Chapter Text
Evo was his masterpiece, the work of art that Grian had been coding throughout his entire time in the Admin Academy - more like prison but at least it was over. It was a progressive server, starting in the Beta world and upgrading once certain checkmarks had been hit. It was meant to run by itself once the code was started with only the basic admin commands needed to troubleshoot bugs and glitches when they popped up.
Grian had wanted to set up the world and then play with a group of like minded people for a new adventure. He had pre-selected the benchmarks for each “evolution” to the next world so he had a way to guide the players should they need it. Some benchmarks needed a certain amount of time in the current version, others needed certain hidden tasks such as amount of iron mined or minecart distance travelled.
It had started out great.
But then the Watchers had shown up.
His players only thought that they were there to help them and add to the server but Grian knew that they were problems. Everything that he tried to prevent them from accessing, he failed and they gained more control until eventually he was the one locked out of the commands.
At that point Grian had told the rest of the server the issue and the Watchers provided their end goal.
They needed to reach the end and defeat the Ender Dragon.
They rushed to gear up, grabbing whatever could help with the fight. The portal was opened up and Grian made sure to look over each of his players.
“I know this is not what I wanted this server to be and I am so sorry but we can do this. I believe in you all but please look after yourselves and the people around you. I love you guys. Let’s do this!”
Grian watched as everyone jumped into the portal one at a time. Pearl patted his shoulder in as she stepped away and into the portal. Taking a deep breath, Grian clenched his sword tighter and fell through the portal.
3…
2…
1…
Thud.
He landed on the platform and quickly regained his composure, looking around to take in his surroundings.
He was alone? Where were they? Are they safe? Was this their doing? He could hear their whispers?
Let us see how this little admin will deal, alone with this challenging ordeal.
His thoughts were broken by the distant roar of the dragon. He had no time to think about this now, he had a battle to win and friends to save.
All the plans that they had run through had been planned with other people being backup and support for the ones attacking. A rotation of fighters who would deal damage to the spires and the dragon, taking themselves out of the battle if they sustained too much damage or if their potions ran out. Grian was by himself. All of those plans fell to the wayside and he would have to survive by himself.
Step one: use the blocks and water buckets to climb each of the ten spires around the island and fire an arrow at each of the crystals at the peak.Thank god that he packed multiple buckets of water which made this so much faster.
Step two: pelt the dragon with eggs & arrows as it swooped down, being cautious of any counter attacks.
Step three: attack quick and get the hell out of range before the dragon can attack him back
Step four: survive! The dragon did get a lucky hit which launched Grian up into the air. A quick swap to a water bucket and a very epic clutch that no-one else saw and Grian survived with minimal damage.
The battle continued slowly but Grian was efficient and taking only small amounts of damage which his regeneration potion was helping with. The dragon didn’t have long left and then Grian could pause and figure out what was happening.
Dodge, slash, duck, stab. Repeat.
And then, it was over. The dragon dissolved into a white magical particle effect leaving behind one last portal and an egg. He had done it all by himself.
There was no time to celebrate though. He pulled up the admin console and looked through it at a breakneck speed. Player… Statistics… Status…. ALIVE. They had all survived.
But where? Where had they gone? The whisper rhyme came back to him at that moment - alone with this challenging ordeal.
Of course it was them. But they were safe.
Two hands landed on his shoulders from behind and he flinched aggressively, a reflex that he had never grown out of from Sam. He glanced down and saw these claws from two separate things… beings, touching him, then dragging him through what felt like a mist of magic to another end island.
They were here. His friends were there just feet in front of him and he
He dissociated, the world feeling blurry and far away. Terror grew in his stomach like acid rising up his throat. He could almost be sick but fear held him back. The grip on his shoulders started to hurt and the dagger-like claws dug into his skin. Blood started to weep from the puncture wounds.
Were these the mysterious Watchers?
The Watchers were talking, but not to him. To his friends. He couldn’t talk, his voice was paralysed from terror but his hands slowly jerked into basic sign language.
Martyn made eye contact but quickly took in the scene. Grian was held still against his will, not talking but trying to do something. Martyn always saw and Grian knew he would see, evaluate and keep quiet. Grian started signing. Three small messages.
Beat dragon alone
They lie, my fault
Run, save them for me…
He ended it with the sign for ‘I love you’, a single tear falling down his cheek as the hands on his shoulders pulled him backwards violently and through another magical mist. This mist felt like death warmed over, like falling through the world from height limit and hitting the void at full force.
