Chapter Text
Between glimpses of void and purple-ish feathers, Scar drifted as Lady Death carried his soul across servers. He’d seen flashes of Her kind smile and gentle hands before in moments between death and respawn, but never had he been carried across servers like this. The death games were really a unique thing, after all.
Permadeath only happens if you fall into void or if it is your time to go, and Scar knew that neither would happen to him soon, so he felt comfortable in Her tender care. It felt reassuring after the horrifying ending to the game.
He woke up slowly from the dreamlike state he had been in, visions of sand and dark, red eyes fading from his mind’s eye as he blinked himself awake. Scar was here on the Hermitcraft server, the place he’d been desperately wishing to return to for the last couple of months.
However, it felt cold. The feeling pervaded, worming its way into his heart as the days went by. The modern skyscrapers that made up his base seemed too bright, too perfect, edges too sharp. After months of living off of barely anything, suddenly returning to a server where he had everything at his disposal felt empty.
Scar wanted to be sat around a fire, cooking up stew with barely enough food and water to survive, Grian breaking up wood or filleting meat. He wanted to see Grian again.
Some days he wouldn’t get out of bed. Some days he’d work tirelessly, resource gathering and building into the early hours of the morning and through into the next day, until his body gave up on him and he was forced to sleep.
His vex magic was also out of whack from having been suppressed by the server for so long, and Scar’s control on his instincts was weaker than usual. It left him feeling disturbed, and not like his usual charismatic and upbeat self. It felt like something had taken a knife and carved out something vital from inside of him.
He needed to see Grian again, if only for some closure.
“So, we need to find this player then, hmm?” Xisuma thought out loud, taking a seat at his desk after welcoming Scar into his simplistic office, “What was their IGN again?”
Scar shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously, “Um, just ‘Grian’. With a capital.” He watched as Xisuma’s computer turned on from where it was in sleep mode, the home screen being a beautiful cinematic shot of the season four shopping district.
He could remember Grian being cagey about using inter-server communications whenever Scar brought it up, but it couldn’t hurt to try. Besides, Scar hoped that maybe Grian was also searching for him.
“Right, right. Let me find the player database…” Xisuma navigated a complicated looking program, authenticating himself and finding a section titled ‘player’.
The admin was incredibly kind, using his access to the huge inter-server database to let Scar be able to message Grian. Maybe he had seen how much the death games had knocked Scar out of whack, almost as badly as the huge digging project. He shivered at the thought, he’d only just about recovered by the time he left the server for the life games. At the time, the Hermits had encouraged him, saying it would be good for him to get off-server for a little while.
Well, that had gone just about as well as most things did.
“Okay, here we are.” A profile for a player was displayed on Xisuma’s main monitor, “This him?”
Scar audibly gasped. That was Grian, undeniably, even though he was wearing something completely different in the profile photo and seemed a lot younger, he’d spent so long absently staring at those deep red facial feathers that he’d recognise him anywhere.
In the photo, Grian was smiling brightly with a hint of mischief. His eyes were dark, it was hard to discern what colour they were, but strange to see them without the tint of the life system. Light blond hair - much lighter than Scar remembered - framed his face with familiar wild waves. Although the photo was mostly of his face, Scar could see that Grian was wearing a bright green colour that he had never seen on him.
“Oh, they’re an avian.” Xisuma remarked, clicking on the profile.
Scar almost started jumping on the spot, “That’s him! That’s Grian, oh, sweet baby Jellie, he looks so different in that photo but-” He cut himself off with a little squeak of excitement, coming to lean over X’s chair to read the information on Grian’s profile.
“His full name is Grian Dreamslayer!” Scar started cackling, “Oh my gosh, and he’s a couple of years younger than me, that’s so weird…”
“Scar.” Xisuma said, in a suddenly serious tone, “Scar, read the current status section.”
He furrowed his brow, “Current status…” His heart dropped, “...deceased.”
“As of nearly two years ago.” Xisuma expanded the ‘current status’ section, “The rest of the player file must have been corrupted or something, because there’s no records of where and how.”
