Archive of Our Own

A hum rings out, seeming to have been going on for a while now. Sunflowers, swaying in the wind. A boy, whose face is blurred, leans on him. He thinks he’s heard this tune before.

A skyscraper, the sun setting around them, legs dangling over the edge. Laughs ringing out across the city, and yet, the hum still rings true.

Your blood, your bones, your voice, and your ghost.

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Hums do not sing the song of music, but the song of machinery, the metal grind of gears, the whir of redstone, the energy filling the air around you.

You can’t comprehend it.

You would never understand the joy of creating.

It is my job, to guide you.

To show you. 

Oh, the joys!

Oh, the end is nigh!

But oh, it is also the beginning!

The beginning of the end!

Can you hear it, dear reader?

Can you hear the sweet song of machinery?

Can you hear it over the music you so wish to drown in?

Can you hear it over the story you are being told?

Can you hear it over the lies?

Because this isn’t the true story, dear reader.

Oh no, oh no it isn’t!

Oh how naive you must be.

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And the universe said to read between the lines.

Because you are not love.

You are merely a witness.

Hark! The ever-growing sound of death!

__________

The end kingdom and the kingdom of the overworld have never gotten along. For hundreds of years, they have fought, teetering so close to war at all times that citizens fear for their children's futures.

The only thing keeping the two kingdoms from all-out war, was the nether kingdom. It’s king— ClownPierce— refusing to share the much needed resources.

And thus, the two arguing kingdoms came together to force the hand of Clown, coming to an agreement on future trading.

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But this was long ago.

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And the two rival kingdoms have since still refused to get along, although they had fought a war together.

It wasn’t more so one kingdom's fault then another, but the different views.

MinuteTech, the king of the end, believed in fair treatment of every citizen, and was very much against violence, unless completely necessary.

Ashswag, the king of the overworld, believed in proving your place in society, and was quick to jump to violence.

Long ago, back before they became rulers of their respected kingdoms, the two had gotten along just fine. They were even friends, until Minute betrayed Ash. The end ruler had realised the tyrannical actions of Ash, and broke away from him, officially starting the everlasting feud.

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But, history is boring, and Wemmbu wants to talk about himself.

The crown prince of the end, the only living heir of the ender dragon, adopted by Minute when he was merely 2 years old.

Which means he is very important.

Probably the most important 10-year-old alive! Well, besides the princes of the other kingdoms… but Wemmbu doesn’t really care about them.

In fact, he doesn’t much like being a prince in general. Too many expectations, too many rules, too many history lessons.

He’d only listen to history if it was being taught by his best friend, Eggchan. And even then, he could barely listen to the angel without zoning out.

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He thinks Egg is more fit to be a prince than he is.

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But at least he’s more fit to be a king then his brother is.

Spoke, his younger brother, was absolutely insane. Not the cute-8-year-old kind of insanity, but the was-he-dropped-on-the-head-as-a-baby kind of insanity. 

He means, the kid literally glows in the dark. Like some kind of glow stick. But only when he’s excited.

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Or scared

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And Spoke is excited 9 times out of 10.

He has no idea where the kid gets that much energy from, he’s always causing some kind of trouble.

But, to be fair, Wemmbu is obsessed with a machine called an ‘orbital strike cannon’.

So maybe Minute is just raising insane kids.

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Wemmbu was sitting in his room, listening to Spoke excitedly tell him about some exploit he’d found yesterday, jumping and waving his arms around like this was the most exciting thing ever.

Because, in a way, it was. Or, at least for Spoke it was.

He was showing Wemmbu a actually pretty well drawn blueprint made by his friend JamatoP when Minute walked into the room.

The two don’t see him that much, because he was king and all.

Super busy.

Too busy for his kids.

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Wemmbu didn’t care. He gets it, he must be stressed out all the time. Having to deal with… whatever he does.

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It’s still disappointing though.

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Having to take care of himself and Spoke is no easy task at the age of 10.

Sure, they have cooks, and maids, and teachers to help out, but no maid could ever replace his father.

He hopes someday, the man will be able to have time for them.

He thinks Minute would be proud of them. 

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But he may never know.

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“Good morning.” Minute says, eyes darting to the papers on the floor, then to Spoke, and then finally to Wemmbu.

“Hey, those aren’t mine this time!” Spoke screeches, “I have mine right here!” He joyfully says, waving the blueprint in the air like some kind of prize.

“Dawg you didn’t even draw that.” Wemmbu replies before jumping off his bed and starting to pick up the papers.

“Wemmbu, what did I say about creating weapons of mass destruction.” Minute says, trying to hide his smile.

“It’s just drawings, Minute!” He countered, setting the papers on his desk.

“He has a material list on his nightstand!” Spoke yells, before screeching and running away as Wemmbu tries to hit him.

Minute gives him a stern look, and Wemmbu pretends to hang his head in apology, but he will be re-making that list later. After he deals with Spoke.

He grabs the younger kid by the arm and drags him back away from the safety of Minute, Spoke yelling for help as Wemmbu tackles him to the ground.

“Nope, you brought this on yourself, Spoke” Minute laughs, clearly enjoying the situation. 

Eventually, after roughhousing for a while, the two tire out and end up panting on the floor, finally sitting down and turning their attention to what Minute had to say.

Well, at least Wemmbu did. Spoke just kept trying to kick him. He glared at the kid until he stopped, and then, and only then, did Minute speak again.

“I have a meeting with Ash today.” He says, looking as if he was staring into their souls, despite not having any pupils.

“Okay?” Wemmbu responds, not knowing what this has to do with them.

“I’m gonna stare at him with my amazing intimidation tactics!” Spoke grins, standing up and demonstrating on Wemmbu.

Wemmbu stares back. Spoke was probably the least intimidating person alive. How could someone even be slightly intimidated by an 8-year-old rainbow glowstick? Plus, he was like, always smiling. Not very scary if you ask him.

“No you are not.” Wemmbu says, still not breaking eye contact.

“No I am not!” 

“Okay, what I was trying to say is that I’ve gotten word that Ash is bringing over the three crown princes of the overworld—”

Wemmbu raises an eyebrow.

Spokes eyes light up. Quite literally.

“—And I want you to hang out with them.”

Wemmbu’s face falls. He’s never met any of the three, but from what he's heard… he does not want to spend his day with 3 entitled brats.

Spoke’s eyes only light up more, his silhouette slightly blinking in and out of vision. Wemmbu grabs his hand and shoots him a look, and Spoke sits back down again. 

Wemmbu has no idea if Spoke would just disappear into thin air if he got too excited, but he doesn’t want to find out.

Downsides of being different hybrids, Wemmbu doesn’t know much about voidlings, and Spoke doesn’t know much about dragon hybrids.

But they figure it out.

“Whyyy” he whines, Wemmbu would much rather spend his day with Egg, running around the castle until they collapsed.

“Because, when you become king, I don’t want our kingdoms to be against each other.”

Right. When he becomes king. Wemmbu doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t think he’s fit to be a king, he’s too rash, too emotional, too quick to jump to fighting, too violent. Or, that's what his teachers say.

But Minute had a point. He hates to admit it, but the man is right. Wemmbu does not want to have to deal with this… rivalry… when he’s in power.

So he just sighs in defeat, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Thank you, Wemmbu.” Minute says, eyes crinkling with a smile. “And Spoke, if I hear one word about you blowing something up, I’m not letting you in the arsenal for a week.” 

Spoke gasps, holding his arms up in betrayal. “Minute I would never!” 

“Mhm, sure kid. Anyways, meet me by the entrance to the castle at noon, I have some work to get done until then.”

Wemmbu deflates a little, and Spoke’s smile slightly waivers. He didn’t know what he expected, Minute was always too busy to spend a morning with them.

“Okay…” Spoke says after a beat, drawing it out and not caring about how upset he sounded.

Minute’s eyes soften for a second, and he looks genuinely guilty. “I’m sorry guys, running an entire kingdom isn’t easy. Hey, why don’t we go get ice cream together after the meetings over?”

Spokes eyes light up brighter than Wemmbu has seen in a while, flickering in and out way faster than before. Wemmbu sat up very straight, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Really!?!” Spoke yells, jumping up and running over to hug Minute, who reaches down to pick him up.

“Really. I should be free afterwards, and someone’s gotta make sure you two stay out of trouble.” He laughs, ruffling Spoke’s hair.

“Thank you dad! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!” Spoke beamed as Minute set him down again. Wemmbu shot him another look, as if to say calm yourself, bro. 

Spoke hugs himself until he stops flickering as bad, face scrunched up in concentration.

Minute must have seen the look in Wemmbu’s eyes as he spoke again, “Wem, I’m not lying. And if I am, I give you my full permission to build that cannon you’ve been obsessing over.”

“Deal!” He replies, jumping up just like Spoke did.

Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all.

__________

The rest of the morning was spent in Wemmbu’s room, the two siblings playing board games while eating snacks they snuck from the kitchen.

They had quite the collection of board games, since both of them get bored very quickly. Ha. That's why board games are called board games.

Eventually, once the two had gotten tired of playing board games, they started playing ‘dress up’. Or, Wemmbu got to put Spoke in whatever clothes he wanted to.

He has quite the vast collection of fancy clothing, crowns, accessories and what not. Spoke did not. The younger one didn’t care much for fashion, tending to wear the same black crop-top and rainbow-stripped long sleeve shirt underneath every single day. 

