Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It started out as First Life. It was a harken back to the original rules of 3rd life. Three lives. No Boogeymen.

For 5 good days, it was the same. People made teams. Allied with others. Built things half-baked. Then, red lifed ZombieCleo found herself caught in an underwater cave, and the foggy water made finding an exit impossible.

“Oh shoot!” Grian jumped, turning to Joel, who was struggling to craft bread.

“What? What is it?” Joel turned back with a puzzled expression.

“Cleo’s out of the series!” Came his quick reply, causing Joel to match his energy, and grin.

“She’s out of the series?!” He repeated.

“She’s out!”

“Hah!” He exclaimed! “Take that Cleo! Drowning’s not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?!” He shoved his pointing finger into the sky for emphasis.

Grian laughed, before giving his friend a high-five. “Heck yeah dude!” He turned back to the cave, pickaxe slung around his shoulder. “Okay,” he smiled, “let’s get back to Mumbo and Scott.” Joel nodded, and they turned back.

Climbing out of the stone and ore was a lot harder than climbing in, but with each others helping hand, it was much more bearable.

“Wonder what Scott wanted all this iron for?” Joel questioned, trying to strike up a conversation. The groans of mobs throughout the echoing rubble were not the greatest vocal company.

“Think it’s for Golems.” Grian gripped a crimp with his left hand and pulled himself up, reaching his right hand down to pull Joel up.

“Makes sense why he made us do it then.” Joel swung himself up to grab his friend’s hand, using it to help himself reach a large piece of stone jutting out from the cave wall, as a crack of light found its way across his face.

“Huh? Why? Scott’s on green.” The waffle-headed man tried to plant his foot on the same crimp his hand was on before, only to have it snap under the pressure. He almost panicked, slipping and blindly trying to find another hold, when Joel grabbed his wrist to help him properly find a good footing.

“That’s easy. Cuz’ he would’ve had to pay a small ‘Fe’” Joel grinned, laughing at his own terrible joke. Grian paused, before bursting out laughing, both of them needing to stop climbing for a minute lest they risk falling back down.

“That- that was horrid.” He finally replied. Joel just kept that goofy grin of his as they kept going. At the end, Joel swung his leg up and hauled himself over the edge. He pushed himself to his knees and lent a hand to his friend below, pulling him towards his chest, the two boys managed to escape the cave with their stuff and their lives.

Grian exhaled heavily, before playfully punching Joel in the shoulder. “Nearly lost my grip because of your silly pun!”

“Then you would’ve been two-for-two! Lost your footing and your grip!” They both laughed.

Grian pushed himself up to his feet, and lent a hand to help up Joel for the final time in this cave, and the two of them made their way back.

After near 20 minutes of walking, Joel was already complaining about being in the sun for too long. “It’s in the name Grian! Hermitcraft! Hermit! I don’t do sun! Or walking!”

“We’re almost there!” He chuckled, dragging him along by the cuff of his decorative, white shirt.

Pulling Joel up the stairs of their makeshift castle, Grian pushed in the door and tossed Joel into his bed with a thud, before slumping into his own. Today had stretched longer than he expected it to, and his whole body was covered in a blanket of exhaustion.

The weighted footsteps of one of his allies echoed through the stairwell. He couldn’t remember closing his eyes, but his body didn’t let him open them.

Even with his eyes closed, he knew exactly who was next to him when he felt the bed dip by his feet. He smiled softly, before forcing his eyes open to greet the cheerful face of his moustached friend. “Hey Mumbo…” he murmured sleepily.

“Hey Grian. Successful trip?” He asked, grinning.

“Yeah… handful of diamonds, stacks of coal, and a butt-ton of iron for Scott.” He answered, rolling over to lay on his stomach and letting his eyes close once more. “Joel stuck it in the chest over there I think.”

“Alright. Scott’s out for the time being, playing peacemaker with Cleo’s team, but we can give the iron to him tomorrow.” He chuckled.

Grian flicked his left wing, cracking that eye open slightly to glance at him. He almost seemed to be pondering something as he ran his fingers through his deep black hair. Something in his pocket buzzed, and he took it out. His phone. His face contorted, and a look of confusion spread across his features.

“Whats wrong..?” He mumbled through his teeth, too tired to even open his mouth properly.

“Ch-check your phone.” He spoke, putting his on the table. Grian sighed, sleepily reaching for his, flipping it open, and-

He jolted up instantly, his exhaustion washing off him faster than water on a hydrophobic surface. He turned to his friend, then back to the phone, wishing that maybe he was just tired. Misreading it. The look on Mumbo’s face said it all. He hadn’t misread it.

Smajor1995 was slain by ZombieCleo.

Scott was on yellow now, but he didn’t care about that at the moment. Cleo was gone. Done. Out of the series. Had something gone wrong? How could she possibly…

He turned to his friend, matching his confusion.

“Is- is this a gimmick? For the series?” He stuttered.

“N-No” Grian’s hands shook as he scrolled back up through the messages. “No, it was supposed to be the original rules. She’s supposed to be gone.” There it was, clear as day.

ZombieCleo drowned

Smajor1995 was slain by ZombieCleo

His confusion only grew as every theory he came up with was ruled out. Fortunately for the both of them, Scott’s respawn point was upstairs, and so -exchanging a knowing look- the two of them bolted up the steps to interrogate their fellow teammate.

They found Scott in his bed, his right eye a bold, yellow colour instead of green. He met the gaze of the two men standing in his doorway. He didn’t have to ask. He knew why they were there.

“I’m not sure what happened.” Scott started, his companions taking a seat on the floor in front of him.

“One moment, I was chatting with BigB, then, I heard a slosh. Like someone had dragged themselves out of water, cuz they had. She was there, grey and glossy eyed. BigB ran to her the moment he saw her. He was just as confused as I was, and asked her what was going on, but… instead of the typical response you’d expect from Cleo, she just… attacked him. No hesitation or nothing. I tried to stop her, but she got me instead.”

Scott met Grians eyes. That look in his eyes said it all. This wasn’t intentional.

“She.. she looked almost… zombie-like. Which is ironic, I know, but it’s true! I…” He brushed a strand of blue hair out of his face and glanced out the window. “Either she’s made up her own rules, or something’s gone really wrong.”

Grian exhaled nervously, cupping his mouth and trying to think, when their phones went off simultaneously.

BigBst4tz2 drowned whilst trying to escape ZombieCleo

He shut his phone, sliding it across the room.

“This isn’t supposed to be happening!” He shouted, louder than he meant to. “This- I don’t understand what’s going on!”

Mumbo just stared at his phone. He took a deep breath, and shut it. “L-Let’s get some sleep.” He spoke shakily, “We need it. We can decide how best to combat this in the morning.”

“And just leave her out there!?” Scott exclaimed, “are you crazy?!”

“I wanna help too, but we can’t do much now. Let’s just… just come back with a clear head.”

After a long pause, both boys agreed reluctantly. Grian trudged back down the stairs and threw himself into bed. Despite how exhausted he was earlier, he couldn’t even close his eyes. He gripped his hair and rolled over. Maybe this wasn’t as big of a deal as he thought it was… maybe he was making a mountain out a mole hill. Still, whatever was wrong, he was going to get to the bottom of it, and he was going to fix this. One way or another.

Chapter Text

The next morning was full of frustration and confusion. Grian paced across the floor of the castle. Today marked day 6. Deep breaths seemed to be as effective as telling a bee to leave.

Their phones buzzed in unison. Once. Then twice. At least five times in the past minute. He refused to look. He didn’t need to. One glance at Joel’s confused features as Mumbo tried to explain what was going on told him absolutely everything.

“I’m going out.” He finally decided, rolling up his sleeves, wings flicking out to stretch.

“What?!” Both of his teammates stared at him as if he’d grown two heads.

“Someone has to investigate! It’s my series. I will sort this out.” He barely let them get another word out before shutting the door behind him.

The life series never had roads, and this one was no different. Just landmarks inside the border. Jimmy, Impulse and Skizz took the higher ground with their skyscraper. Etho, Bdubs, Ren and Pearl dug themselves into a wall, building a little cottage inside. He passed them both. Lizzie and Gem made themselves a lovely house of cherry wood. Scar thought it’d be a good idea to man it on his own in a sandstone pyramid. Tango, BigB and Cleo walled themselves up in a tangly maze of steps.

Arriving at said steps, he invited himself in. “Cleo?!” He called, “Cleo! I’m here to resolve this!”

His footsteps rang hollow beneath the rotten wood stairs. Each overlapping set of stairs made for walls, and he was almost positive it was never this large, and he still had to bend over to get anywhere. “Dangit, CLEO!? Where is she..?” His careful steps became a determined stride as he kept calling for her, yet they remained unanswered. Unfortunate, his walks and shouts caused other sounds to languish, letting the quiet creaks that did not belong to him go unheard.

The stairs stretched onwards, seeming to lack end. However, once he finally reached the peak, he sighed in annoyance. Dead end. He could’ve sworn this was the right direction. Did they switch it up?

“Cleo! You know you’re supposed to be out!” He kept shouting, turning around. “You can’t keep-“ he stopped dead as something escaped his view. He paused, taking a careful step forward. “Cleo?” He spoke quietly. The only reply he got was three steady knocks, with at least 2 seconds between each.

He grit his teeth, steeling himself before making his way forward. He was going to get to the bottom of this. Except… this was a dead end too. He gave the wall a puzzled expression, as if that would make it somehow turn into something that made even remote sense. Once again, he turned back and- and froze. It was somewhat subtle, but a board against the ‘wall’ had shifted. He took a breath, and gently pushed it outwards. It gave near instantly, landing against the stair connected with a soft thud.

He peeked through, giving sight to a whole new area. She must’ve gone that way. Careful not to give himself any splinters, he pushed his way through the hole, almost falling as one of the stairs he used for support gave a small crack. He coughed. Wherever this was, the air quality was terrible. Gripping the railing, he descended.

A knot tied in his throat. In this particular set of stairs, the walls were just walls, but he knew something was clearly wrong. Those same walls were covered in muck, rot and horrid plants. The smell of the whole place made him gag. He pushed through, trying to breathe through his mouth instead.

Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs was a relief. After endless steps for several minutes, solid ground felt nice. That feeling was short-lived. Despite the blinding darkness, he could still see their base was ruined. Beds broken in half, splintered crafting benches and torn banners. Books were scattered everywhere, and any semblance of peace seemed to be stamped out hours ago. The room was fairly empty. Nowhere to hide. Nowhere but…

He turned to the one other doorway inside the broken room. He swallowed hard. “Cleo. Come out of there.” He tried to speak forcefully, but he couldn’t conceal his fear entirely. “We need to talk.” There was no reply. He frowned, before planting his one foot forward. No way out but through.

He gripped the doorframe and poked inside, shocked to see it wasn’t much different. Except one thing. He stepped closer to their enchanting table. The only one on the server. This was the only thing that wasn’t broken or damaged, or even dusty! It sat there, emitting its regular quiet hum. It was inanimate, yet he couldn’t help but think it was being almost… smug? He sighed, and tried to take another step forward-

SLAM

He pushed himself off the floor, looking back. He’d caught his pant leg on a screw sticking out of the wall. He reached down to try and free himself and winced, reflexively grabbing his arm. Must’ve hurt it in the fall. He glanced up and to his horror, met the eyes of another. Above him stood someone, shadows obscuring their features, but it was the clear silhouette of a man. Grian let out a sigh of relief and smiled. Just a friend. “BigB? Tango? Is that you?” He asked, reaching out his hand in hopes they would help him up. The figure grabbed his wrist instead. Their hand was ice cold. Something slippery touched his arm, and he almost squealed.

