Chapter Text
Whatever you do at the crossroads, don't turn right.
Hastur stared down to the book in their hands, face scrunched in both annoyance, confusion, and giddiness at something awesome finally happening in the new world they had gotten just barely a week ago.
"I didn't write this," they said to the chest, because there was no one else to talk to. The chest stayed silent, as chests often do when talked to.
The code was stupid. Hastur wasn't knowledgable enough to figure it out mentally. Maybe a trip to a librarian would be worth it.
"This doesn't make any sense! What a shit author." They dropped the book on top of the chest with a huff, still opened to the first page.
They swallowed when their dark-skinned fingers touched the ink (they hoped it was ink but the dark brown colour made them think otherwise), hand recoiling like it had been burned.
"They tell me to not turn right- turn right where?!" Hastur spread their arms and looked around the mines before stopping and pulling their hands into the sleeves of their oversized coat/cloak thing.
They slammed one of the four doors in the mine open, yanking a torch from their inventory to light the way. It was so dark, they hadn't even noticed night had fallen.
The other three doors yielded the same results: dead ends.
"Stupid book written in blood with its stupid cryptic messages…" Hastur stomped back to the chest, where the book still lay open to the first page on top of the chest, now much more illuminated by the torchlight.
Something was wrong.
The thought snapped into Hastur's head before they even realized what they were doing. They had grabbed the book, holding the item closed and against their chest, and were staring at the wall, where two very oddly placed pieces of cobblestone were conveniently hiding a door-shaped hole.
"…" Hastur stared with wide golden eyes. "It can't be that easy."
An iron pick crafted and four cobble pieces broken later, it was that easy. The tunnel extended forwards, and Hastur hated it with its ominous light and too-smooth shape.
"Nope." Hastur turned and walked back into their mine. "I am not THAT stupid. If I'm going down the creepy tunnel I am gearing myself up."
The furnace was crafted, and Iron was put to smelt. Gold was next, and meanwhile, Hastur placed the torch down, grabbed seven of the eight diamonds in the chest, and made boots and a pickaxe.
They were going to be smart about this. No rushing into danger unarmed and vulnerable.
They slipped the shiny boots onto their feet, watching as the material adjusted to perfectly fit their shape. Iron leg guards followed, and the iron paldrons fit under their coat. With no more patience, they took the iron from the furnace and smelted the gold instead, much quicker due to the softer material.
The golden helmet fit into their last armour slot, guarding their head in an almost crown-like shape. An iron sword as pulled into their hotbar, and with that, Hastur turned their apprehensive gaze to the tunnel. With one last look to make sure the two stacks of torches were within easy reach, they hopped down the step inside.
Instantly, the air felt heavier. Hastur resisted the urge to shudder as they followed the path of already placed torches- likely from the author of the creepy book.
"I feel like I unlocked a secret Bedwars level with a boss battle…" Hastur muttered, and it felt like the echo of their voice went on for just a second too long.
Their hands were trembling as they gripped their pickaxe and followed through.
Grey stone became lush moss and grass, trees and azalea flowers, which did make them sneeze twice before stone turned to deepslate, and the tunnel began widening.
Their heart was hammering hard enough to possibly rattle their armour. Hastur ran a hand through their black hair and let out a shuddering breath of shock as a massive cavern opened up in front of them, trees and stones in every direction.
There was already a pillar, made of an assortment of random blocks, that lead straight down, so after a moment's hesitation, Hastur hopped and mined down with their new pickaxe, quietly pocketing the broken blocks before looking around.
Despite how creepy it all was, Hastur couldn't deny, begrudingly, that it was also very impressive.
"Whoever made this knew how to build, that's for sure."
They went straight ahead, not wanting to spend any more time than neccesary in this cavern. The brown tunnel wasn't much better but at least it was lit by torches on either side.
The water was horribly cold, but Hastur could hold their breath for pretty long, and when they finally surfaced they felt mostly numb and very, very shivery. Their cloak weighed them down, waterlogged, soaked and very, very grumpy.