At least he wears a tie.

That was Wemmbu’s doing, a gift from Spoke’s 7th birthday. The kid refused to take it off.

Wemmbu did care about how he looked, though. His go-to outfit being a purple vest with a white button-up shirt underneath, and black pants with gold stripes on the sides. He also wore a tiara, the pink gem in the middle reflecting the light of every room he walked into.

Minute had tried to get him to wear a real crown, but he refused, saying that ‘tiara’s are prettier’.

Spoke refused to wear a crown at all, choosing a rainbow bandana made out of one of his old shirts instead.

But, at least for the next 5 minutes, both of them looked like royalty.

Wemmbu had stuck the kid in one of his old vests, black that had a purple shine to it if you stood in the light correctly. Underneath, a white shirt with flounce sleeves that faded into black, and he also made the kid change into normal black pants, because his shorts did not go with the top.

Finally, he made Spoke take off his beloved bandana and gave him an old circlet with a dangling black gem, that changed colours depending on the angle you were looking at him from.

“You took away my colour!” Spoke pouted as he looked in the mirror, crossing his arms.

“At least you look normal now.” Wemmbu shoots back, messing with his hair, trying to un-tangle the immortal knots in his hair.

“I look stupid.” He muttered, hitting Wemmbu’s hand away. “Can I change now?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever” Wemmbu replied, he had had his fun.

Wemmbu checks the time as Spoke goes back into the bathroom, and he realized that they needed to be out, like, now. 

“Hurry up, Spoke!” He yells into the closed door, “we’re gonna be late!”

“I’m going! I’m going!” The younger one yelled back, opening the door a few minutes later.

Wemmbu could only think about how late they were as the two sprinted through halls and down the stairs, eventually running into the main room where Minute was talking with a very tall guy, who Wemmbu knows is Ashswag. 

The two try to nonchalantly walk over, but one of the 3 kids standing behind Ash had noticed them run in, and held his hand up to his mouth to stifle a laugh.

He looked to be around Spoke’s age, wearing a red hoodie and bandana, demon tail swishing behind him in excitement.

Wemmbu immediately knew the two would get along.

The other two looked to be his age, maybe even twins. Both of them had yellow skin and hair, but one had much longer hair than the other.

The one with longer hair had it in a braided half up-half down, and was wearing a yellow vest and a white undershirt, same as Wemmbu was. Except the yellow-haired one was wearing a white jabot over the vest. 

The other sibling-twin-whatever was wearing a long coat, half red and half blue, with opposite coloured triangles printed on the two separate sides.

Wemmbu thought it looked stupid. The guy also had a little sunflower clip in his hair, keeping his hair out of his eyes. 

“Ah, there you are!” Minute says, turning to them. “Wemmbu, Spoke, this is Zam,” he continues, guesting to the one with long hair, “Rejoice,” now gesturing towards the one with the ugly coat, “and Mapicc.” The one with the red hoodie.

“Hi hi hi!” Spoke says, bouncing on his toes in excitement.

“Hello” the three say back.

And suddenly, Minute and Ash are gone, leaving the 5 by themselves.

They stood there in silence for a few awkward seconds before Spoke, once again, broke the silence.

“I like your bandana” he says, directed to Mapicc.

“Thank you! I like yours too, we’re like, matching bro,” he smiles.

“Wanna see my blueprints?” 

“Blueprints for what?”

“Exploits.”

Wemmbu elbows Spoke, he can’t just go around telling people he has access to powerful exploits.

“Ow!” Spoke cries the same time Mapicc says, “of course I do bro, that’s like, super cool what?!”

And Wemmbu can do nothing but watch the two scurry away, praying that they don’t get in too much trouble.

Which leaves him with Zam and Rejoice. 

“So… what’s your favourite flower?” Rejoice asks him, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

Zam groans very loudly, clearly having heard this many times before.

“Do you ever shut up about flowers?” Zam sighs, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“Nope!” Rejoice replies, still looking at Wemmbu, waiting for an answer.

“Bro how should I know?”

Rejoice gasps, and Zam rolls her eyes, clearly already done with the conversation.

“How could you not?!” 

“Probably because he’s normal?” Zam buts in, looking as if she might explode from boredom. “Sorry about him, he was dropped on the head as a baby.”

“Hey! That’s mean!” Rejoice yells as Wemmbu bursts into laughter, which causes Zam to start giggling, and suddenly all 3 of them were standing there laughing at a very unfunny joke.

When their laughter died down, and they wiped the tears from their faces (from giggling so hard), Wemmbu asked if they wanted to go to the market with him.

The two twins nodded ecstatically, and Wemmbu ran up to his room to grab his coin pouch. Can’t go to the market without money, now can he?

He was bounding down the stairs again, coins jingling in his pocket as he heard a loud crash.

Coming from outside.

In the usual spot where Spoke attempts to build his inventions.

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. He thinks, taking the stairs two at a time and sprinting back into the main room, where Rejoice and Zam were waiting, visibly confused.

“I’m gonna go see what that was okay bye!” He yells, running past them and out the door.

He could hear the two running after him to follow, not without Zam’s complaints about running.

He sprinted through the courtyard, chorus plants littering the surrounding yard around the end stone paths.

He takes a right turn and runs through an arch in the path, leading to a sprawling yard, where there was, in fact, a new explosion.

“Oh no oh no Minutes gonna kill me!” He can hear his little brother whine, which means he isn’t hurt.

So he slows his pace to a jog as he comes up on the now-exploded machine.

Mapicc was laughing as Spoke put his hands on his head, eyes wide and eyebrows scrunched up in stress.

“Spoke bro, Minute had one rule.” Wemmbu said, causing the other to jump at his sudden appearance.

“Wemmbu puh-lease don’t tell him! I’ll literally do anything! I’ll do your laundry for a week— actually scratch that— two!”

Now, Wemmbu wasn’t even planning on telling Minute (as this was pretty good leverage to use later), but he pretended to ponder the deal in case Spoke was willing to do more.

“Okayokay 3! Three weeks! Please!” 

“Fineee” he replies, “but if you go back on that I swear I will tell him everything.” 

“Oh thank you!” Spoke replies, practically deflating as the stress leaves his body.

“Me and those two are going to the market if you wanna come with us.” He says, not knowing if the two had plans to blow up yet another machine.

Spoke and Mapicc share a look before enthusiastically nodding, and the 5 walk back through the courtyard together, but this time taking a left out the front gate. 

The 5 fell into comfortable conversation, with Spoke telling the group all about the things he’s made with Jamato, leaving out the parts where it all blows up. Every time. Because while the two might be smart, they are literally 8 years old.

They passed forests of chorus plants, and Rejoice ran over to each one, picking small white flowers off the towering stalks.

“I can’t wait to put these in my scrapbook when I get home” Wemmbu could hear Rejoice mutter excitedly.

Wemmbu and Zam were having a heated argument about whether crowns were better than tiaras when the market came into view.

Stalls made out of end stone and purpur blocks lined the streets, banners blowing in the wind, people yelling about overpriced items filling the air. A little past the stalls was the actual market, where the shops lie. 

Wemmbu drags the other 4 past the stalls— he didn’t like all the arguing— and into the market area.

Their shoes clack on the stone floors as Spoke and Mapicc run up to each shop window, somehow finding interest in everything. 

Eventually, they came upon a pet store, and Spoke practically begged him to go inside.

So inside the 5 went.

A few minutes later, Wemmbu and Rejoice were looking at the ferrets, giggling at how cute they were.

“Look! That one’s chasing its own tail!” Rejoice laughed, grinning like standing in the middle of a pet store in the end dimension was the best thing to ever happen to him.

But Rejoice was just like that. He was always happy about something, and that joyousness was infectious. 

“It looks like Zam” he replies, laughing as he hears Zam yell from across the store, “Wemmbu I swear to god!” 

The two are looking at the hamsters when Spoke and Mapicc come running over, with Spoke holding something in his hand.

A bucket. Filled with water.

“Spoke! Slow down bro you’re going to drop that— why do you have a water bucket anyways?”

“Wemmbu! You don’t understand— I saved him from the evil fish tank!” Spoke solemnly replies, holding the bucket up so Wemmbu could see the fish swimming in it.

“He did.” Mappic very seriously agrees, nodding as if they were talking about a real person.

Wemmbu just gaped at the two for a second, but what did he even expect? Of course Spoke somehow got his hands on a fish. And now he’s going to have to take care of that too.

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But the excitement in the kids eye makes it worth it.

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Maybe.

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“His name is George Jr.” Spoke continues as Wemmbu pushes the bucket away from his face.

“I give it 3 days before it dies.” He responds, gesturing to Zam that they were getting ready to leave.

“He won’t die! He won’t!” Spoke pouts as they leave the shop, continuing their journey.

The end was quite bright, despite it always being night. The immense amount of lanterns and end rods made sure of that. It was really pretty, actually.

Sometimes, a few times a year, the sky itself gives a gift to the people of the dimension. Aurora borealis. Said to be the last of the ender dragon's breath, her last gift to the dimension before she was slain by the people of the overworld.

Yet another reason why the end and the overworld didn’t get along.

And why Wemmbu had a personal grudge against them.

Zam, Rejoice, and Mapicc being the only exceptions of course.