That simply couldn’t be right. Scar had literally spent the eight or so months with Grian, he wasn’t dead.
“I don’t think it was this player you were with on that server.” Xisuma theorised, trying to dig deeper into the player file, finding archives of Grian’s childhood, high school, but nothing on his mysterious death. “They seemed quite prolific in the building community, it says here. They were a builder for Wynncraft and constructed sets for an old comedy and skits acting company…”
Scar took in the information, trying his best to read the small text on the screen. Had Grian been a builder? He certainly didn’t come across that way, but he did build the castle, and Scar recalled Grian mentioning things like spruce wood being his favourite wood to build with and the like.
“Wait, wait, try go on my player thingy and see if you can access the life server!” Scar suggested, hoping this was just a glitch on the database, nothing more.
“Oh, that’s a really smart idea.” Xisuma nodded, going back to the search function and finding Scar’s IGN, “Let’s see…”
He cringed at his profile photo, “I think the server’s official name was ‘Third Life’, so it should be under that.”
However, upon finding Third Life under the records of servers Scar had been on, they were met with a surprise.
Xisuma hummed in frustration, “You’re not going to like this.” The screen displayed what looked like to Scar a bunch of weird scribbly symbols and runes, what basically looked like corruption.
“What’s wrong? It shouldn’t look like that, right?”
Xisuma sighed, pressing his hand into his helmet like one might pinch the bridge of their nose, “Scar, this is much more serious than I thought.”
There was something in the admin’s voice that Scar very rarely heard - fear. His mind was already catastrophizing and panicking.
“That life server? That was no ordinary server. That was created by something non-player. I believe it may have corrupted Grian’s player data.” Xisuma tried to do something with the weird scribbly runes, but seemed to fail, “I’ve only heard rumours and such, but whatever this is, a virus or something else, it’s definitely dangerous.”
It would… it would explain some things. Not everything, but it made some kind of sense. Scar hated it. All he could think about was whether or not Grian was okay, whether he was safe, alive, anything.
“We’ve got to tell the others.” Xisuma stated, standing up, “You go find all the Hermits that took part, I’ll try to contact the other participants after I perform a check up on the firewalls and server security.”
Feeling overwhelmed with information, Scar nodded once and left Xisuma’s office. He hoped Grian was alright, wherever he was.
As soon as Grian entered the Watcher plane, he felt all the despair he had been feeling drain out of him and be replaced with a suffocating numbness, like toxic gas choking him out from the inside. They sustained Themselves on the strong emotions of players, and whilst there were strong positive emotions, despair and pain were the strongest emotions for Them to feed off of. It was also far easier to create pain than joy.
It was one of the things that They would use him for sometimes - his player emotions, especially in the earlier days, had been useful. The Watchers were indifferent to where They sourced the despair, even if it was from one of their own.
“Xelqua…” A voice echoed, tone emotionless, and as terrifying as it was familiar. It felt calming to return to what he knew, safe even, instead of having to navigate other players’ volatile emotions. He knew what to expect here.
Grian closed his wings - a show of respect - and bowed his head. It had taken him a while to understand the Watcher’s hierarchy, and even longer to actually respect it, but by now he knew to follow the rules. Not doing so would just lead to unnecessary pain.
“You laid out a feast for us.” The Watcher stated, opening Their three sets of wings, which whilst Grian couldn’t see them right now he could feel the eyes on him. This was the same Watcher that had approved of him creating his own world, and had helped him shape the code. This was most likely the being that had implemented the extra features, like the red life bloodthirst.
They settled Their wings into a less intimidating posture, “You may rise, Xelqua.”
Grian lifted his head and opened his own two sets of wings to a neutral position, “Thank you.” They were in a familiar void, with obsidian and bedrock structures in the distance, denoting the main centre of Their activity.
“The council were impressed at first.” They gestured for him to follow Them, “But it seems your player-like imperfections have once again pulled you off of the true path.”
