burning sand and warm air was scorched into his memory so hard that he felt the lingering sun sitting on his shoulders, though, now it felt different.)

The room was completely empty and devoid of, well, anything. No echoing footsteps, no distant murmurs, only- soft breathing...?

A slow look around filled Grian with confusion that sent his head spiralling dizzily. Directly behind him were thirteen unsettlingly familiar faces lying unconscious on the ground.

Scar's sunburnt body laid adjacent to where Grian was sitting, his legs sprawled and frozen to the floor. The sight of his bruised face filled his heart with something akin to dread, and his hand trailed over the marks alike to a ghost - too scared that a single touch would leave bloody fingerprints across the man's cheeks.

Taking a deep breath and retracting his trembling hand, he slumped in place. Reluctantly knowing the beings who trapped him in this chamber, he knew that the others would soon awake. Having a baker's dozen corpses laid across Their sacred floors wasn't Their style. At least, he hoped that still rung true.

However, he couldn't say he didn't stop breathing when he thought Scar's chest was devoid of movement. He shook his head and focused on the subtle twitch of the man's fingers, reminiscent of how he had slept in the desert; he was always moving in some way or another.

While he waited impatiently for something to happen, he took a more in-depth scan of the walls. Embedded in the concrete were various carvings that were almost impossible to see due to the dimmed lighting - a perfect spawning ground for mobs. Realistically, Grian knew they wouldn't spawn; it was, again, not Their style.

Looking closer, he tried to make out the carvings, trying to make some sense of where he was, if they even gave some hint of their location. In an unreal split second, Grian's gut dropped when he recognised the intricate symbols, his eyes finally adjusting to the low light enough.

In the middle of all the complicated markings and runes, he saw a broken rectangle, the corners detached. Bile rose in his throat and he almost gagged. The symbol hid in the intricacies, looking like a twisted optical illusion or an animal's camouflaging.

It wasn't like he didn't expect the symbol - he obviously knew who had took him - but to see the official mark of the Watchers made his stomach drop into his feet. They were beings who Watched, who Stared, who Saw everything, and they were probably Watching his every move now, gleefully Observing his disturbed reactions.

The creation of the server wasn't something that was physically possible for Grian, at least, not on his own. He'd needed help from someone or something that knew coding better than they knew how to breathe. The Watchers were among the first to come to mind, and with trusted bonds with Them in the past, he'd called for a reunion to make his dream a reality.

He originally remembered Them being naturally mischievous at heart, acting like young children. Playing pranks, enjoying fun antics, not knowing boundaries in a way that just came off as naive instead of malicious. Grian had always compared Them to underdeveloped children - toddlers with control over the building block of the universe.

Admittedly, when he put it like that along with the knowledge he now held of Them now, he knew he shouldn't have underestimated them.

When he had gone back to Them with an ask for help with coding, something felt off, odd, misplaced.

They'd... changed. It was almost like They had matured, in a way - if that was something They could even do. It was like they'd evolved since he had last seen Them.

At the time, Grian had shook off all worries and gone forward with his ask. He wasn't going to back out just because of some uneasy gut feeling, so he'd requested his idea. Thankfully, and unsurprisingly, They'd enthusiastically agreed to the prospect of being in control of a game, like a referee. Perhaps it had taken Them back to Their time on the Evolution SMP, and how much fun it had been back then.

When the game had begun, Grian was ecstatic at the idea of enjoying a fun premise of a game with his friends, some he had not seen in years. But when he had led that creeper towards Scar and blown him up, something in Grian pulsed, and he knew something was different.

He had initially intended the game to be fun, to be painless, just a fun game to play. But with the sight of his friend falling to the floor and disappearing into a puff of smoke, everyone's faces horrified, Grian's body was suddenly wracked with guilt.

in that moment, he tried to think of why it had felt so bad to create such chaos. He had done it before, hadn't he? He knew Scar from...? Where did he know him from?

He had lost his memories of a life he lived before, and all that he could remember was the beginning of the game. He knew something had been misinterpreted, and he attempted to contact the Watchers that night while Scar was asleep, but the single mention of their Contract made his chest burn and his throat feel shredded.

He couldn't get the words out. He couldn't speak of the Contract. Without the mention of it, he couldn't contact them to ask them what the hell they had done. What the hell had they changed? Why the hell couldn't he remember anything barring the game?

He turned to Scar to look at the explosion scar that had seared into his friend's back, and he knew with a horrifying realisation that he was trapped, and the Watchers had been the cause of it.

All of this combined knowledge of the Watchers was why Grian's gut had twisted at the sight of Their symbol.

Towards the end of Evo, the Watchers had shown cruelty, again resembling children in the way that They didn't even recognise the harm They were doing. It was something that had made Grian feel uneasy, even back then, but again, he had shrugged it off.

He now realised that shrugging off an uneasy feeling about gods that could destroy the universe with a single thought was idiotic. Hindsight was always 20/20, of course.

The fact that Grian was now trapped in an enclosed room with no visible escape, reminiscent of the shrines the Watchers would leave in Evo, did not show promise for safety.

Just as he gathered his thoughts together, a large door that he hadn't been able to make out in the low light lifted up into the ceiling, dragging out ear-piercing scraping sounds as it ascended. A daunting feeling filled Grian's chest as something stepped through the doorway towards Grian, who remained the only one awake.

He knew what it was. What else could it have been?

The Watcher that emerged finally stopped in front of him, looking down and towering over him. With something to look at properly, Grian noticed that the colours looked slightly off. It was only then that he saw a pearly sheen of a barrier in between him and the god. Somehow, even with something blocking an attack or physical touch, he didn't feel the slightest of comfort or relief.

A booming sound echoed throughout the empty room, and Grian realised that the sounds emanating were words. They twisted their way from Galactic to a foreign understanding of Common, the accent unrecognisable. The words worked their way under Grian's skin, and he felt the inexplicable urge to claw his skin apart to get rid of the feeling.

The Watcher then went on to explain that the game had ended, and that Grian and his players essentially served as trophies of pride for hosting an incredibly entertaining game.

They explained that they had all been, for lack of a better word, cloned, and that their 'main selves' had gone back to their home servers, still with memories of '3rd life'.

After letting Grian sit with this new information for less than a second, They lifted a glimmer of air towards Grian that reflected exactly like a mirror, and suddenly Grian got the first glimpse of what he looked like in a long while.

The golden shine he had seen earlier in the corner of his eye made sense as he stared at the golden marks that were spread on like war paint but looked tattooed into his skin. His face also had light green bruise-like smudges patched all around his eyes and mouth.

"The marks of a winner," the Watcher had echoed out. "Gold for your crown, and green as it was your most fulfilling life; getting three kills as a green life, while being illegal, was entertaining. We watched it happen with glee."

Grian stared helplessly at his own reflection.

He lifted a hand to touch his forehead in hopes of comprehending what he was seeing. Moon shaped horns protruded out of his forehead, curling and grey in colour. They were rough and felt wrong. They radiated a type of magic that made him retract his fingers instantly.

His eyes had turned permanently green, just as they had been majority of the game, and his scleras were no longer white, but a darker grey. Freckles that had darkened in the sun had turned snow white.

Pausing, Grian also lifted his top lip to find canine teeth pointed so sharply they almost stuck out of his mouth, biting at the soft flesh of his bottom lip.

Finally, his wings. He twisted to look back at the feathered appendages. As they had been the whole game, they were a dulled white, inspired after swan wings - though he was never the one to choose what form his wings took. However, inspecting closer, the bottom row of feathers glinted purple in the low light around.

He looked down to his torso as well. What had been bare and uncovered by his red poncho, had arrow shaped golden marks and green bruises, matching the marks his face. He lifted up the poncho to reveal the arrows marking all the way up to his shoulders. They shimmered in a way that seemed unnatural, but he supposed that was always how They worked.

He nervously looked behind him again to see that no one else looked different to how they looked in the game, their clothes and scars all the same, it was just him that had changed.

He glanced over to Scar for a moment longer and hoped with all the energy in his being that he wouldn't look differently at him.

Though that hope was quickly discarded, as he was sure there wasn't a single universe where Scar would think lowly of him, not with the experience they had had together. Grian almost smiled at the thought.

As he avoided the stare of the Watcher, it left, its form incomprehensible yet recognisable to Grian's mind despite not looking. Its dark purple cloak trailed behind catching dust like a child dragging their blanket through mud.

The concrete door slammed shut, causing the floor to jump with the force of the crash. Grian's ears rung.

This seemed to be the key to waking up the other members.

One by one they all rose and Grian explained each time that he would elaborate the situation once everyone was awake.

Thankfully, Scar had been the first to awake after Grian, questioning his marks, and smiling sadly at Grian's only answer of, "I won".

As they all awoke Grian noted that all of them varied in eye colour, everyone having either red, yellow or green eyes. Grian quietly sighed in relief at Scar's bright red eyes, filled with life once again.

Grian patiently explained everything about their situation that he knew and soon enough they were left to themselves. Grian knew he couldn't tell them some things, but he said what he could.

They entertained each other with the few items that remained on their bodies. Bdubs had his clock that Impulse looked blankly at before turning away. Scar had two leads that floated towards two of many empty patches of air which leaked with magical energy - everyone could feel it. Martyn had an axe he only put down and turned away from. Grian had a crown he didn't recognise. Etcetera, etcetera.

Time went slow. They never got hungry, didn't need to relieve themselves, they only needed sleep. Everyone was plagued with nightmares, and it was often that people were woken up to a strangled scream, a different voice every time.

The Watchers came and went. They gave information and boundaries on what they could and couldn't do. There were several, but they never saw the one that had introduced Grian to what this room was, and what it meant.

The rules were repeated robotically every time. The Watcher read them out like they weren't talking about actual people's lives, and it made every single player's blood boil each time. In a childish response that they had all found to be quite cathartic, they would all screech and shriek in anger and rebuttals, even if they knew it did nothing but irritate the being in front of them.

But honestly, that was the main reason they continued most of the time. Seeing a hint of emotion from a supposed 'unwavering god' made them feel like they'd accomplished something.

However, every now and then, the Watcher would respond with a demand for Grian to 'control his dogs' that made his eyes darken and his body shake in anger. Everyone else would yell and whine louder to irritate the unseen ears of the being before They could say anything else.

The first time that had happened, Scar later told him that his scleras had bled completely black, and the marks on his face and torso had glowed a vibrant red in his anger. Grian had frozen in shock, lifting his poncho to see the marks just as shadowed as the rest of his body, imagining them glowing like a bioluminescent animal.