It hurt to breathe but when he did catch some oxygen into his lungs it was like breathing through a straw.
He had no time to gather his thoughts or even look around. The Watchers chained him immediately, dragging him through the dark void corridors until they threw him in a cell. Ice crept into his bones, chilling him from within as his heart broke for his friends.
Did they escape? God he hoped that they were safe and sound. He should’ve tried harder to get them out in the first place.
It was his fault.
Grian curled up in the farthest corner of the room on the bare slab of fabric he assumed to be a bed. Only a threadbare blanket to keep him warm but at least he had something.
Sleep was hard but as soon as he felt like he drifted off he was awoken by the iron door slamming open and someone dragging him to his feet. He didn’t have any time to collect himself even as he was dragged into a new room and thrown in.
He didn’t move.
“Stand or I’ll make you stand.” The command was all that was said, he rushed to his feet and stood. The Watcher had a table full of weird tools and Grian felt dread start to seep in. The Watcher’s hand hovered over each item before grabbing one of the only ones Grian knew - a whip.
There was no time to flinch before it arced over and caught him on his arm, a line of pain and a whimper escaping him.
“You will take it. Count them as you deserve.”
The whip rained down, one after another, ripping through his flesh drawing out whimpers that turned to cries as the lines of fire continued.
After twenty strikes, they stopped and Grian was gasping. The Watcher was putting the whip down. Was it over? Grian keep an eye on the Watcher as they reached for something new. He couldn’t see it but when the Watcher turned towards him and grabbed his arm, he saw and felt the needle that was shoved into his skin. A sudden warmth flowed into his body and then nothing.
The needle was placed back on the table, the Watcher banged on the door and another entered and marched him back to the cell, his new room. His flesh was on fire, lines of red hot flames ripping through him and all he could do was suffer in silence, alone.
And that was how it continued. Once a day, they dragged him out of his cell, put him through some sort of tests and experiments and then shoved him back in his cell again. Usually there was a pitcher of water and a small meal that he would have to make last till the next time he was dragged out of his confinement.
Days blended into weeks and then into months. Grian’s body bore the scars and wounds of his capture. His ribs showed through his skin from his limited diet. The other major change had been a pair of wings that had sprouted from his back after his first month under their care.
Turns out the Watchers wanted to expand their ranks and had tried to change Grian into one of them.
The wings were the first stage to becoming more like them. It had taken weeks and weeks of injections of magic before a small lump started growing on the back of his spine between his shoulder blades, slowly becoming bigger and bigger. It hadn’t bothered him until one day when he felt the mass on his back moving inside of him. By the end of that week the bump split and a small pair of wings erupted from his back covered in his own blood and gore.
They were extremely sensitive and the harsh void air caused pins and needle sensations to plague him for days afterward.
Of course that wasn’t his only problem as the wings had erupted from his back, pushing through his skin and splitting it in their escape.
It was the only time that the Watchers provided medical aid to Grian but they helped to heal the dual splits that marred his back from shoulder to lower back. Between the blood loss and injury, Grian had not moved from his bed in his cell.
The torture stepped up once he was back to a when Grian had refused to be broken by them, they started to deem him a lost cause. They had tried to beat him, mentally torture him, drown him in illusions, drug him but nothing worked. Grian kept silent, there was no point in begging.
No one here cared or helped. He was alone.
Time was meaningless. Grian didn’t know if he had been here 6 months or a year or even 5 years. Days had no meaning without a sun, speaking was pointless with no response but worst of all life had no meaning without friends and family.
He was woken suddenly. Grian assuming that it was just another session, another day of torture. He was dragged down the halls he had tried multiple times to memorise but had always failed until they came upon a double set of doors that imposed over his frail form.
This was not the usual place they took him. It seemed more ominous and the familiar flare of terror spiked in his chest. The guard pushed him through and frogmarched him into the centre of the room. Grian fell unceremoniously to the floor where he stayed hunched down. The only thing that moved was his chest from the sudden exertion and his eyes that took in his surroundings secretly before staying fixed to the floor once again.
The room was circular with many robed Watchers lined up around the outside, no gaps remaining except one at the front of the room where the forms of One and Two stood glaring over him.
“Failure, not worth our time. This inferior beast doesn’t deserve to become one of us.”
