Chapter Text
The previous inky blackness of unconsciousness faded into a gray-navy behind Scar’s closed eyes. All at once, his senses came back to him. The gentle lapping of water against his left side, the grainy wetness of a sandy beach beneath him, the wind rustling nearby greenery, the stinging scent of salt in his nose. Bright sunshine pried his eyes open, revealing a cloudless blue sky and ushering a stabbing pain in his head.
And his back.
And his legs.
And his... Well, his entire body lit up with sparks of agony. Must have been quite the fall.
Scar groaned and rolled to face the sea, the cool saltwater offering a sense of reprieve. An empty skyline greeted him, glittering cyan ocean expanding in all directions. He was stranded.
Closing his eyes, Scar tried to collect his scattering thoughts. The last thing he could remember was flying at the speed of light, shot out of one of Etho’s most recent redstone contraptions. It’s so safe, he had said, a couple other Hermits tried it and everything was fine!
So maybe Scar had stood on the windcharge-loading pressure plate for a little longer than he should have…
No, this was definitely Etho’s fault. He was too close to a nervous breakdown to blame himself.
Another rogue thought made its way to the front of Scar’s brain.
He forgot to throw his ender pearl into the stasis chamber.
Thousands of meters away, Scar had no way of teleporting back.
Yes, he was definitely stranded.
Scar knew better than to wallow. He had to get up, figure out a way back.
He sat up, checking his pockets for any rockets. Much to his dismay, he found nothing. His back felt oddly empty as well.
My elytra…
Scar frantically reached around to feel for the familiar smooth wings. Gone. Simply disappeared. Panic started to set in. His heart raced within his already-aching ribs. His lungs couldn’t come up with enough air. The waves continued to lap at his legs.
Breathe, Scar. He could find a way out of this. He could!
He couldn’t afford to believe otherwise.
Focusing on the steady rhythm of the waves, he inhaled as much as he could and exhaled slowly. In and out. He opened his eyes to accurately take in his surroundings. Past the edge of the sandy shore was a forest, unperturbed trees swaying gracefully in the sea breeze. Beyond the woodland, a large hill loomed, green grass dotted with bushes and bright red flowers. If Scar weren’t so stressed about his situation, he would have sat and marvelled at the beauty of the landscape for hours. This island seemed untouched, frozen in wild sublimity.
However, the thought just brought him dread. A quiet little island in the middle of the sea, with no one around to help. Great!
He was almost too caught up in his self-pity to notice a blur of red rustling through the underbrush. He blinked. A parrot, maybe?
Scar hauled himself to his feet and brushed the sand off his damp clothes the best he could. First things first, he needed shelter, maybe food. Stars only knew how long it had been since he’d last eaten. As he made his way to the thicket, his foot caught on an unbroken glass bottle, too shiny to be older than a year, sitting atop the sand.
Someone placed this here.
Okay, maybe the island wasn’t as uninhabited as he thought. Hope blazed through his veins, his heart skipping in a way that made his damaged chest hurt. He picked it up; maybe it could be used to carry water, that is if he could find any fresh enough to drink.
All thoughts of a scrappy, Scar-built lean-to and foraged fruits left his mind. He was going to find whoever was here on this island. The mangled trees blocked much from his view. He needed to get to higher ground. Maybe, from the top of the hill, he would be able to spot a rooftop among the woodland, gray smoke billowing out of a chimney, the smell of fresh-baked bread wafting from open windows. Maybe, that cottage would have an extra elytra, a boat, something to get him home. Maybe that was wishful thinking.
Having made up his mind, he marched to the edge of the forest, bottle in hand, and started to push through the untamed brush.
It took Scar a good two hours to make his way, his already clumsy feet tripping over every stray branch, rock, or vine they could find. And one thing almost anyone could tell you about Scar- he was jumpy. Multiple times, he found himself squealing because a wood mouse or a small bird had crossed his path. Finally, drenched in sweat and not without a few new cuts and bruises, he stumbled into an opening. Rippling green grass and poppies extended up, up, up, ascending the hill that Scar had seen from the beach. He sat down on a fallen log for a well-deserved break. Scanning the tree line, he swore he could see another flash of red.