A couple months into their imprisonment, the patches of concentrated magic that had been accumulating slowly since their arrival sputtered and lit up unsurely. They had all watched the glowing spots dance around until something burst from the light. Out from the illumination came several different animals, all bounding and backing up in panic for a moment.

Scar and Grian's llama, Pizza, came strolling easily over to the two, an excited Mr Bubbles flying hot on his tail. The two mobs circled around them for a while before settling in to bundle up by their side, making Scar chuckle fondly, petting them both in disbelief that they had made their way to them.

Along with the two, about three dogs came out and bounded excitedly towards Joel, knocking him over backwards as he gleefully bathed in the massive wolfdogs that licked at his face and jumped all over him.

Finally, a fluffy cow came sauntering out of the light, a highland one to be specific. It slowly looked around to scan the players before calmly walking over to Jimmy and Scott, who looked delighted to see their cow again. It wandered for a few minutes before laying in front of the two, licking and nuzzling at the hands that petted its snout.

It became a nightly affair to see Scar, Grian and Pizza cuddled up together with Mr. Bubbles flying circles around them and buzzing softly while they slept, sometimes landing on top of one of them to have a small nap. The same went for Joel, Jimmy and Scott with their own respective animals.

From that point on, the nights got more bearable. But simultaneously, it soured. The appearance of the animals reminded them all of their want to leave. Their lives of competition, battles and domestic homes were a well missed thing, even despite all the death and destruction. They all wanted to go back.

They'd all tried to find ways to escape, but nothing ever worked. They tried physical force, hybrid magic, mental manifestation - that was Scar's idea ("It was worth a try!" "Scar, when has that ever worked?" "You know in SpongeBob where Patrick goes: "open sesame" to the door?" "Yeah, but that didn't work." "Oh, yeah.") - and pleading to the Watchers.

Grian watched the others do that last one, he didn't dare get on his knees for beings that locked them in cages like they were canaries in a damn coal mine.

It didn't work anyway, and none were surprised.

Bdubs kept track of the days with his clock, the mechanic having been added on by the Watchers, probably. Time almost become meaningless after what he had said was a few months.

Luckily, that's when something new happened.

On one unassuming day, the whole group sat up eagerly as they watched a square border the exact same size as theirs begin to manifest on the other side of the room from them. It seemed to fill up another section of the room, with the two borders being only about five metres apart.

The box glowed for approximately nine minutes before bursting into a blinding light. When they were all able to open their eyes, their vision poisoned with black spots, they saw people. Duplicates of themselves, and a few new people that Grian recognised in the back of his mind, though couldn't name. There were seventeen people in the box, three more than their own. A set of galactic letters began to form on the bottom of the floor right next to the barrier, acting just like a museum label.

At the beginning of their entrapment, they'd discovered a similar label in front of their box, though theirs was in common letters, labelled 3rd Life. They really were trophies to the Watchers.

The letters of the label stopped scrambling and finally stabilised, they translated with a reality warping glitch to 'Last Life'. A small part of him hoped that with the name, this game would officially be the last, but knowing the Watchers, it wasn't.

Grian could see his counterpart laying on his front, wearing more layers than him, as well as a lot of bandages. His skin wasn't marked gold, and his wings were an albatross' white with brown, no purple in sight.

Grian's heart shrivelled a bit to see Scott's counterpart waking first. He saw the marks on his skin, different to his in both shape and colour, his being a silvery-blue and more rounded than pointed, and his own green marks covering his forehead, matching the colour of his left eye, his other being blue.

His own horns were curled downturned and pearly white in colour, and he had a pair of blue transparent dragonfly wings limp at his side. Scott's teeth, from what Grian could see with the man's mouth slightly open, were also pointed like his.

They resembled most of Grian's own 'winner features' - minus some that were specific to Grian's personal Watcher hybrid nature - which made the twist in his gut scramble further. He and Scott seemed to lock eyes and an unsure look was thrown at him, then a bewildered and mind blown one thrown at his doppelgänger.

The 'new' Scott looked around at his own game members confusedly, and now that Grian was really looking, Scott was shaking like a leaf. He wasn't surprised, Scar had once told him that from the point where he had awoken, Grian had been shivering and hadn't stopped for a few days. Grian hadn't noticed though, it was just another odd thing that occurred in this reality warping room.

Scott tried to open his mouth to say something, and only a chick-like peep came out - triggering something ingrained into Grian's hindbrain - before the unwelcome sound of a concrete door lifted and let through the same Watcher that had introduced Grian to the life he'd be living for the foreseeable future.

It repeated the words Grian had been told when he first arrived, the ones that the other players from his game were hearing for the first time. This time, it was repeated so much more emptily in comparison to how Grian had told them, filled with nothingness instead of sympathy.

Grian tuned out most of the talk when he realised that no new information was coming up. His vision bee-lined for his fellow winner. Scott wasn't injured and had most of the green features that Grian held. A woman Grian distantly recognised was laying right next to where Scott previously was, reminiscent to how Grian and Scar were positioned.

He hoped that this would be a recurring theme for future winners, because if they had an ally or friend to be with, it made the silence so much more bearable.

Grian saw the disbelief in Scott's face when he was shown the 'mirror' and imagined that he must've looked much the same when he was shown.

Speaking of himself, Grian glanced back over to his Last Life counterpart and noted that he was surrounded quite closely by four people, seemingly Jimmy, Martyn, Impulse, and someone else that he couldn't seem to remember the name of for some reason. The other Scar was laid on his front in the other corner of the room. Grian slumped a bit against his best friend and ally without his notice. He hoped that Scar hadn't been lonely in the second game.

Grian zoned back in properly when the door slammed closed, making the floor jump once again and the room vibrate with the echoes. He caught Last Life Scott's gaze and cleared his throat. "You okay?"

Probably a stupid question for someone who was just left the last one alive in a death game, if those were still the rules.

Scott looked down at Pearl and hesitated with his answer, lucky for him, all of the 3rd Lifers picked up quickly. "They'll all wake up soon, only took a few minutes for us." Cleo assured, using a confident tone that left no room for argument.

Last Life Scott nodded and took hold of his friend's hand, gripping her shakily until they all woke up on their own.

Once they all had, Scott explained the situation as well as he could to his server-mates, and the first Grian, once everyone had gotten over his looks, as well as the fact that there were now two versions of mostly everyone in the same room, continued on for Scott. He filled everyone in on their situation, and answered any inquiries that were sent his way, only a few going unanswered, like when they were going to get out.

Both Grians got talking at one point and were able to talk about the Watchers without anyone knowing about the Contract that started the games in the first place; knowing about the fact that Grian had signed his life away was unnecessary information. Even Scar, who was laying in his Grian's lap, and the other Grian's group - the 'Southlanders' apparently - were none the wiser to what either of them were saying.

Grian had also discovered the names of the new members, and Mumbo, Pearl and Lizzie's names had rolled off his tongue easily, like they were meant to be there.

The first Joel seemed to have a bit of a mental crash after hearing the last woman's voice, as if the last puzzle piece had been found, but didn't quite fit in just yet.

The 3rd Lifers learnt about the 'Boogeyman' role and how it worked, as well as the fact that Scott had directly gone against it, and just went to red, refusing to betray his loyalty.

Both Grians had exchanged a concerned glance at that.

It also turned out that the new group knew about the existence of 3rd Life, but they couldn't remember major details, like who won - though the dots were quickly connected. How everyone acted. And oddly enough, who was on who's team - though, who could blame them? Alliances went up into orbit during the last few days of the game.

They all exchanged details about each other, their games and their experiences, and time passed just as slow as it had before the Last Lifers came about, but it felt less lonely, especially after a few animals entered the newest box. There came a horse that wandered between Grian and Scar, and a small rabbit that hopped happily around Lizzie, Ren and Bigb, only going to Cleo to bite at her.

Life became monotonous again.

Approximately seven months passed before another barrier faded into existence.

The newer group were caught off guard by the wave of light that flooded the room, highlighting every minute detail of people's faces. The first Ren explained that this meant that another game was in play, and that it'd only be a matter of minutes until the players appeared.

As the room shone, interestingly, seven different strings floated aimlessly in the air as if suspended in water. Three were green, two were yellow, and the last two were red.

They flew around as if they didn't know where to go, and a green and a yellow string kept wrapping together before being pulled apart by the other ends. Two other strings, a red and a green, were doing the same thing, though the others ends didn't seem to mind the twisting together, in fact, they seemed to be moving as far away as possible.

Everyone wondered what the strings could mean, and Scar - the 'original' - jokingly suggested that they could be like strings of life. Some laughed at the remark before they all shrugged it off as they continued to watch the strings float around. Scar huffed at the aforementioned green and yellow strings fighting, chuckling when the green string was tugged away by the other end.

"Could it be arguing with itself?" He asked quietly to Grian, snickering. The other huffed and shook his head, amused. They smiled at one another before Scar moved to lean onto Grian heavily, flopping himself over his partner's back, careful to not trap his wings. Grian just glared lightly at him - close contact was the norm, and Scar's dramatic flops onto him never seemed to stop amusing Scar, even despite him doing it at least daily.

The new box sat brightly in the corner of the room, on the right side of the Last Lifers' box, and diagonal to the 3rd Lifers'. Both winners moved to sit as close to the newest enclosure as they physically could, Scar and Pearl following their respective teammates.

The winners felt an intuitive type of protectiveness over the new players, possibly because they had been wordlessly taken to as the leaders of their own boxes. Although perhaps it was knowing the experience of winning a game, and not wanting another player to wake up unsupported and feeling isolated.

The next few minutes passed slowly. They had theorised that the minutes that the players took to appear was a representation for how much time they'd spent in their game. With how the Last Life box had taken nine minutes to appear and knowing that they'd been trapped there for nine weeks, they had a pretty strong feeling about it.

Either that or it was a coincidence, but Bdubs, both of them - the two had been given almost identical clocks - were keeping an eye on the time anyway.

On the cusp of the sixth minute, a bright flash erupted in the room, and Grian vaguely remembered that he should've warned the other group about it, hearing the groans and yelps of surprise. Luckily, most of his group had had their heads down early on.

After a few seconds, just to make sure the light had completely burned out, everyone lifted their heads. 14 people laid on the ground, unconscious, all with strings tied around their pinkies.

