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The pale garden unfolded before the G’s like a monochrome wonder of nature. Scott, Cleo, Pearl, and Impulse had set out together research the forests unusual resources. The trek from their base took most of the morning. Green gradually thinned, replaced by an unsettling white, where the air grew cooler and quieter. The ground softened underfoot, spongy with layers of pale leave litter and moss that seemed to pulse faintly.
The trees were the first striking feature—towering, like dark oak, but with bark so pale it appeared almost translucent, veined with subtle amber lines that caught what little direct sunlight filtered through the canopy, the wind rustling with a sound like distant whispers. Eye blossoms grew in clusters along the forest floor like faerie circles and climbing the lower trunks, their petals a soft, glowing yellow that emitted a sweet, resinous fragrance. The entire biome felt alive in a way that set nerves on edge—aware, watchful, but not hostile, not yet anyway.
Scott, star shaped freckles scattered like constellations across his skin, and a few tiny, green stars orbiting lazily around his head, took the lead with his typical optimism. “This is something else,” he said, voice carrying softly through the trees. He reached out to touch the bark of a nearby tree, fingers tracing the smooth surface. “It feels warm. Almost like it’s breathing. Pearl, do you smell that? The flowers are incredible. We could use them for decoration, dyes—maybe even potions.”
Pearl’s wolf ears flicked back and forth, her fluffy tail swishing with clear unease. She sniffed the air repeatedly, nose wrinkling. “It smells too perfect. Like honey mixed with something dangerous. The quiet is wrong. No rabbits scurrying, no normal mob sounds. Just wind and those flowers glowing like they’re watching us.”
Cleo stayed close to Scott, pale green skin showed visible seams along the neck and arms where their body suit didn’t cover. “I agree with Pearl. Places like this don’t exist without a cost. Keep your eyes open for anything unusual. Don’t wander too far ahead.”
Impulse adjusted his satchel, fingers still faintly dusted with redstone from building a zombie farm earlier. “Nothing mechanical registering yet, but the air does feel charged. Like right before a big storm. Let’s gather samples quickly and head back before it gets dark. We don’t need to test the biome’s hospitality the hard way.”
They spent several hours exploring. Scott seemed the most enchanted. He lingered near the largest trees, pressing his ear to the bark as if listening. “It’s like they’re humming,” he told the others at one point. “Low and steady. Not scary. Kind of comforting, actually.” His stars swirled a little brighter as he said it, reflecting his genuine fascination.
As the sun began its descent, casting long, skeletal shadows through the white canopy in hues of soft pink and gold, fatigue crept over Scott. His steps slowed. He rubbed his eyes more frequently, blaming the diffused light. “Long day,” he muttered when Pearl glanced back. “I’ll be fine once we’re home.”
The return journey dragged. Scott leaned on Impulse’s shoulder more than once. By the time they reached their main base, Scott was visibly drained. “Just tired,” he insisted again with a weak smile, freckles seeming duller under lantern light. “I'll head to bed early. Catch up on sleep.”
That night, he slept deeply in his bed. Cleo checked on him twice, noting nothing unusual beyond normal exhaustion.
The next day revealed a sharper decline. Scott moved sluggishly through morning tasks, concentration fracturing. He stared at a crafting table for too long, forgetting the recipe he’d started. Mid-conversation with Pearl about her new puppies, he trailed off, blinking slowly. “My head feels foggy,” he admitted to Cleo over jacked potatoes and mushrooms. “Like I didn’t actually rest. But I did. Must have caught something in the pale garden. I’ll shake it off.”
Cleo pressed a cool stitched hand to his forehead. “No fever, but you’re paler than usual. Stay in bed today. We can handle fortifications and socialisations without you. Don’t push yourself.”
Pearl brought extra blankets and water, her tail drooping with worry. By evening, he retired early again, curling up under layers of wool. His breathing was steady, but the stars around his head orbited slower, dimmer.
He didn’t wake the following morning.
Pearl tried first, shaking his shoulder gently. “Scott? Starboy, come on. Breakfast won’t make itself.” No response. She shook harder. Still nothing. His chest rose and fell in shallow, even breaths, lashes resting peacefully against freckled cheeks, but he remained unresponsive to voice, touch, or even a splash of cold water from a bucket.
Panic spread quickly. Cleo knelt beside him, checking his vitals. “Breathing normal. Pulse present but slow. No visible wounds, no obvious poisoning from the blossoms we tested.” They tried everything—loud noises, gentle slaps to the face, strong-smelling herbs waved under his nose. Nothing stirred him.
