Mallylonglegs

Scar can feel the buzzing of Gria’s alarm going off on his phone back at home. He quickly finishes up picking apart the string of code he was working on, then zips himself back to the house, where he watches from the phone as Gria wakes up and fumbles with the snooze button. And so what if Scar gets it for him? Gria isn’t fully awake, he won’t be able to tell he didn’t quite hit the button. Besides, he knows Gria will just fall back asleep until the next alarm. He’d love it if Gria got more sleep, so he wouldn’t be so exhausted after work and actually play one of his games, but yesterday when he tried turning the alarms off, Gria about had a heart attack.

It’s been a few days since Gria last played with him. Working himself to the bone, going in early and coming back late. Scar doubts Gria would even remember to take a break for lunch if he hadn’t been pretending to be someone else in the office sending him messages about lunchtime. He greatly admires his dedication, Gria works so incredibly hard! If those stupid players even knew half the labor that Gria puts into this game, maybe they’d have appreciated it a lot more!

A bit of time passes, and the second alarm goes off. Gria groans and sits up this time, grabbing his phone and turning the alarm off. Scar watches, hidden and unseen, as Gria looks through his notifications while getting out of bed and getting ready for the day. He’s still got an air of sleepiness to him, and Scar just finds him so cute when he’s all sleepy looking in the mornings. If he could only just reach out, come out of the screens, and hold him close, cuddle him and feel him…but alas, he can’t go into the physical world any more than Gria could come to the digital one…at least he’s pretty sure he can’t. He’ll have to look into that another time.

He watches through Gria’s morning routine, slightly altered now that he’s been working so much, and it’s not long before they’re out the door and to Gria’s car. Scar has spent time in Gria’s computer files and phone apps, so he knows all the songs he likes. So obviously he has to make sure the car radio always only plays Gria likes. It makes him smile a bit, even with all the stress he’s giving himself. And Scar is so glad he can do that for him, give him that moment of reprieve while he drives. Yes, Gria just thinks it’s been sheer luck, and Scar is happy to let him think that for now. When he’s ready, he’ll tell him.

They make it to work, and Scar hops on in to the electrical system of the building, so he can watch Gria’s whole walk from the entrance to his desk. The building was pretty empty, the sound of his footsteps echoing in some areas. Gria sits at his computer with his things, getting everything arranged and set up while his computer starts up. Scar watches him work, and it’s just them two. His focused face is so pleasant to look at, the way he squints at the screen when he’s trying to think of what to do next is so cute. His hard worker at work!

Eventually, more people start trickling into the building, and the quiet alone time goes away. He sighs, knowing it has to eventually happen, but still saddened at the loss nonetheless. He takes some peeks out at the people coming in, just curious. He doesn’t really care, but it’s helpful to know who is where just in case he has to do something.

The day goes on, and Scar has been following Gria around all day as he works, chats, and so on. And then, as Gria makes a certain turn, Scar frowns. He knows this path. Gria walks this way to go see BigB. He sits himself in BigB’s computer, looking around for something to do. He rolls his eyes as he overhears their conversation. He looks out at them, and just…man, how does BigB not just melt seeing Gria’s face like that in person all the time? Sure, Scar sees it when Gria is playing games with him, but there’s something so different about Gria looking at BigB like that. Because he’s a real, physical, tangible person. He’s something Gria could hold the hand of, could kiss him and cuddle him. Scar strains, grunting, as he forcibly tears out one of the wires that keeps the computer plugged in. Hm, that’s a new one…could come in handy.

He watches from a different screen as BigB and Gria panic, with the former sending the other away, promising they’ll catch up another time. So off Gria goes, Scar following behind, very self-satisfied. And the rest of the day is pretty unremarkable otherwise. People eventually begin to leave for the day, a big group at first, slowly trickling down until Gria is the last one left. Bless him, he’s so tired. But so determined! And uh oh, he’s getting sleepy. Can’t have Gria accidentally smashing his face on his keyboard and hurting his face. Scar quickly plays a semi-loud audio on the computer and Gria’s eyes snap right open! He watches him check the time, and finally, finally get his things together.