Tango and Jimmy were tied together, as well as Grian and Scar, Impulse and Bdubs, Ren and Bigb, Joel and Etho, and Pearl and Scott. Most caught a glimpse of the last pair's string, being withered and almost breaking apart in the middle, looking rough as if it had been caught in a TNT blast.

Though, looking at that pair, everyone instantly caught sight of Pearl - more importantly her extra features. Grian's heart clenched and Scott gripped his Pearl's hand with a force that she winced at, but only for a moment.

Scott was staring unblinkingly at the other Pearl and himself, eyeing the string with suspicion.

Grian, on the other hand, felt something sour in the back of his throat. At some point during the months of having the second group around, he had talked to the new players and rediscovered his sister and the vague memories that attached them so strongly. He could only remember subtle feelings, and he felt horrible that he couldn't recall anything else.

With all that, seeing Pearl with a pair of tall, grey horns poking out from underneath her hood sent a feeling so indescribable through his heart. A low trill voiced in the depth of his chest and Scar moved to wrap himself around Grian even further, moving from his shoulders to his waist, resting his head where his arms were.

From this distance, what he could see were thick, red pointed arrows swiped on Pearl's cheeks like war paint with a giant bruise-like mark of a darker red over her left eye and cheek. Underneath her cape were her beautiful moth wings poking out, just visible enough for him to see the messy fur-like scales that clearly hadn't been preened for weeks.

She slowly began to open her eyes, shifting herself into a sitting position and looking around frantically once she realised where she was. Her eyes were red, fitting the rest of her look, and her scleras were dark enough to be mistaken as black from a distance.

Like clockwork, she opened her mouth, revealing teeth that were defensively bared with sharp fangs, and was briskly interrupted by the deafening sound of a concrete door scraping up into the ceiling. The sound, which had now Pavloved Grian into an instinctual simmer of rage each time it rung, startled Pearl into a fearful silence.

Grian was distantly aware that by now, his scleras were darkening and his green face marks were fading into purple the longer the rage built up. Scar didn't hesitate to move off of Grian's wings long enough to let them flare out, plastering back onto him immediately after. Other than that, he didn't move, content to glare similarly at the figure that began to stroll confidently towards Pearl.

Scott's anger with similarly palpable in the now souring mood of the room, though it was significantly drowned by the fact that he couldn't rip his eyes away from the new Pearl for more than a few seconds.

Pearl took a second to flick her gaze back to her fellow players' unconscious bodies, looking ready to pass out herself.

The Watcher's familiar spiel was recited with as much neutrality as the other two times, though They seemed particularly intimidated by the countless glares that were being shot Their way. However, once finished, They turned to the gold plate of the floor that had finally stopped scrambling, and 'smirked', even without a mouth.

'Double Life' was engraved into the material, and suddenly all the strings were starting to make sense.

They turned to walk out and mistakenly caught Grian's ice cold gaze head on, quickly dropping the smug aura They had been emanating, and walked a slight faster than They had the other two times.

The concrete door fell to the floor with a startling loud bang, and the glares dropped, moving to careful staring at Pearl's shocked figure.

She began to ask various questions, similar to the ones Scott had asked when he arrived, and everyone made sure to reply kindly and patiently. She then went on to explain her game, and what the premise was.

It turned out that Scar was surprisingly close in his earlier guess to what the strings were, representing the bond between pairs, and their literal lifeline. He had the childish urge to stick his tongue out at anyone that doubted him silently but held it together for a bit longer - though, he couldn't help the finger he subtly lifted at Bdubs, grinning at his beyond insulted face.

Eventually, the rest of the players began to awake, groaning at the feeling of the aftershocks of their deaths, just like everyone else had. Fear shot through them in sync but were quickly caught off guard by the sight of their own faces staring back at them.

Notably, Pearl and Scott refused to make eye contact with each other, making Last Life's Scott shift uncomfortably at the sight, still holding onto his Pearl's hand. She was similarly shaken up at the sight of herself, seeing her own double for the first time - she underestimated how weird it felt.

The rest of the Double Lifers looked appropriately uncomfortable with their doubles and triples staring at them, and none spoke for a while, taking in the weird situation.

The rest of the room finally looked away, going on to do their own things and chatting about the newest members. Some laid back down to have a nap, having been woken up by the flash of a new group appearing, the time only 7:28 in the morning.

In the Third Life box, Grian and Scar stayed near the barrier with Skizz and Impulse joining them to make sure the new group were doing alright. Scar joked under his breath about their 'dad instincts' and Grian snickered at it.

Double Life's Grian and Scar, who were a fair distance apart, watched the two with interest, looking conflicted about something the others couldn't put a name to - perhaps it was the sight of a shirtless Scar and Grian, their only cover being their matching ponchos.

Over the next course of hours, they did nothing but talk. None of the Double Lifers talked about the major events of the game, aside from Jimmy bitterly mentioning Scar's arson adventures. It seemed a rough topic to talk about their pairings, for some anyway. Impulse and Bdubs happily shared their journey through the weeks, Joel and Etho looked content while talking about themselves, and Jimmy and Tango were all too pleased to discuss their relationship.

Grian raised an eyebrow at the new Jimmy as he talked about how he and Tango got along incredibly since the start, especially when his Scott had little to no reaction. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised, they wouldn't have known about their marriage in the first game, but he was still internally sceptical. Scar had also nudged him in his thought process, and his eyes told him that he was thinking the same.

They moved on to talk about their shared damage, and Joel was more than happy to give an example by punching Jimmy in the shoulder, laughing as he and Tango exclaimed in surprise. Many joined in on the laughter and the mood of the room lifted, even if for just a moment. Jimmy mentioned that he didn't take damage from the hit, so more experiments began.

People went back and forth hitting Jimmy and asking him and Tango if they were taking damage, and while Jimmy was attempting to run away with a laugh stuck in his throat, they summarised that health damage wasn't possible. After that, Jimmy and Tango moved over to the far side of the barrier to stay out of reach, laughing to each other.

"So, does that mean that if I get stabbed, I'll just keep bleeding, but not lose hearts?" Joel had asked, and Etho had whacked him good-naturedly. They bickered back and forth for a bit while everyone watched, and back in the 3rd Life box, Grian caught sight of Joel staring at the two.

Kindly, Grian waved him over to come sit by him and Scar, welcoming the accompanying dogs with pats on their excited heads. By now, Scar had laid down to lean against Pizza for a nap, Mr Bubbles buzzing around aimlessly, landing comfortably on Grian every now and then. The dogs huffed curiously at the bee before chasing each other around the box and begging everyone for pets and praise.

Joel chuckled as he watched and sat down awkwardly next to Grian. Some people, like Joel, tended to sit alone due to their lack of alliances in their game, but Grian had taken to bringing Joel over whenever he felt the other was looking particularly sorry for himself. They chatted quietly for a bit before Scar woke up and joined in, looking curiously at their doppelgängers in the Double Life box.

"What wings does he have, Grian? I'm trying to figure it out." Scar asked, watching as the other Grian chatted lowly to Martyn, his wings gesturing every now and then. His back was turned so each of them could get a quick glance.

"Mm, they look like lovebird wings, but their shape looks more albatross-y. I didn't know I could do a hybrid of two." He answered before turning back, not wanting to risk anyone catching them staring. Scar hummed.

"Appropriate for him to have lovebird wings, huh, G?" He joked and Grian chuckled, patting his head patronisingly. Joel chuckled at the two, petting one of the dogs that had laid itself completely onto his lap, completely dwarfing him, the canine being a wolfdog specifically. The others came to join in, barking excitedly and settling down next to Joel soon enough.

No one caught the gaze of Pearl's head snapping over, attention grabbed by the sound of the bark. At the sight of Joel's dogs, she slumped over in disappointment and held onto the collar that was clipped onto her belt. Her eyes watered at the thought of Tilly, but she blinked away the moisture before anyone else could see.

The day eventually came to a close, time moving fast with new arrivals, and everyone settled down for bed. Grian forced Joel to sleep with him and Scar that night, and the man didn't protest much, only once for dramatic effect.

They all piled up next to Pizza's exhausted body, all only minutes away from dreamland. Grian made sure that Joel was pulled as close as possible that night, sensing that seeing an alternate version of himself enjoying a truly loyal teammate had gotten to him. Scar wrapped his arms around Grian, a hand at the base of his wings, and said a small goodnight to the two, who were quickly losing the battle against unconsciousness.

Grian smiled into his arms, intertwining one of his legs with Scars', and the other with Joel, making sure that he didn't have to feel as alone as Grian did at the end of his game.

That night, Joel fell asleep peacefully, content to lay in the company he never got to have in 3rd Life.

Life had continued as normal. After the first few nights, the players from Double Life had gotten used to having a scheduled bedtime, and despite a few complaints and claims that they would go to sleep whenever they wanted, everyone gave in pretty quick.

Eventually, animals had popped into existence just like that in the other boxes. Tilly, another highland cow that the two Jimmy's bonded over, and a large cat that every looked an awful lot like Scar's cat from back in their home server.

Afterwards, nothing else really changed.

The three Bdubs continued to keep track of time, each having their own timer that counted from the moment they arrived. Time continued on, desperate to not latch on for too long, waiting impatiently for something to happen. Every day they would all hope that they'd be the last, and that no one would appear next, but they all had a strong feeling that said otherwise.

Within the next few months, they entertained themselves by talking, playing betting games with the clothing and items they had, wondered about the lives their 'true selves' were living. Many spoke of the world they'd been living in before their game begun while the 3rd Lifers listened intently with the wish that they knew the feeling of freedom for only a moment.

People made half-hearted attempts to find a weak spot in the barrier and ram against it, only to get shoved back from the force of the magic. They tried tracing the edges to find any gaps that they could use as a start of escape. They tried begging a Watcher to let them be free before huffing in annoyance at their blank stare, walking away without a hint of emotion.

As time continued, the first group summarised that their long length of entrapment was wearing them down the most, having been there for much longer than the other two groups. Finding comfort in one another seemed to be their last hope, and they were all clinging onto it for dear life.

Nightmares continued to plague every single one of them, at least five people each night spending the rest of the night talking quietly to distract themselves. The winners got nightmares more often for obvious reasons, so were regulars to late night talk sessions.

Pearl and Scott - the soul bonded pair - had eventually found an opportunity to talk at some point, and while their relationship didn't completely mend, the hostility faded away to almost nothing. Perhaps it was due to the fact that escape wasn't even close and putting off an emotional heart-to-heart was inevitable. Perhaps it was due to seeing their counterparts from the second game get along so well. Neither knew.