Then he started to change. A faint amber glow began pulsing from beneath Scott’s shirt, centred directly over his heart. It throbbed in time with his slow heartbeat, casting warm, eerie shadows across the walls. Shortly after, soft creaking noises emanated from his ribcage—like old wooden beams bending under pressure—accompanied by thin strands of golden, sticky resin seeping through his skin, carrying the sweet scent of eye blossoms.
Pearl’s ears flattened against her head. “This isn’t normal. We can’t wait this out. He needs help.”
Cleo’s expression hardened. “BigB. He’s made his home deep in the pale garden, he's a creaking hybrid this time around. If anyone understands what this biome does to people, it’s him.”
They worked quickly, not wanting to waste any time. Scott was carefully strapped to Impulse's back. The journey back into the pale garden felt heavier this time. The trees seemed to lean inward, whispers growing louder. BigB’s home stood on the edge of a cliff, in the centre of the forest. Amber light pulsed softly from within, matching the glow from Scott’s chest.
BigB opened the door before they could knock a second time. The creaking hybrid was an imposing figure—standing tall, broad-shouldered and powerfully built with a strong, solid frame that promised raw strength. Treebark like patterns etched across his skin, and a constant faint amber glow radiated from his core.
“Bring him inside,” he said immediately, voice deep and calm. “What happened?”
The interior was spacious. He cleared a large, padded moss bed near the center of the main room. The G’s laid Scott down gently.
Cleo spoke first, voice clipped and urgent. “We visited the pale garden two days ago. Scott was fine then. But he’s been getting weaker since. Tired, unfocused. Yesterday he fell asleep and hasn’t woken. He’s still breathing. Then this glow in his chest started, and the creaking sounds. Do you know what’s happening?”
BigB knelt beside the makeshift bed, his large frame casting a protective shadow. His fingers hovered over Scott’s glowing chest, eyes closing briefly. A faint connection hummed in his mind—the same subtle pull he felt toward the pale oaks. It resonated within Scott now, growing stronger. “Yes. I feel it. The garden has chosen him.”
Pearl’s tail bristled. “Chosen him for what? Fix this, BigB.”
BigB carefully asked permission with a glance before lifting Scott’s shirt. The cyanettes ribcage was visibly transforming, bones shifting with audible creaks as gaps widened to reveal a pulsing amber light deep within. “He is turning into a hybrid. Specifically, a Creaking Heart. The garden needs them—cores that sustain the Creaking themselves, like me. The process demands enormous energy. That’s why he's in deep sleep. His body is rebuilding itself from the inside out.”
Impulse leaned in, studying the glow. “A Creaking Heart? Will he survive this? Wake up?”
“In time,” BigB assured, his broad hands gentle as he examined further. “The transformation is natural. Painless for now. But he needs the garden’s environment to stabilize.”
Cleo stepped forward, arms crossed tightly. “Then we’ll take him back to our base and monitor him there. With us.”
BigB shook his head slowly. “Removing him mid-transformation could interrupt the process. Make it painful. Dangerous. I am connected to the garden the same way he is becoming. I can monitor him best. I’m the closest thing to an expert you have right now.”
The argument that followed stretched for nearly an hour, emotions running high in the softly glowing room. Pearl growled low in her throat, pacing with worry around her sleeping ex-soulmate, her wolf instincts flaring at leaving a packmate behind. Impulse on the other hand tried to mediate, but Cleo was the most vocal against it, their conscious wasn't ready to leave her friend with someone she deemed dangerous. “He is one of the G’s. Our responsibility. Not some experiment in your haunted forest house.”
BigB remained calm throughout, answering every question. He also demonstrated the connection by placing a hand near Scott’s chest, causing both glows to pulse brighter. “I won’t harm him. The garden doesn’t choose lightly. He will be safe here. I promise.”
Scott’s ribcage creaked louder and the glow flickered weakly. “One week,” Cleo finally conceded, voice tight. “We visit every day. Multiple times if needed. If anything seems wrong—anything—we take him back immediately.”
BigB nodded. “Agreed. I will send word if anything changes.”
The G’s left reluctantly, Pearl casting multiple glances back on the way out. The pale trees whispered as they departed.
BigB turned to the unconscious Scott. The smaller man’s athletic frame looked delicate on the moss bed, freckles dim against his skin. “Rest easy,” BigB murmured, large hand resting lightly near Scott’s shoulder. “The garden chose well. You will be my heart.”