"Geez, you couldn't make a less dramatic path?!" They yelled to nobody as they surfaced on the stony beach of underground forest number two. There's a strange assortment of blocks that Hastur steers wide and clear of, and as they walk around, looking for anything at all to indicate where to go next, his cloak dries off slowly.
It's fully dry by the time Hastur sees the falled tree and the tunnel straight down. Maybe, if they had thought a little bit more about how warm they were, they would have realized how long it had been.
"Alright… hopefully this doesn't kill me." Hastur sends a look upwards at the cavernous ceiling and drops. One and a half hearts of damage. That's fine. They wince and rub their aching legs, but the damage is quick to heal after several slow seconds.
Another brown corridor, this time slightly longer than the last. Hastur groans. "Another corridor? Really?"
They walk, because there's nothing else to do. The lights seem to flicker out at the corners of their vision, but by the time Hastur has looked around, the torches are burning merrily.
They try not to let it get to them.
They fail.
Their steps get slightly faster, diamond boots crunching against loose sand as they approach the other end, twin stone walls and a single barrier of dirt blocks, which is easy enough to duck under.
It's a freaking maze, and Hastur is sure they're going insane with every twist and turn. Sand blocks occasionally cross their path, but they leave them, too focused on finding the exit.
It takes them way too long to find their way out, and their stomach is rumbling in hunger by now…
How long did they spend down here?
Finally, the exit.
More tunnel. Hastur feels their eyelid twitch.
"SERIOUSLY!?" Hastur threw their hands up, fed up. "More freaking tunnels?! I'm getting sick of the mid bricks!"
They punched a wall. They rubbed their now bruised knuckles with a pained wince before continuing forwards, shoulders hunched in unease. The paranoid glances around got more frequent, and Hastur is sure That something is watching them.
But there's nobody and nothing else in the tunnel.
The great wooden blockade is nothing against a scared player, who breaks through with more ease than they should-
And stop.
Because there's brain matter splattered on the floor along with pale green glistening goo. Like someone exploded a slime.
Hastur looks away and makes a giant roundabout around the puddle, trying not to gag as the smell reaches them. It's thick and rotting like sculk, but it has the watery, sweet-bitter smell of swamp water. It fills their senses and makes their stomach backflip.
"Don'tthrowupdon'tthrowupdon'tthrowupdon'tthrowup-" the mantra is repeated until Hastur all but jumps through the hole in the gate. Behind the stone is some sort of redstone mechanism, which Hastur would love to study if they didn't feel like vomiting raw code.
"I'm just gonna… sit down. For a moment." They wobbled weakly over to the nearest wall and collapsed, metal clincking against mud bricks as they lower themselves onto the floor, knees up and a hand over their mouth.
They finally have time to think.
Hastur is sure several hours have passed, but the time in the lake forest is all but blank while they searched. They frown as they can visibly picture the several hours missing from their memory.
It's strange. Hastur has always had a nearperfect memory, down to the minute in second grade when they saw Jo shove a crayon up his nose during recess. Always remember, always reliable. For several hours of their life to just… vanish. It scared them.
It scared them more than they would care to admit.
Like they had somehow failed.
Something warm and wet dripped onto their sleeve, and Hastur raised a hand to rub at their eyes and- oh. They were crying.
…why?
They didn't know.
Their chest heaved as they muffled a cry with their loose sleeves, pressing their face against their forearms as they sobbed, shoulders shaking. Their heart squeezed and ached for someone they had never known.
It was too much. The headache intensified, only causing them to cry harder, in pain, and hope that whatever was watching them would grant a brief respite out of pity.
It might have been minutes, or hours, or days, time made no sense to Hastur anymore as they sobbed. When their tears dried out, they pushed their head back with a dull thunk of their metal helm hitting the bricks behind them.
Both they and the figure on the other end of the corridor froze as their eyes met. All Hastur saw was a blur of green and blue as whoever it was ran full sprint into the darkness beyond the tunnel. It was such a shock to see something else, something alive, that Hastur promptly stopped their crying.
They needed to follow. So with shaky legs, Hastur got up and ran after them.