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The air was thick on Hermitcraft. It tasted salty, like the waves of dread that crashed against cliffs on a moonlit night. It tasted sweet, sickeningly so like a blanket of magic that rested on the grass of the horizon. It tasted sour, like a bubbling concoction of emotions ready to combust at the wrong ingredient.
Gem remembers a lot of things. She remembers the calluses that tainted the skin of hands that gripped handle and rock, she remembers the countless heartaches at sacrifices and betrayals that seemed to wait for her at every corner, she remembers the bubble in her throat as her life spilled out in front of her in red hearts, secrets and wild cards.
She remembers the air, and knew They were knocking at the door.
Her crazy neighbour seems to remember it too, as she can see the lights from his dock flicker in the twilight sky from her fortress window.
She had spent the evening cleaning up the fresh interior of a scientist's fortress. Not hers, of course, she wasn't one for experiments… in that nature. Not like this, anyway, with a headband of sea keeping caramel curls out of her face, and an eyepatch keeping a cursed eye concealed. Tonight though, she decided it was allowed to breathe in the sickening air of the Grim Reaper, as she placed the eyepatch on the counter on her way out the door.
Spreading her artificial wings out behind her, Gem left the fortress in a gentle glide towards fisherman’s territory, where the air only seemed to get thicker the closer she got. Predictably, she could hear the clang and rattle of someone sifting through storage boxes as she landed on the rickety docks, which likely sensed her presence by the way the clanging stopped the moment her boots touched the moulding planks
“You feel it too, then.” Gem began, feeling no need to formally announce her presence. The air was thicker here for a reason she knew, after all. Grian emerged from the hut, hair unkempt and eyes a wild purple, which quickly simmered out once he locked contact with her own not-quite-right eyes.
Quickly though, Grian’s face turned into a crazed grin. One of his grins that meant he was planning something, Gem knew this grin too well.
This one just felt slightly more… alarming, given circumstances.
“Oh I feel it,” he laughed, emerging fully from the hut and standing in front of her. Instead of the tropical hues his feathers usually had, they were a deep purple, starting pinkish from the tips and going down to almost black at the ends. A telltale sign he was dancing in his own magic right now, “and I have a plan.”
“I don’t like that,” she gave a small laugh, looking out at the moonlit sea, “you said that about the last one didn't you?”
“I- I did. I did say that, but this time I mean it.”
Keeping her eyes on the water, she heard Grian shuffling around in boxes beside her. The sound of a soft jingle made her take her eyes away from the sea and back towards her companion, where she watched him equip a necklace of a small silver square, the now familiar Watcher symbol engraved into it in purple ink. The sight of it almost made her flinch.
“What is-”
“Last time, in Wild Life, I managed to get pretty good control over what happened,” he began, standing up and carefully taking her shoulders. His hands were cold. “I knew the events They were going to put us through, I could predict what was going to happen and warned you guys in the ways I could. This time I think I can do more.”
Gem squinted her eyes, scanning the face of the crazy Watcher-fishman-avian-friend in front of her. He… looked like he hadn't gotten very much sleep, but she could suspect why. The air had started to get thicker about 3 days ago, and Grian had a pretty good knack at figuring out when they were about to get pulled for Their games.
“Okay… so what’s the plan?”
“Tomorrow, at around 2pm I think, They’re gonna pull people for the next game. I think the plan is to take us back to a slightly older world, They want to strip us of some of the supplies we've gotten used to.” He released her shoulders and began pacing the dock. His feathers were fluffing up in what Gem could only assume was excitement. She knew he liked having the upper hand on those Watchers, and this time he seems to have thought this one out.
“So- so the plan is, tonight we travel out and we pick a world ourselves, and with this-” he tapped the necklace, “-we can slowly creep our way back to up-to-date worlds, and that can be the gimmick or whatever. And They will just have to deal with it, because they can't just change the game mid season.”
He sounded crazy, to put it simply. Gem couldn't help but laugh, “and the goal of this is…?”
“To show them that we’re not gonna be their pawns! That we can make our own games!” He puffed his wings right out and turned to face her again, that purple glint in his eyes returning and locking with her void-touched one. “That we’re not gonna take them toying with us anymore.”
He sounded crazy.
She kind of liked this idea. Because what’s a little crazy when the Watchers are involved?
It was 2am now, 12 hours before the games were due to begin according to Grian. The duo took some time to prepare, to warm up for the journey they were going to have to embark on.
“...and once we get there, you’re gonna use that Watcher symbol thingamabob to bring the others in?” Gem asked, tucking her communicator away into a barrel by the dock. She had warned Doc in advance of the case of missing Hermits that was about to occur so that a rescue mission isn't called upon again. “Where did you even get that from?”
“Yep, and don’t worry about it.” Grian responded plainly, taking one last look across his wheat field before turning back to Gem. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
She held her hands out to him, and as he took them she closed her eyes and lowered down to sit on the dock with him. As the thick nighttime air nipped at her arms, she let the lull of sleep pull her in, her body getting heavy with stars pinching at the corners of her vision. For a few weightless moments she sat there, her stomach dropping beneath her, until she slowly opened her eyes to a sea of shimmering void around her. Grian remained sat across from her and shivered, his own eyes peeking open.
“God, your method of hopping is weird.” He laughed, tugging his sleeves further over his arms. Gem laughed with him, slowly rising to her feet and pulling him up with her.
“You’ll get used to it.”
Like a dream, her outfit had changed to something completely different to what she was wearing in Hermitcraft. Her ‘default outfit’ as she liked to call it, with her classic green sweater and denim dungarees with tears and patchwork all down the legs. Grian remained in the same red sweater as before, yet here his wings were now a brighter shade of purple.