His friend pulled him up close, and in the darkness, he saw the face of his ally. He looked almost wet. Mouth agape and eyes glossy and grey. Like…

Grian tried to pull away, but the figure didn’t relent, holding him tighter. “B!” He screamed, “B STOP! IT’S ME! WE’RE FRIENDS!” But he didn’t seem to hear him at all. He bared his teeth at him, shattered and sharp as he dived at him, knocking them both down. Grian struggled to keep him at bay, using his good hand to fight his, and kept his bent bad arm against B’s neck to try and stop him from biting. He tried to shove him off with his legs, but he found himself weak. Tired. “B PLEASE LISTEN TO ME! IT’S GRIAN!” But his words seemed to ring hollow.

Grian finally managed to get a leg up and slug him off. He swiftly pushed himself up and tried to stand. “Come on B, you know me! What’s going on?!” While B was trying to get back up, Grian’s eye caught a switch through the inky black. He bolted for it, hoping the light would help his friend recognize him. He managed to shove the lever up and light flooded the room just as BigB managed to stand up. To his horror, the light gave way to all his features.

He was soaked, seaweed stuck to his skin and torn clothes. Both eyes grey and glassy, supposedly symbolizing that he too, was supposed to be out of the series. It was exactly how Scott described it. Zombie-like and aggressive. Like he didn’t recognize him. This was enough proof to say Cleo wasn’t just cheating. Something was wrong here. Some type of virus that was reviving them after elimination as violent zombies. It wasn’t just a shiver, it was like someone ran an entire block of ice down his spine.

B pounced at him, but he ducked out of the way, charging out of the room and back through the hole in the steps. He hadn’t seen Cleo at all, and now he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Somehow, getting out took twice as long as getting in, running down flights of stairs with only one thought in his mind. Make it out alive.

At the third dead end, he nearly cried. What was once a lively place felt like his new personal hell on earth. He had to turn back again! He spun, before he heard a soft cry that made him freeze. He turned in the direction of the noise to spot a long hallway. Against his better judgement, he made his way inside. He tried his best to be silent, reaching another dead end. He went to leave before finally seeing the source of the whimpering. A lump, covered in an old bedsheet. Carefully, he gripped one end and pulled it back to reveal a terrified, red lifed Tango. Panicked, he pointed a sharp piece of wood at him. Grian raised his hands in surrender, and Tango relaxed slightly. “G?” He muttered.

“Yeah… yeah it’s me. I’m gonna get us outta here, c’mon.” He extended his good hand to him, but Tango didn’t take it.

“No! No… we- we can’t… if they see us, I…” he shuddered in fear.

“Tango, we aren’t safe here. We have to go.” Grian pulled him off the ground, and the two of them ran. Not even the exit made them slow down. They kept going until they finally reached the castle.

The two of them collapsed on the steps, trying to catch their breath. They stayed in unanimous silence for a long while, both of them trying to wrap their heads around what they’d seen. After long minutes, Grian spoke first. “What happened in there Tango?”

The man next to him was still breathing heavily, sweating from exhertion. “I… we- we sent Cleo to try and get iron… so she could get someone with a tnt minecart as a red name… but she didn’t make it out. We- we mourned her, and then Scott came over. He mentioned that your team wanted to make allies, and we were all for it… then… then she came out of the water… attacked them, killed Scott and dragged BigB into the water. Next I saw him, he was… that.”

Grian exhaled. This was too much. This was supposed to be a light-hearted series. He rubbed his eyes and looked back at his friend. He was covered in injuries. Slashes and bruises, bite marks on his arms and legs. “Let’s- let’s get you inside. Get you patched up.”

“Oh my- Tango!” Mumbo exclaimed the moment he laid eyes on the man. “What- what happened? Here, lemme try to help.” Grian watched as Mumbo led Tango upstairs. He sighed and sat down. He reached for his phone and bit his lip. Damn. His arm still hurt. He pulled off his jumper, leaving him in just his white shirt. He examined his arm carefully. Cuts and bruises, but nothing too bad. He sighed in relief, though, he was sure he sprained it. Tying the jumper around his waist, he turned to Joel, who had passed out. He sighed. How long had he been gone for?

Wiping sweat off his forehead with his backhand, he settled into bed, recounting the events of the past two days. Everything was fine. Cleo died. She came back. Killed Scott and BigB. They slept. He went to investigate Cleo’s home. Found BigB. Got attacked. Ran away. Found Tango. Came back.

There was a clear outlier here though. If she killed both Scott and BigB within the same time, then why did BigB turn, but Scott didn’t? Unless it was a process? Which meant…

He jolted up and dashed for the stairs. “MUMBO!” He shouted, “MUMBO, ITS SCOTT!”

He stumbled his way in to a very confused Mumbo, and a terrified Tango. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with Scott?” He asked, puzzled.

“He’s next! It’s- it’s some kind of Zombie Apocalypse thing! Cleo killed BigB and Scott. I saw BigB in there. He was the one who hurt Tango and I! If BigB is turned…”

Mumbo looked confused, but you could see the pieces click as the realization of what he’d been describing struck him. “There’s a chance Scott has as well…” he finished.

As if the world had been getting a kick out of watching them suffer, they heard Joel shout from below. Grian didn’t hesitate, bolting down the stairs to catch Scott trying to pull Joel out of his bed. Grian snagged the shovel propped against the wall and swung it between the two boys, pushing Scott off. “Scott listen to me!” Grian shouted. “You’re newly turned, there must be some piece of the real you still in there!”

Scott hissed, meeting Grian’s eyes. That one, piercing red eye, matched with his one green. He grabbed Scott’s shoulders and tried to shake him a bit. “IT’S ME SCOTT! It’s me! It’s Grian! We’re friends! C’mon Scott please! You know me!”

Scott paused, his skin idly bubbling. Almost as if his words had pierced the thick veil over his senses. Then, he screamed and attacked, trying to claw at him, before he was knocked away by Joel, who’d hit him with the shovel. He helped Grian to his feet.

“Sorry Scott.” Joel swung the shovel at his face, smacking the blue-haired man and causing him to stumble, giving Joel the opportunity to kick him out the door and slam it shut. The two boys heaved, trying to catch their breath. “That- that could’ve been bad..” Joel muttered.

“Yeah… yeah… definitely could’ve gone worse.” Grian nodded in agreement. “This is terrifying… Joel, the servers been infected with some kind of… zombie virus. That’s why Cleo came back. The only thing we know about how to get infected is by dying… but there could be more. Are you hurt at all?”

“Agh… he…” Joel looked himself over. “He didn’t do much. Most damage I got are claw marks on my legs. Damnit, he broke skin. Since when were his nails so dang sharp?!”

“Maybe it’s part of the transformation or something?” Grian suggested. “I- I don’t know! I have no idea as to how this could’ve happened. All I know now is the series is over. We need to get everyone together. We have to fight this as a team. We need everyone.”

Joel frowned. “Even Jimmy? Can’t we just throw him to the zombies?”

Grian chuckled, though, it was empty. “No. We can’t. We have to figure out how to combat this. Let me look at your leg.”

Joel exhaled heavily, locking the door and pulling himself onto his bed, extending him leg to his friend. The marks were deep, trickles of blood sliding down his leg. Grian kissed his teeth, swiping a paper towel and trying to stop the bleeding a bit. “It’s- it’s not bad, but you are injured.” He concluded. “Okay… okay. You stay here. Watch over Mumbo and Tango. Get some rest. I’m going to go warn everyone. Make sure we’re on the same page.”

Joel pursed his lips, clearly wanting to argue that he shouldn’t be going out on his own, but they had no choice. He nodded, and let Grian leave. He sighed and wobbled over to the counter, snatching up some bandages and steak. Carefully, he wrapped up his leg and slid it onto the bed. He steadied his breathing, suddenly worried for Lizzie. He grabbed his phone, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. What are you supposed to say in this situation? ‘Don’t die?’ He bit his lip, before setting his phone down.

Chapter Text

His first stop was Lizzie and Gem’s. He gave three sturdy knocks on their door and waited a bit. He knocked again. The muffled voice of Gem rattled through the door, her words blurring together. With the click of a lock, the door shoved open, and Gem stood leaning on the frame. “Grian.” She squinted at him. “You think after what you and Scott did to Lizzie, we’d just let you stumble about here?”

“Gem, this is serious. The series is over. Effective immediately.” He spoke with a straight face. She paused, pulling off her lovely purple sun hat. She squinted at him, trying to figure out whether or not he was being genuine. “Look, you saw the messages, right? Cleo died, and now she’s back.” Gem raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, thought that was weird. Sorry G, I don’t know anything about that-“ she gave him a shrug, before turning her eyes in towards the home. He swiped her wrist before she could shut the door, holding tight enough she couldn’t break free, but not enough to hurt.

“I do.” He bit, trying to keep himself calm. “Cleo’s a literal zombie, and she’s turned BigB and Scott.” She looked him in disbelief. The look of confusion on her eyes was prominent.

“Are you being serious?” She questioned as he released her wrist.

“Yes! Yes, and it’s spreading! Get Lizzie! Get somewhere safe, please!” He pleaded. She hesitated, but nodded.

“Wait here. I’ll get Lizzie.” She told him, before shutting the door and running upstairs. “Lizzie!?” She called.

“I’m here!” Came the response, “who was at the door?”

“Grian. Lizzie, somethings happening. He says the series is over. You know the Cleo thing? Yeah, apparently it’s a lot worse than we thought. We have to go!” She blurted out quickly!

“Woah, Gem slow down! Whats wrong?”

“I’ll explain on the way, we have to leave.” Gem gestured for her to follow, and Lizzie trailed after. “GRIAN! We’re coming!”

Both girls slipped out the door. Grian turned to them anxiously. “Have either of you seen Scott, BigB or Cleo recently?!” He jumped, impatiently waiting for an answer, and visibly relaxed when the both of them answered no simultaneously. “Okay… okay. I don’t have much time to take you back. Get to our castle, and if you see any of the three of them, run or hide. Fight as a last resort. These are still our friends.”

“I don’t understand what’s going on!” Lizzie exclaimed, “Whats happened?!”

Gem took her hand gently. “I said I’ll explain on the way. We’ve gotta get going.” Lizzie frowned, but nodded. They waved goodbye to Grian before the two groups ran in the opposing direction.

He’d already decided his next stop would be the skyscraper. The exhaustion was strong, but his fear for his friends lives was stronger. He pushed forward, finally arriving to the tower crafted from cobble and stone. Tearing a page out of a book and quill, he scrawled something down, stuck it onto an arrow, aim and… fire!

Fortunately, it landed straight through their window.

Lots of things have happened to Jimmy throughout his life, but being stuck to the wall by an arrow definitely wasn’t a highlight. He just wanted to craft something, and now he was pinned against the wall. Thankfully, it only caught his shirt, not his shoulder. He tugged it out of the wall, noticing the piece of paper attached to it. Tossing the arrow aside, he opened the folded note.

“GET ALLIES. MEET ME DOWNSTAIRS!”

He huffed. This was Grian’s unmistakably messy handwriting. How much trouble could one man create? Rolling his eyes, he went to gather his teammates.

Once the three of them had been rounded up, they stepped outside to find Grian, pacing impatiently. He looked unusually stressed out. The sound of the door made him jump, and he turned to face them. “Good, you’re here. Now you have to be not here.” Jimmy raised an eyebrow.

“What are you even talking about? I- Nevermind, what do you want?” He posed dramatically, squinting at him with his hands in his hips. Impulse and Skizz just exchanged confused looks.