Whoever said that the three were ‘entitled brats’, were very wrong. Well, except for maybe Zam. She was kind of entitled.

The next shop they went into was some kind of clothing store, per request of Zam. 

The only person who got something was Rejoice, surprisingly, he had found a shirt with a sunflower on it, and immediately bought it (shocker).

By the time the 5 were back on the street, Zam was complaining about being hungry. So, evidentially, they went to find somewhere to eat.

After walking for a little while longer, they found a small restaurant tucked in between two much larger shops, easily missed by the saturated eye.

The waiter gave them quite the look as they sat down, probably concerned as to why 5 very young children were out on their own.

And to be honest, they weren't supposed to be out. Like at all. Neither Wemmbu or Spoke are really allowed outside the castle much, as it was ‘too dangerous’.

But Wemmbu didn’t want his new friends to think he was being babied.

So he took the risk.

Sure, they were going to be in for hell when they got home… but that’s only if Minute catches them.

They probably needed to head back soon, the 5 had already been out for a few hours and still needed to make the trek back to the castle.

So maybe they were a little cooked.

He’s planning the quickest way to get home as the food comes, 5 different smells hitting his nose at once.

It smelled good. Like really good.

And the food was 100% as good as it tasted. His eyes widened in surprise as he took the first bite, not expecting a random restaurant in the middle of the bustling market to be this good. 

Apparently, the rest of his little group agreed, as they all ate their food in complete silence, only broken by the occasional bickering from Wemmbu and Zam.

He had almost forgotten about their need to hurry until he looked at the time on his communicator.

They needed to be back 10 minutes ago.

Oh shit.

“Guys— guys we have to go. Like now.” He nervously says, pushing his seat away and standing up, the other 4 following suit.

They rushed back through the shops, through the stalls, and back into the main foyer in record time, but it still wasn’t enough.

Wemmbu's heart sank as he saw Minute and Ash standing in the middle of the huge room, one looking way more stressed than the other.

“Are you not worried that your kids are missing?” He could hear Minute hiss to Ash, the other guy looking completely unbothered.

“They’re not technically my kids—“

“But they’re still your responsibility!” Minute counters, pressing a finger into the other man’s chest.

Both of the men’s heads whipped around as they heard the 5 enter the room, panting and out of breath.

“Oh thank god” Minute says, suddenly looking like the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. “Are you okay? Is anybody hurt?”

They all shake their heads no.

Minute sighs, dragging his hand through his hair.

“I guess we’ll be leaving, then!” Ash says, walking towards the entrance.

All 5 of them share a look, before waving goodbye.

As the door closes behind Ash, the air in the room seems to grow colder.

Wemmbu tenses as he turns around again.

Minute was staring right at him. And he definitely wasn’t happy.

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“What were you thinking?” Minute asked, looking at them with genuine concern.

He wasn’t angry. Minute doesn’t get angry. Not at them. He gets worried. He never yells, leaning more towards talking out whatever happened. 

Once, Spoke had literally blown a hole in the side of the castle, and Minute still didn’t yell.

Wemmbu thinks he couldn’t have gotten luckier when he got adopted.

Sure, he wasn’t around a lot, but at least he cared about them.

“We— I— just wanted to show them around…” 

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that is? What if someone with bad intentions recognised you?”

Wemmbu felt sick. Like he might throw up right then and there. He didn’t want to worry Minute, he thought they’d be back in time.

Spoke hasn’t said anything, letting Wemmbu do the talking. The kid does not know how to own up to his actions. But it was mainly Wemmbu’s fault, so he’s not mad.

“We’re sorry.” He decides on saying, and Spoke nods in agreement.

Minute pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing again. “Alright, but never do that again. Next time, please tell me. Now c’mon, I still have a promise to fulfil.”

Both boys were immediately snapped out of their bad mood, they had thought that Minute would be too upset with them to get ice cream.

But that would mean Wemmbu would be technically allowed to build the cannon.

And that would be significantly worse for Minute.

And thus, the three leave to take the same path back to the market. Spoke skips along Wemmbu’s right side, Minute walking on his left, leaving him in the middle.

The younger one was singing some kind of song he didn’t recognize, very off key at that.

He clutches a small sunflower pin in his pocket that Rejoice had given him as they walked, tracing over each crevice.

The market was still bustling with people, even though it was pretty late at night. Or so he thinks, he can’t really tell, with the sky always being void.

The overworld must be nice, with the sky letting you know the time of day constantly.

But at least he wasn’t in the nether. You couldn’t see the sky there at all. Well, unless you glitched onto the roof.

People turn their heads to stare as the three walk past, studiously at Minute. He was their king, after all.

A very respected king.

Minute had the kind of aura that made you immediately think twice before wronging him. He wasn’t mean, per se, but he was intimidating to those who didn’t know him. Which is why he is so widely respected. And because he’s genuinely a great ruler.

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Wemmbu has some crazy expectations to live up to.

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They entered a little ice cream shop near the center of the market, the little bell over the door announcing their presence.

The smell of vanilla and dairy wafts over to him as they walk up to the red counter, the worker looking up in surprise.

“King MinuteTech! What a pleasant surprise! What can I do for you today?” They ask, smiling nervously.

Minute glances at Wemmbu and Spoke, gesturing for them to tell the nice worker what they want.

Spoke looks as if he is making a life or death decision, running up and down the length of the counter, staring at each flavour with the kind of concentration that could only come from him.

“Just a scoop of vanilla, please,” Wemmbu says, smiling at the cashier. They nod, typing something into the cash register.

“B-oring” Spoke comments, still looking at the flavours.

“At least I can decide for myself.” Wemmbu shoots back, rolling his eyes.

Spoke glares at him, sticking out his tongue before finally deciding on a flavour.

“Can I have… a scoop of cookies & cream, but in one of the cones that has sprinkles on the side? Oh! And lots of sprinkles on the top too? It doesn’t taste the same without sprinkles.” He says, looking quite proud of himself. “Please?” He adds when Wemmbu kicks him.

The cashier laughs, typing something else into the register. “Of course!” They start, “and for you, sir?”

“Same as him.” Minute says, gesturing to Spoke. “But just in a cup, and no sprinkles please.”

They nod, and Minute pays before the three find somewhere to sit as they wait.

Spoke starts to tell Minute about their adventure today, and Wemmbu interrupts to complain about George Jr. almost immediately.

“What did my fish ever do to you!?” Spoke yells, crossing his arms.

“Nothing! I just don’t want to have to take care of a random fish along with you bro!” He says without thinking. “Sorry Minute.” He immediately adds, glancing at the man.

“It’s alright.” He says, getting up to go get their ice cream.

Wemmbu sinks into his seat. He didn’t want Minute to know that taking care of the both of them was stressful, the man already had enough issues.

He didn’t want to be a burden.

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Minute comes back over and hands the two their ice cream, comfortable conversation floating between them while they eat.

“You have ice cream all over your face bro.” Wemmbu says, giggling at Spoke, who immediately wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“No I don’t”

“You did”

“Nuh uh”

“I literally saw it’

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Yes”

“No”

“Y—”

“Okay, okay! Stop arguing” Minute says, trying to be serious, but failing to hide a small smile.

“He started it!” They both said at the same time, pointing at each other.

“This is going to be a very long 12 years…” Minute muttered under his breath.

“You chose this bro, not my fault Spoke is a little not all there in the head.”

“Hey! Says the guy obsessed with bombs!”

“I’m not even!”

“Five books, twenty-five drafts, fifteen different blueprints, a material list—”

“Okay okay! …Maybe just a little bit.”

Minute isn’t even trying to hide his smile, softly laughing while listening to his children argue.

“MinuteTech this is not funny!” Spoke says a few minutes later, “he is literally bullying me, we have to disown him.”

“I could never give away my favourite child.” Minute replies, definitely knowing what kind of arguments he is starting with that statement.

Spoke’s jaw drops to the floor as Wemmbu starts hysterically laughing, falling out of his chair in the process. 

“Oh shit!” He yells as he falls, causing Spoke to start laughing himself. 

Minute takes out a small polaroid camera that he takes with him everywhere, taking a picture of the situation.

Wemmbu would keep that photo of him on the floor while Spoke laughed at him on his bulletin board for years to come.

The three would end up writing on the little white space underneath the photo. Minute writing ‘my children disturbing the peace of an ice cream shop.’ Wemmbu wrote underneath that, ‘I’m still the favourite!’ And Spoke writing ‘Long Live George Jr. c:’

…

…

…

It was long past ‘dark’ by the time the three left the ice cream shop. Halfway back home, Spoke had fallen asleep in Minutes' arms, suddenly making everything much quieter.

“What do you think of Zam and Rejoice?” Minute asked him.

“I like them. Are they ever going to come back?”

“Do you want them to?”

He thought for a second before responding.

“Yeah, I think so.”

…

…

…

Minute came into his room after putting Spoke to bed, which was a surprise since he hadn’t done that since he was very small.

He sat up in his bed as Minute walked over, the purple comforter falling off his shoulders and into his lap.

The bed dipped a little as Minute sat down on the edge.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” The older man started, looking at him with as much concern that pupil-less eyes can portray. Which was a lot.

…

…

…

“I know.” Wemmbu replied, only slightly lying. He wouldn’t just not tell Minute if he had a problem, he probably wouldn’t tell anyone. So it’s a half lie. Which is more bearable to tell then a full one.