“Do you want us to dispose of it? You have used a lot of resources on it, surely it has some value.”
“Its value is that we know what doesn’t work now, we can try again. Find a better candidate, one more open to becoming more than just a player or an admin.”
“Very well, I shall leave you to dispose of your pet. Make sure it never graces our sight again.”
Watchers filed out of the room till there were only five left. Grian’s eyes stayed pinned to the floor meaning that he never saw the first strike that knocked him over and into the next hit.
The abuse rained down, one punch then kick until they blurred together. Grian tried to curl up and protect himself but his wings were just as vulnerable to the attacks. The Watcher’s used that to their advantage, yanking Grian up by a wing, easily dislocating it from its joint.
He screamed.
The pain before was awful, he probably had broken ribs from some of those kicks but his wing was in another world of pain all together. He couldn’t focus at all and his vision was dancing with stars.
Let this end, please, he thought.
Gasps of air hurt and he tried to see what they were doing around him but only One and Two remained in front of him. Another two Watchers held his wing and arm, restraining him in place.
But there were five, where was the last…
Another scream ripped from his throat as a red hot brand was pushed into his lower back firmly. There were no thoughts now, just pain radiating and flashing all over him.
“Take it from our sight. Cripple it and throw it through a portal. It will die alone and helpless, unable to move or get help.”
Grian was pulled up by his arms and dragged. This was it, his death was going to be long, painful and drawn out. He had taken too many hits to his head that he almost certainly had a concussion which combined with his other injuries would not be easy to recover from.
But one thing they said haunted him.
Cripple it.
How was the only question on his tongue that was very quickly answered by the familiar torturous purple smoke of magic that wrapped around one of his legs before constricting forcefully. He heard the snap of his bone and the wave of pain that teeters him on the edge of consciousness.
He didn’t see the portal.
He couldn’t feel their hands any more.
He felt a warmth, a breeze that was long forgotten.
THUD
Pain.
Pain was all he could feel. All of his senses echoed with the pain of his injuries, overwhelmed they shut down one by one. His eyes were shut, he hadn’t seen anything really since he saw their magic break his leg but now he didn’t think that he had the energy to even open his eyes.
For all he knew he could have been floating in the void or burning in the nether and it would have made no difference to him. Pain flickered through his veins like a wildfire that touched a dry wasteland leaving agony in its wake. He couldn’t feel anything but pain.
He heard his heart beat in his ears, beating the drum of his heart that would soon slow and stop.
Slowly his consciousness faded away into the black spots that had been growing on the edge of his vision. Who knew what would happen to him. Would anyone care what became of him?
Poor Taurtis, he would be alone now in the world. After Sam had been taken away by the admin council it had just been the two of them. Hopefully, if the rest of his players had managed to escape after the dragon fight, they would band together and look after each other.
It was a nice thought. It would be the last cohesive thought that Grian would think for a very, very long time as he smelled the soft scent of grass with a metallic undertone .
~~~
There was no pain.
Was he dead?
Was he alive?
Did someone save him?
It was as if his body had been sucked up into a cloud but the cloud had stuck to each of his limbs, making them weigh so much heavier that he was unable to move.
Where was he?
It was at this point that he noticed that he couldn’t move at all. Not even a finger or even opening his eyes. It was as if he was made of stone, frozen in place. He wasn’t even breathing properly. He could feel something running down his throat, there was a mechanical whirring sound that matched the push and pull of his lungs as air was forced into his body and an annoying beeping that was rhythmic and constant
Oh my Notch was he dying? Was this how he ended?
Unfortunately before he could find out more, his attention faded as quickly as it came and he drifted back into the unawareness of unconsciousness once again.
~~~
There were new sounds around him the next time he was aware. He couldn’t call it awake as he couldn’t control his eyes or anything, but he was awake in his mind. Grian would make the most of those small positives.
The lack of movement was getting to him and his ADHD brain but he would try to push past it to get his answers.
Nearby he could hear two, maybe three people talking. One of the people was moving around his body, prodding and mumbling as he worked around Grian’s bedside. The sound of some vaguely german curses piqued Grian’s ears.
“He is not in good shape,” the deep German accented voice said, “I don’t want you to get your hopes up but I don’t even know if he can recover from this. We’ve done everything we can at this point to start his healing process but it's slow going even before the concussion."
“Is there no sign?”