“The series is over boys.” He spoke firmly. “It’s done, but this isn’t. There’s some kind of zombie virus going around, and I don’t need any more people getting infected. Get to the castle. Joel and Mumbo will help you.”

“Wait, zombie apocalypse? What are you talking about?” Impulse crossed his arms, leaning on one leg.

“You saw in the chat, Cleo came back from the eliminated, and now she, BigB and Scott are hostile.” He tried to explain properly, but words just spilled out like a waterfall.

“Okay, but wouldn’t we be safer in the skyscraper? We’d have the higher ground.” Skizz suggested, gesturing at the tower behind them.

“In theory, yes.” Grian replied, “but if they get up there, you’re stuck. No way out. The castle is safer, please!”

The boys glanced at each other. Grian jolted suddenly, swiftly spinning towards them. “Have any of you seen Cleo, BigB or Scott at all in the past two days?!”

Skizz and Jimmy shook their heads, but Impulse took a moment to think. “No direct contact if that’s what you’re worried about.” He replied. “But Scott was here two days ago, trying to negotiate an allyship.”

Grian inhaled. “Okay, that’s fine. I can’t go with you, I have to get everyone else, but the castle’s that way. If you see any of the three, run and hide! Fighting is a last resort, and if they kill any of you… you’ll likely respawn infected.”

Jimmy grimaced. “This is a stupid plan.”

“Well, it’s the best we’ve got.” He retorted. “Go now, and do NOT draw attention.” Grian didn’t leave until he was sure they were going, and made his way to the caved cottage, residing Ren, Pearl, Etho and Bdubs.

“Etho?!” He pounded on the door, “Etho! Pearl! Someone open this door!”

Carefully, the door was opened a crack, Etho’s green lifed eye peeking through. “Who’s there? What do you want!?” He growled, before taking a good look at Grian. He paused. “Grian. Whats my name?”

He was caught off guard by the question. “E-Etho.” He stuttered, and Etho relaxed.

“Good. You’re not with them.” He sighed, opening the door properly and dragging Grian inside. “There’s a-“

“Zombie apocalypse going on, I know. That’s why I’m here.” He finished for him. “I’m trying to round everyone up so we can stick together. Keep track of who is and isn’t infected.”

Etho frowned, the muscles in his face contorting softly. “How much do you know about the current situation G?” He asked, glancing at the door.

“I think I know everything. How’d you find out?”

“Scott ‘n B came to our doorstep. I almost let ‘em in, but through the window I saw how they looked. That… horrible hole through Scott’s chest. The way seaweed stuck to his skin like glue.” He shuddered. “Ren and I managed to scare them away with a shovel, but not before one them caught his arm. It doesn’t look great.”

Grian gave him a sympathetic look. “Etho, no one is safe here, not on their own. You, Pearl, Ren and Bdubs have to get the castle.”

“What? Are you joking? Ren’s injured, and it’s dangerous out there. At least a 10 minute walk. We’re safe here too.”

“Etho, look at this place! You’re in a cave, and your home has one exit! You’ll be safer there!” He begged, pointing in the direction of the castle. “Please.”

Etho crossed his arms, but before he could get out another word, someone else spoke. “You think we’re safer there?”

The two boys looked over to find Ren, Bdubs and Pearl standing behind him. Ren clutched his arm, waiting for a response.

“With all my heart.” He answered, tracing an X on his chest with his finger. Ren nodded.

“Ren you can’t- you’re not-“ Etho sputtered, but he held up his good hand.

“My arm is hurt, not my legs. I can move. If it’s safer there, then we go.” Etho bit his lip, clearly worried about his friend. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he reluctantly nodded. Pearl slung 3 bundles over her shoulder.

“Alright then.” She puffed her chest. “Let’s get going.” Ren and Pearl stepped out, and Etho followed. Upon passing, he grabbed Grian by the shoulder.

“I hope you’re right about this G.” He whispered, before letting go and following Pearl and Ren. Grian nodded sorrowfully, though he knew Etho was gone. He stepped out of their home, shutting the door behind him. One more stop. Scar’s.

Scar was decently far, residing in the desert. After a few minutes of travel, he found the somewhat decorated pyramid, named ‘Fort Scar’. He carefully knocked on the door. “Scar? Scar are you in there?”

The silence was deafening, his wings curling in to cover his ears. Carefully, he pushed open the door. It was dark, which wasn’t unlike him, though he still wasn’t quite settled about this. He bit back the urge to call out to him, learning his lesson from last time. Again, the bed was broken, and things were destroyed. He did hear footsteps. Approaching quietly, he made his way through the rooms, quietly looking around the fort.

The sound of someone prowling was not lost on him. He heard the sounds of someone breathing heavily, crawling around. He knew there were eyes on him. He had no idea if or when they would strike. Unfortunately, it came faster than he’d anticipated, someone kicked in his knees, knocking him onto the ground and climbing on top of him. He felt nails in dig into his back and teeth in his arm. His wings flapped uselessly, and he felt helpless.

This was it then. This was how he died. Mauled by one friend, forced to kill the others. There was nothing he could do on his stomach. He got ready to close his eyes, until he heard a loud WHACK, and the pressure on his back released. Someone pulled him up and he met the eyes of a grinning man. Green eyes glinted at him. He leaned on his cane, and the two boys turned to who attacked him. Cleo was pushing herself off the ground as if she weighed a ton. “Well,” Scar began, “This has been lovely Cleo, but uh, G and I are gonna head out now.”

“Scar…” Grian mumbled weakly, “I- I don’t think I can go far like this…” Scar looked him sorrowfully. He turned back to Cleo, jabbing his cane on her back, causing her to fall back down.

“Sorry girl, but as long as you’re like this, you can’t go anywhere.” He rolled her into another room and locked her inside. He turned back to Grian. “Okay. We have a bit of time to heal you up.”

He made Grian sit down as he went to get cleansing supplies. “Scar… Scar, you have to leave me.” He insisted. Scar frowned, dabbing the marks in his back.

“Why would I leave you?” He asked. Grian opened his mouth to reply, before taking a sharp breath through his gritted teeth. “Sorry!” Scar jumped,

“N-no… it’s fine. Scar, I’m likely infected. Everyone will be at risk if I go back.” He choked back a sob. “It- it’s fine! You go to the castle, I’ll stay here and make sure Cleo stays in there as long as possible- AOW!” He jolted as Scar tugged at one of his wings.

“Have you lost your mind?” Scar hit him with his cane. “No one gets left behind. If you stay, I will too. Now, I can’t carry you, but we can support each other.”

Grian’s shoulders sagged. Scar ducked under one of his arms, clutching his opposite shoulder and hauling him up. His hand on the cane shook with the pressure. He grinned anyway. “Alright. Let’s get out of here.” Scar pushed the both of them forward, and Grian was too tired to fight him. The setup was terrible, and both of them almost fell. Yet they persevered, shoving themselves out of the pyramid. “Alright, where is safe around here?” He asked.

“The… The castle… will be safe for you…” he muttered. Scar just nodded, and the two of them slowly trudged towards the castle, staying closer to the trees as to remain unseen.

“Scar…” Grian coughed, “I get your concern… and- and you want to make sure I’m okay… but I’m infected. Less than a day from now, I’m… not going to be myself anymore.” His chewed-up arm throbbed, his wings pointed towards the ground, and he fought to keep himself upright, if only so he didn’t drag Scar down with him.

“Remember Double Life?” He asked, still smiling. Grian turned his head. Why the sudden change of topic? “And 3rd Life?” He continued. “You and me against everyone else.” Scar laughed, and his heart ached. He wished he could share Scar’s optimism. “Ah, Grian, I mean it when I say you aren’t getting left behind. We’ll find a way to make you better. C’mon, remember? Desert Duo! Boatem! Mooners! Friendship Soulmates! Are you really ready to just roll over?”

Grian stopped walking, and Scar stopped with him. Both boys took a seat on a fallen tree. “I don’t want to die Scar…” he mumbled, looking him in the eye.

“And you won’t.” He assured him. “We don’t even know if you are infected. How do you get infected?”

“Uhm… so far, you have to die, or lose a life to an infected.” He answered quietly.

“Well G, you look like a yellow name to me. Same as you were yesterday.” Scar laughed, before nudging him with his elbow. Grian didn’t want to get his hopes up, but Scar’s positive outlook rubbed off on him a bit. Maybe he wasn’t infected. Just injured.

“Okay…” He finally conceded, “okay, maybe I’ll be alright.”

“That’s the spirit!” Scar cheered, patting him on the back. Grian bit his tongue, and Scar let go. “Sorry, I forgot.” He grimaced. “Okay. We should keep going.”

The two men resumed their original formation, arms linked around each other’s necks, and Scars wobbly cane to support them. The walk was by no means easy. The footing was awkward and they walked incredibly slow. It was pure luck that no zombie found them.

After at least 20 minutes of shuffling forward, they made it to the stone castle. Scar smiled wide. “There it is G! Your house, that I guess is now also my house?” Scar turned to him, but Grian didn’t reply. He felt lightheaded. Disoriented. Sick. His stomach twisted, and he slipped off Scar’s arm and collapsed onto the grass. Scar’s shouts rang empty on his ears as he left Grian’s side to get help.

Consciousness slipped away like sand through his fingers. His wings twitched. Just once and no more.

Chapter Text

It was as if he was floating. His body unburdened by the pressure of solidity, yet he felt compressed. Like he was piled between two mattresses. He felt himself being dragged across the stone. Felt people tugging him away, but something beyond beckoned for him. A pull in another direction. A call. It screamed for him. It did not use names. Names were beyond it. “Join us.” It spoke. “Join your friends in freedom child.”

The voice was strange. Warm almost. Comforting in a practiced way. He struggled to breathe. “Name.”A small echo whispered to him in the darkness. “Remember your name.” His name? Did it matter? Did anything? He barely noticed the deep tendril snaking itself around his leg, tugging him in the other direction. Away from where he was being dragged across the stone. “It matters.” The sliver pleaded.“Remember and it cannot take you.”

He cracked an eye open. The plush of his bed beneath him did nothing to help the aching pain that coursed through his chest and limbs. His friends bustling voices crowded his ears and he forced his other eye open.

“We have to be careful with him.” One said. “Any minute and he could turn!”

“He won’t.” Said another. “It’s Grian. He’s strong. He won’t turn that easily.”

“Scar, your optimism is appreciated, but we gotta be realistic.” Spoke the third. “We don’t know what turns people, but traditionally, it’s bite marks, and he got bitten!”

Scar didn’t answer. He felt the dip in the bed, signalling someone sat near him. “As long as he doesn’t attack us, he’s still our friend. He’s still Grian.”

He heard footsteps against the steps, the others in the room heading upstairs. He twitched, forcing himself to move a bit. Scar jumped. “Grian! You’re- oh jeez, okay. Uh, stay there! Don’t move!”

“I… I wasn’t…” he croaked. His throat felt dry. He swallowed heavily.

“Okay, I’m not sure how much you remember, but you collapsed on the front steps and I went to get help. You’ve been asleep for like, a day.”

“Sorry… didn’t mean to… to scare you…” He muttered.

“That’s okay, this is good, actually. Means you’re still you!” He smiled. He tried to push himself up, and Scar helped him. He propped himself against the bed rest, meeting Scar’s eyes. “You uh- you fell kinda hard. You remember much?”

“Uhm…” He coughed, and Scar handed him a bottle of water. He sipped it greedily, the cool liquid soothing his voice. He cleared his throat. “I- I was gathering everyone for the apocalypse. Cleo attacked me… you and I dragged ourselves home… the- the details are fuzzy… I passed out?”