…

…

…

“Alright, just making sure.” Minute says as he pulls out a book.

It was a well-loved kids book, one that Minute used to read to him every night, and then Wemmbu read to Spoke for a while. Or at least until the kid decided he was too old for bedtime stories.

Wemmbu never got tired of it.

But you couldn’t water board that information out of him.

Minute didn’t say anything as he opened the bright green book to the first page, clearing his voice before starting to read.

“Once there was a tree, and she loved a little boy.” 

The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein, probably one of the most controversial kids books of all time.

When Wemmbu was like 5, the photo of the author on the back of the book used to give him nightmares. He never told Minute though, he didn’t want the man to stop reading to him every night.

But after one particularly bad night, Minute made him tell him what was giving him all those nightmares. And he reluctantly— not without embarrassment— told him it was the photo on the back of the book.

And Minute didn’t get upset, and he didn’t stop reading to him every night. He just quietly got up and left the room, leaving Wemmbu with his spiraling thoughts.

He didn’t spiral for too long, however, because a minute later, the older man returned. He had put tape over the photo on the back of the book. Just so Wemmbu didn’t have to look at it.

His eyes land on the tape, still there all these years later. A smile tugged at his lips, he doesn’t know why that made him happy.

“And everyday the boy would come, and he would gather her leaves, and make them into crowns, and play king of the forest.” Minute continued as Wemmbu’s eyes wandered his own room.

His desk chair was still on the floor from when Spoke was messing around earlier that day, papers littering the desk and floor around it.

“He would climb up her trunk, and swing from her branches, and eat apples. And they would play hide-and-go-seek. And when he was tired, he would sleep in her shade.”

He looked at the rug on his floor, a christmas gift. It was blob-shaped with a smiley face embedded into it, black horns and a yellow crown sitting at the top of the blob's head.

It was supposed to be him. Or what Spoke thought he was when he made that stupid drawing 2 years ago.

…

…

…

He didn’t really think it was stupid.

The drawing was hanging next to a photo of him and Egg on his bulletin board.

“And the boy loved the tree very much. And the tree was happy. But time went by. And the boy grew older. And the tree was often alone.”

He could feel his eyes growing heavy as he laid back down again, blinking rapidly to keep the sleep from taking him.

“Then one day, the boy came to the tree, and the tree said, "Come, Boy, come and climb up my trunk and swing from my branches and eat apples and play in my shade…”

And be happy went unheard, as Wemmbu had lost the war against sleep.

So he did not see Minute slowly close the book and pull the blanket back over his shoulders, and he did not see Minute leave the room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Wemmbu alone, once again. 

__________

Years pass like leaves in the fall, in one big colourful blur.

Wemmbu and Zam got really really close for a while, the other teaching him things like makeup, (“Zam isn’t this stuff for girls?” “No, now hold still! I’m going to stab your eye out if you don’t!” “Purpously or accidentally?” “Purpously if you don’t shut your mouth.”) which he continues to wear every day, even if the two aren’t on speaking terms anymore.

He had a lot to say about Zam, and most of the words he could think of weren't very nice. It’s not his fault she manipulated and betrayed him even though all he did was give her his undying loyalty. 

Rejoice tried to warn him. But he didn’t listen.

He still apologizes about that argument they got in, but Rejoice just brushed it off.

Safe to say, him, Egg, and Rejoice have become quite the trio over the years.

Minute was busier than ever, and sometimes Wemmbu wouldn’t see him for months at a time.

Spoke, however, had changed a lot. He doesn’t know what happened between him and Jamato, only having heard some of their last argument. (“Spoke, all you’re doing is playing god! You don’t want to ‘save the end’, you just want power!”) The kid hadn’t been the same since that day.

…

…

…

Wemmbu tried to be there for him, but Spoke had snapped at him when he reached out. So he let Mapicc do the comforting, trusting that Spoke’s best friend knew what he was doing.

Sure, it hurt a little that Spoke didn’t want his help, but he isn’t a little kid anymore.

And it’s not like it ruined their relationship at all, they were still very close, but it was just a little different.

And sometimes, different is okay.

…

…

…

Wemmbu had turned 16 recently, which meant he got a shit-load of responsibilities dumped on him at once. Preparation for becoming king, or whatever.

Wemmbu only saw it as a “thanks for living! We hope you don’t for much longer!”

He had to start attending meetings where the members pretended his opinion counted. He argued a lot. They didn’t like him. He didn’t like them either.

He had also picked up fighting a bit after his 11th birthday, as he had gotten his hands on 2 maces.

It was from the overworld, a gift from one of Ash’s highest members, Yeah_Jaron. He had immediately named them Gambit and Crucible, promising to start training.

And train he did.

When he wasn’t stuck in a meeting, or filling out paperwork, (the orbital cannon having been long abandoned by now, original drafts now covered by stacks of politics.) or hanging out with Rejoice and Egg, he was training.

And he had gotten really good. 

Wemmbu got into fights at the market a lot, and always came out on top. Fighting real people was way more fun than hitting an armour stand with a mace over and over for hours on end.

He had gained quite the reputation over the years, being dubbed the strongest in the whole dimension.

It was nice.

Life was nice.

His friends and younger brother made the stress bearable, worth it even.

The thought of Wemmbu being king still scares him, but that's something he would only admit to his two closest friends. 

Speaking of Egg and Rejoice, he was currently sprinting through the crowd, laughing as the two tried to catch up. Well, only Rejoice was, Egg was too nonchalant to run in public.

“Wemmbu! Give Egg his book back!” Rejoice yelled after him, which only caused Wemmbu to speed up, yelling apologies over his shoulder to the people he bumped into.

His lungs screamed as he tried to find a break in the crowd, gasping for breath as he finally found one and escaped the crowd, putting his hands on his knees as Rejoice caught up.

The guy looked even more tired than he was, going as far as to collapse on the floor while Egg slowly caught up.

The angel giggled at the sight of the two, walking over to Wemmbu and snatching his lore book back from his grasp.

“Ah, there's my greatest piece of work,” Egg says, dusting the imaginary particles off the book.

“Egg bro it’s just a book.” Wemmbu replied, having caught some of his breath.

“Brother, no it isn’t! This is the entire history of the entire server right here!” He says, waving the book in his face like it was some kind of prize.

“Even the nether?” Rejoice piped in from his spot on the ground.

“Is that included in the entire server?”

“How did you get the history of a dimension you’ve never been to?”

“I have my sources.”

“How did you get the history of the smaller civilizations?”

“Like I said, I have my sources. You have to trust the word of the book.”

“Whatever that means.” Wemmbu whispers, earning a laugh from Rejoice as he starts walking back towards the crowd. “C’mon, we gotta get back before someone notices we left.”

“Wemmbu, can we please go around the crowd?” Rejoice asks, following him.

“Unless you want to be back by tomorrow, nope!”

He can hear Rejoice and Egg shrug at each other as they fall back into the chaos of the crowd, pushing past people as the three try to squeeze through the crowds. 

Eventually, and not without Egg almost losing his book again, they get to the front of the stalls, where the crowd thins enough to breathe a little deeper. Another 2 minutes, and they’re back on the path to the castle.

Rejoice skips beside them, and Wemmbu would laugh if he wasn’t used to it. Rejoice reminded him of Spoke in a way, always energetic and happy about something or another.

He was excitedly talking about a community garden he had started in the overworld as they entered the castle, running up the stairs and back into Wemmbu’s room before anybody noticed the three were missing.

As per usual, Rejoice took his desk chair, Egg sat on the purple beanbag Wemmbu had gotten recently, and he sat on the bed, hugging one of his pillows to his chest.

“I’ll never get over how purple this room is.” Rejoice says, still smiling.

Wemmbu genuinely can’t think of one time that the guy wasn’t smiling.

Well, besides that one and only time they did get caught sneaking out.

“Can’t a guy like a colour in peace?” He shoots back, and the man chooses to ignore his comment.

“I see the workload hasn’t gotten much better.” Rejoice says instead, sifting through the papers on his desk.

“Yeah, but I’ll just get Egg to do it. Right, Eggy?”

“Brother, just because I am a master of literature does not mean I am going to do your homework for you. And do not call me Eggy, it makes me sound unprofessional.”

“I’ll stop if you do it!”

“No you won’t bro.” 

“D’alright bro, guess I’ll just suffer alone…” Wemmbu sighs dramatically, flopping back onto the bed.

“It’s okay Wemmbu! I’ll help!” Rejoice grins, not looking up from whatever paper he was reading.

“See Egg, this is why Rejoice is the favourite.” He laughs, sitting up again.

“I’m wounded.”

“Oh! Wemmbu are you free later? Me and Egg were going to get dinner somewhere and wanted to know if you wanted to come with?” Rejoice asks after a minute, still reading papers.

“Nah, sorry, but Friday nights are for me and Spoke.” He replies, shifting to a more comfortable position.

This was a tradition Wemmbu had forcefully started when his and Spoke’s relationship was at its worst, they would go get ice cream and find an empty spot far away from the market, to get away from the stress of life.

It was nice, and there was supposed to be an aurora borealis tonight, so he was looking forward to it.

“Okay!” Rejoice nods, shooting him a quick smile before going back to reading again. 