Grian didn’t respond, only following, keeping his eyes to himself as other Watchers passed by, casting scornful glances his way. Despite him being a fairly powerful Watcher - he had two sets of wings after all - it was known amongst the complex Watcher society that he was not a true Watcher. Grian never let the contempt bother him. He knew that he was a mess of re-written code, melted down and hammered into new, horrific shapes.
“We are going to Telescope.” The Watcher explained, voice steady and cold as the void, “There They will decide your punishment and deliver it accordingly.”
After only a short walk, they arrived at the foot of the temple, Telescope. It was where the highest level Watchers resided, and where Grian received both of his two sets of wings, on two separate occasions of course.
The hum of void magic that tingled in the Watcher plane was strongest in Telescope, it was overwhelming and demanded respect. The council, or the Overseers, controlled and monitored the activities of the Watchers from Telescope, and now Grian would be facing Their wrath after being so impulsive and careless in the life server.
The Watcher walked him into Telescope, Grian quickly falling behind and to the left of the being, closing his wings as They did. The architecture here was truly something to marvel at, all impossible arches and bedrock pillars, and it made Grian long for something he hadn’t had in what felt like decades - that being the freedom to build.
Two Overseers met them in the main room of Telescope, and both Grian and the Watcher who’d led him here bowed their heads.
“Xendrae, you are dismissed.” The first Overseer commanded, and the other Watcher left, meaning Grian was alone with the two council members.
The second Overseer said, “Xelqua, you may rise.”
Grian lifted his head, but kept his wings folded tightly behind his back, as per was expected of him. The Overseers both had four sets of wings, and all were open and examining him, much to his displeasure.
“Your carelessness has caused us much trouble.”
Grian started to feel sick. He’d kept his emotions under such tight control so far, why was it slipping now? Was it the thousands of eyes, scrutinising his every breath? Was he, after all this time, still scared of punishment?
“The most true law that we have, and you broke it.”
“Despite the feast you laid for us, it was never worth the transgression.”
His hands started to shake. Where was his control? He bit his cheek, hoping the pain would ground him a little.
“As Watchers, we are sworn to Watching, and to influence the Players directly is a breach of that oath.”
Grian nodded silently, clenching his fists and digging his nails into his palms. Suddenly, a power greater than anything he could remember spread over Telescope, shaking the very bedrock that supported the immortal structure. It was dark and void-like, something adjacent to the magic possessed by the Overseers, but somehow warmer and more protective. Something with feeling, not a Watcher of any kind.
The two Overseers seemed unsettled, sharing a concerned glance, somehow communicating thoughts. One of them turned away and started ascending to the top balcony of Telescope, the other turned Their attention to Grian. With a flicker of magic, Grian was doubled over in pain, dropping to his knees on the perfect marble floor of Telescope.
“She is here.” They said cryptically, “You broke the oath that the original Overseers made with Her, and now She is here.”
The only thing that stopped him from having a panic attack was the fact that his whole body ached from magic-induced pain too much to even consider something as silly as a panic attack. He pushed away the fear and tried to focus on what he could do right now.
He could keep quiet. He could keep his wings closed. He could stay on his knees, head hung and hands clasped. He could breathe slowly and deliberately, chasing away any rogue emotions that dared rear their ugly heads.
From above him, on the balcony of Telescope where the other Overseers surely were gathered, the power seemed to centralise into something, materialising. The cawing of crows and the taste of void-black death filled the echoing chambers of Telescope.
Grian knew who She was - Lady Death, of course, who else could it be - and only now did he realise that he had technically broken the age-old oath that the original Watchers had sworn to Her. Lady Death, despite Her title, was incredibly protective of Her players, and loved them like they were Her own children. In order to protect them as best She could, She made the Watchers swear to never directly influence or tamper with Her players.
Grian knew that he should have been one of Lady Death’s wards, as he was formerly a player, but now he belonged to neither Her nor the Watchers. It should have evoked that familiar feeling of despair, but by now he was so far removed from everything that all he could feel was the cold ground of Telescope and the twisting, aching pain inflicted on him by the Overseer.