“We lowered his sedation and tried to take him off the vent to see if he could breathe on his own but his injured ribs stopped him from breathing fully. We had to put him back under to prevent him from puncturing a lung or taking more suffocation damage. He isn’t deeply sedated any more but I’m just not seeing anything positive yet.”
“We’ll give it more time, let his injuries heal and hopefully he will wake up.”
“You both need to get some rest though,” a new voice piped up from farther away. “I’ll take a watch for now. I expect you both to get some proper sleep and food before I see you again or else I’ll stick Papa K on you.”
“Thanks BDubs, let me know if anything changes?”
“Sure Doc!”
The sound of footsteps getting further away, a door opening and falling shut told Grian that most of his company had left. He knew that the medical person was at least nicknamed Doc - Grian doubted that was his full name but you could never be sure. The other person had not been named but at least they had sounded worried over him.
It was weird that they cared so much for him. They had no reason to.
Now all that was left was Grian’s motionless body and the quiet person called BDubs who was keeping an eye on him. At least one of his questions had an answer, he was being looked after by these people and they seemed to be keeping him safe.
That was good enough for now.
Grian had almost drifted off back to sleep when BDubs started to talk.
“It’s been a bit chaotic recently, you know how things get taken out of context and distorted. Well some friends of mine started a group, the New Hermit Order, where we live near each other…” BDub’s voice was soothing as he started rambling about his life and this world. It was a nice distraction and background sound that wasn’t just silence and beeping machines.
Grian did try to listen but he was just too tired to keep his focus on the voice around him and he soon drifted off to a deeper sleep.
~~~
Something was wrong.
It had started slowly - an uncomfortable pressure in his chest that worsened the longer it lingered. A dullness to his thoughts and senses. Each time he surfaced into awareness, it was worse than before. A sense of impending doom sat heavy on his chest, crushing and absolute, and all he wanted - needed - was to know what was happening.
Grian drifted in and out of awareness as he had before but now it was different. Each return made it harder to focus, harder to gather his thoughts into anything coherent. He couldn’t ask what was wrong. They hadn’t told him. But he knew. Something was very, very wrong with him.
Time no longer behaved the way Grian expected it to. A single minute stretched unbearably long, measured only by the steady rhythm of the machine forcing air into his lungs. Then hours collapsed into nothing at all, marked only by the change of guard at his bedside.
He was warm. Too warm.
He was on fire again. Why did the brand on his back hurt more and more?
The heat was everywhere, as if it had seeped into his bones and turned them into furnaces, radiating fire through his motionless body. Sometimes it felt like he was moving—floating, swaying, falling - but the sensation never finished. It dissolved into dizzy spirals, leaving him exactly where he started. Still. Trapped.
Keeping track of time became impossible.
Voices drifted in and out of focus. Sometimes they sounded normal. Most of the time they were stretched and warped, like words dragged through water. Doc was nearby often - always poking, prodding, muttering - but there was also a woman’s voice. Softer. With her came pet names and the press of a cool towel against his bare skin, wiping away sweat and grime left behind by the fever.
It was hard to tell if she was real or just a memory clawing its way back to the surface.
Sounds and memories began to bleed together. He could’ve sworn Taurtis was mocking him from the corner of the room. Pearl’s fingers threaded through his hair, just like she used to back on Evo.
God, he missed them.
Time passed - or maybe it didn’t. The heat rose higher than anything Grian had ever known, raging through him like a living thing. Then, just as suddenly, it faded.
All that remained was cold.
He felt weak. Hollow. As though whatever strength he’d had was burned away by the fire that had torn through him. His thoughts slowed, fraying at the edges.
Was it over?
His thoughts fizzled out, diffusing into the enticing lure of sleep. Soon enough Grian knew no more.
~~~
Awareness came back slowly, a true awareness, not the fever dream haze that had him bathing in molten lava the last few times but a clarity that he had missed in his limited capacity. The heat was gone and he was cold in the chilled medical room as a cool breeze pierced his skin, soothing him after the blaze had scorched him raw. He felt brittle and delicate, as if too much could push him off the cliff that he was balancing on at the moment.
His thoughts were clear for the first time in so long. How long had it actually been? Grian had no way of telling and no way of communicating.
Footsteps approached from outside the room, the door opening and new sounds as people entered and stood near his bedside.
“The fever’s broken.”