“Egg, bro, what did you do to Rejoice? He’s acting like you now. I can’t lose both of my best friends to a dumb hobby.” He complains, moving from the bed to the floor.

“It’s not dumb!” Both of them yell at the same time, before looking at each other and promptly bursting into a fit of laughter.

“See what I mean!” He cries, but starts to laugh along with them. What can he say? The two have very contagious laughter.

The three kept throwing jokes at each other, and soon enough Wemmbu was wiping tears from his eyes with how hard he was laughing.

He loved moments like this, where it's just him and his friends, where all his responsibilities fade away to be thought about another time.

Unfortunately, however, the two had to go. He told them to save him a fry, but he doubts they would. The three promised to meet back in the main room in a few hours, to have a sleepover.

And then the two were gone, leaving Wemmbu sitting on his floor for a few minutes before he got up to go find Spoke.

He hummed a song he’s never heard in his life as he walked down the hall towards Spoke’s room, trying to be quiet because he didn’t want to wake Minute.

It wasn’t that late in the day, but the guy just got back from a trip and had a meeting later, so he was getting all the sleep possible.

Wemmbu only got one knock in on the door before it opened, revealing a smiling Spoke. 

“How long have you been sitting there waiting for?” He laughs as he moves so Spoke can get out of his room.

“Only like 20 minutes.” He mutters, grimacing as Wemmbu slings an arm around Spoke’s shoulders.

He was taller than Wemmbu, and he was only 14. That's kind of embarrassing. And Wemmbu was wearing heeled boots. Scratch that, that’s really embarrassing.

Spoke seemed to notice, snickering a little bit.

“Say one word and I’ll tell Minute about that new machine you’re working on.”

“Fine, fine… you’re so mean to me” Spoke complains, running down the stairs two at a time.

He smiles as he watches the kid run out the door, rainbow bandana bouncing behind him. He’d never admit it out loud, but he’s proud of Spoke. Sure, he’s made a lot of mistakes, but he truly means well.

Wemmbu’s glad he’s the older one, too. He doesn’t think Spoke would hold up well under all the pressure of living up to their father. And he’s glad to carry that burden, if it means his little brother can breathe a little easier. 

__________

The walk to the ice cream shop was nothing special, Spoke was explaining a new machine he designed and planned to build with Mapicc later that week.

Wemmbu could tell by the way the glow in his eyes dimmed that he was missing Jamato. So he changes the subject, because he gets it. Sometimes he misses Zam, too.

They got the same order that they had gotten six years ago, and sat at the same table, with the same worker making small talk as they waited.

Purpled, that was the guy's name.

They ate in near silence, savouring each bite and occasionally making a joke to break the silence.

The little bell above the door rang again as they left, waving bye to Purpled. The market was still crowded, but it had cleared out quite a bit, because it was starting to hit closing times for a lot of stores. 

They talked about everything and nothing as they walked, Spoke kicking rocks along the way. Eventually, they could only barely see the lights of civilization behind them, and the cold wind blew in his face without any people to block it.

After walking for a little while longer, Wemmbu got out a blanket from his inventory and set it on the ground. They didn’t say much as they sat there, looking up at the sky. 

…

…

…

They usually didn’t.

…

…

…

About 20 minutes later, the quiet air was broken by Spoke’s loud gasp, pointing at something. Wemmbu followed his gaze, seeing what he was seeing.

The aurora borealis, beautiful and oh so purple, lit up the sky, shimmering and blinking in and out as if it were dancing, as if it were alive. 

Wemmbu has only seen it a few times, and it’s just as beautiful every single time. The two sat in silence for a long time, just taking in the breathtaking view which is the sky.

But, alas, all good things must come to an end eventually, and the aurora borealis was no different. 

He could see Spoke frown as the last of it flickered away as Wemmbu stood up to grab the blanket, once again storing it in his inventory.

The walk back was somehow quieter, the lights of the lanterns illuminating the empty streets before them. All the shops had been long closed, not a single light on in each one.

They were alone.

Or, so Wemmbu thought.

Spoke was talking genuine nonsense about invisible skeletons when a figure appeared out of nowhere.

Quite literally.

Wemmbu only knew they were there because they equipped armor, netherite with diamond eye trims.

“Ohhh, so we’re invisible!” Spoke said, stopping his rant.

“Yo, buddy!” Wemmbu yelled to them, “wachha doing?”

They were already running late, and he didn’t want to keep Egg and Rejoice waiting for too long. He’d rather deal with this guy quickly, if need be.

Gambit hums in his inventory as he swaps to the weapon, ready to attack.

The figure doesn’t answer, only continuing to stand in the middle of the street, close enough to be a threat, but far enough to evade any attacks.

Wemmbu took a step forward, clutching his mace to his side. The figure didn’t flinch, only continuing to stand their ground.

His eyes narrowed at the invis figure, his mind racing through different scenarios, 99% of them ending in violence.

The wind whistled in his ears, the surrounding area quiet.

…

…

…

Too quiet.

…

…

…

Spoke would be— should be— making some kind of joke or dumb comment by now.

…

…

…

“Wemmbu— I think we have a problem.” Came the strained voice of his younger brother, the fear in his voice alone making Wemmbu’s blood run cold.

He doesn’t want to turn around. If he turns around, something horrible will happen. If he turns around, he thinks he’ll see something that will scar him forever. If he turns around—

He turns around.

And his heart drops to his stomach so fast he thinks he might be sick.

Spoke, wide-eyed and scared, had a knife held to his throat, being held in place by yet another invis eye trim.

Not once has Wemmbu seen Spoke without a glow in his eye.

Until now.

His eyes were pure solid white as his silhouette started flickering.

Wemmbu could almost hear his heart pounding in his ribcage.

…

…

…

He didn’t know what to do.

His younger brother was being held at knife-point and he didn’t know what to do.

If he attacked, they would kill Spoke. If he did nothing, they would kill Spoke.

But, he knew that if he showed he was panicking, Spoke would spiral.

So he swallows his emotions as he takes a cautious step forwards, and the invis person digs the knife deeper into Spoke’s skin, drawing blood and causing the younger one to yelp.

“Well… this is a pleasant first meeting!" Wemmbu says, trying to make a joke out of the situation.

Nobody laughed.

Wemmbu and Spoke made eye contact, both equally terrified. One, because he was being held hostage, and the other because he was completely powerless in a situation he usually had control over.

He didn’t want Spoke to die— couldn’t let his younger brother die. The kid had so much to live for, so much life in his eyes that was ripped away from him in less than 5 minutes. Spoke was only 14, too young to die, and too young to be in this situation in the first place.

…

…

…

But the world is cruel to people like them.

…

…

…

Wemmbu doesn’t have time to react as everything happens at once.

He can hear the sound of boots running behind him, and Wemmbu whirls around a second too late, the invis player already grabbing his arms and restraining him, forcing his mace— Gambit— out of his hands and it clatters to the ground, immediately being kicked away from him.

He struggles, twisting and yelling in the others grip, alarm bells screaming in his head, his only thoughts being ones of pure desperation as he watches Spoke’s eyes go wide.

__________

Spokeishere was scared.

That much is true.

He’s petrified even, heart threatening to break free from his chest at any moment.

The knife’s blade was cool against his skin, a weird mix between his warm blood spilling from his neck.

He had been dragged back, a hand covering his mouth before he could say a word.

So he obviously licked his captors hand, a small grunt coming from the guy as he pulled his hand away.

Spoke used this newfound opening to let Wemmbu know of the predicament he was in.

The knife dug into his skin in response.

He yelped.

Although fear is clouding his mind, he knows he will be okay.

Because Wemmbu is here, right in front of him.

Real.

Alive.

Safe.

Spoke always felt safe around his older brother, always felt as if nothing could hurt him.

And he feels the same way even now, with a knife still pressed against his skin.

Spokeishere is okay, because Wemmbu is here.

Safe.

Safe.

Safe.

He repeats, trying to get himself to calm enough to stop fading in and out of reality itself.

Spoke was okay.

Spoke was safe.

Spoke had Wemmbu.

Spoke had the person he cares about most in the whole universe.

Wemmbu would save him.

Wemmbu would make sure everything turned out okay.

Wemmbu was always there for him.

He feels himself relax, but only slightly.

Enough for his flickering to get better.

…

…

…

And then his brother was being restrained, his mace kicked away from him as he struggled to break free.

And Spoke still did not let himself panic.

Because it was ok.

Because Wemmbu was here.

And suddenly they were making eye contact.

.

..

…

…?

….!

And Wemmbu, his older brother, the man who wasn’t scared of anything, the man who basically raised him, the man who made him feel safe even if they were arguing—

Was scared.

Wemmbu looked at him with a kind of fear and desperation in his eyes that he has never seen before.

…!

…!

…!

And his panic came back in full force.

His head was screaming.

Get out.

Get out.

Get out.

Everything was suddenly too loud, too much, too bright.

Spoke started struggling, watching his own body fade in and out of existence faster than he’d ever seen in his life.

…

…

…

Mappic.

He was going to have a sleepover with Mappic tonight.

…

…

…

But all he wanted now was to hug Wemmbu.

To be held close and be told it was ok.

Wemmbu would run his hands through Spoke’s hair, saying how he needed to brush it.

And Spoke would pretend to be annoyed.

…

…

…

He wanted Wemmbu to read books to him at night again.

…

He wanted his brother to excitedly tell him about his new draft for the orbital cannon.