3rd Life's Scar and Grian often noticed their own soul bonded counterparts looking upsettingly distant from one another, either sitting alone, or with other people as a distraction.

They noticed that the two seemed to have issues with their ears, tugging at the lobes and massaging them. They sometimes clicked their fingers directly next to their eye canals when they thought that no one was watching, seemingly testing their hearing. They never reacted to the noise, but nothing could stop the dullness of their eyes shining for a small second.

It must've been an injury from their game. It wasn't rare, in fact, it would've been weirder if they didn't sustain any injuries; everyone had some sort of mark or scar or physical effect.

Himself and Scar had bright sunburns on their body from where their ponchos couldn't hide the sun's violent rays and had bruises and broken noses from their final fight. Mumbo had an explosion wound on his cheek that was charred black and looked sore to the touch. 3rd Life Ren's neck had a deep scar that made Martyn wince whenever he caught sight of it. Double Life's Jimmy had enderman bite marks that Tango would gently run his sharpened nails over in favour of Jimmy's aggressive itching.

Etcetera, Etcetera. Too many players, and too many injuries to name.

Basically, they were very common, so Grian wouldn't have been surprised if that was how they died, though he wondered what could've deafened them so bad that it blew out their hearing almost completely.

However, conveniently, Mumbo and the three Martyns knew some sign language, and their time was filled in with lessons on how to communicate, everyone joining in. Scar always looked especially thankful for that, but Grian only shrunk more into himself before joining in and repeating the motions with his hands. They filled in their gaps of knowledge with meaningless motions that wouldn't match the common signing translations, but it helped them all get by for the time being. It was also relieving to have a way to communicate when people felt too run down to talk.

Grian - 3rd Life's - felt the exhaustion of his group on a personal tenfold, perhaps on account of being a winner. He often spent his days sleeping for more hours than he had ever been able to and staying close to his closest ally. He'd bring people over with him to sleep as well when he noticed them spiralling into their thoughts a bit too much, and their company was warm and welcome.

When he was awake, he'd scan the entire room to make sure that everyone was okay - some kind of trauma driven compulsion.

Scar often teased him for being a 'mama bird' to everyone, but all that Grian could think about was that he was the one responsible for most of his friends becoming entrapped three times over.

However, he couldn't deny the pride and relief that he felt when he saw the two separated soulmates curled up into each other's arms one morning, eyes puffy and the oversized Jellied cat dozing lazily on top of them. Scar had nudged his arms when he saw it too, and Grian pushed him away, smiling at his quiet cackling.

They hadn't mentioned it to anyone that didn't see, not wanting the two to fall back into their isolating ways, but soon enough, everyone had noticed the lack of tension anyway, so he didn't need to.

Months into the newest group's entrapment, tense bonds slowly unravelled, and their twisted strings loosened into something breathable. It seemed that time did heal all wounds, but they supposed they had nothing better to do with all this waiting.

Finally, after eight months, another barrier appeared.

No one was happy, per se, to see another box appear, but after so much time, some entertainment felt deserved, as unsympathetic as it sounded.

The low light of a new enclosure lit up the room and the clocks begun to count immediately. Someone began to explain to the Double Lifers what would happen with the new box, including the blinding light, but before they could get even halfway through a sentence, the box exploded with life.

To everyone's surprise, the timers only reached around 20 seconds, give or take a few seconds of delay. Every single player was caught off guard, even the first two boxes who had gone through this before. Spots danced aggressively in the players' eyes, and many attempted to blink away the temporary blindness that came with the light.

Everyone felt the familiar surge of magic flush the room like a tidal wave and shivered at the feeling of their code being caressed by the tsunami.

3rd Life's Grian instead flinched at the feeling, his alternate selves doing the same. Something felt different this time, more menacing. What was so different about this game that made the magic corrupt in such a way. An answer sat at the tip of their tongues, but none dared to voice it.

Grian's heart skipped a beat at the hope of something changing, something big. The hope in his chest that had been slowly deflating for all those months burst to life in a flame of something burning hot. He didn't speak of it as he knew that giving the others false hope would only hurt more than help.

With the light having died down, everyone was faced with a familiar sight. Unconscious bodies were sprawled across the floor, and one person was placed front and centre, decorated with extra body enhancements and markings. Martyn.

His face was painted with red marks that were similar to Grian's, while green scale like markings crawled onto his cheekbones and forehead, slightly faded in colour. His horns looked like red pieces of coral that stuck out of a shallow reef, and his ears had been replaced by fins, green at the edges. He also had a thin, fish like tail that faded from green to blue at the end. It wasn't hard to deduce where he was likely based.

He awoke soon enough, and soon Grian was able to catch sight of his sharpened teeth in his slightly agape mouth. His eyes flicked back and forth, trying to catch sight of where he was, and blanked at the sight of everyone, unsurprisingly. They were a deep red with whiter scleras than the others

Just on cue, as always, a Watcher entered, explaining the same thing for the fourth time - surely, They had to get tired of it at some point. Grian took the time to scan over the other players, finding the common injuries that followed people in, and eyeing his own counterpart, wearing a dark leather jacket, for some reason? He seemed to be going with a punk aesthetic if the black ripped jeans and studded belt were anything to go by.

He matched with his Joel and Jimmy, who were lying face down directly next to each other, all in similar styles. Grian almost raised an eyebrow at them before remembering that there was a Watcher in the room.

He also noted the timers that each player had on their person. Some had it wrapped around their neck, others just on their belt, some on their wrists. All of the timers were glitching back and forth from 00:00:00 to 24:00:00. He saw the plaque on the floor reading 'Limited Life'. Limited? Like limited time? A timed game possibly? The clocks would make sense then.

He watched as Martyn begun to look increasingly more panicked as time went on, leaving him shaking as the Watcher took Their leave. He began asking the routine questions while people tried to calm him down.

"Where the hell are we?!" He yelped, staring at his unconscious teammate beside him.

Scar - from Last Life - took to the answer first, swiping his long dark hair behind his ear. "We don't really know. After every death game, we all get put here and the winners get a load of fancy horns and wings for some reason."

"How do we get out?!"

"We can't," Cleo from 3rd Life spoke, "none of us have found ways of escaping so far, and we've tried almost everything."

"The only way we can get out is if the Watchers mess up in some way. There has to be a pattern break. But so far, that hasn't happened." Grian spoke up from beside Scar, again, keeping the information that he felt a change to himself. Scar felt his tension and rubbed his thumb over his shoulder, loosening the muscles.

"...How long until they all wake up, then?"

"Only a few minutes, not long to wait now." Lizzie answered, kicking her legs absently in the air as she laid on her front.

"And hey," 3rd Life Scar spoke up, "see the big blurry patch of air behind you?" Martyn nodded unsurely. "That'll be any animals that you guys were connected to during the game, so maybe you'll get a fun dolphin friend, or something."

"How would it survive without water?"

"I don't know, man. Things can't die here, so maybe it'll swim in the air or something."

"Well, I don't suppose it really matters, I didn't have any dolphin pets. Though, I'm pretty sure Scar - uh, my Scar -had a pufferfish?"

"Then we'll see, but it'll take a couple months for them to appear."

Just then, the others begun to wake. Twin groans rung out from Jimmy and Grian, holding their heads and looking around just as everyone else did. They all looked confused, but Martyn begun to explain before they could blow their tops off with panic.

The first Grian narrowed his eyes. Whenever people woke up, their injuries from death and before didn't tend to affect them too much, at least not to the point where they'd groan as they woke up. He shrugged it off for the moment, counting it towards their specific game mechanics.

But just then, much quicker than any expected, the blurry mass of air took to shaking and preparing to spit out mobs much faster than it had for any other group. This was another thing Grian really wanted to count towards the fast-paced game, but something about his gut was telling him otherwise, though he couldn't figure out specifically why.

"A change in the pattern?" Scar mumbled quietly next to him, apparently following the same path of thought. Grian looked to him and didn't respond, neither confirming nor denying it, not wanting to fill Scar with too much hope just yet.

However, even without confirmation, Scar knew what he meant, and Grian didn't bother to correct him. He just reached over to rest his hand on Scar's fingers twitching as the other intertwined their fingers.

Interrupting their moment, the first mob that was spat out was a pufferfish, just as Martyn had predicted. The newest scar yelled out for her, "Mrs Puffy!" and the new Cleo laughed loudly at his excitement.

Next was a frog that jumped around to Pearl, Bigb and Jimmy, croaking every now and then for their attention. They all recognised the frog immediately and held out their hands, watching as it pounced from palm to palm.

Finally, the last mob came out. In unison, everyone in the room jumped to attention at the sight of a massive ravager leisurely walking out and looking around underneath the fur partly covering its eyesight. The new Grian and Jimmy gasped, the latter moving away as the large creature began to sluggishly saunter over to Grian, the chains on the mob's saddle jingling with its heavy footsteps.

Everyone held their breath nervously before it collapsed heavily onto Grian, promptly licking his face in recognition as he laughed and giggled happily at the sight of it. Everyone slumped in relief and continued to stare at the sight.

"Is that the ravager that killed Jimmy?" Joel asked, astounded. Grian nodded in affirmation as he continued to get harassed by the large and rough tongue of the ravager. Joel huffed in disbelief and went to scratch the mob's head hesitatingly, smiling when the ravager did nothing in response.

"What's their name?" Lizzie asked curiously, and Grian paused.

"Well, I didn't really name her to anything other than my name so it'd count as my kill, but I guess I could name her now?" He said, and people quickly began offering names excitedly, watching as the intelligent creature huffed and purred at certain names, clearly having her own opinion on several of them.

"Taxes!" Lizzie offered amusedly.

"Isn't that what you name one or your dogs?" Last Life Joel asked, raising a critical eyebrow, and laughed when Lizzie sent a playful glare his way.

"She's a girl?" She asked next, and Grian nodded.

"Yeah."

"Name her Lizzie!" She exclaimed, laughing loudly when the people near her shut the idea down, smothering her beneath them. Grian snorted and shook his head.

"Okay, no more suggestions from you." He said, petting the ravager's head and grinning fondly at the loud purr emanating from her chest. Jimmy vaguely glared from where he was sat, still having a vendetta against the creature after she robbed him of a whole hour.

"Boring." Lizzie grumbled, getting comfortable underneath the bodies lying on top of her, all of them rumbling with laughter.

"Lucy, Delphine, Rosemary, Isabella, Jasmine, Martha-" 3rd Life's Martyn began listing, counting on his fingers before being interrupted.