“Yeah. Everyone thought you’d be infected, thank god you’re okay G! Anything else? Basic stuff? Age? My name? Your name?”

“Jeez, I’m not…” He sighed. “I’m 32. You’re Scar. I’m…” he hesitated. “Grian.”

“That’s great!” He cheered. “I gotta tell them!” He pushed himself upstairs, leaving Grian alone. He sighed. He couldn’t remember his own name for a second there. How unsettling.

He looked over to see his red jumper and sweat-stained shirt were draped over a chair. Most of his torso and arms were covered in bandages. His eyelids felt heavy, and he held his head with one hand. His right arm was still left sprained and bitten, the mark tingling underneath the cotton wrap. He exhaled. He stretched his wings, shuffling through his bedside chest and picking up a piece of bamboo. He used it to push himself up off the bed and onto his feet.

He took porkchops out of the furnace and took a piece of sharpened iron, and began to shape the bamboo. Using the iron for small things and his axe for big chunks. Working with one hand was difficult, but doable. The clicks of someone’s shoes against the stone floor echoed through the empty main level. Etho’s masked head peaked around the winding stairs. “You’re awake.” He commented, somewhat surprised.

“Woke up a few minutes ago.” Grian answered. Etho stayed in stunned silence, and they both knew what he was thinking. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.” He spoke up before Etho could say anything. “I might turn and I might not, but as of right now, I’m still me. I know who I am, and I know who my friends are.”

Etho didn’t answer. “I want to trust you Grian.” He finally answered. “I really do! But… you know why this could be hard for all of us. Why we could be… offput by this.”

Grian just nodded sorrowfully. His friends distrusting faces did hurt, but he knew he’d feel the same if the roles were reversed. “I get it. Where’s Scar?”

“He’s still… uh… running around the castle, telling everyone you’re awake, and-“

“WHAT?!”

Etho and Grian looked to the top of the stairs. Grian sighed, knowing something was coming.

Jimmy and Joel burst down the stairs, almost pushing Etho off.

“GRIAN! HOLY MOLY, YOU’RE AWAKE!” Joel exclaimed. “AND YOU’RE STILL YOU!”

“Y-yeah, I’m still me Joel.” He replied with a slight smile. He turned to Jimmy, who looked a mixture of relieved and terrified.

“So… are you going to turn against us eventually?” He blurted out, it coming more blunt than he expected.

Grian blinked twice. “Uhm, we’re not sure yet. I don’t think I will. I don’t feel much different, besides the whole, being mauled thing.”

Jimmy relaxed a bit by this, and he heard more people upstairs making their way down. He took a deep breath. It might be a long day.

He spent hours explaining over and over that he wasn’t sure what was going to happen, and reassuring his friends that they’d find a way out.

After all was said and done, and the sun began to set, the life members started to settle down. Grian pulled his red jumper over his bandages, and took a seat on the side of his bed.. Joel had already passed out on his, and everyone else had set up upstairs. He snapped the top of his sword in half, and strapped it onto his molded bamboo, turning it into a spear. He didn’t want to hurt his friends, but he needed to defend himself. He would not have a repeat of last time.

He laid down, tossing and turning, but sleep never came. The golden clock on the wall read 2AM, and he was wide awake. Forget it. He swiped his spear and marched his way to the front entrance. Might as well get some use out of his insomnia. He adjusted the diamond helmet on his head and settled into his self-assigned post. Hours passed, and he remained stationed. Years of playing the long game for traps had paid off. The first spot of light was also the first spot of a zombie.

That horrible sloshing sound of someone drowned entered his earshot, and B trudged onto the pathwalk from the woods. He stopped and stared at Grian. Neither moved for a good few seconds. Grian pointed his spear at his friend with his good arm. “Don’t let him see you’re injured.” He told himself.

B stopped. He tilted his head. Grian didn’t waver, however, he found B’s behaviour odd. Shouldn’t he be racing at attack him? To bite? To finish the job. Instead, B just turned around and shuffled back into the woods. He lowered his weapon in confusion. Why did he leave? No fight or anything. Grian expected a lot of things, but not that. He sat back down.

The sun rose, her radiant glow shining east as she perched on the horizon. He heard footsteps inside, but he did not leave his post. Eventually, Scar found him. “What are you doing out here man? Do you know what time it is!? Everyone’s looking for you!”

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He apologized. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to keep watch. Good thing I did too, BigB was here not too long ago.”

“Wh-He was?! What happened?” Scar exclaimed.

“Shockingly, nothing.” He replied honestly. “He came from the woods, looked at me and just… left.”

Scar sat down next to him, confusion spreading across his face. “That’s weird. Why didn’t he attack?”

“I dunno.” He turned to his friend, matching his emotions. “What now?”

Scar paused to think. “Well you gotta come inside first. Everyone’s been worried about you.” Grian just nodded and let Scar take him in. Many heads turned once the door opened.

“Where was he?!” Lizzie asked.

“Outdoors. Couldn’t sleep. Kept watch.” Were Grian’s quick answers as he sat down on his bed.

“That’s it?” Bdubs crossed his arms. “Not even gonna give us a proper explination?”

Grian sighed. “I’m sorry for making you worry. I wanted to make sure nothing happened while we slept.”

Scar frowned as his friends interrogated Grian. He just wanted to help. Why couldn’t the others see past the fact he was bitten? He was fine! He was still himself, and as sound of mind as Grian got. He pushed himself up the stairs and settled on his bed. Grian was just trying to help, wasn’t he? Why was that bad? He did help! He scared off BigB!

He propped his cane on the wall and laid down. He tried so hard to convince Grian to come home, and now he probably felt unwelcome. He knew his friends were just worried for all their safety’s, but they were being kinda mean. He should clear things up. Talk to Grian again. He sat up and reached for his cane- that wasn’t there anymore. He peeked over the side of the bed. It hadn’t fallen over. Where had it gone?

He turned around to meet the sunken eyes of Scott, who was holding both halves of his now broken, splintered cane. Scar didn’t have time to do anything before Scott pounced, knocking him off the bed and hissing at him. “HELP!” He shouted, praying that his friends could still hear him over themselves. Scott fought hard. Scar couldn’t get away without his cane, which had been abandoned on the other side of the room.

Fortunately, Gem heard his calls, and pushed Scott off him, but he grabbed her wrist and took them both out the window.

Grian heard the crash, grabbed his spear and bolted outside. He caught Scott wrangling Gem, before shoving her head to the side with a sickening snap. She lay broken as Grian pointed his spear up in anger. Scott looked up at Grian with the same look B gave him. That look of confusion and almost recognition. He swung the spear at Scott, who ducked and grabbed Gem’s corpse. He tried to attack him, and Scott dodged. He gripped the spear tighter. Scott knocked him back onto his arm, and he cried out in pain. The spear clattered next to him, and he looked up in horror, watching Scott push up her chin with the base of his hand, and took a huge bite out of her neck. Ignoring the terrible pain in his arm, Grian grabbed his spear, using it to push himself up. He charged and thrusted the spear at him, knocking him off Gems fading body. She’d respawn soon as herself, but she’d take less than a day to turn. Scott paused, before turning back into the woods. Grian heaved, trying to steady his breath.

He picked Gem up and carried her indoors. All eyes fell on him when he walked him with her. He fought to hold back tears. “I was too late.” He finally spoke. “I couldn’t get Scott off her in time. She’s going to turn in less than a day now.”

“What… what do we do…?” Pearl muttered. The rest bowed their heads in an expression of honour.

“We… we have to get her away from here. Bury her. Then someone should break her bed.” He responded. He set her down, and sighed. “I will stay. Protect the castle and break her bed.” He half expected them to protest, but they just nodded.

Grian tied a piece of cloth around her bleeding neck, then scooped Gem up and handed her to Pearl, who gagged, but took her anyway. She bended her knees a bit under the weight of her body, but managed to carry her without too much struggle. Grian took a seat as his friends piled out, parting them with words of luck and a reminder to be careful.

He shut the door behind them, and exhaled heavily. Then he shot up in alarm. He hadn’t heard it over the sound of their own chatter, but it was there. Strong, scrapping, pounding drags of someone above him. His heart stopped as he reached for his spear, closing his fingers around his as if it could vanish any moment. Gripping it in both hands, he quietly made him way up the twisting steps, that heavy weight bending the floor getting louder. Reaching the top of the stairs, he jumped out, spear thrust forward, aimed at whoever was making that noise.

“AGHH! DON’T HURT ME!” Shouted the man, who raised his arms above his head. Grian paused, lowering his weapon and getting a good look at the crumpled man.

“Scar?!” He finally realized. He grabbed Scar from underneath the shoulders and dragged him onto his bed. “Scar, what were you doing up here?! What happened?”

Scar rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t wanna hear them like, interrogate you anymore, so I went upstairs for the quiet, and I set my cane down. Next thing I knew, Scott had barged in here, broken my cane and was on top of me! Like, jeez Scott, we used to be friends! I barely kept him off me! Gem came in to help me, and they both fell out of the window. I’ve been trying to get myself down the stairs and to help for like, an hour! And… and Gem, is she alright? She must be pretty banged up from the fall. And I can’t hear anything downstairs, G what happened?”

Grian’s attempts to fight back tears failed him, and he stumbled to sit next to Scar. “Woah!” He jumped, rubbing his back in a small gesture of comfort. “Hey, c’mon, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“Gem-“ he choked out. “Gem’s dead. And it’s my fault.” Scar froze, his eyes widening. “I couldn’t get to her in time.” He continued. “And now they’re out burying her before she turns too. Scar, I-“ he couldn’t force himself keep talking, and Scar didn’t make him.

“You tried your best.” He reassured him.

“You don’t know that!” Grian retorted suddenly, standing up and pointing in his face. “You- you weren’t there! If I had just tried a bit more, fought a little harder..!”

“G, I didn’t have to be there!” Scar exclaimed, throwing his hands up for emphasis. “I know you! I know whether you think it or not, you put 110% into everything you do. Gem… she understands.”

“You can’t put words in her mouth; you can’t know that!” He fought, tears spilling from his eyes. He didn’t try to stop them.

“Maybe I don’t, but I know that none of this is your fault Grian! It’s not in your nature to just let someone die. There was nothing you could’ve done-“

“You don’t know that! You weren’t there! I was! I watched him hurt her when there was something I could’ve done to stop him! I heard that sound Scar! Do you know what breaking bones sound like? Because I do now! I watched a monster wearing my friends corpse consume her! Ripping and tearing like she’s just some piece of meat or something! I heard that sound. The sound of her spine snapping. The sound of teeth and claws dig into her, listening to my former ally pull at flesh with that look… that look of pure… hunger in his eyes. And I could’ve stopped it. I COULD’VE DONE SOMETHING TO-“

“Charles.”

Grian seizes up, going completely silent. It’s as if his very bones are locked in place. He slowly turns back to Scar, puffy red eyes meeting Scars, who was also crying.

“Where did you hear that name?” He whispered, full-body facing him now. Scar didn’t answer for a moment, prolonging the anticipation and nervousness building inside him.

“Jimmy told me.” He finally answered.

Grian felt his heart sink. That jerk went behind his back?! He clenched his fists, still shaking. Scar just patted the side of the bed next to him. Grian’s legs moved before he could react, suddenly finding himself sitting by Scar. Scar wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. “It’s gonna be alright G.” He spoke in the calmest voice Grian had ever heard him muster. “I don’t know who or what you were before, but it doesn’t matter now. What does is making sure we will be okay. Right now, we should probably break Gems bed so we don’t have a zombie respawning in our base.” Grian just nodded, reluctantly handing Scar his spear so he could stand.