…

He wanted to see the cannon be constructed.

…

He wanted Wemmbu to make him wear ugly outfits again.

…

He wanted to play boring board games.

…

He wanted to go get ice cream.

…

He wanted to watch his brother become king.

…

Spoke wanted so much.

Spokeishere wants to live.

Spokeishere wants to breathe.

…

…

…

Spokeishere has a sword through his stomach.

Spoke looks down, mind suddenly very clear.

That's… wrong.

It’s wrong.

It’s all wrong.

That sword doesn’t belong there.

He can feel the pain, red hot and shooting up his torso, see the blood, wet and sticky, hear the rush of panic in his mind.

He looks up at Wemmbu.

For some kind of confirmation that this wasn’t happening.

That he was okay.

That he was safe.

Because Wemmbu was safety.

…

…

…

He only saw raw human emotion.

…

…

…

And he could only think about everything he and Wemmbu would do once they got out of this situation as he passed out.

__________

Wemmbu couldn’t hear anything but the rush of blood in his ears as he watched the sword impale Spoke.

He knows he yelled, louder than before.

Struggled more, to get out of the others grip.

To get to his brother.

Who only looked at him, betrayal shining in his eyes before he crumpled to the ground, passed out.

Wemmbu has never been more pissed off in his life.

The invis player let go of him.

And Wemmbu laughed.

They had no idea that he had another mace.

He grinned as he swapped to Crucible, watching the invis player that was holding him back slowly back up.

Both players' totems were popped in less than 10 minutes. He was about to ban the two when both were teleported away. Whatever, not his problem.

What was his problem was Spoke.

His eyes softened and his smile fell as he turned to the boy, still breathing, but barely.

Spoke looked so much younger, laying there. Peaceful, even.

Wemmbu didn’t think as he picked his brother up, and started running as fast as he could back to the castle, back to safety. 

How could he let this happen?

How could he forget about Spoke in a situation like that?

How could he be so careless?

Impulsive.

Emotional.

…

…

…

Lost cause.

.

..

…

…?

…What?

…

…

…

Whatever. He had bigger things to worry about than two words he’s never heard before.

Spoke shifted in his arms a bit, groaning in pain.

Wemmbu wanted to scream to the skys, to yell until his voice broke. This wasn’t fair, it wasn’t. He was supposed to be hanging out with Rejoice and Egg, not sprinting across the chorus forest with his little brother bleeding out in his arms.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as the castle came into view, running through the courtyard and into the main room, where Rejoice and Egg were waiting.

For him.

They made eye contact, two of their eyes widening in confusion, and one’s eyes filled with desperation, incomprehensible fear and other indistinguishable emotions.

“Please” was all Wemmbu could force out, voice breaking as his best friends ran over to him.

“What— what happened?” Rejoice asked him, taking Spoke’s unconscious body from him.

It was all Wemmbu could do to not completely break down right then and there.

He did not answer.

“Okay… Egg go find help, I’ll take Spoke to the living room and try to stop the bleeding. And Wemmbu— go find Minute. Now.” Rejoice declared, turning to leave.

Wemmbu barely heard him, only nodding before running to find the meeting room, where Minute would be.

Hot tears fell down his face as he ran, feeling so utterly powerless that it was sickening.

He choked down a sob as he slammed open the door, Minute taking one look at him before standing up immediately, alarm shining in his eyes.

“Wemmbu, what happened? Are you okay? Where's Spoke?” The older man asked, quickly walking over to where Wemmbu stood, completely frozen.

And Wemmbu broke.

Ugly sobs ripped out of his chest as he tried to tell Minute.

“He— he’s h-hurt. And it’s my fault.” He cried as Minute wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a hug.

Wemmbu pushed him away, he didn’t deserve comfort, not when his little brother was dying in the other room.

He can’t break now. He needs to be there. For Spoke.

So he takes a breath, and turns to show Minute where Spoke is, running through the halls and not caring who sees him like this.

Honor was never his concern anyways.

Minute followed him, and Wemmbu didn’t care enough about the fact that he was clinging onto the man’s hand for dear life.

As they ran into the living room, Wemmbu almost started crying again. But he didn’t. He had to keep it together.

Rejoice and Egg were quietly talking, eyes softening as Wemmbu and Minute entered the room. There was a nurse at Spoke’s side, taking a look at his wound as he laid on the couch.

Still alive.

Still breathing.

“Is he going to be okay?” Minute asked.

Wemmbu couldn’t hear much of what the nurse was saying as he was only focused on Spoke.

Words like ‘peritonitis’, ‘exanguination’, and ‘unlikely’ float around him as Minute squeezes his hand.

…

…

…

10 minutes later, and the nurse has done all she could, stitching up the wound and wrapping it.

Rejoice and Egg give him words of condolences that he doesn’t hear before the two leave. 

Minute forces him away from Spoke’s side, who has been moved to his room, and sits him down at the kitchen table.

“Wemmbu, look at me.” Minute says, and Wemmbu reluctantly looks up from his hands. Still covered in Spoke’s blood.

Stained forever.

He wouldn’t be able to ever wash the blood from his mind.

“You’re going to need to tell me what happened. And if whoever attacked you, followed you.”

Wemmbu looks at his hands again, twiddling his thumbs as he opens his mouth.

__________

30 minutes later, he’s done explaining, having started crying again.

Not ugly sobs, just quiet tears.

Minute’s jaw was clenched, fists tightening from where they were clasped on the table. His eyes had narrowed as Wemmbu continued his story.

Minute was not a violent person.

But now, now, he had bloodlust in his eyes.

Minute was quiet for a bit, only saying one word after a while of sitting in silence.

“Ash.” 

Wemmbu’s heart dropped.

What?

“Look kid, it’s a long story. But me and Ash are going to have a friendly talk when this is over.” Minute says ‘Ash’ and ‘friendly’ with so much venom that Wemmbu flinches.

But he’s curious.

“We have all night.” He replies, knowing both of them will not be sleeping.

Minute sighs.

“Have you ever heard of the invis mafia?”

…

…

…

Wemmbu shakes his head ‘no’, and Minute launches into an explanation.

Apparently, Ashswag was running a mafia along with the overworld itself, identifiable by invisible people with eye trims. And apparently, if a member ever went un-invis, they would be teleported into the void and killed, which explained why the two attackers disappeared after Wemmbu popped their totems.

He’s glad they died.

But he wishes it could have been by his hand.

And it also explains Minute’s disappearances for months at a time, apparently he’s been infiltrating the mafia, to figure out ways to shut it down.

The two still don’t know for sure why Ash sent his members after Spoke. Minute said that he and Ash had been arguing a lot more than normal, and tensions were rising. 

Wemmbu didn’t care what happened next as long as Spoke was ok.

He could get stuck in an underground civilization with a bunch of wardens, or get sent on an assassination mission to kill someone he got quickly attached to, or accidentally get caught in an explosion, or watch two people who left him kill the one person he had left.

.

..

…

….?

His head was killing him. 

He told Minute he was going to bed and left.

Wemmbu did go back to his room, but only for a little while so he could shower and change.

But he did not stay in his room.

He went to Spoke’s.

He sat by the kid’s bed, listening to the sound of his breathing as he tried to go to sleep.

He couldn’t.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the betrayal in Spoke’s. The way the sword stabbed clean through his stomach. The blood on Wemmbu’s hands.

He opens his eyes.

Looks down.

The blood is back.

He looks away.

It isn’t real.

Maybe it was an hour later, and maybe it was 5— he couldn’t tell— but Spoke started stirring in his sleep.

Wemmbu’s head snapped up from where it was laying in his hands, looking over as Spoke cracked an eye open, then both.

“...Wemmbu?” Spoke said, trying to sit up before wincing in pain and giving up.

…

“Yeah?” He replied, just glad Spoke was awake.

…

“I don’t… I don’t think I’m gonna survive this.” The kid said, looking at him with a kind of sorrow in his eyes that you’d only see from a war veteran. With the kind of understanding and acceptance you’d only see from someone severely suicidal. 

And Wemmbu’s little brother was neither of those.

…

…

…

“Yes you are bro.” 

…

…

…

You have to. 

…

…

…

Spoke only hummed for a bit before speaking again.

“Can you read me a story?”

…

“I— yes, yes, of course.” 

…

He left the room, walking down the hallway that suddenly seemed way taller than it used to be.

Wemmbu grabs the book Minute used to read to him and walks back to Spoke’s room.

Spoke looked like he was about to fall asleep again when Wemmbu walked back in, pain coating his eyes.

Wemmbu wishes it was him instead.

He wishes it was him who got stabbed.

He wishes it was him who was slowly dying in a bed that seemed much too big for him.

As he read, he watched emotions fly across the kids face, probably re-thinking everything he’d ever done.

Sometimes, Wemmbu paused so Spoke could cough without missing anything.

But, when he was almost done with the book, Spoke started coughing, and he didn’t stop.

Wemmbu couldn’t stop the cough, but he could sit on the other's bed and pull him into a hug.

Spoke held onto Wemmbu like he was a lifeline.

And in a way, he was.

Eventually, the coughing paused enough for Spoke to speak.

…

…

…

“Wem, I don’t wanna die.” He whispers, so quiet that Wemmbu barely heard him.

…

…

…

Wemmbu could feel his heart tighten as Spoke’s tears fell onto his shoulder.