"Probably not a human name, ideally." Grian deadpanned in unison with the ravager, who huffed disapprovingly at the names.

"I agree, animals names fit better." Joel nodded.

"Tiny!" Scar from the Double Life box offered, and Limited Life Grian actually considered it for a moment. Double Life looked at his other self incredulously, looking back at his soulmate who was grinning pridefully.

"...I don't hate it."

"Are you serious? That's so generic!" The soulmated Grian yelled out, and Limited Life Jimmy agreed loudly in disbelief.

Grian grinned at them, "Yeah, but it fits." he replied cheekily.

"It doesn't?!" Jimmy yelled out, pausing when 'Tiny' turned to look at him, her purring ceasing for a moment. Everyone laughed at his reaction, especially those from his game who knew why he was so scared of her in the first place.

Grian turned to his ravager, petting her on the head. "What do you think? Do you like the name, Tiny?" She let out a low roar that blew Grian's hair about, her tusks almost nicking him. Grian laughed as she began to lick his face again, attempting to turn away from her rough tongue. "I think she likes it."

They all talked for a while longer, discussing the new game mechanics, and some got started on teaching them some sign language, gesturing to Double Life's partially deaf soulmate pair when asked why they all knew it. Eventually, the non-existent sun dipped under the skyline, and everyone got ready to sleep, some staying up to keep talking to the new arrivals, as was normal.

When everyone woke back up, they kept talking. They talked a lot, after all, it was essentially the only thing they could do when in confined boxes with little to no entertainment. It was a miracle none of them had started rocking back and forth in insanity, though none were sure that wouldn't have happened if they were left by themselves.

The next 'day' included the new group testing their barriers. They offered the logic that if the box had been recently formed, maybe it was weaker. Some argued against it - that it was probably stronger because it was newer, but the others tried anyway. They rammed their bodies into the wall all at once, then one at a time in the same spot. They even got Tiny to ram her tusks into the wall as well, but the walls did nothing but stand still and unaffected.

For a moment, Grian felt like something changed, but he chalked it down to having woken up and being uncomfortable with seeing another group try for their freedom and fail.

Their efforts stopped soon after they realised they weren't getting anywhere, but they said it wasn't hurting them to try, barring their throbbing shoulders. Martyn gruffly mentioned that it might've worked if they had tried it when they just arrived but calmed down after Scott landed a gentle hand on his shoulder, his own hands taloned like a mer creature.

Martyn had shaken his head, and Grian swore that he saw purple particles flying off of his eyes for a second, but shrugged it off, though not without hesitation. He had been getting gut feelings that something was different, but maybe they were affecting his perception of the things around him. He settled back down with Scar and pet Mr Bubbles' fuzzy body absentmindedly, listening to his rumbles of contentment.

The new group slowly acclimated to the schedule everyone had, mostly surrounding their sleep times. It wasn't always obeyed, but the general consensus was that most people went to sleep around the same time, and it made the days feel less sporadic without a lick of sun or moonlight.

Though, thinking about it, the behaviours of everyone made sense with the fact that none of them had been exposed to any type of vitamin D in almost numerous months. It showed in the fatigue that often enveloped the 3rd Life box and soon enough the Last Life box. It showed in the almost weekly muscle cramps that everyone began getting. It showed in the behavioural changes that were causing mood swings and increased depressive mindsets and attitudes.

They all assumed that a lack of vitamin D wouldn't cause death, mostly because they knew they couldn't die in this prison, but the effects still hung heavily in their minds.

Some had theorised if it was possible to die of a lack of sleep, but some rung in with remarks that their struggles with insomnia had all but disappeared, much to their relief. However, it was also bitter as they knew it was just something else the Watcher's had manipulated in their codes to make sure no one died of sleep deprivation.

Despite that, sleepless nights were still common, and were especially common when it came to the newer groups, still adjusting to their odd lifestyle. So instead, they talked, just like they did for every new group that appeared.

"So, you guys don't remember the games that happened before?" Someone from 3rd Life had asked, not knowing how the others really lived, only knowing their death game, and nothing else.

"In the games we only have faint memories of it, but no details. But when we go home we have no memory of coming to this place, just that we were gone for some length of time. It's always been finish a game, go back to our home servers with no memory and then return for another game a few months later."

Limited Martyn - they had begun to miss out the 'Life' part of the names when 'Limited Life Martyn' was decidedly too long a name to repeat every time - answered, desperately wanting to fill the silence.

"Same with us, except we only went back to our home servers once, then got stuck here after Last Life." Last Jimmy answered. "You 3rd Life guys are the only ones who have been stuck here with no return back to your home servers."

"Makes sense, I guess." 3rd Scar began, looking fondly down at a dozing Grian in his lap, watching the breath fill his lungs and expel every few seconds. "How it was explained to Grian when he woke up first was that we're only... metaphorical versions of ourselves. We're like mental projections of our experiences in the games. We're like a piece of the puzzle, so apparently nobody will go crazy with the disappearance of a player for years on end, just while the game happens.

"So, every Martyn in this room originates from the same person, the same with every Scott, every me, every Jimmy, and so on. Mumbo and Lizzie are sort of anomalies in this pattern since they've only played these games once, but the same logic applies."

"So," Limited Cleo began, fidgeting with the glitching timer on her wrist. "How long have you guys been trapped here?"

Scar thought for a moment, humming to himself and carding his fingers through Grian's sun bleached hair. "Hmm, I think Bdubs has it recorded as a bit under two years."

"698 days, specifically." Bdubs shuffled himself to sit next to Scar, holding up his clock that had a still ongoing timer, unable to be stopped. Usually, he'd be the first one to go to sleep, but having new arrivals was a special occasion, and he liked to keep the newcomers company. "Or one year, ten months and 29 days. 11 months tomorrow. It shows the date above, and Cleo - all Cleos - your birthday is coming up soon."

3rd Cleo huffed and smirked at him. "Can't wait to see what you'll do this year." Bdubs grinned back, though the energy felt a bit off, it was still genuine.

"You guys celebrate birthdays while you're all here?" Limited Tango asked, his lips curving up in a smile.

"Not got much else to do." Last Etho replied, shrugging coolly.

"It's like They gave us these clocks to tease us." Double Bdubs spoke up bitterly, glaring at his own clock, reading a different time to his other selves' clocks.

"Probably did." 3rd Bigb grumbled, his green eyes narrowed into something frustrated. Impulse patted his arm comfortingly, leaning against him.

"And who is 'They'?" Limited Etho asked, though nobody answered for a while. 3rd Scar and Bdubs looked down to where Grian was dozing peacefully and back to the others. Nobody wanted to answer, nobody really could, not fully. All except two.

During their time in the desert, Grian had told Scar about his past, pretty much everything. Talking while setting traps, making dinner, feeding Pizza, building the Sandcastle, mining, traversing through the Nether, everything. Talking was one thing they both felt they could do easily and without fail. They'd become close enough that they opened up to each other in a way that they felt they'd done before.

They now knew it was because they'd known each other from their home server, though neither had any recollection of it.

Scar knew about his childhood in Japan, the adventures after it, Evo, and then Them.

When Grian had talked about the Watchers, he had done so with anger in his voice like he had been betrayed by them, and he had. Scar had listened well when Grian explained what the Watchers were, and how they were involved in the game.

They Watched, They Saw, They Stared. They could convert and manipulate players into reality bending mutants of Themselves, all because they wanted something, or someone knew to play with. Scar caught the implication of that smack bang in his cupped hands. He knew that Grian was one of them, at least partly, and that there was information that he couldn't physically explain.

And by 'physically', he meant physically. On several occasions, Grian had attempted to slip pieces of information into their discussions, or spring it out of nowhere to somehow get the words out, but every time, he'd be thwarted.

He'd choke on air out of nowhere until he stopped attempting to speak. He'd lose his voice completely until he submitted. He'd pass out for a few minutes. He'd get a disabling migraine that sent him into a bedridden state for a couple days. He'd tried to write it out on paper, but his fingers had bruised instantaneously, eventually snapping in a way that could've only been healed by a regeneration potion that they had on hand.

He'd never seen a method repeat itself, always finding a new creative way to shut him up.

Any way he'd tried to communicate the truth with Scar ended in him being hurt, and it only took Scar begging him to stop, and telling him that he didn't need to know anything that Grian stopped trying, though not without disappointment.

Scar was so scared that if Grian had tried to speak again, his body would puff into a cloud of smoke and he would return with yellowed eyes, having worked that hard for nothing.

Scar had hugged him that night and squeezed the stress out of his body as they cuddled on their shared bed in the freezing desert air. Grian had admitted that he wanted to tell him so badly, but Scar had shushed him, telling him that it wasn't necessary, and Grian had wrapped his large, white wings tightly around him in response.

When he had written the note out, he was only able to get out one word before his fingers gave in to the pain. 'Contract'.

Scar wasn't sure he knew where to begin when it came to explaining the Watchers, but luckily, Last Life's Scott stepped in to put the first foot forward.

"They're the ones that walk in here to introduce the room to the winners. They don't feel human, and They certainly don't look it, am I right?" He looked at Scar, who hesitated before nodding, running a hand through Grian's hair again, watching as the avian chittered oh so quietly in his sleep.

"They're not." He confirmed, and everyone went silent.

3rd Bdubs continued, telling them all that he knew, even if it was only surface level things. "In the first week that our group got here, G told us some basic stuff about Them - the Watchers. They're supposedly not pure evil," Scar begged to differ after all he'd seen Grian go through because of them. "But they're definitely not good.

"Main point is, don't trust them. I know I don't really need to say it, but I will. From what Grian's briefly told us, they're the type to promise freedom, and in response to our naivety, they'd slam the door right in our faces the moment we had a single hoped about escaping."

Everyone awake nodded in understanding, taking the advice seriously.

Scar looked down at Grian's sleeping face and ran a thumb over his cheekbone, where golden lines met green paint, the scar of an arrow wound meeting between the two. He watched the flap of his aural wings and gently caressed the edge of them, smiling at the quiet chirp.

He breathed, "Not to put it all on Grian - my," he cleared his throat to keep the red possessiveness out of his voice, "or our Grian, that is - but in any circumstance where we are offered that freedom, we make sure we look for his guidance. He knows the most and was the first to see the Watchers come in. They might've told him things that we don't know.

"I trust him with my life, just as I did for our entire game, and I know that he'd make the right decision." No one reacted for a moment, just watching the strong words fall out of a man that looked so incredibly tender for the avian in his lap.