Once, he had hoped that Lady Death would come for him, save him from the cruel divine intervention at the end of the Evolution server, but now he knew that no God would try and save a mess of code as twisted as he was. Grian was a lost cause, cursed to be used by the Watchers until the void claimed him. It seemed like a mercy at this point, being thrown to the all-consuming void.
“I’ve half a mind to destroy your whole existence, to kill Telescope right here and now!” The unmistakable voice of Lady Death rang through the whole of the building.
The Overseer that had been left with him used Their magic to pull his body off of the floor, “You are leaving this sacred place.” They ordered, marching him out of the main room, “As much as you deserve whatever She would wish upon you, if She finds out that you were derived from one of Her wards, we would face much more peril than otherwise.”
Somehow, the threat made him feel slightly warm, if only from the idea of someone possibly being on his side and protecting him. Grian wanted nothing more than to return to the life server, live in those moments forever like a photograph, to stay by Scar’s side as his loyal right hand man.
Now was not the time to be thinking about Scar.
“Not that She would want you back anyways.” The Overseer Watcher muttered, “No one would want something as corrupted and mismatched as you, Xelqua.”
And that was the only nice thought he had left, shattered. The despair that somehow still managed to make his head heavy and bones cold was immediately drained from him by the Watcher. The pain They were inflicting on him increased and left him curling midair as They dragged him with Their magic out of Telescope. Grian thought the Overseers would be above such things as feeding off of his own emotions, but the beings didn’t really care, and Grian couldn’t protest against a Watcher who was part of the Overseers.
The echoing boom of Lady Death’s voice could be heard even outside of Telescope, with Watchers casting concerned glances, then glaring at him as he was frog-marched out of the temple by the Overseer. He knew where they were going - a little place called Shatter. It was far from the main civilisations, and was the Watcher’s equivalent of a human prison. Shatter was closer to the void than most of the buildings, meaning the corrupting magic licked and spat at the long term inhabitants, further ruining whatever poor being ended up there.
Most Watchers that got taken to Shatter were only there for a few days, and were usually low-level, having either no or one pair of wings. They were the teenagers of the society - still grasping at the rules and learning the ropes.
The other inhabitants were usually other void creatures and poor souls that happened to cross paths with the Watchers, left to rot for years in the dungeons, until they chose to sacrifice themselves to the void, or were thrown in.
Grian had probably spent the longest combined time in Shatter and had made it out alive, in body at least. His memories of his time there were fuzzy at best, but one thing was constant - pain.
He hoped it wouldn’t be too bad this time. That he wouldn’t be left with too many scars.
He hoped Scar was okay, as well.
The world blurred in and out of reality as he was brought down the dusty end stone stairs that led to Shatter, the Overseer dropping him by the entrance for whatever Watcher was on prison guard duty. They swapped it around frequently to avoid any of Them getting corrupted by the void.
The Overseer left to return to Telescope, and Grian closed his eyes as he was dragged by his robes to the nearest cell. The cells were at least two metres below the level where the guards stood, so from the doors to the floor of the cell was a considerable drop. It also meant a powerful barrier spell could be put on the lower half of Shatter to prevent any of the residents using any kind of magic. It was something that needed regular input from the Overseers, and constant maintenance from the other higher level Watchers.
Grian felt the cold embrace of the void almost the moment he crumpled onto the floor. It was nearly comforting, and it whispered to him; come back, return to us, you have a place here.
He laid on the floor and answered the void; I will try my best.
Being deconstructed in the endless abyss sounded like heaven right now.
Except, after however long he was stuck in Shatter, Grian didn’t return to the void. Scar didn’t even get to tell a single Hermit about the corruption on the third life server. Because both of them, along with all the other server members, woke up in an untouched world with their lives chosen for them by what some would call fate, though Grian knew that wasn’t the case.
The cycle was repeating, and this time, Grian wouldn’t be so stupid as to spend it with Scar. He would build his walls up even higher, isolate himself from his teammates and make sure he didn’t ever drag another player into his pathetic little story.