“Please.” Spoke continued, “please don’t let me die.” His voice was shaking.

…

…

…

Wemmbu only held onto him.

“I know— I know. I know you’re scared, but I got you. I won’t ever leave you.”

…

…

…

“Promise?” The kid replied.

…

“Promise.”

…

“You’ll always be here?”

…

“Forever and ever. No matter what.”

…

“...Can you finish the book?”

…

“Yes.”

…

…

…

Wemmbu grabbed the book again, turning the page with one hand and stroking Spoke’s hair with the other.

“And after a long time, the boy came back again. "I am sorry, Boy," said the tree," but I have nothing left to give you - My apples are gone.’” Wemmbu read.

…

Spoke shifted in his arms, presumably to a more comfortable position.

…

“‘My teeth are too weak for apples," said the boy. "My branches are gone," said the tree. " You

cannot swing on them - " "I am too old to swing on branches," said the boy.”

…

Spoke started coughing again, and Wemmbu waited.

…

…

…

Forever patient, forever waiting.

…

"’My trunk is gone, " said the tree. "You cannot climb - " "I am too tired to climb," said the boy. "I am sorry," sighed the tree. "I wish that I could give you something.... but I have nothing left. I am just an old stump. I am sorry....’” 

…

Spoke’s breathing becomes shallow, and his grip on Wemmbu’s clothes loosens.

…

‘"I don't need very much now," said the boy. "just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired."

"Well," said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could.”

…

…

…

 Spoke’s breathing stops.

…

…

…

Wemmbu’s breath hitches, and the tears fall again, but he keeps reading.

…

…

…

‘"Well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest."

And the boy did. 

And the tree was happy.”

…

…

…

He closes the book and buries his head in Spoke’s hair, holding onto his dead little brother as his cries disrupt the night, not stopping until early morning.

…

…

…

__________

The castle seems too big now. So much room for such an empty house.

He had laid Spoke back down, covering his cold, lifeless body in his rainbow blanket before leaving to go find Minute.

He shook his father awake, his eyes red from crying all night.

…

MinuteTech took one look at him and wrapped him in a hug.

…

If Wemmbu hadn’t been crying all night, he might have cried into his fathers arms.

…

But instead, it was Minute’s tears that stained his shirt.

…

Wemmbu had never seen him cry before.

…

The two stood like that for a while, neither wanting to move, neither wanting to accept the fact that it was just them now.

…

…

…

Wemmbu didn’t eat breakfast.

He went back to his room and stared at all of the photos he had of his brother.

Wemmbu did not eat lunch.

And he did not eat dinner.

He did not sleep.

The hours dragged by oh so slowly.

Wemmbu did not eat the next day.

And he did not sleep.

He did not leave his room.

On the third day, Egg and Rejoice showed up.

They knocked at his door.

He did not answer.

They came in anyways.

Worry coated their eyes.

Concern.

Sorrow.

Grief.

Rejoice pulled him into a hug.

He did not cry.

He did not bury his head in his shoulder.

He did not move.

Egg asked him a question.

He didn’t know what he said.

He only gave his best friend a blank stare.

They pulled him into the kitchen.

Made him food.

He did not eat it.

Only stared at it.

They didn’t make him.

Only stayed with him.

He misses Spoke.

…

…

…

…6 years ago, Spoke would come running into his room, screaming in excitement and jumping on his bed until he got up, then he would drag him outside to show him a machine he and Jamato had built for the first time.

It was small, only using 3 pieces of redstone.

And it exploded.

But Wemmbu was proud.

…

…

…

…4 years ago, Spoke would come skipping into his room, shaking him awake to show him a new drawing or blueprint, excitement shining in his eyes.

Wemmbu would tell him how cool it was, and give him some pointers.

And Wemmbu was proud.

…

…

…

…2 years ago, Spoke would come running into his room, shake him awake, and drag him outside to show him his first machine that actually worked.

Wemmbu laughed and cheered.

And Wemmbu was proud

…

…

…

…Spoke would never come running into his room to drag him out of bed ever again.

And Wemmbu was proud of how far he came.

…

…

…

That thought was painful.

…

…

…

There was a funeral, a week later.

Open casket.

His heart throbbed as he looked at Spoke for the last time.

Laying there.

Forever still.

Forever unmoving.

He looked away.

…

…

…

…Over the next few weeks, Wemmbu only got up when he absolutely had to eat, and to go visit Spoke’s grave every day.

Rejoice and Egg came with him. Rejoice always brought flowers.

Mapicc came sometimes.

He looked about as bad as Wemmbu did.

The first time the two saw each other after Spoke’s death was at his funeral.

Mapicc looked like he was about to murder everyone in the room and then himself.

Wemmbu gave the kid a pat on the shoulder, knowing that Mapicc didn’t really like physical touch.

…

…

…

It was the most he could do.

…

…

…

Minute had a talk with Ash once he was okay enough.

Wemmbu doesn’t know how anybody could be ‘okay enough’ after Spoke died.

He doesn’t understand how the world kept turning for them.

The world ended when it happened to him.

…

…

…

…Minute told him how his conversation went.

…

…

…

…War is such a small word for such a big event.

…

…

…

…So is death.

…

…

…

The castle was preparing for war.

“Wemmbu, I know you’re upset, and trust me, I am too. But there is going to be death in the coming days. And you have other friends to protect.”

That snapped him out of the trance he’d been in for the past 4 weeks.

Egg. Rejoice. Mapicc. Hell, even Jamato and Zam. Minute. Purpled.

And suddenly, Wemmbu had a reason to fight again.

He started eating, started training again, preparing. Preparing for death. He refuses to let it catch him off guard again.

He was starting to feel like himself again.

A changed self. But himself.

…

…

…

Fighting was always the best distraction anyways.

…

…

…

…Rejoice and Mapicc stopped coming over. He knew they weren't allowed.

He would find them during the war. 

…

…

…

…Egg had said he wanted to fight on the front lines with Wemmbu.

Wemmbu would not let him.

They agreed on letting Egg bow down soldiers from a high vantage point, inside one of the surrounding towers of the castle.

…

…

…

Wemmbu would not let any more of his friends die.

…

…

…

He’s standing on the bridge on top of the gate to the entrance of the castle. It’s usually always open, to let citizens in.

Today, it is closed.

Minute and his army stand in front of the gate, waiting.

Ash’s army comes into view.

Not invisible.

But wearing netherite and diamond eye trims.

Wemmbu takes it personally.

Ash walks in the front, armourless. As always. Wemmbu wants to kill him.

Minute and Ash meet in the middle, talking for a second, before turning around and walking back to their respective armies. Wemmbu can’t hear what Minute is saying, but the soldiers below him can.

He swaps to Gambit.

There's a rainbow bandanna tied to the handle.

He spreads his wings, waiting for the signal. A firework shoots into the air, and Wemmbu shoots into the sky, circling the battlefield as the screams start. He wants to cover his ears. He doesn’t.

He scans the crowds of fighting people, trying to find a familiar face. He sees none. He needs to get closer.

He closes his wings close together, letting him dive down into the bloodbath below. He swings Gambit, killing an enemy. He flies back up just as fast, before doing the same thing.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

10 kills turned into 20, and then 50, and then 100. 

And the number kept climbing.

There was so much blood. The smell of iron never left his nose, the pleads of dying soldiers rip through the sky. Wind whistles in his ears, the sound of metal on metal rings through the air.

Wemmbu doesn’t know whose winning. 

He folds his wings, about to dive down again when a flash of yellow catches his eye. Rejoice. 

He changes directions, shooting down to land next to Rejoice, who was sprinting away from a member of Minute’s army.

Wemmbu only hesitates for a moment before killing the guy.

Rejoice laughs as he continues running, but fear is engraved into his features. 

“Thanks Wemmbu!” He yells over the screams, and Wemmbu sprints after him until they’re running side by side, dodging arrows and swords as they go.

“Where are we going?” Wemmbu yells back, stabbing someone who tried to attack him.

“Away from the main fight! I have a plan!” Rejoice shouted as he barely dodged an arrow, wincing as a bit of his hair got cut off.

And thus, the two continued running, or, at least until Rejoice tripped.

Over a dying man.

The man coughs up blood as Wemmbu helps Rejoice up, saying something that makes his heart drop.

…

…

…

“Tell my mom I love her.” 

…

…

…

“We can try.” Rejoice says, smiling a sad smile. “What's your name, sir? So we can find her?”

“Sebastian Solace.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a fi—”

“Rejoice, let's go!” Wemmbu yells, grabbing Rejoice’s hand and pulling him away from the dying man.

“We have to find that guy's mom after this” Rejoice says as they continue to run.

“Dawg no we do not.” Wemmbu replies, and a few minutes later, they had successfully run far enough away from the battlefield to hear themselves think.

“Alright, what's this so-called plan?” Wemmbu asks, sucking air into his lungs.

He thinks he hasn’t appreciated O2 enough until now.

They call him the #1 air liker.

#1 air breather. 

#1—

“We need to leave.”

“Well no shit bro, but I have to help out with fighting, and we have to grab Egg and Mapicc.”

“No Wemmbu, we need to leave. Just us.”

“Dude are you joking?” He laughed, but Rejoice wasn’t. He hadn’t seen Rejoice look this serious since—

…

…

…

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

“Bro, Rejoice. Mapicc is your brother. Egg is our best friend. Minute is my dad. We are not leaving them.”