Another Grian spoke up - the newest one, clad in black leather. "I agree. He was the first winner, and he seems to know more than anyone else, even his alternate selves. I feel like because of that, he's more connected to all of this than anyone."

Scar didn't dare to release the snort of amusement that was building up, this other Grian's words ringing truer than he'd ever know. Or maybe he did know, it wasn't out of the question.

The other Grian awake in the room - the one with the green string wrapped around his finger, and his soulmate sleeping comfortably in his lap - spoke up as well. "He is. For some reason, maybe 'cause of our soulmate strings, we - or at least I - can see some faint waves of magic." The Jimmy from his game nodded in agreement. "He's got the most surrounding him. Probably because he was the first winner; it's the same with the Scott, Pearl and Martyn that won. But he's got the most by far."

Jimmy looked down at Tango, sleeping soundly on top of their highland cow, also snoring quietly in his sleep. "And what about the animals?" He ran a gentle hand over the plait he had tied a couple hours ago in his boredom. "Why are they here? How? What's the significance?"

"We think it might be because of the bonds that we had with them." 3rd Scar answered, looking fondly at his two animal companions, dozing peacefully. "As for the reason, we don't really have an answer for that. A guess that we've theorised on is that it would give us a reason to stay here and be loyal to the Watchers if they give us back those that we loved. Obviously, that would be a sick tactic, but I personally wouldn't put it past them."

"It's not just any old mob, though. It's ones that you've held especially close to your heart and grew attached to." Double Grian stared at the large Jellie cat that was sitting quietly, grooming her fur and flicking her ears to every noise. "Scar had a lot of pandas, or massive Jellie cats, as they eventually turned into, but only one appeared here. It was one that followed Scar around constantly."

"Probably because of the bamboo that stuck out of his back pocket all the time." Double Bdubs added, smirking cheekily.

"And we're 100% sure that we can't leave? There's no way out?" Limited Bigb asked, picking at the strap of his timer on his upper arm. Pearl nudged him in a way that she hoped was comforting, and he relaxed his tensed shoulders slightly.

"We've all tried to get out, just as you all tried before. Nothing works. Physical force, magic, weapons, anything. Nothing even skims the surface of the barriers." Mumbo replied, shrugging lightly, careful not to wake Impulse from where he was leaning against his shoulder, snoring away blissfully.

As Mumbo spoke, 3rd Grian began to wake slowly, realising distantly what they were all talking about. He stretched his wings and shook some loose feathers back into place, moving to sit between Scar and Bdubs, both of their bodies touching him in some way, their presence familiar and comforting. Scar leaned into him in response, catching him up to speed on their conversation briefly.

"What about a combination?" Limited Joel asked. "Like using magic while someone rams into the barriers. Could that work?" Mumbo shook his head and let Grian continue in his deep, sleep-ridden voice.

"We've tried everything we can think of. There doesn't seem to be any chance of escape unless one of the Watchers mess up the code of it or break the promise they made." He frowned sympathetically at the fallen expressions of the newest players. To make up for their lost hope, he continued.

"For now, worry about getting some sleep. Just a few days in this place is massively disorienting; try to adjust to our schedule before anything else. For now, we can't do anything about where we are, so stop stressing for a bit. These boxes may keep us in, but they keep the Watchers out; They can't touch you.

"And hey, if our group has survived for this long like this, you can as well. You're not in any immediate danger. Now go to sleep, you all look horrible." Some chuckled at his last remark and nodded thankfully at him, all of them moving to lay down on the hard, concrete flooring.

"You really think we're safe in here, in these boxes?" Bigb - from Grian's box - asked, his face as tired at everyone else's. Dark bags underneath their eyes from a lack of proper sleep, weakened energy to do anything at all, a constant feeling of hopelessness. They all needed to get out. Being trapped in a small box for nearly two years was more exhausting than it sounded, and with them having been trapped the longest, it was slowly killing them.

Grian sighed, looking out at the other three boxes, staring at their tired faces, all of them succumbing to sleep, or at least a small nap. He looked back over to his friends from his own game and frowned. "I don't know. But I'd prefer to have everyone, specifically those who arrived more recently, to have some kind of hope."

He thought for a second, barely noticing Scar's knowing look, asking him something. He knew the question, and deep down, he knew that everyone in this ageing prison cell deserved to know as well. "I felt something when they arrived, the Limited Life group. Something about the magic felt different." Everyone stared and leaned in as he whispered, only wanting his group to hear this. "I'm hoping something will change, but I don't know for sure what."

"You didn't want to give us false hope." Skizz summarised, sadly, his bright red eyes sticking out from his greyed body. He moved to wrap his purple arm around his shoulder, pulling him into a side hug that he hoped felt as comforting as he wanted it to. Grian nodded and no one replied.

"You do so much for us, Grian." Scar mumbled, wrapping his own arm around Grian's waist, everyone else moving closer as well. The latter now sat surrounded by people that he trusted so much, even if some of them weren't teamed with him back in their game. "You keep secrets for us that hurt you. You know more than anyone else here. You protect us so well."

Grian's eyes shimmered with emotion he hadn't felt properly in months. Scott spoke up next. "You've done an incredible job as our admin, and as a friend. We want to protect you too." A tear slipped down his cheek, his face grimacing.

"Anything you want us to do, we'll do. I know we were all on different sides back in our game, but we've all grown close in the past couple years. We know you only want to protect us." Tango said, the fire on his scalp flickering and warming to a soft glow.

"Sorry for calling you a villain back then, Grian. You're clearly more than that, and... I think before all this, we used to be closer. Obviously we can't remember it, but something deep in my gut always told me that we were supposed to be friends, and only now do I realise why." Martyn apologised, remembering a flickering feeling of guilt whenever he'd fought Grian head-to-head.

Ren nodded beside him, having experienced an impulsive thought once that they shouldn't have been fighting, but instead just chilling together in a flowery campsite, joking around and relaxing in each other's presence.

The avian chuckled wetly and attempted to wipe the flood that was quickly falling down his cheeks. "I didn't even know you were calling me that. But yeah, I know the feeling as well. You don't need to apologise."

"I feel like apologies are kind of out of the question now, especially since we don't even know why we felt like that in the game." Etho said, shrugging and pulling small smiles from the people around him. "But clearly, you're not to blame for all this."

Grian's wings fluttered guiltily, knowing that he was, but he painfully knew that even if he wanted to tell them that, he wouldn't be able to explain without some cruel force coercing him to stop. Scar recognised this and rubbed his thumb back and forth, caressing his side.

"You're not, G." He whispered, and others looked to him curiously. Scar didn't say anything more, however, so they decided to drop it. Whatever the two knew, it was clear that Grian wasn't at fault, and even if he was, he wouldn't be crying like this if he didn't regret it; that was good enough for them.

Finally, they all settled down for the night, not for the first time sleeping in a complete pile, nobody left on the outskirts. Grian's body felt cold, filled with guilt and a coldness that didn't want to leave from beneath the bones in his body. Yet somehow, even despite that, he felt warm. He was surrounded by people that supported him, and that was enough to fill him with a sort of surface level hope, even if he knew they weren't ever really going to be able to escape.

But even despite that, deep in his heart, he hoped, begged that something would change. Anything.

Unfortunately, as the stone sun rose, the 'morning' came about just as dull as it had any other day for the past two years. He wasn't the first to awake at least, but he wasn't the last.

He chanced a glance over to the newest box, the barrier shimmering with magic unable to be touched in a way that would matter. Beyond that, though, he saw himself, or a version of himself rather, preening his crow's wings and picking out the odd feather here and there, awaiting the rise of other people.

Something about this version of him was different. Maybe it was a trick of the mind because of the odd clothing, a style that Grian had never once thought to try out, though he wasn't sure if he ever had seeing as he had no memories of his life before. Or maybe it was the way he held himself - not as someone different, or like he was putting up a front, but like he knew something, and he was hoping that something would come of it.

He had seemed different since the night before, but Grian supposed that anyone would've acted the same if they had been told that there was zero chance of escape from this extra-terrestrial prison they were locked in.

Stuck in his thoughts for a moment, Grian just barely caught the sound of his name being called, unsure if he specifically was being addressed until he locked eyes with the Scar from Last Life. "So, Grian." The newest Grian looked up at the name, but once realising it was not him being addressed, he returned to his preening, still listening despite that.

Last Life's Scar was rested up against the wall of his barrier, his layered hood spilling over his face partially, hiding his dark green eyes that glinted with a hint of red sometimes, possibly because of his experience as the boogeyman. This was one of many moments where the man sat alone, seeming content with his solitude, and happy to fiddle mindlessly with the crystals that stuck uncomfortably out of his pockets.

"I know that we've clarifies that nothing will break the walls, and we've tried begging directly to the big guys to see if They'll let us out, but what about directly convincing them? Not to brag, but I am known to be quite adapt in the art of swindling and scamming- or selling my wares." Scar's server-mates scoffed and chuckled at his wording.

Grian scoffed lightly as well, knowing of every Scar's manipulative tactics all too well from first-hand experience. "I've not tried it personally; it's hard to get a chance to actually talk to Them, especially when they make Themselves so sparse for mysterious reasons. The only time I've ever seen them come in is to introduce a winner to this place, or to check in on us every now and then as a smug tease of their ability to come and go as they please."

By now, pretty much everyone was awake, and all that heard Grian's words rolled their eyes at the mention of Them, everyone now well versed in hating and slagging off the god-like beings that kept them trapped.

"Hey, wait. Wasn't there another time?" 3rd Impulse spoke up, remembering something. Grian turned to look at him with a tilted head. "It was before anyone else had joined us here, and I think we were all talking about how we thought that the Watchers had directly interfered with our game to mess things up. The Watcher that came in got really defensive about it after we all agreed that it wasn't beyond Them to stoop that low."

Everyone's heads lifted at the reminder, those who weren't there looking confused and more hopeful than ever. Ren gasped lightly, his tail spiking from behind him. "That's right, They got really touchy when we implied anything to do with Them being too involved." Martyn nodded his head in agreement.

"It makes sense. After all, they aren't explicitly allowed to get hands on with the games. It's all part of the Contract." Grian said, rubbing his chin in thought, not even noticing what had happened.

But Scar did. He stared at Grian with an intense look that burned through the side of his head. The capital 'C' in the word rung in his head and echoed loud enough to leave pounding bruises on the inside of his skull. However, Grian continued, still stuck in his head, the mention going unnoticed. "If They were to intervene and involve Themselves-"

"Grian." Scar interrupted, a tone of urgency deafening him with the intensity it was said in. Grian stopped and stared, raising an eyebrow that asked him to continue on. "Grian. You said..." The other stared at him for a while, still confused. "You've never been able to..."