Relief, unmistakable. Paper rustled on a clipboard. Fingers pressed briefly at his wrist, efficient and impersonal. Checking the facts of his situation.
“That’s a good sign,” Doc said. “If he makes it through the night, his chances improve significantly.”
He. Not his name. Not Grian. Just a body in a bed - but it was better than ‘it’ or ‘pet’, as the Watchers had referred to him.
A stranger’s body that they were caring for, with no idea what had happened or who they were. It was strange that the most care he had been shown since being taken from Evo was from complete strangers.
While Grian’s thoughts spiraled down a familiar rabbit hole, Doc moved quickly around the room, adjusting machines and checking readouts. Grian briefly registered the beeps and boops of buttons being pressed, the gentle touches on his limbs including his wings as they assessed the damage and healing.
He had to remind himself that the touches were clinical and assessing as well as comforting. It was nice to feel someone nearby whilst he screamed inside his head. Small echoes of pain flickered through but not as much as he expected.
Then he felt it, stabbing pain on his back right where they had branded him and where the hand was prodding him gently, testing the area.
“It’s better…”
“I feel the ‘but’ there Doc.”
“With the enchantment gone, the void magic has infected the area around it. As I said, it's better, but the medicine is still fighting the leftover infection.”
“I’ll have to thank Scar and Cub for breaking that enchantment.”
“He’s lucky, X. He wasn’t supposed to survive it at all.”
“He has a chance now at least.”
The numbness from whatever medicine he was on was still running its course, dulling his senses - but the angry pain from the brand pierced straight through it. Grian’s numbed limbs felt heavier than before the fever with the new additions of casts to his right ankle and right arm. His wings were folded carefully and felt banged up but he couldn’t tell any more than that.
He realised that he wasn’t lying fully on his back but mostly on his side to avoid him lying on his battered wings. Tight bandages pulled uncomfortably around his chest as the machine breathed for him, each forced inhale by the machine was a clear reminder of how little control he had.
And still - nothing he could do.
No way to tell them he was awake.
No way to tell them he was listening.
All he could do was shout internally and hope - fiercely, desperately - that recovery would come sooner rather than later.
And he waited.
Time crept forward again, slow and relentless. Each second stretched long enough for hope to spark - and die - over and over. He focused on the rhythm of the ventilator, anchoring himself to it, afraid that if he let go he might slip back into that hollow nothingness.
Sleep hovered at the edges of his mind. Tempting. Dangerous.
Grian didn’t want to sleep any more.
So Grian lay there, awake and unseen, listening to the machine breathe for him, wondering how long a mind could stay intact when the world insisted he wasn’t in it any more.
Breathe.
Doc has said that he made it through the night then he had a good chance of surviving. After all that he had been through, he could survive one more night, he knew he could.
Things were turning around for him.
~~~
He was aware more often now. It seemed like he truly was on the mend and taking small steps forward instead of backwards. His awareness brought more understanding and he was starting to spot patterns in the outside world. He could now notice the day and night cycles outside based on sunlight in his room. When his left side was warmed, the sun was in the east and his right side would feel the sun in the afternoon.
Twice a day, Doc or Xisuma would visit and change bandages and administer medication. Sometimes they came alone, sometimes together, but most often they brought others to help. The energetic but extremely gentle BDubs was a personal favourite of Grian’s, his constant stream of chatter filling the room with life.
The flow of conversation eased Grian’s mind from the growing loneliness.
Another common companion was a person called Scar.
Doc had mentioned Scar when he said something about his brand and enchantments. Grian knew Scar mostly because Doc always seemed to drag him in by the arm, forcing him to sit while the medic dealt with whatever injury or mishap Scar had collected that day. Scar was easily flustered and spectacularly good at twisting stories, distracting from the truth with dramatic flair.
It was another day with Doc and Scar in his room. Scar was supporting his weight upright as Doc unwound and rewrapped bandages. They were quick and efficient, having done this many times now. It didn’t take them long.
They were starting to lay him back down when it happened.
A twitch.
Something soft rubbing against his skin for just a second.
Grian’s thoughts went silent.
Had he…
No, he didn’t…
Or… did he?
His right finger had jumped, rubbed against the blanket, then sat still back where it had been before just as fast.
It must’ve been a muscle spasm as his two carers moved his body back into his usual position. No one had mentioned anything, neither Doc nor Scar had seen anything. Had he imagined it?