Rejoice looked conflicted, like he was fighting two wars in his head. Wemmbu had no idea why he was suddenly acting so weird— if anything Rejoice is the guy who wants to save people. Not Wemmbu. 

…

…

…

Forgive and forget.

.

..

…

…?

“Forgive and forget.” He muttered before turning to Rejoice again. “If you want, you can leave. I’m not going to stop you. But I’m also not going to leave my friends here to die in a war.” 

“Fine. Okay. But we are leaving as soon as we get Egg and Mapicc.” Rejoice sighed, turning back to the hell of a battlefield. 

I’m not leaving Minute either. He thinks, but keeps it to himself.

The two run back into the midst of the fight, the sheer amount of violence enthralling him. He takes out a few more people as the two run toward the gate.

Arrows fly past him, and a sword catches his shoulder, causing him to yelp in pain.

The gate is in sight.

He can almost reach it.

He can almost feel the safety of the castle.

He can almost—

“Oh.”

It was a small word.

That ‘oh’.

But Wemmbu has been in enough battles to understand what it means.

He is convinced that the universe itself hates him.

He turns.

Rejoice.

Oh, Rejoice.

Rejoice, who always brought a smile to his face.

…

Rejoice, who was there for him at his lowest.

…

Rejoice, who was smiling at him.

…

Rejoice, who had an arrow embedded into his heart.

…

“Forgive and forget.” Rejoice says, before falling unconscious.

…

…

…

If Wemmbu thinks, he’ll probably take a sword and stab it through his own heart.

So he runs.

He knows he can’t save Rejoice.

He still had Egg to get to.

Tears sting his eyes as he runs, killing everyone in his path no matter if they’re on his side or not.

He doesn’t care.

…

…

…

Why me?

He thinks, eyes clouding over and head spinning.

Spoke just died.

And now Rejoice is dead.

Both in front of his very eyes.

Two of the people he cared about most in the world.

Gone.

Just like that.

Why me?

He thinks again as he reaches the wall, sobs threatening to break loose.

He wind charges up and into the tower Egg was supposed to be in.

Please let him be alive. I can’t lose him too.

He thinks as he reaches the top.

Thankfully, Egg was standing there, refilling his inventory with arrows.

Arrows.

Rejoice.

His breath hitches and he collapses to the ground, suddenly unable to hold his own weight as the weight of the world crashes into his shoulders.

Egg turns around and sees him, abandoning his job and running over to Wemmbu, who was shaking as he tried not to cry. Curling his knees to his chest in defeat. 

“Wemmbu— brother, are you okay?” Egg asks him, concern lining his eyes. 

“Rejoice— he—” Wemmbu starts, his voice breaking. “He’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone?” Egg asks him, although both of them knew damn well that Egg could answer that question himself.

Wemmbu just shook his head, staring off into space.

He didn’t know what to do. Wemmbu couldn’t keep fighting, not in this state. That would be a death sentence. He didn’t want to leave, not with the threat of Minute or Mapicc dying. He didn’t want to sit on the hard, cold floor for the rest of the fight.

Egg seems to catch onto his dilemma, silently handing him a bow.

“You can help me bow until the fight is over.” Egg says, helping him up.

Wemmbu complies.

Neither of them talk.

When Wemmbu looks over to Egg, there are tears silently running down his face.

Huh. All it took for the guy to break his nonchalant facade was two people he cared about dying in less than a month.

Usually one of them would make a joke, to lighten the mood.

Neither of them had the energy.

As the fight dragged on, more and more people fell.

And Wemmbu’s thoughts continued to spiral.

His worry for Minute and Mapicc clawed at his chest, and his grief for Rejoice and Spoke made him feel like he would throw up.

He dissociates for a while, letting his thoughts fall into incomprehensible messes. 

…

…

…

Another firework shoots into the air, exploding with a bang. It would be pretty if there weren't thousands of dead bodies directly under it.

Wemmbu can see Ash’s army start to retreat.

He guesses that means they won.

He should feel some kind of happiness, some kind of pride or achievement.

But he feels nothing.

…

…

…

Wemmbu and Egg both lower their bows.

The fight is over.

It’s finally over.

And he feels more alone than ever before.

…

…

…

The gate opens. He waits at the entrance.

For Minute.

He knows that if Mapicc lived, he would have left with Ash.

He truly hopes the kid is okay.

10 minutes later, his father walks through the gate.

Disheveled and hurt, but alive nonetheless.

Wemmbu runs to meet him, slamming into his father and wrapping in a suffocating hug.

Minute hugs him back, running his hand through Wemmbu’s long purple hair.

Wemmbu thinks all is wrong in the world. 

He thinks the world is cruel and unjust.

He thinks Rejoice and Spoke didn’t deserve to die.

He thinks the rest of them didn't deserve to see so many people die.

Wemmbu thinks this is the beginning of the end. 

Wemmbu thinks this is the sound of death.

And it’s no music.

__________

4 years later, the war is over. He and Egg had been fighting side-by-side to protect the place they call home for 4 years.

And they won.

…

…

…

2 years into the war, Mapicc ran away from Ash, switching sides completely. 

He can remember the argument Mapicc and Zam had, Zam spouting some bullshit about betrayal while Wemmbu silently laughed.

…

…

…

Everything is destroyed, there’s rubble everywhere and the stench of dead and rotting corpses refuse to leave his lungs.

But, there is rebuilding.

He was supposed to be crowned king on his 18th birthday, but it got delayed for obvious reasons.

And to be honest, he didn’t want to be king.

He had talked to Minute about it a few months after the war had ended, and although they argued, Minute supported his decision in the end.

Wemmbu and Egg were leaving the end.

…

…

…

The two best friends stood in front of the portal, a never ending sea of deep blues and blacks staring back at them.

Minute hugs him, maybe holding him a little tighter than completely necessary, but Wemmbu didn’t mind.

He waved goodbye as they both jumped through the portal.

…

…

…

Escaping spawn was harder than it sounded, and both of them almost died to the withers that had spawned multiple times.

But they didn’t die.

And the overworld was just as beautiful as Wemmbu remembered.

The sky was blue, the sun was out, and there was grass and trees as far as the eye could see.

Him and Egg had spent the next hour running through field after field, wind whipping in their face as they laughed.

“What now?” Egg asked him as they walked, taking a break from being whimsy.

Wemmbu dug in his inventory for a second before pulling out two papers.

A blueprint and a material list.

__________

“Wemmbu, how come you don’t talk about the orbital cannon anymore?” Spoke had asked him, the 14 year old spinning in his chair as if he owned the room.

“Spoke stop that, you’re going to get dizzy and throw up all over my carpet.” Wemmbu scolded, “And I haven’t had the time. The workload I’ve been getting is absolutely insane bro.”

Spoke huffed. 

“You’ll still build it, right? When you have time?”

“Not possible. It only works in the overworld.” Wemmbu replies, not looking up from the contract he was reading.

“Then we’ll go to the overworld together!” Spoke exclames, stopping his spinning to grin at Wemmbu.

“Sure buddy.”

“And we can build it together, and set it off on Ashswag’s stupid castle!”

“M-hm”

“Oh this is going to be so much fun!” Spoke giggles, going to spin in his chair again.

__________

“We have an orbital strike cannon to build.” He smiles, turning to Egg.

…

…

…

“Wow, I haven’t heard you talk about that cannon in almost 5 years.” Egg replies, smiling back.

“Yeah, well, times change.”

"Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind." 

“Okay Socrates.”

“What!? Can a guy not indulge in literature anymore!?”

“No bro, it’s 2026, nobody reads anymore.”

“What!?!”

__________

Wemmbu takes a step back, admiring his work. The cannon was complete. 

Egg steps in line next to him, grumbling something about ‘free labor’ that Wemmbu doesn’t care to respond to.

He can imagine Spoke next to him, jumping up and down in excitement, begging Wemmbu to set it off, to blow something up.

And Wemmbu would say, “no, not yet” purely to piss off Spoke.

Rejoice would be laughing at the exchange, and plant flowers around the cannon like a weapon of mass destruction was something to make pretty.

Mapicc would try to sneak past Wemmbu’s guard to set it off before he noticed, but obviously he would notice.

He would drag Mapicc back kicking and screaming while Spoke laughed. Even though it was probably his plan.

But Spoke is dead.

Rejoice is dead.

Mapicc is in the end.

And it’s just him and Egg.

He digs in his inventory for a crafting table, setting it on the floor and crafting a sign.

He hums a song as he walks closer to the cannon, hammering the wooden sign into the ground with his mace.

Dry your eyes, I won’t tell your mother.

She won't ever discover, the things you kept under the covers.

And please don’t cry.

I am not your brother.

I am not your mother. 

And there is nothing wrong.

…

…

…

He takes out a small knife from his inventory, and starts carving words into the sign.

Slowly.

Ever so slowly. 

Like he has all the time in the world.

Because, in a way, he does, doesn’t he?

Wemmbu steps back, away from the sign.

And he walks back towards Egg.

The two walk away, leaving the cannon behind.

And in a way, leaving their past behind.

They walk into the sunset, into new beginnings.

And Wemmbu does not once look back at the sign he engraved.

In loving memory of Spoke.

—And the tree was happy.—