Everyone stared at the two, the remainder of players who were previously asleep, being woken up. Every eye in the room was trained on the two, where Scar sat with his back straightened and tensed, Grian staring at him only a couple feet away, bags underneath his eyes weighing down his concentration. "You said 'it's all part of- of the Contract'."

Scar almost whispered it out, not daring to take his eyes off of his partner, even for just a second. In a flash of something unrecognisable, Grian's eyes widened and his breath hitched, his complexion paling and morphing into something no one but Scar could read.

"Grian." Scar called out, louder this time, shuffling closer to him to try and distract him from whatever was going on inside his brain. His voice shook with worry and something odd took a hold of him, a feeling that felt like he hadn't experienced in years. Hope. Hope for something new. Hope for something different.

Many others leaned forward, knowing this wasn't a sudden breakdown like many would usually have. This epiphany that Grian was having seemed important, and Scar's reaction only solidified that belief.

Scar took a gentle hold of one of Grian's hands, frowning at the limp fingers that simply laid in his palm, not gripping, and not reacting, almost like he had completely dissociated - though that wasn't entirely out of the question. "G? You in there?" He leaned down to try and meet his eyes, only seeing unstaring and empty green eyes glaring a hole through his skull.

Suddenly, Grian moved, turning his head to stare directly at the shimmering barrier. Something about how he looked at it made Scar shiver. He moved his other hand to rest on his partner's thigh, rubbing back and forth in an attempt to ground him.

Pizza brayed weakly beside him, moving his muzzle into his side worriedly. Mr Bubbles also began to hover closely by, not quite landing on Grian, but brushing the top hairs of his head, curiously wondering what was making everyone look so on edge.

Grian looked away to stare directly at his newest doppelgänger, mumbling just loud enough. "What did They do." He didn't phrase it as a question, and Limited Grian could do nothing but gulp at the look his other self was pinning him down with. It was a strange feeling to feel so intimidated by your own self when there were two indestructible walls between them.

Jimmy and Joel looked conflicted between moving to hide their brother from the intense gaze of... himself, and letting the scene play out. Something on Jimmy's shoulder tingled, and suddenly he couldn't move, even if he wanted to. It felt like something heavy, something strong was holding him down, and it was sitting on his lungs, expelling all the air it physically could from his lungs.

Grian - the original - however, felt something shake and shudder amongst all the magic floating aimlessly in the air. Before, it was stagnant and almost comforting, but as the magic grew more suffocating, he knew what was coming next.

Just as he predicted, a Watcher entered through the door that had lifted more silently than it ever had in their entire stay there. Before he felt strong enough to stand on his own feet, but now it felt like they had been crushed by the weight of the world and getting up was a lost cause.

Scar kept his hand firm on his partner's thigh, still continuing his comforting gestures, especially as he watched the seething purple bleed and infect into white wings, worn and dusty from the reminiscent memory of the desert, of their home, the only one they could remember.

Grian's form shook with energy he didn't know he could possess, but kept his mouth shut despite the fangs that burned to gnaw through his lips. Scar kept a firm hold, grounding him. In a brief moment, Grian looked back at his partner and said more than words could ever. Scar nodded sharply, taking a deep breath.

The Watcher began to speak. "It has come to our attention that some of you are having doubts about the way you live, and our loyalty to our cause." They locked Eyes with Grian and held it before continuing to scan the room of its prisoners. "We, as beings who hold the responsibility of caring for you and providing you a safe place to live and retire, aim to hold you here as a reward for your entertaining performances and achievements.

"The simple implication that we would do anything more than cherish all of you is beyond us. We have strictly set rules that require out lack of involvement with anything as entertaining as this. We do this for you, and to have the idea that we'd interfere with anything is preposterous. It'd mark us as untrustworthy and liars, and we want you to know that we are nothing of the sort."

With the speech announced with power and grace, not a single hesitation or stutter mumbled, the Watcher turned. They began to move, and Grian jumped up with a speed he had only dreamed of having back again. Scar almost jumped to join him in his standing but flinched back the moment he saw Grian's body slam into the walls of the barrier.

The Watcher turned immediately, having heard the odd boom the wall resonated with, and looked to almost stumble. Everyone instantly felt the change.

Every single player in the room had tried at least once to break the barriers with their full weight, and every time, the thud had sounded unbreakable, untouchable. This time, however, the impact rung hollow, like hitting the rotten trunk of a tree, withering away from the inside.

Grian slammed against it again, and the Watcher seemed at a loss for what to do. People sprung up from their places, not moving toward the barrier just yet, but ready to attack it if they were ordered to, like soldiers waiting for a king's approval.

"What are you-" Another thud, hollow. This time, Grian felt at the wall, spreading his fingers out to sense the most amount of magic he physically could. People stepped a foot forward slowly.

"How did you die in your game." Grian didn't ask, but more ordered the answer of his duplicate, standing unsure and tensed amongst the newest group to arrive.

Limited Grian stood shakily and stumbled at the tone. "I- I fell. I fell to my death from Skynet." He answered, not confused, but anticipating.

3rd Grian knew in that moment, that small moment, that this was the change he had been waiting for. "Did you trip?"

"No, I-"

"You didn't trip."

"No."

"Who was behind you?"

"No one. I was alone."

"You didn't trip. And you weren't pushed. At least," Grian turned to stare at the Watcher who stood stone still, trapped in the fear They didn't know They could own. "Not by a player." The other Grian didn't reply, and it spoke of a thunderous answer. "A player didn't push him."

"Nobody pushed Jimmy either." Joel spoke, standing tall beside his teammates, his gloved hands shaking. "It didn't look like he tripped."

"You two weren't the ones to push me?" Jimmy asked, his voice haunted by realisation.

"That's enough." The Watcher's voice rung out, echoing into every corner and wall, pounding loudly against every surface. "As said before, to name and bear us with the titles of liars and untrustworthy beings is sickening. We are anything but-"

"Liars." Limited Grian's voice interrupted. "You're all liars." The lack of a tone made the anger seeping from his edges seem venomous, and it seemed to embed itself immediately inside of the Watcher's impregnable form. "You broke the rules you say you stand by so loyally, and then act as if you did nothing!"

A tidal wave of magic bathed every being in the room, although this one felt as if came from each corner of the room, meeting in the middle and bouncing back and forth endlessly. The winners all stood with their marks glowing a seething brightness, strong enough to communicate the rage they felt enough times to known down a player with sheer will.

Martyn's tail whipped sharply, his eyes bearing a glowing red, emboldened by the knowledge that a higher being who had complete control of them was acting to high and mighty, despite having every mark of the deadly sins tattooed onto their non-existent faces. "Is that why I won like that?" He asked, taking a step forward that could've shaken the ground. "I hadn't experienced that kind of wrath until that moment, and I had been red for a long while."

The original Grian, wings still shaking and bleeding purple, stared at him. His gaze spoke of something deadly, and all that caught the gaze shivered with the intensity.

"You broke the rules." Limited Grian stated, his black crow wings flaring angrily behind him. The other avians in the room reacted in kind, their own wings bristling to attention - a flock reaction.

3rd Grian's head pounded with noise that sent him into a state of vertigo that nearly toppled him. They broke the rules.

"You interfered." Limited Grian continued, his voice never leaving that range of decibels, making the energy around him shake and shudder.

They interfered.

"You pushed Jimmy off of our bridge and killed him, making him the first out. Was that your plan?" His voice rung out with exhaustion, but even so, the Watcher on the podium suddenly looked like a bug about to be crushed.

They caused the death of a player. Directly.

"You pushed me off the bridge. Was it because I was getting too close? Or just because you felt like it?" The Watcher didn't move just yet, frozen to where They stood, seeming as if They had frozen time just to avoid the consequences of Their own actions.

They cause the death of two players. Directly.

"You betrayed your own rules." The Watcher flinched back at that, horrified at their actions being called out. The Watchers held Their beliefs and rules high above anything else, and to betray the very agendas of it was heinous to Them.

Betrayers.

"You broke the rules because of what? Boredom? Entertainment? The thrill of getting away with something you were never allowed to do?" Anger began to radiate heavily off of the immortal being, but Limited Grian refused to stop.

They broke the rules. Their own rules.

"Or is it because you're all just insane maniacs with nothing else to do other than watch over us like perverted sadists?" The air in the room felt enclosed and limited all of a sudden, and the feeling of claustrophobia surrounded every single player in mazes of chains and locks.

They broke their own rules.

"Is it just the power you wanted to feel? Or just because it was fun?" An inhuman noise resonated from the Watcher, but in no way was it distinguishable, yet everyone could tell what it meant.

They broke their own fucking rules.

"You're liars. All of you." Silence weighed heavy in the atmosphere, and suddenly there was no air to breathe in.

Holy shit.

"Did it fill you with mortal joy to play with our lives in a way that would finally matter?" The bug was shaking under the weight of a heavy combat boot, all too similar to the pair that Limited Grian was wearing.

Holy fuck, they could get out.

Oxygen flooded back into the room and Grian took a gasping breath, along with everyone else. Scar stumbled shakily to his feet to stand beside his partner. He rested a heavy hand on Grian's lower back, and his shaking muscles screamed out at the contact, being restored with every atom of energy he had burned in the time he had been trapped.

He felt the scleras of his eyes bleed a darkened grey, smoothing out to a menacing black, mirroring every other winner. The Watchers broke their own bloody rules. That meant they could- "Get out-" he whispered in a doubled voice. Scar's head snapped to stare at Grian in disbelief. "We can get out." He repeated, only louder, dragging the gazes of every player to his form, all of them taking a synchronised step towards the barrier.

Hearts suddenly thumped in unison. Lungs breathed as one. Blood pumped with unimaginable synchronisation. All eyes landed on the winner, waiting impatiently for their order, standing in line like honourable soldiers waiting for the order to run into the battle. "Ram into the barriers." He said, an empty voice tripled to something inhuman sounding.

"Ram into your barriers! NOW!"

In record time, deafening hollow bangs, thumps and cracks echoed throughout the room, and two more Watchers came running in, urgency painting their unseeable features. Overwhelming sounds filled every corner, every nook and cranny, violated the ears of every player and being in the room. It spoke of released anger, held over the span of days, weeks, months, years.