The parrot must be stalking him. He shook his head, smiling at the thought.
“Here birdie birdie! Heeeere birdie!” He piped, determined to find a friend.
No answer. The rustling stopped. Scar swore he heard a snort.
Scar shrugged. He stood and glanced at the hill ahead of him. This time, something caught his eye. A line through the green, a path of sorts leading from around a pair of boulders to the top of the hill. A tilted grin lit up Scar’s face. Bullseye.
He hurried to the closest part of the path, nearly face planting after a shrub grabbed his foot. Breathless, he looked to the right and left, deciding which way to go. Up the hill, like he originally had planned? Looking at it now, this was no small mound. The climb would take him another two hours at least. His aching legs screamed at the idea. He looked the other way, at the trampled grass snaking around the boulders. That way was much more inviting, though Scar could not quite put his finger on why.
With a newfound sense of certainty, he started down the path towards the massive rocks. Though the distance wasn’t large, Scar found himself dragging his feet, a mixture of exhaustion and injury preventing him from moving as fast as he would have liked. After what felt like ages, he rounded the first massive boulder.
Now, from a closer perspective, Scar could see that the two elephantine rocks were not right next to each other, but instead far enough apart to create an opening in the hill the size of a castle door. They leaned against each other at the top, creating a triangle. A purple curtain covered the entrance of what Scar assumed was a cave. Torches framed the inner sides of the boulders, like guards protecting the entry.
The sky above was quickly darkening, Apollo turning his shift over to his disparate sister Artemis. Blue turned to navy as the beginnings of constellations dotted the heavens. Day had slipped away faster than Scar had realized.
He padded over to the entrance of the cave, the purple curtain turning a vibrant magenta in the torchlight. Running a hand along one of the boulders, he noticed a strange symbol carved into the limestone. An “L” shape with a reflection and dots, like a breaking nether portal. Scar tilted his head, studying it. The emblem seemed oddly familiar, though he could not place why. The reflection of the purple curtain made the symbol seem to glow in the dim light. Or, as mystical as this island seemed, Scar would not be surprised if it actually was glowing.
In this odd moment, dusk had fully disappeared, leaving inky nighttime in its place. Scar decided that of all the places to be on this island, the cave might just be the best choice to spend the night. He continued forward, pushing the curtain aside.
Warm light washed over him, painting his already tanned skin a lively bronze and making the scars on his arms and face incandescent. A large circular room opened up before him, much homelier than any cave had the right to be. The first thing Scar noticed was a large mushroom right in the center of the space, reaching towards the ceiling. The floor was an odd form of moss, soft and spongy, but a light purple instead of green. Mycelium. A kitchen of sorts rounded the back wall, right behind the giant fungus, while a bed sat invitingly to the side. Plush rugs surrounded a couch opposite to the bed, hosting numerous pillows and throw blankets. The walls, though made of stone, did not feel cold or constricting, but instead provided a safe haven, protecting those inside from outside elements.
Scar whistled appreciatively. He was, if nothing else, a lover of beauty, and this was certainly that. He couldn’t have decorated the space better himself.
Taking in all of the details around him, Scar walked up to the mushroom. He placed a hand on its squashy trunk, closed his eyes, and let his body relax.
He was startled out of his meditation by an irritated “ahem!”
Scar let out a muffled scream and whirled around. At the entrance of the cave was a man standing with his arms folded across his chest. Messy brown hair framed a detached face, dark eyes looking at him through furrowed brows. He wore a red Greek-style tunic, simple taupe pants, and laced sandals. He could have been a time traveler from ancient Athens, perhaps a student who took a few wrong turns on his way to the agora. But this man couldn’t be any older than Scar, in his mid-twenties.
He looked at Scar as though he was a trash bag waiting to be taken out. He didn’t even know this man, but that look stung.
“Awesome,” the brunette said sarcastically, “let’s get this over with then.”