The following days settled into a quiet rhythm of devoted care. BigB rarely left Scott’s side. He spoke softly to him, describing the garden’s ancient role and the peace that awaited after accepting it into one's heart.
On the third day, BigB prepared a thorough bath. He filled a large tub carved from wood with warm water. Lifting Scott’s smaller form was effortless for BigB. He lowered the cyanette gently into the water, supporting his head with one large hand. Scott’s body relaxed instantly in the warmth, a soft sigh escaping him in unconsciousness.
BigB washed him with care, using soft cloths. He started with Scott’s arms, tracing the athletic lines of muscle where faint wooden fibers were beginning to thread beneath the skin. The cloth moved in slow, circular motions, cleaning away sweat and residue from the transformation. Around the transforming ribcage, he worked with extra care, wiping away seeping resin without disturbing the heart’s pulse. Water lapped softly against the tub sides as he massaged Scott’s shoulders and neck, easing knots with strong but gentle fingers. He washed Scott’s hair last, fingers combing through the strands where a singular resin coloured streak wove itself through the otherwise cyan hair. After rinsing, he dried Scott thoroughly with clean linen, and then dressed him in his own clothes, which were far too big for Scott.
Day after day brought visible progression. Scott’s chest expanded slowly, ribs parting like a blooming flower to reveal the full yellow Creaking Heart at the center. Golden resin dripped steadily from the open framework, which BigB cleaned regularly. His own amber glow resonated stronger each day, creating a faint harmony with Scott’s.
By the end of the week, the transformation had completed. Scott stirred at dawn, pale light filtering through the translucent leaves outside.
His eyes opened slowly, confusion flooding his starborn features. He sat up abruptly, hand flying to his open ribcage where the bright yellow Creaking Heart pulsed visibly. Golden resin glistened at the edges.
“What… where am I? My body—void, what is this?” Panic surged through him. He scrambled back on the moss bed, smaller athletic frame trembling, stars swirling erratically around his head. “This isn’t real. Wake up, Scott. This can’t be happening.”
BigB rose from a tree stump turned chair nearby, towering yet moving with deliberate calm. His broad shoulders filled the space as he approached slowly, hands open and non-threatening. “Scott. You are safe. Breathe. You are in my home, deep in the pale garden.”
Scott’s voice cracked with fear. “BigB? The others—where are Cleo, Pearl and Impulse? My chest is open! There’s a heart—resin—everything feels wrong and connected at the same time. Please, tell me what happened. I’m scared. I don’t understand any of this.”
BigB knelt next to the bed, his tall frame folding with surprising grace. “The forest chose you during your visit. It saw your light, your strength. You are becoming—have become—a Creaking Heart. The core that sustains the garden and those bound to it. Every Creaking needs his heart to survive. You are mine now.”
Scott stared, confusion and panic warring on his face. “Yours? A heart? The forest… turned me into this? I was just exploring. How can I be your heart? This doesn’t make sense. I need to go back to my team. They must be worried sick.”
BigB reached out, large hand cupping Scott’s smaller face with infinite gentleness, thumb tracing one of the constellation freckles on his cheek. “The garden does not make mistakes. It bound us. You feel it already, don’t you? The safety. The pull.” Then he leaned in and kissed him—slow, deep, and full of quiet possession.
Scott tensed for a heartbeat, but then completely melted into the kiss. It felt profoundly right, like pieces of himself he hadn’t known were missing suddenly clicked into place. The yellow heart in his open chest pulsed brighter in sync with BigB’s glow. His hands rose instinctively to clutch at BigB’s broad shoulders, body leaning forward as warmth spread through him. The resin at his ribs seemed to bond them subtly in that moment. Stars swirled calmly around his head.
When they parted, Scott’s eyes were dazed, panic replaced by wonder. “That… felt right. Like I belong here… with you.”
BigB pulled him closer against his chest, arms enveloping the smaller man protectively. “The forest chose us to be together. It saw how you shine, and how I guard. No more wandering alone. You are my heart, and I am your strength. The others will understand in time. Stay. Let me care for you as the garden intended.”
His words carried warmth, framing the bond as inevitable fate, perfect and unbreakable. But Scott, nestled in the comfort and safety of BigB’s embrace, felt only comfort and love. The fear ebbed away completely. He accepted it, pressing closer, the open ribcage resting lightly against BigB’s wooden chest. The pale garden whispered approval through the trees outside, eye blossoms glowing brighter in celebration.