He couldn’t have moved it. It was impossible, he couldn’t move. Doubt lingered in his mind but Doc didn’t pause in his ministrations and Scar didn’t make a comment.
A random fluke, or his imagination.
Was he going crazy? Doubt lingered, sharp and unwelcome. Not knowing was worse than certainty.
His carers left the room, leaving Grian to his silence and doubt. The internal agony thrashing inside him like a hurricane.
~~~
Grian wasn’t sure if the first movement had been real.
But the possibility gnawed at him.
Maybe he could do it again. Maybe he could make it happen on purpose. Maybe… if he tried hard enough, someone would notice.
Or maybe it had all been his imagination.
Still, he had to try.
He had no idea what he had done the first time but he needed to think. Grian was great at thinking, it was all he could do now he was stuck like this.
He focused inward, turning his attention on himself in a way he hadn’t before. Not his whole body - just pieces of it. Sensations were muted, distant, like signals travelling through water, but they were there if he concentrated hard enough.
His casted limbs were out of the question. Heavy. Unresponsive. His wings were worse, stiff and aching, an unwelcome presence he refused to acknowledge let alone move.
That left his arm.
He fixated on it: the weight of it resting on his stomach, the faint pressure of fabric beneath his fingers, the way it existed without answering him.
Time slipped past him, unmeasured and heavy as he kept trying to understand his body and limitations.
Evening came. Doc arrived, routine and familiar, hands efficient as bandages were checked and medicine administered. When he finished, he placed Grian’s arm back where it always went.
On his stomach.
Grian gathered himself. C’mon Grian, focus. Finger, hand, arm - something just move!
Nothing happened.
He tried again. Harder this time. The effort felt strange—like pushing against something thick and resistant inside himself. Pressure built behind his eyes. A dull ache bloomed in his chest.
Please.
The arm slipped.
It wasn’t graceful. It didn’t lift or respond the way he’d imagined. It simply slid, falling off his stomach and landing against the mattress at his side with a soft thump.
Grian went still. Stiller.
Inside his chest his heart hammered the seconds that passed. He would’ve cheered if he could speak.
He waited.
Papers rustled, machines beeped and german muttering continued from nearby.
Nothing.
No reaction.
They didn’t see.
He had moved but they didn’t see it. They were still in the room but they missed it.
Anger boiled a sharp and bitter heat through Grian. After all that concentration and effort, they didn’t pay attention. They didn’t pay attention?! After all that, they didn’t see that he was still here!
The anger faded as quickly as it arrived, leaving only a cold, sinking sadness behind.
They didn’t know to look.
And he was too tired to try again.
Doc left the room unaware.
Grian lay there, exhausted, the weight of the missed moment pressing heavier than his casts.
~~~
He had a visitor at the moment. BDubs was sitting in the room talking to him - well talking at him but he was listening intently.
“So it's just a friendly prank war but honestly, it's to get Doc to stop being so serious all the time. He needs to chill sometimes and that man is a machine. You leave him alone and he has some contraption built to cause world domination.”
The rambling had been going on for a few minutes, BDubs clearly getting it all off his chest to the unconscious stranger in the hospital bed. Grian soaked in every word, listening to shenanigans and absorbing every spec of life that he would’ve loved to get involved in if he was awake.
“You know our shopping district this season is in a mushroom biome. I don’t know how long the ground will stay mycelium though. There is a pretty big divide to landscape it to grass like a normal person with common sense should do or to keep it that disgusting purple-grey mess.”
Grian wanted to hug the confused man, to laugh at his jokes, or even just respond to him but he couldn’t.
His head shifted. Just a little, toward the sound of his voice.
Then gravity took over and his head fell.
BDubs stopped mid sentence.
Silence.
“Did you…” BDubs started, “...Did you move?”
Grian’s heart raced and the heart monitor started racing too to match his excitement.
“You moved. You actually moved. Oh my Notch, what do I do?” BDubs sat up so fast that something crashed to the ground, Grian assumed that it was the chair in the room.
Whilst BDubs was panicking and rambling about what he needed to do, Grian was in a bubble of ecstasy. He had managed to move, just enough and in front of someone that they could notice and see him.
“You stay here. Well you aren’t going to move anywhere really, I need to get Doc or X, or both!” BDubs ran away.
Grian lay there, exhausted and exhilarated all at once.
They’d seen him.
He wasn’t invisible anymore.