The two speared the bed, snapping it in half. “Bye Gem.” Scar saluted. “You were a great friend, and I promise we’ll find a way to cure you.” Grian just bowed his head in respect. He had nothing to say. Despite Scars attempts to make him feel better, he still felt this was in some part his fault. Grian’s wings folded towards his face and he frowned. He glanced at Scar. He was propping up a frame with an amethyst shard inside. A gem. Below, he wrote:

‘GeminiTay’

‘A daughter, a sister, a friend.’

‘We love and miss you dearly.’

“Okay.” Scar said, breaking the silence. “Let’s go downstairs. We’ll wait for our friends to get home, and you can teach me to carve myself a new cane out of bamboo or wood or something.”

Both boys made their way downstairs, passing the time by trying to make Scar his new cane. After several hours, Scar was out cold and Grian was once again, wide awake. He kept making nervous glances at the clock that had recently chimed 10. His friends should be back by now. Growing restless, Grian swiped his spear and stepped outdoors. No sight of them. He couldn’t go find them without leaving Scar exposed and defenceless. After maybe 20 minutes, he heard shouts. He jolted up to find his allies running like mad men out of the woods, screaming. They dashed to the front steps, and Grian’s head count seemed to be a few short. He spun his spear, stepping infront of them and preparing to chase off what or whoever scared them.

Out of the trees stepped the two men that were missing. Ren and Tango. Their two injured. Tangos red eyes now matched his complexion, all of his wounds from when he found him looked to be decayed and opened wider, sticky-looking blood clinging to him, yet still dripping off. Rens previously broken arm was now the centre point of him, looking black and rotted, the rest of him a deathly greyish green. He could’ve been sick.

This whole time, they thought you had to die, but neither did. They only had injuries, but turned all the same. Both boys stared at Grian, glossy eyes shifting over to meet his. Then, it was as if time stopped moving. All was quiet. Grian tilted his head, when something gripped his shoulder. He froze. “Join us in the depths child. Those two have, and soon will all else.”

He swayed, time moved, and he collapsed onto his hands and knees, feeling like vomiting.  He didn’t see them retreat, focusing on trying to get the world to stop spinning. Someone shouted. Who was that? His arm throbbed and the claw marks in his back pulsed as if fresh. His stomach bubbled and he threw up. He felt like his consciousness was abandoning him, yet he felt no exhaustion. His hands slipped, leaving him face first in the dirt as he fought to stay himself. That overwhelming force pulling him under was stronger, and his body went limp.

Chapter Text

He was back in the darkness. That suppressing void that was suffocating and freeing at the same time. He remembered being here before. Why didn’t he remember when he was awake? He tried to pull himself upright, but it was as if he was trying to navigate a pool of syrup. Assess the situation. This wasn’t where he actually was. A dream. Why would he dream a void? Twice? Finally, he was somewhat upright. He opened his mouth to talk, but it felt as if the moment he did, something sucked the air out of him.

The deepness around him shattered like glass, and he fell. Falling farther and farther, until his feet connected with solid ground. And the rest of him too, as he slammed against it. He coughed, and pushed himself up. Both of his arms worked fine in here. Standing up, he was still in blackness, but it was somewhat tinted with coldness. Deep blues and purples glinted from every corner as he walked forward.

“You defy me child.” A loud voice echoed to him. “You’ve lasted longer than your friends, but you shall not wake as you now.”

“Who are you?!” He shouted into the void, “What do you want with my friends?!”

“I am the beginning. I am the end. I am all, and yet none.” It told him. “Now, I am the start of a new journey in the form of an enchanting power.”

“And you want me? Newsflash, I’m not for sale! Pack up and go home, leave my friends alone!”

“Name.” Another cried out to him. “You must remember who you are! As long as you know, it cannot take you!”

“I…” he muttered “I don’t… it’s there… on the tip of my tongue…” his name. It was his name! How could he not remember..? It was so close, yet so far. Just out of reach.

“It is not important. Step forward. Embrace your fate!” It demanded.

He paused. There was pressure on his chest. Beating in rhythm with his pounding heart. He clenched his fists and planted one foot behind him. He dragged on fist in the air, index finger pointed to nothing. “Sorry whoever you are, but again, I’m not for sale. And I’m sure as heck not turning. Thanks for the offer though.” 

He turned on his heel to leave. “I AM ALL EMBODIED, YOU WILL NOT DENY ME.” It roared furiously. The floor behind him started falling, curving downwards like a crumpling bridge. He stepped back, before bolting away from the collapsing floor. It was catching up fast. “Name!” The small voice pleaded. “Can’t you remember?! It’s-“

“GRIAN!”

He rocketed up in a cold sweat, knocking someone backwards. He turned to see Scar, Skizz and Joel surrounding him. Trying to steady his breathing, he clutched his chest and looked each of them in the eyes. “Did- did I miss something..?” He smiled weakly.

“You’re damn right!” Joel crossed his arms. “You scared us y’know! Grian, you just collapsed! Scar had to give you CPR and everything cuz you stopped breathing!”

Scar fidgeted nervously, his fist covering his mouth gently. Grian touched his own, and his eyes darted to his feet. He turned back to Joel. “I don’t know what happened.” He answered honestly, “I just… lost myself for a minute.”

Skizz frowned, but left him anyway. Joel sighed and departed with a “Get some rest G.” Scar stuck around. He looked concerned.

“I was worried about you.” Scar told him, sitting down next to him. “I… I panicked. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for saving my life man. I owe you one.” He smiled and patted Scar on the back. Scar jumped.

“Y-your arm..!” He spoke with a shocked expression. Grian examined it. It still looked as tattered as before, but it didn’t hurt at all.

“It’s healing.” Was his conclusion. “What’s going on?”

“Uh, Etho took mostly everyone to the Nether to gather supplies from pigmen, so it’s just you, me, Skizz and Joel.” He replied. Grian nodded and went to stand. “G.” Scar frowned, catching his wrist. He turned back.

“You were talking in your… ‘sleep’. What were you dreaming about?” He questioned, leading Grian to sit back down.

“I… I don’t really remember.” He answered honestly. “Uhm… I was upset, I think. Shouting at something. It’s real fuzzy. What did I say?”

“It was really freaky, like you were having a conversation with yourself. You whispered things. ‘Pack up, leave my friends alone and go home.’ Then nothing. Then ‘I’m not for sale!’ And other weird things.” Scar looked concerned, and Grian understood why. “Do you remember what who you were shouting at looked like?”

“No.” He glanced to the floor. “It… it didn’t feel like a dream. I know that. If it happens again, I’ll tell you. But… maybe we could keep this between us?”

Scar silently agreed, then gave him a warm smile. “Do you know anything about when you passed out? Dizziness? Exhaustion?”

Grian thought, hand over his chin and mouth as he tried to recall. A shiver ran down his spine, like cold water had coursed through his veins for a second. He shuddered. “I do. Vague… but there. I heard a voice.”

“A voice? Who’s?” He asked curiously.

“That’s the thing, I don’t know. It’s not anyone I recognize. I remember that it was only a whisper, and yet it felt like a scream. Like my ears were shattering.”

“Did it say anything in particular?” Scar tilted his head.

“Uh… yeah. Uhm… it’s… again, it’s fuzzy, but I… I’m almost positive it said ‘Join us in the depths child. Those two have, and soon will all else.’” Grian looked to his friend for his answer.

“Ominous.” He replied. “Did it mean Ren and Tango?”

“I think so.” He agreed. Before he could continue, Scar jumped in.

“Maybe that’s the voice you were arguing with in your sleep! And it said ‘us’, meaning it’s with Ren and Tango, so maybe it started this. But why is it talking to you and not everyone? What’s the difference?”

Scar turned to his friend, who had gone pale in the face. He looked as if he was going to be sick. “G?!” He exclaimed, using his cane to stand up, then kneel infront of him. “Hey! Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“Scar…” He croaked, tears pricking his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. “It’s because I’m infected.”

Scar grimaced. “We’ve been over this G. I told you-“

“And I wanted it to be true Scar! I wanted to believe it so, so badly! But Tango and Ren weren’t killed. They were injured, and they turned! Scar, it’s-“

A loud scream came from upstairs. Skizz. Grian bolted, Scar following behind him. Arriving in the room, he saw it. Joel’s leg. Joel himself was horrified, crying and silently screaming. His leg was green and purple, claw marks from when Scott has grabbed him days ago were opening up again, and the skin around it was rotten and bloody. Joel sobbed. “Grian…” he muttered, eyes meeting his. “You have to get me out of here! Roll me out the window if you have to!”

Grian just stood there in horror. Not Joel. Dear god, not Joel. “Please!” Joel shouted. “You have to save yourselves! Please!”

He paused, a horrible idea popping up in his head. One that might just work. “No.” He replied, grabbing his spear.

“Are you crazy?!” Skizz shrieked. “I love Joel as much as the next guy, but he’s gonna kill us all!”

Grian ignored him, stepping closer to Joel. He handed Joel a towel, who looked distressed, and now confused. “What’s wrong with you?!” Joel shouted.

“Bite down on it.” Grian ordered. Joel paused, then his eyes filled with terror. “I’m sorry Joel. We have to see if this will work. If we can save you.”

Joel looked to his broken, rotten leg, and sobbed. “G-Grian wait…” but Grian just stuffed the towel in his mouth.

“Don’t look.” He turned to Skizz and Scar, who were also crying now. The both of them covered their eyes. Grian looked back to Joel, who had his eyes squeezed shut. He brought the spear up, took a deep breath, and swung it back down as hard as he could.

The noise that followed was worse than anything he’d heard before. Worse than the gurgling of choking on water from BigB, worse than the sound of Gems neck breaking. It was quiet for a few moments, then Joel screamed like never before into the towel. Grian rushed to patch him up, covering the stump where the leg was with whatever bandages he could get his hands on. He wrapped the wound up with more bandages than he knew he actually needed. Eventually, Joel passed out due to pain and blood loss. He prayed to whatever this would work. That Joel would survive.

He scooped Joel up and set him in his bed. “Guess I’m making another shaped stick from bamboo.” He looked back at them, body still facing away.

“Seriously?!” Skizz gaped. “You just chopped Joel’s leg off and now you’re making jokes?!”

Grian bit his cheek. Did he really just do that? He turned to Joel’s severed leg, feeling surprisingly unaffected. Yes, he was worried for Joel, but the look of the leg didn’t do anything for him. He just grimaced, before picking the thing up and carrying it downstairs,  leaving Skizz gagging at the sight and smell. Stopping at the garbage outdoors, he examined the leg properly. He knew how his friends would feel if he was caught doing this, so he had to be quick. He checked the marks Scott made, as well as how the rot spread. If only Cub or Doc were here. They’d know more about this than he would (wounds, not zombie viruses).

He tossed the leg in the garbage, and turned outwards of the castle. No one would be happy about what he was planning to do. He cracked his knuckles and stretched his wings, before hauling his spear over his shoulder and trudging onwards, into the forest. This is where the zombies always came from, so there must be something here.

The sun cut through the trees, blinking away with every tree he passed. Her rays were strong during dusk, but he remained persistent. Keeping vigilant, he pressed forward, deeper through the trees, which were now clumping together. He squinted through her shine, the reflection on his eyes making it near impossible to see. He stuck his wing out to shade his eyes. Helpful. Clutching his spear, he slashed the thick and twisted vines in his way, cutting down the increasingly larger plants. The deeper he went, the more overgrown things felt. Were their rotting bodies fertilizing the life? That might be a little far-fetched of a theory, he presumed.