“Alright G, lead the way.”
The duo began to walk in what would seem like an aimless journey to the average eye. The void was vast and empty, yet millions of worlds sat within the stars they walked through. It didn't take long for Grian to suggest they fly, as it would take a while for them to travel back far enough, so Gem sprouted herself a set of temporary feathered wings (a perk of voidwalking, anything goes while you’re this deep into it), and set off at a casual flight speed beside him. The air here wasn't as thick as it currently is on Hermitcraft, if you could call what was here air at all, and it felt nice to breathe in the gentle breeze as they soared past worlds of all kinds. It didn't take long for them to pass the previous Hermitcraft world, and feeling its presence in passing brought a small smile to the worldhopper’s face.
They were flying for quite some time, Grian was focused, eyes forward and a much more vivid purple as he navigated the stars. Gem figured it would be easy for someone to ignore the presence of eyes watching them while in this state, as she felt the prickly sensation of Eyes all around them.
“Grian,” she warned, beating her wings slightly harder to ensure she was keeping up to pace with him, “they know we’re here, Grian.”
“I know.” came the warbling response. Grian’s voice always gained this strange Galactic accent when he was this deep in magic, which made sense to Gem. Unfortunately she kind of needed him to be less focused right now.
“Grian-”
“Just keep flying.”
She bit her lip but did as he asked, continuing the flight. It had been a while since she’d traveled this fast with actual wings, she could feel the strain on her shoulders. Still, she pressed on, the feeling of Eyes around them never fading.
They had managed to travel for maybe 5, 10 minutes in whatever time measurement they used in the Void, before Gem’s ears began to swim in whispers. She hissed a little, falling behind in speed as she attempted to clasp her hands over her head to block out the sound. She could see the Eyes around them now, purple and staring.
“Gem- Gem keep going we’re almost there.” She heard Grian call back to her, but her shoulders continued to burn as she failed to pick up her speed again. The whispers were louder now, comprehensible. She took her hands away from her head, such a useless attempt.
“∴𝙹∷ꖎ↸⍑𝙹!¡!¡ᒷ∷.” they spoke, a hissing in her brain attempting to command her to stop, to halt her flight and fold where she stood. She tried to yell out to Grian, but the warbled sound of his name in a forgotten language came out instead. It was enough to work, as a different hand clasped her own and attempted to tug her forward. She could hear his voice but make out no words, incomprehensible.
The air was thick, sweet, sour and salty.
“∴⍑ᔑℸ ᔑ ⎓𝙹𝙹ꖎ, ℸ𝙹 ∷⚍リ ⎓∷𝙹ᒲ ⚍ᓭ.” The voices mocked, making Gem’s skin crawl. Her head began to pound. She saw feathers of purple trying to guide her, a star shone brightly before them. She saw two hands reach out to grab it, one of them her own, as the whispers got louder and the air got thicker and her head pounded louder and-
It all went silent.
And it all went still.
And Gem’s stomach lurched from her body and her skull made a dreadful CRACK and screaming and laughing echoed through her ears as she was thrust through thousands and thousands of stars through whispers and warbles and feathers and stars-
Her body slammed onto bright grass, her body lurching with the impact as sulfur burned her throat and tainted the fresh green before her. Her head was spinning, her ears were ringing, and her stomach seemed to empty its entirety before she got the chance to even breathe.
After what felt like hours, a cold and shaky hand rested on her back. She flinched, but feared turning her head out of risk of burning her throat up again. Instead, she clenched her eyes shut, letting the soft breeze of leaves and the sensation of cold on her back ground her.
“I’m- sorry.” A quiet voice cracked beside her, prompting another load of sulfur. She fell to the ground beside the pile, and felt herself get gently lifted up, moving away from the acidic smell and into cleaner air. She breathed as much of it in as she could. Her throat burned. She didn't dare to speak.
“I don’t- I don't know how far back we are.” The voice continued, trembling and uneasy. Grian’s wings were still stained purple, and his eyes looked red and sore. “I think… it's further back than They- um- initially planned.”
It took an hour, maybe two, for Gem to pry herself up from the grass. The sky looked bright, and the ground - getting a better look at it now - looked plastic and artificial. Fake. Almost like a prototype. They were sitting near a patch of sand, which looked just as fake as everything else in this world. She reached out, carefully running her hand over it, noting that it felt just the same as regular sand if not slightly rougher.
Where were they..?
Her hands trembled as she slowly turned to look at the guilt ridden Watcher before her. His necklace was gone, she noted. Her hands trembled as they moved up to feel the rough antlers that now sprouted from her head, the telltale sign of her being in the presence of Them. She never understood why, maybe it was a sick joke to Them, to make her feel like They had her in Their grasp. Under Their control. The horns sat on her head as a reminder of her place in these games where she didn’t initially belong. She’s disposable here. A vessel, sacrificial.
Her hands trembled as she absentmindedly turned to the nearest tree, the nearest rocks. It’d be so easy, a little painful, sure. But easy. Bones were fragile little things. Easy to break. Disposable.
Her hands trembled as she carefully took the bark of the tree, rough and artificial and fake like the grass, the sand and her antlers. She stared at the grain of the logs, eyes burning into them as fake meets fake, her head slamming into the tree. A loud crack echoed through her skull, and screams bounced around her from two separate sources. She slammed again, and again, and again, until she was ripped away by force. She fell to the ground, and something heavy landed in her lap. The scent of metal filled the air.
Her throat burned and her head ached.
It was 2pm, and 18 Players stood in a circle, ready for the next game now known as Past Life. The Watcher symbol sat buried in the grass before them, and blood dripped from Gem’s head.
Her throat burned.