Unholy demonic screeching then joined the fray, resonating from bodies not created from love, but from opportunity. Their presence required attention and begged for recognition and order. Chaos unfolded like a wet flyer for freedom falling off a wooden post, the pole itself soon collapsing onto the ground with a thundering smash.

Grian's shoulder rung with pain unbearable and unimaginable, but it was nothing in comparison to the amount of life that was flowing through his very atoms. Electrons and protons danced through the air with renewed vigour, screaming and colliding in tune with the magic that threw itself around like an untraceable grenade.

Finally, in an explosion of sound that blasted through the room, the grenade finally met its target. In the forefront of the newest cage, a daring crack broke through the magic. The owner of the crack, Grian, looked shellshocked for a second before continuing his ministrations. Jimmy and Joel joined his side and rammed it as a trio, the crack growing with each collision.

BOOM. Another deafening crack rung out, this time on the wall enclosing the Double Lifers in. CRASH. Another split in the magic opened up in front of the Last Lifers. BANG. The last box cracked open in front of the 3rd Lifers.

Renewed confidence and enthusiasm filled every single player in the room, the various mobs soon joining in to scratch and kick and ram and puncture the magic. Horrendous screams of panic rung out.

The binding break of the Contract weakened the magic to an unbelievable level, shimmering in the air and wrapped the Watchers in Their own magic; They had never been seen so affected. They were supposed to be untouchable. Unbreakable. Immortal. Impervious.

The sharp shards that splintered off embedded into shoulders and dug their way into tissues, the physical magic of the barriers flowing through veins and drugging the mind with an exaggerated force of adrenaline. It littered the floors and were ground into dust underneath the impactful force of stampedes of aggressive and hostile players, glowing with magic that both did and didn't belong to them.

Everything built up quicker than the Watchers could handle, and the sound of loud cracking filled Their impenetrable psyches. They watched as the boxes began to shatter, turning their appearances muddy and flickering through the abstract shards of 'glass' being destroyed.

A drowning presence of magic began to storm around the room, circling around the Eye of the storm. Players were knocked to their knees and magic stunted in its path, consuming the life force of every living being in proximity. Large, commanding wings sprouted and darkened the room, taking on an energy of defiance, like a toddler building up for a tantrum.

Pain consumed every cell and atom of the room, and yells and screams rung loudly in the air, turning the room into something alike to an executioner's chamber. The glows and magic that were previously embedded into the skin of the Winner were suctioned and syphoned into the air. The light that lit up the room turned dark, and the swirling of the room roared like an angered tyrant.

3rd Grian's wings fluttered and pumped themselves in an effort to lift him to his feet again, but the simple movement sent lightning shocks of pain through his joints that made him scream and freeze up in submission. In the corner of his eyes, he saw an inhuman foot step forward, and he grabbed Scar's nearest hand to grip onto him, almost crying out with relief when he felt the grip return with vigour.

He braced himself for the pain he knew was about to feel, and held his wings tight to his back, one of them snapping to cover Scar's back in a sheet of protection. The fear that rushed through him was indescribable.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" A glitching voice stabbed through the air, and the swirling tornado of magic ceased its movement, stood still in fear.

The third Watcher's hand raised and Grian felt something in his body glow unnaturally before a wave of pain grabbed a hold of his heart and squeezed.

"We've all had enough of this childish outburst." It spoke with nothing but anger in Its tone. A freezing feeling diffused through every cell. Every player watched with horror as the hand that was raised gripped into a violent fist, magic piercing through their bodies.

Four bodies were pulled through the barriers, crashing together in a pile, and everyone gasped.

3rd Scar had yelled unintelligibly as the hand he was holding was ripped from him, fingernails tearing through the skin and leaving marks he could only hope would remain for the remainder of time.

Limited Joel screamed as Grian and Jimmy were pulled through, attempting to grab their jackets just a moment too late, their eyes widening at the movement and then at the pain.

Scott had also yelled out when Martyn was frightfully dragged out by his neck, trying to reach him, but failing when his arm seized with the throbbing hurt from his shoulder.

Like puppets, the four were dragged by invisible hands on their necks to stand, chains of magic wrapping around their bodies, slamming them down to the floor, their kneecaps breaking their fall with disgusting cracks. Yells of pain rung out and tears fell, bodies wriggling to escape the hold of the chains that sunk into their skin and tore through the top layer with gripping control.

The four snapped their heads down to stare at the chains, visions blurred with pain and anger. People yelled and screamed with outbursts, some struggling to their feet to attempt to make more cracks in the barriers but missing before a flash of light sent them careening backwards into the floor.

With the fade of light, the barriers were visible again, and to everyone's horror, they were intact. There was no sign of a crack, no sign of damage, nothing.

3rd Scar moved forward to hit the walls before his body was assaulted with a shocking pain that seized his muscles, knocking him back down to the floor where Cleo and Etho briskly caught him by the shoulders just before he could hit his head. He scrambled to sit up, staring at the wall and watching as the electricity bounced and reverberated from where Scar had struck it.

Grian had yelled out in fear as Scar was shocked, watching his stiff body fall. He tried again to escape from the chains, feeling only pain as the magic dug through to his muscles and tried to slice through his arms like string through clay. He almost sobbed when he locked eyes with his partner, trying once again to move before Scar shook his head, chest heaving with distress.

Grian looked back down at the chains holding him down, eyeing the foreign runes carved into them with horror.

Jimmy and the other Grian's cries reached his ears and he strained his neck to catch sight of Joel trying to hold back Tiny from ramming the wall again, letting out heart-breaking whines and scuffing the ground with her hooves. Scott was beside them, holding her reins and staring at Martyn with a look he couldn't help but sympathise with.

He turned back to the sight of his partner and almost sobbed at the sight of Pizza braying loudly through the walls, Mr Bubbles attempting to buzz dangerously close to the wall before being gently tugged away by Impulse, who had the reins in his hand.

Part of Grian had really hoped that it would work.

He should've known it wouldn't have.

He was stupid for believing it.

He tearfully tore his gaze away from Scar to stare at the three players on his left, all chained down to the floor in similar states to him. Limited Grian - who was chained directly next to him - locked eyes with him and stared, getting a closer look at his winner marks for the first time. Eventually he met his eyes and they spoke of nothing but fear.

Limited Grian really felt as if he should've been intimated by the gaze, but something about his other self's face was protective in a way. He ignored the black scleras, the slitted purple eyes, slowly fading back to green. He ignored the golden marks on his cheeks that were just slightly purple at the edges. He ignored the green war-paint-like marks that splattered his face with the marks of a Winner.

Both of their gazes were immediately interrupted by the sight of three approaching robes in front of them. 3rd Grian's marks turned purple again and his wings, also tied down by the chains like Limited Grian's, shivered with rage.

The Watcher in the middle stared down at 3rd Grian, meeting his eye with nothing but coldness. Its voice held no emotion, only the cadences betraying the rage It felt. "We should've known better than to ignore the expectation of a mutiny from a player that has never followed the rules, even in the beginning." It said, and Grian growled something inhuman.

Magic flowed through the floors from Grian's knees, and the other chained victims winced at the heat, though they didn't voice their discomfort. Grian's eyes darkened from black and purple to just black, and his wings lost the purple shine, dulling down to a void-like black, smoking unbreathable vapour like a fire.

What he was radiating was pure magic. It burnt through the air and resonated in the floor, finally reaching the Watcher and making It sneer, the other two reacting similarly. Grian knew why he could wield it, and so did the Watchers.

He may have been a player once, but what he was now was something no player could ever dream of being. He was a Watcher that knew the limits of mortality. He was a Watcher that knew the hardships of having nothing. He was a Watcher that had lost his lifeline in the span of a minute.

He was a Watcher that Knew.

His skin burnt with the force of an overpowered sun, glowing into something he knew the Watchers could feel. His blood boiled from inside his body and a line of magic bled from his nose and spilled over his bared fangs.

The energy reached the Watcher Staring at him. It contorted Its otherworldly 'mouth' into something resembling a smirk, the smugness unbearably potent in the air, suffocating.

Without another word, the three being turned and left, their robes dragging along the floor with uncaring energy.

The concrete door slammed shut, the feeling so much more obvious in the four's injured knees, getting a first-hand feeling of the force.

A few players from each prison approached the wall, staring at the pulsing magic that shocked their hands when they got too close. Even Double Tango - a Nether hybrid, able to stand the heat of lava - drew his hand back at the magic, not even getting within an inch of the barrier.

Even so, 3rd Scar shuffled himself closer to the barrier, learning his lesson from earlier and staying a safe distance away. Grian locked eyes with him again, his wings morphing back into their familiar white and his normal features returning. He stared at the man as he stared, wanting to reach out for his partner, even if it was going to kill him. Knowing this, Grian shook his head sadly, stopping the raising hand.

Glue seeped between Scar's joints as he paused, confined to only stare at where his beloved was painfully chained to an area he once ached to step onto.

Nobody moved for a while after, just taking in what had happened in the last ten minutes.

Somehow, with their attempt at escape, four of their own had become more trapped than ever before.

Joel sat unmoving as he met his boys' eyes, unable to force a smile when he saw their faces, destroyed and pained. Martyn looked a similar way at Scott when he caught his gaze, and he ached to move the tail towards Scott, caught by the chains that gripped onto his muscles tightly.

For the first time, silence completely rung out, only interrupted every now and then by the brays and buzzes of Pizza and Mr Bubbles, or the deep growls and whines of Tiny.

Scar was slumped over, feeling nothing but emptiness.

Before, he had had his partner to hold onto when something big happened. With their time in the desert, physical contact had become the norm and the ideal. Now, with his partner separated, neither could get the comfort they so desperately ached for.

Scar was a red life, and it was important to a red life to feel something at all times. Whether it was anger, desperation, love, it didn't matter. It was an intense feeling, an intense need to feel something.

But now, with the only thing that had kept him going all these years, he felt nothing. That something was outside the barriers, alone.

With reluctant acceptance, he vowed to stick himself in this spot for as long as he could, uncaring of the ache that would undoubtably tear through his muscles. He would miss the massages that his partner would rub into his muscles when they particularly hurt, and he would miss the warmth that the man would give off with just his presence.

He would miss him, even when his body was laid just a few feet away, so close yet completely unreachable.

With the turn of time, the energy of the room had dialled down into something sour and unreadable. Complicated feelings mixed together to form something uncomfortable, and devastation infected the air.

Hope was sucked out of the atmosphere in one fell swoop.

Nobody got any sleep that night.