The sun continued to set, the sky growing blacker as he travelled further. His friends had probably gathered by now that he wasn’t just out to dispose of Joel’s leg. Not that they would find him. He was too far in the woods. Grian had already decided that if anyone were to go and try to find the zombies little hidey-hole, it would be him. He was the weakest link after all.

“I sense you are close.”

He stopped dead. That voice whispered to him again. That familiar voice that he didn’t recognize. One that spoke to him when he passed out. He rubbed his eyes, stamping the fuzz from his mind. Ignore it Grian. He kept going. The trees hummed softly as he- wait what? He paused, taking a moment to touch the bark. Trees don’t hum, and these ones were no exception. What was making that low rumbling noise?

He kept walking, finding himself unconsciously drawn to the source of that ethereal hum. His legs carried him towards the noise without a second thought, as if he just knew where he was supposed to go. The hum grew louder.

“Your mind runs from me, but your heart knows where you belong.”

He grit his teeth. It was like each word was a bit of fog dampening his mind. The more it spoke, the less confident his steps were. The more he swayed. He shook his head, trying to fight the numbing pressure pushing against his brain. He shivered, rubbing his arms. Night time brung the cold.

He struck down another vine, which he estimated to be nearly as thick as his arm. Climbing over roots and shuffling his way through tight squeezes between trees, he followed the noise. That constant buzzing in his ears was becoming annoying.

“Do you ignore my words out of arrogance? Denial maybe? Do you doubt my existence because you are afraid to admit you may lose yourself?”

This time, he had to lean against the tree to stop himself from falling. His head felt like it was vibrating through his fingertips as he held it. Ignoring seemed to only make it talk more, but engaging in conversation would also make it speak. The more it spoke, the worse he felt.

Before he could stop himself, he bit out “Why do I keep hearing you?”

He half expected it to not reply. To not hear him. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

“You made an excellent guess before.”

“So you caused this then? You’re the reason this is happening. That my friends are hurting.”

“Hurting? They are not in pain.”

“I don’t just mean the zombies. Everyone at home too. I think it’s safe to assume you know them too.”

“I do. You are right to be worried. They are not safe.”

“How comforting. If your goal is really to sway me, you’re not nearly as clever as you say you are, ‘all embodied’.”

He had to use the spear to keep himself upright and moving now.

“How curious. You have breached the defence between your reality and your dream. The void beyond.”

He had to take a moment to think as to what that even meant. Breached a defence? Why did this mysterious voice have to speak in stupid riddles?! He thought about what he said. ‘All embodied.’ He tried to connect the dots.

“Was that something you stated in my dream?” He guessed.

It hummed in response, the buzzing in his ears spiking in volume as it did. His hands shot up to cover his ears, but it did little to help. It quieted back down. Driving his spear through one last vine, he finally reached a spot between the trees that revealed a campsite of sorts. This was it. Where they stayed. But then, where were they? He tightened his grip on the spear. The humming was loud here.

He examined the place. It was strung with rope and sticks, some type of pyre in the middle, whatever they would need that for. The ground beneath was charred and coated with ash. “Don’t drag your feet here.” He reminded himself. Wait- the buzzing was lesser on this side than that one. He traced every inch of the place to find where it was loudest.

Against the pyre. Below him. It would take forever to dig, and he didn’t have that kind of time. Shouldn’t there be some secret way in? He’d have to find that, and fast. Who knows when the zombies will return. Which was odd, because this is where they were when they weren’t attacking them.

For a moment, the only thing remotely moving was that thumping below, before his foot planted heavily in the ground and he ran. Ran faster than he ever had before and likely since. “You are right to be worried, they are not safe.” Those words played over and over in his mind. Was this planned? Did that voice lure Grian out so it could get to his friends? Or it was his own thickheadedness that did? His constant need to put himself into the heart of the storm, and sacrifice himself for everyone else. What a stupid, selfish, suicidal decision it was to come out here. Because of him, his friends were now down a set of helping hands, ones that could be the difference between life and death.

His legs ached, but he couldn’t care less. Was he even running in the right direction? The voice did not call for him. Did not ask him to stay back. Good. It would’ve only made him angrier. He stumbled over a root and fell, bashing his chin against the ground with a hard smack! He barely registered that he was trying to get up when his bad arm made a terrible crack under his weight. He cried out in agony. Still, using his other arm, he continued to push himself up until he was somewhat standing. Biting the inside of his lip, he limped forward, trying his best to fight through the pain. He pulled off his jumper, wincing at having to move his arm. He tied the sleeves around his neck, and with a horrible sob, he pulled his arm onto the makeshift sling. It wasn’t any good, but it’d have to work for now.

Using his spear, he pushed onward, following the vines he had already cut. Tears spilled from his eyes, his broken arm causing sharp pain through his whole body. He tasted blood. He forcefully unclenched his teeth to release his lip, tongue darting out slightly to lick the blood off. The warm liquid was almost comforting in the cold, dark forest. The slight metallic taste was almost sweet, incomparable to anything else. He sucked on the wound, still trying to move forward.

Through the blurry haze of his tears and eyelashes, he could see a vague grey shape in the distance. Thank the heavens. He stumbled towards the building, trying not to trip on his own feet. His friends were inside, and they could be in danger. One foot infront of the other, he finally, finally reached the front steps. He threw his hand onto the lever, tossing it down and hauling himself inside, slamming the iron door behind him. Quiet. He hated the quiet. “SCAR?!” He called, “JOEL?! SKIZZ?!”

Nothing. No response, until-

He heard footsteps. Someone coming down the stairs. He gripped the spear tighter. Skizz appeared from the spiral staircase. His eyes were puffy, and the look on his face spelled tragedy. “Where were you Grian..?” He muttered.

“I- I tried to find the- it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve left Skizz, I’m so sorry, what happened?” He silently prayed the answer wouldn’t come.

“They came.” He replied. “Our friends weren’t ready. They pulled several of us away. Gem was with them.”

Grian sat down. He held his head in his one good hand. “H-How many…?” He choked out.

Skizz paused, before quietly answering: “Impulse, Bdubs, Pearl ‘n Mumbo.”

He had no words. Neither did Skizz. The two of them stood in silence for a long time, before he quietly retreated back up the stairs, leaving Grian to himself. He had to count. He, Skizz, Scar, Joel, Jimmy and Etho were left. Out of eighteen players, eleven were gone. He took a moment. Six left. Eleven out. Eighteen in total. Who was missing?

Scott, Ren, Tango, Cleo, B, Gem, Impulse, Bdubs, Pearl, Mumbo. Ten.

Grian, Skizz, Scar, Joel, Jimmy, Lizzie, Etho. Seven.

He jolted up. Martyn. MARTYN?! How could he have forgotten about Martyn?! What kind of friend did that make him?! Martyn ran off early in the first session. He and Scar were going to team up, but Martyn just vanished. He was still on the server, he was sure, but where was he?! Did he even know what was going on? He tried to get up, but pain kept him down. Right. If he ran off, who knows what could happen? Maybe more people would die. But what if Martyn died? What if he was suffering? How could he in the right mind just… leave him?

He needed to know if he was okay. If he… an idea came to him. He shook his head. No. Not that. Anything but that. All he could do was wait. He leaned back head pounding and arm throbbing. He grit his teeth. Time to deal with this stupid injury, he supposed.

Chapter Text

Joel heard it in his head. That strong, echoey voice, beckoning him to listen. To fall to that song. Give up his thoughts. No. No, he couldn’t! Names. Remember names. Skizz and Scar stood by the stairs. Grian in front of him. He was Joel. Joel. Skizz, Scar, Grian, Joel.

“Please!” He found himself shouting. “You have to save yourselves, please!” That voice shrieked at him. C’mon Joel, Skizz, Scar, Grian.  He looked up at his friend, who had this terrible, hollow look in his eye.

“No.” Grain said. No. No, no, Grian. Grian said. Skizz argued something in the back. Or was it Scar? Grian stepped forward. What was he doing?! He stuck a towel in his face.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Joel exclaimed. The voice grew louder. Bolder. “Bite down on it.” Grian ordered. What? His eyes widened with fear; it didn’t take long to figure out what was going on. “I’m sorry Joel. We have to see if this will work. If we can save you.”

Joel’s eyes darted to his broken, dying leg. He couldn’t hold back the horrible choking sound he made. Through his tears, he mumbled out, “G-Grian, wait…” but before he could get anything else out, his mouth was full of the towel. He bit down hard. There was no way out. He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Don’t look.”

And suddenly, everything was quiet. The connection between him and the voice severed. Then the pain came. He screamed into the cloth, this feeling of sharp, burning agony was like nothing else. He felt hands on the stump that used to house his leg, but consciousness and proper thought escaped him. He was probably dying. He wished Lizzie were here, she’d know how to comfort him. Though, he didn’t want her to see him like this, so maybe her not being here was a good thing.

He shut his eyes, embracing the dark. Whatever came next was not his problem now. 

—————————————————————

Scar buried his head in his hands. Of course he did, of course he did! Staring at the trash with no Grian in sight. Part of him worried something bad had happened to him, but he knew Grian. That man probably couldn’t resist getting himself in some kind of trouble.

“Anything?” Skizz called from behind him.

“No G here.” he replied, stepping back inside. “I worry about him sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Skizz asked, already going for the stairs to check on Joel.

Scar laughed hollowly. He took a seat on Grian’s bed. Damnit, he was probably in danger, but what could Scar do? He gripped the sheets. Please be okay Grian.

—————————————————————

Skizz was tired. So darn tired. They didn’t have the proper materials to help Joel. Gosh, what was Grian thinking? He sat next to Joel’s bed, keeping an eye on his breathing. It was unsteady, but regular. He wrapped a bandage a few inches above the wound. He had no idea if a tourniquet was even necessary in this situation, or if it would help at all, but he did it anyway.

It’d been hours, and still no sign of Grian. He shoved pillows under Joel’s stump, hoping elevation would slow the flow. He drummed his leg impatiently. Nine days. Usually the seasons end at eight, but it was clear they were gonna be here a lot longer. Nearly a week ago, he was chatting with Impulse and Jimmy, making jokes with Cleo, setting traps for the cherry girls, and now he was treating Joel’s severed leg wound, with next to no experience of how to do this.

He let his head slump against the stone wall with a thud. That man better return safe, Skizz didn’t think his heart could handle another loss.

—————————————————————

Etho lead the team through the pits of the Nether. He stepped over a jaded black stone. This darn biome was covered from head to toe  with magma and magma cubes. A shout came from the back, and he halted the line. “Everything alright back there?!” He shouted, and Pearls voice echoed back.

“Yep! Almost slipped into the lava! My bad!”

They continued. He stopped at a hole of lava. He looked at Bdubs, and they nodded, taking out their cobblestone and crafting themselves a bridge. Etho made sure everyone made it across safely, offering a few his hand for balance.

Impulse was the last to cross, who looked over his shoulder and muttered “Coulda’ sworn I saw something.”

“Probably just a Magma Cube.” Etho answered him.

They pressed on, climbing over spikes and fighting off piglins. Etho slashed one, the diamond cutting through it easily. “Uh, Etho?” Impulse backed up. Etho looked at him. “Those don’t look like piglins.”

He glanced off into the distance, seeing them. All of them. Cleo, B, Scott, Ren, Tango… and Gem. It was terrible to see them in a horde. Etho had the numbers, but not by much. Not enough. “RUN!” He shouted, he and his friends  turning around and bolting.

—————————————————————

Jimmy nearly tripped on a stalagmite, stumbling over himself but not falling. Looking back, those darn zombies had found them! And they were catching up. Despite being in terrible condition, they were a whole lot faster than you’d think they’d be. Etho was still shouting commands, but they were gonna get nowhere with this. As much as he didn’t want to hurt his friends, they wanted to hurt him. And they were already dead. He stopped running. “JIMMY?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Lizzie called.

He didn’t answer, pulling out his bow, notching an arrow and firing, the flaming projectile landing through Ren, who stumbled.

“WE’LL GET NOWHERE BY RUNNING!” He shouted to them. “WE HAVE TO SLOW THEM DOWN!” In an instant, Impulse was by his side, nocking his own arrow and releasing towards the infected. Then came Bdubs, Mumbo and Pearl. Lizzie joined, and Etho drew his sword.

Scott was the first to make it near them, shrieking and hissing at them. Etho shoved him back with his shield. Jimmy kept firing, but a horrible realization settled on him fast. He’d made a huge mistake. This wasn’t buying them time, it was buying them time. Letting them get closer. They had the advantage. He turned to Etho, who seemed to have also realized.

“RETREAT!” Etho shouted. Mumbo turned his head and fell backwards, Tango climbing on top of him. Before the man could react, he tore a chunk off his cheek, revealing his teeth. He screamed out in pain. Jimmy covered his mouth. Cleo fell next to Tango, biting pieces off the man. Jimmy tore his eyes away to see Impulse shoved into lava, and his legs being consumed. His hands shook as he stood frozen in horror. If he hadn’t stopped, then they would still be alive.

He watched Bdubs fall, Pearl rush to help him, only for both of them to become overwhelmed as his former friends surrounded them. Their screams were horrible. Someone grabbed his arm and ran with him. His legs felt numb as he followed.

—————————————————————

Lizzie covered her mouth, trying to silence her cries as the three of them hid. This had gone so horribly wrong. They were just supposed to barter and maybe find netherite, and now out of the seven that left, there were only three. Jimmy was silent. They were supposed to be silent, but Jimmy was more than silent. She knew he was blaming himself.

Etho was still watching out. Eventually, he nodded to them, and the three of them silently made their way out of the Nether. She wished Joel were here. If nothing but to give her a hand to hold. She followed Etho down the spikes and the magma, making sure Jimmy remained in front of her and still walking.

She hoped Joel was okay. He seemed to have trouble walking when she left.

—————————————————————

Joel stirred. Where was he? What happened? He couldn’t get himself to sit up. He tried to take in his surroundings. He was in bed. Leg throbbing. It’s quiet. The concept of silence was unfamiliar to him, though he couldn’t figure out why. Was it because things had been so stressful the last few days? Lots of yelling? No. No, it came back to him slowly. The voice was gone. That commanding, empowering voice wasn’t inside his head. He was himself. He was Joel. And if he was lucky, he was cured.

It came back to him now. The zombies. The wound. His leg. He was alone. What was he supposed to do like this? Roll over and wait for the zombies? No thanks. He forced himself off the bed, stumbling over and falling onto the floor. This might be harder than he thought.

Taking a page out of Scar and Grian’s book, he dragged himself over to a chest, throwing it open and tossing out anything that could help him stand. Bamboo worked for Scar. He pulled himself up and tried to wobble down the stairs. He fell on the first step he took towards them. Damnit. The uneven weight of his own body; he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Pain shot through him and his ‘leg’ screamed. He grit his teeth. Was he still bleeding? The pain made it hard to tell. He shouldn’t have gotten up. What was Grian thinking?!

He was grateful that he wanted to save Joel, but if anything were to happen, any breach of the castle, he would do nothing but slow them down. He hissed, the pain growing. He barely registered that someone had picked him up and pushed something in his face. He forced his eyes open to find Skizz, who was checking his stump, and pushing a bottle full of red liquid in his face. Blood? No. It moved more like water.

“It’s Regen. After, I’ll give you Healing.” Skizz said, not even looking at him, keeping his attention on his ‘leg’. Shakily, he took the potion bottle between his teeth, tipping it up and swilling it. It near fell out of his mouth. Damnit, this pain was like nothing else.

He knew Skizz wasn’t trained for this. None of them were. He wasn’t sure how long he was out. “Lizzie…” he mumbled out. “Lizzie… is- is she okay…?”

“Not sure.” Came the reply. “Etho took almost everyone to the Nether. They should be back soon.”

Joel let the bottle fall from his lips, and his head slumped against the pillow with a soft thump. He allowed his eyes to droop closed and succumbed to exhaustion.

—————————————————————

Scar hummed softly, standing over his sleeping friend. Grian came back a few hours ago, and after dealing with an injured leg, he passed out. Now all four of them but Skizz had something wrong with the lower half. How hilariously coincidental.

He slumped down, landing on the floor with a thump. He rested his head against the mattress currently occupying his ally. He wondered if Grian was having good dreams. He hoped so.

He slid over, popping his head slightly over the top of the bed. He snaked his arm up it, brushing a dirty blonde curl out of Grian’s deep black -closed- eyes. Grian had some very interesting eyes. Nothing like he’d ever seen before.

The first time Scar saw them, he was worried. They looked devoid. Empty. Soulless. They didn’t match the man at all.

Now when he sees them, they fit him perfectly. Those deep black wells weren’t empty. They were overflowing with warmth. They reminded him of a welcoming void. A limitless space full of joy and light. He pondered whether or not Grian knew that. He could be so hard on himself sometimes.

Scar sank back down, shutting his eyes and letting his exhaustion take him. He’ll be here when G wakes up. In the meantime, might as well rest up.

—————————————————————

The three of them took refuge in a looted Bastion. The Pigmen had all been slaughtered by Etho’s team back in Episode 3. Bastions definitely weren’t the safest place in the underworld, but it wasn’t as if they had options.

She and Jimmy sat at the top of the tower while Etho paced the black stone, muttering things about how the zombies could’ve possibly known they were in the Nether. Not that it mattered now. They needed to figure out how to make it back to the overworld without alerting the zombies or getting caught off guard. She frowned, trying to think.

The portal was far, and it wasn’t hers anyway. It belonged to Mumbo’s team, and they couldn’t ask him now. She wrapped an arm around her legs and squeezed Jimmy’s hand. They could see if any Piglins survived. Try and barter for obsidian. That seemed like their best option now.

She walked past Etho, briefly explaining that she was going to get gold to try and get them out of here. She didn’t wait for his reply. Pulling out her pickaxe, she swung at the gold ores that covered the Nether.

Damnit, this was so slow. She didn’t know if piglins were around and even if they were, the amount of gold she’d have to mine to get enough for a portal could be minimal, but it could also be massive. Gritting her teeth, she made herself keep going.

—————————————————————

He was in his mind again. His dream, or to put it better, his nightmare. It was quiet. It was waiting for him to speak first. Annoyance surpassed his stubbornness, and he spoke.

“What now?” He bit, frustrated that he couldn’t  pass out in peace anymore. Though he’d figured he couldn’t sleep anymore, and patching up his leg, he figured out why. Purple scars covered it. Rot and decay began to set in. He was infected. He was turning. Just 10 times slower than everyone else.

“You know your fate, yet you refuse to accept it. Why?”

“You’re a coward, hiding somewhere behind my rotting friends. You think I want to join you? You think anyone else did? No. See, I’ve figured out why I’m turning slower. Why you need to keep coming back and trying to persuade me that being a zombie is worth murdering myself and the people I care about.” He scowled.

“Have you? And what will you do with that information. How do you plan to stop me.”

He stood up. “I’m going to do something I swore I’d never do again, and I’m going to stop this. I’m going to heal my friends, and I’m going to banish you back to the slimy, hellish hole you crawled out of.”

It paused, then made a noise that sounded almost like a chuckle.

“It’ll be fun to see you try Watcher.”

Chapter Text

Grian pushed himself up off the bed with a redound sense of determination. He spun his spear between his fingertips, then catching it. He grit his teeth.

He swiped his jumper off the table and pulled it over him. He tightened the bandages around his dying leg. There was no pain anymore, not from his physical injuries. Did it make him a hypocrite for not chopping it off as he did to Joel? Did it even matter now? He took a deep breath, but before he could take a single step towards the door, a voice rang in his ears.

“G..?”

He froze, hesitantly turning to meet the droopy eyes of Scar, who was propped up against his bed. “What’re you doin’…?” He mumbled sleepily. He found his lips opening and closing, trying to say something, to come up with some excuse. He had nothing. “You… weren’t tryin’ to leave again… were you..?”

Scar pushed himself upright, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He squinted at Grian, noticing his spear, his posture, the nervous look. Scar frowned, then gripped his cane. “Grian, you aren’t leaving, are you?”

He tensed up. “I- I just need some air. I promise I’ll be back.”

Scar half-scowled at him. “No, no, you’ve been outside for like, three days! You’re worstening!”

“Scar, it’s ‘worsening.’”

“That’s not the point! You’re not going!” He crossed his arms, before trying to push himself up off the ground.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be back in a bit.” He walked out coldly, trying to ignore Scars calls as he shut the door behind him. His wings slouched by his ears as he shoved his way into the forest.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m putting an end to this if it kills me.” He knew Waking Up would be dangerous, especially to his body. Tucking away all his power was difficult, and it might take a toll on his body if he tried to bring it back, but there isn’t any choice. Besides, his body is dying anyway.

The thought of Waking Up scared him. It meant he could lose himself again. It meant showing who and what he really was to his friends. Worst of all, it meant the others might find his hiding place. Memories came to him. Memories of when he was younger, naive, foolish, and completely, one-hundred percent human. Memories of a divine cold touch enveloping him. Memories of pain. He remembered their words, and their calls. Those twisting calls.

He shook his head, forcing those thoughts from his mind. Eventually, he found a nice patch, clear of trees. Taking his spear, he began to trace in the dirt.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you. One way or another, I’m ending this.”

“You cannot stop this. With or without your useless magic.”

“I suppose we’ll find out.”

He slung his spear over his shoulder, examining his work. He flipped the weapon, the plunged it into the centre of his glyph, falling to his knees as strong purple light enveloped him.

Then the pain began. Horrible, twisting, bubbling pain. Like his skin was frying off his bones, muscle sloughing off. He choked, his body failing him. He slumped, trying to control his power. His grip tightened around the spear.

It was as if his whole body was shredding, tearing itself apart and knitting itself back together. His blood began to coagulate. He couldn’t think a single clear thought throughout the whole process, pain chewing, swallowing him. Muscles unraveled and bone fracturing, snapping and crumbling. His human body was dying, power surrounding him and flowing through him, ice cold throughout white hot agony.

——————————————————

Scar hobbled after, flinging the door open and trying to follow Grian. Despite Grian being injured, the man was still faster than him. By the time he even got outside, Grian was nowhere to be seen. Fortunately for him, the ground was decently wet, and footprints were clearly pressed in the ground. He carefully followed after, calling for him.

His mind swarmed with worry. Fear for his friend, and terror for his health. He kept leaving, and kept coming back more and more battered. Did he see himself expendable? His mind brought him back to his pyramid. Grian practically begging Scar to leave him behind. To save himself. Why did people do that? Make themselves seem so worthless? Like they either saw themselves as the centre of the universe, or less than, and there was no in between!

He tried to hurry himself, but there wasn’t much he could do. He wished Grian saw himself how everyone else clearly saw him. He wished everyone saw themselves how everyone else saw them. It would solve so many problems! Dang it, focus Scar! He pushed on.

He was about to call out again, when a bright, purple light flooded his view. He tumbled back, eyes blinded and burning, eyelids barely providing a shield. He sloppily rolled over and covered his head, trying to block the light from his face. Grian was that way! What if he was hurt? What if was in danger? Making a split decision, he shoved off his vest and wrapped it around his eyes to protect them. He forced himself to his feet. He stuck his makeshift cane out in front of him, dragging it around to try and get an idea of where things were.

Trying his best to not trip, he kept moving, though much slower than normal. He didn’t catch everything, and having to stick the cane out in front of him made it near impossible to walk. He went to open his mouth to call out for him, but his voice was drowned out by the silent shriek of this stupid light. He did have one sign he was heading in the right direction. The closer he seemed to get to the centre, the more resistance was pressed into his body. The closer he got, the harder it was to walk. He  could feel his body fighting him. Legs trying to be uncooperative. He was steps away from falling. Blindly catching a tree, he slumped against it, trying to recoup his strength. His legs cried, forcing him to the ground. He couldn’t get any closer like this.

Grian could be hurt in there, or worse. For the first time, he felt mad at himself for not being able to do more. Mad that he couldn’t keep going, and upset his legs were so useless. The resistance coming from the centre was overpowering. He might just die here. How could he possibly have thought he of all people could save Grian? Him, with his practically useless legs and a consciousness that was slipping through his fingers. Eyes fell shut behind the vest. Not like this. He can’t die here. Then… nothing.

The light that burned through the fabric of his makeshift eye mask was gone, replaced by pressured darkness. The resistance pressing him into the tree was gone. His body relaxed, and he, in a moment of weakness, succumbed to his exhaustion.

——————————————————

She mined until all she knew was this gosh darn gold. Minutes felt like hours and hours like days. Her arms were sore, muscles tensed so hard from swinging around that pickaxe. Finally deciding that she had enough, she quickly crafted warped wood to a bench, then the gold nuggets to ingots. Her hands were clenched around that handle for so long, it took her a moment to stretch them. Now to find that piglin.

She arrived back at their setup to find Jimmy and Etho sitting in silence. There was no doubt in her mind Jimmy was still thinking about it. She was too, how couldn’t she be? Four of their friends were torn apart right infront of them. Sure, she’d seen them die before, but they always respawned. They didn’t come back as friend-devouring monsters driven by void knows what!

She caught quiet shuffling noises. Piglins. Ducking between the Netherrack, she was met with the hogged-faces of the Nether creatures. Tossing them some gold, they cautiously took it, examined it, and handed her fire charges. Not what she was looking for, but it would help. “C’mon ya dirty piggy, hand me the obsidian.” She muttered.

Finally, after a stupid amount of bartering, she finally had enough of this nonsense rock to get the heck outta this place. Not enough for corners, sorry Etho.

——————————————————

His eyes burned, like someone had pressed melting hot metal against where his eyes should be. Where they were returning. His whole body felt indescribably numb and burning. Skin splitting and slicing where his mouth should be, horrible screams ripping from his throat instinctively, yet drowned out by the surge of power. Each torn hole in his body was swiftly patched up before opening back up.

Gone.

He breathed heavily, senses returning to him after their terrible abandonment. He’d forgotten how clear his vision was when he had eyes. How omniscient he used to be. His multitude of reopened eyes scanned his surroundings, landing on a life-form about 50 yards away. Injured. The piece of him that still pretended to be human begged him to help.

He instinctively tried to take a deep breath, finding it impossible now with his lack of humanity or need to breathe anymore. He could see again. See everything clear as day in front of him. The more important task at hand. He knew his top priority at the moment was putting an end to this apocalypse. Then, he had to find a way to mask himself again. The longer he spent Woken Up, the easier it would be for them to find him. He had to put an end to this fast.

“Where are you off to Watcher?”

That voice was clearer now. Quieter, but clearer. He recognized it now. “I’m going to come find you.”

He heard the voice almost chuckle. “In your all-seeing form or not, you cannot stop the coming storm.”

He did not answer, instead choosing to stretch his wings, shooting into the sky and mingling with the clouds like he was one himself. Soaring high above all, he found himself directed towards where he knew he could end this. Back to that camp. Back to that pounding.

——————————————————

Joel’s leg throbbed, or- lack thereof. He had to keep it elevated, or he could… who the hell knows? He felt useless like this. Helpless and junk.

He heard sudden pounding downstairs. What were Skizz, Scar and Grian doing now? Pounding, then thrashing and shouting, Skizz’s panicked voice echoed through the stairs. “GET- GET OFFA ME!”

Dread shot through him like an alarm. He sat up, hauling himself off the bed with a thud. Damnit, MOVE! He dragged himself towards the stairs, pain spiking in every molecule. He slipped down the stairs, eyes finding Cleo and Scott tearing into Skizz like nothing. Where was Grian and Scar. Horror filled his movement as he tried to crawl back up the stairs. Too loud. Something dug its nails into his ankle, dragging him back down. Tears pricked at his eyes as several pairs of rotten hands grabbed at anything they could.

One last desperate attempt to get away fails as he claws at the ground. Teeth and claws and blood and pain as the world starts to go dark. So much for amputating his leg. He hoped that once he turned, he never ever found Lizzie again.

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Walking back to base, she heard the last thing she wanted. The groans and growls of her rotting friends. Running back, she found Jimmy cowering behind a pillar.

“Jimmy!” She called out, ducking behind the pillar, “Where’s Etho?”

“He…” he looked up, tears falling down his cheeks, “He said he’s stalling. That we have to run.”

Lizzie tensed up. She snagged Jimmy’s wrist, pulling him up and running. Every piece of her screamed to turn back. To help Etho, and make sure he would be okay. She had to force herself to believe that going back for him would only get all of them killed instead of one. No, she didn’t know he was going to die. She had to hope he’d follow. Who was she kidding? They were all going to die to them. Being forced to devour and turn their friends and loved ones.

Joel.

If she was turned, would she hurt, or even kill Joel? She felt sick. She built as fast as she could, placing obsidian, then lighting it. No looking back now. Face wet with tears, she pushed into the portal.

Suddenly, she felt the warm sun on her skin, gasping at the clean overworld air. “Jimmy, we-!” Her fingers flexed, horrified to find both hands were completely empty. “Jimmy…? JIMMY!?” She panicked, portal shattering from the other side. No. No no no no no no no. Alone. Completely alone. No Etho. No Jimmy. No-

The sounds of groans and shuffling say she’s not alone. Caught up in her own grief, she didn’t even realize she was trapped. Surrounded. Standing infront of her is the first person she wanted to see pin the worst way possible. With chunks taken out of him, a missing leg and one working eye, her undead husband looked as hungry as the rest.

——————————————————

He feels the power coursing through the pages, grinning ear to ear. He knew Grian was coming. He’d already been to their camp grounds before, he doubted he’d have a hard time finding it again.

He runs a finger along the edge of a page, the paper slicing his skin. Other than Grian, there was only one left. To send the horde after the little one sounded smart, but he thought it a waste. He had a better idea.

Human hearing would be deaf to the sound of beating wings above, but he was no human. He knew The Watcher was doing what he does best. The sound of echo-y steps clicking against the ground behind him makes him stand up straighter, though not from a silly emotion like fear. He could feel the rage burning off the deity.

“MARTYN.”

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Rage boiled inside him, ghastly fists balling by his sides.

That voice, the same mocking voice from his dreams, his mind. “Martyn’s not here right now, leave a messa-“

“Drop the cheesy lines monster, leave this world.” He snarled, his many pairs of wings flicking, feathers spiking. ‘Martyn’ turned to look at him finally. It was Martyns face, but it didn’t look anything like him. He saw through it.

“Come along now Watcher,” it spoke, a terrible mockery of Martyn’s voice. “No need for such hostility. I believe we can sort this out peacefully. See, I have a proposal for you.”

He backed up to the pyre, rotating the post planted in the middle to reveal someone strapped to it. Bound hands and legs, gagged with rope was Scar. A very alive and very injured Scar. He looked dazed, exhausted. Grian clung to his empathy. Human emotions were difficult to hold onto like this. It was one of the reasons he gave up godhood.

He willed hatred to bubble inside him. This monster, using Martyn’s face had killed his friends. Worse than killed them, he turned them into something unrecognizable. Were they even still aware? Perhaps being unaware would be a mercy. Now, he was going to kill Scar. He didn’t have to force himself to be furious at that.

“You can’t beat me Watcher. I give you this, leave this realm, you can take this one with you. Or, I kill you both.”

Grian didn’t reply, instead planting a foot forward. ‘Martyn’ seemed to get the idea, lighting a torch. All the power of a deity and he was still too slow. The pyre and wooden post were engulfed in flames within seconds, screams echoing across the forest. Everyone was dead or dying. His perfect world, shattered.

Without thinking, he drove his talons into the monsters face. He didn’t give it time to make any snide remarks or regain its composure, continuing to drive his claws into its face. Again. Again. Again. After the fifth slash, it stopped fighting back. Martyn’s blood coated his hands, the ground, its body.

He stopped, heaving. His friend’s face was dug in, unrecognizable. He turned to the burning pile. He didn’t save anyone. Not Joel. Not Martyn. Not Scar.

There was a pounding in his head, like the one he had when he first came here. Still loudest by the pyre. This time, he dug down, sinking into the ground. Beneath the surface lay a small base, nothing in it but bookshelves and the enchanting table. The very same he saw in Cleo’s base. The letters flowing out were the same jumbled mess as before, but there was something off about it. He didn’t care.

He broke the ground above, causing their to cave inward, the flames from Scars demise lighting the shelves and the enchanting table. Good. Let it burn. Let it all burn.

The thrumming only got louder as it was set ablaze, as if it was begging not to be destroyed. No, wait… wait a moment. It was-

His eyes were abruptly blinded, bright whites and blues causing him to fall back. When he expected to connect with the ground, he kept falling. Before he suddenly was sitting up, in the middle of the camp ground, except there was no camp, the hole he made was gone. Checking on himself, he found himself still in his cosmic godhood.

He watched Martyn rise, the only remainder of Grian’s rage was a decently sized clawed scar across his face. He looked confused, spotting Grian.

“Oh my god, Grian, is that you? Oh man… my head’s killing me, gosh, what happened to you?” He asked. Then, horror sketched across his face. “Wait no, Grian! The enchanting table! You have to destroy it before-“

“It’s done Martyn.” He cut him off.

Scar rose next, patches of his body covered in ash. Grian froze, Scar looking just as shocked as he was. He tried to brush the ash off himself, but it didn’t work. Martyn stood up. “Well then boys, I suppose we should find our friends.”

Extra:

It was the very first day of the newest life series, First Life. He and Scar agreed to team up, and he had gone mining. Martyn wanted to get ahead of the game this season, enchanting time! On his search for diamonds, he felt the strangest thing.

His head was pounding, and it only got worse the deeper he went. What in the world was that? Trying to find the source of it, he followed the throbbing, suddenly finding a strange two by three tunnel. Following it to the end, he strangely found exactly what he was looking for. An enchanting table.

Well, he wasn’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth. He opened the book, the power of it thrumming on his fingertips. It seemed to pump through him softly, then-!? He tried to pull his hand away, that power burning through him, transferring. It wouldn’t let him go.

He screamed, trying to pull away. He felt it in his veins. There was too much at once, and he felt his consciousness slipping from him. Pure terror shot through him as he struggled, his body slowly stopped listening to him, fighting him.

His thoughts were falling away, his efforts to escape proving futile. His consciousness escaped him, as he fell into nothingness.