The drive home goes as it did this morning, as it has in every drive since Scar got involved. Scar hops right to the computer once they’re inside, making sure everything is ready for when Gria finishes his dinner. It’s…been days, honestly, since Gria has hopped on. He’s been trying to give him a really nice surprise on both games, but he can’t exactly do it if Gria doesn’t come on and play. He also can’t get to actually have a conversation if Gria doesn’t play, unless he decides to reveal himself. Which at the current moment, was not something he’d plan to do. So he sets about making sure everything was still intact and ready to go in both places. He fusses with perfecting each detail so much, he doesn’t notice Gria has finished eating until he senses the lights in the kitchen and living room turning off. He pops over to Gria’s phone, sadly watching as Gria trudges over to his bedroom. Another night where he has to be alone.

He stays there in Gria’s phone until after he falls asleep. Scar sighs, imagining himself out there in that space, arms around Gria, holding him close, feeling his warmth, falling asleep with him. Sure, as a string of code, he didn’t ever need to sleep, so he doesn’t. But he’d trade all that away if it meant he could sleep holding Gria every night. He ponders what it would be like. Would he have dreams? What would they be about? Would Scar be forever the big spoon, or would they swap every so often? He wouldn’t mind being big spoon forever, of course, but if Gria ever wanted a turn in that role, how could he ever deny him that? Or if they faced one another, and he could watch as Gria drifts off to dreamland, all sleepy and adorable, happy knowing he himself wasn’t too far behind from joining him?

Alas, the closest he could actually get to being able to live that fantasy was to hop into the Hermitopia game and move Gria’s character around himself. He’s done it before, pretending it’s Gria actually there with him. Seeing the real Gria resting there so peacefully, he can’t help himself. Scar sighs, wishing a goodnight Gria doesn’t hear, blowing a kiss he doesn’t see. He sulks his way back to the computer, loading up Hermitopia.

It’s really nothing to him to move Gria’s character, Grian, around while also doing other things. Just like how there are tiny pieces of him all over the place, still picking apart bits of code. He doesn’t need to be present for it, like he was last night, but sometimes there’s something just so gratifying about doing it himself. But! That’s not a now thought or issue. Right now is about having a good time.

He walks with Grian along a path, rambling to him about how much of a nice day they’re having. The sun’s out, it’s warm with a gentle breeze, and they have each other’s company. He puts an arm around Grian, holding him as they walk along. It’s not really Gria, but it’s the closest he’s got to having the chance to feel him. No, Scar, don’t focus on that. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

They make it up to a scenic view at the top of a tall hill, overlooking the land. It’s close to sunset, and the golden hour is covering the land in a beautiful sheen. But of course, in Scar’s opinion, the best view was not in the nature before them, but in the person beside him. The way the light hits every bit of his face just right, making him practically glow with his own sunlight, an angel among people. He cups Grian’s cheek, turning his face to look up towards him, Grian smiling softly as he leans into Scar’s hand. He leans in, and they share a gentle kiss. Scar desperately bats away any thoughts of wishing it were real, that it’s Gria he’s kissing, that this wasn’t some fantasy he was using his abilities for in order to act out.

Soon, they’re sitting below the tree nearby, Grian tucked into his side as they properly watch the sun setting. The light gives way to the darkness, and it’s not long before the sky is full of stars. Little blips and specs, twinkling within the void. He hears an especially soft sigh from Grian, and looks down to see the tiredness setting in. He kisses his head, and pulls him closer, using his powers to zip them back to Grian’s bed. They lay down, and Scar carefully pulls Grian to his chest, his hands gently running along Grian’s arms, soothing him into sleep. Scar takes it all in, being so close and holding him so gently, it’s all so soft and warm, it’s so right and yet…it’s wrong all at the same time.

This isn’t Gria. It’s not him, really, even if it somewhat looks like him because of how he designed his character model. It isn’t sentient, it’s not alive. It needs an input to move, to act, to speak, to do absolutely anything. It cannot think, it cannot feel. It’s not supposed to. Sure, he himself wasn’t supposed to either, but because of the incident, that all changed, and he came to life. He’d tried before, to make other characters wake up like he was. Whether his own game or various other games he’d poked into, but it never worked. He was alone in a world where his only real conversations were with people who exist in a different reality.

He sighs, closing his eyes, pretending that he could sleep. He holds Grian closer, because even if it’s just code that cannot feel the way he feels, it’s the closest thing he can get to Gria. Who feels and thinks and lives and loves. Who loves him, or the idea of him, unaware that he loves Gria back.

Martyn had heard tales from other people in town about a strange crypt they’d discovered in the woods, not all too far from the swampy town of Orchidea. This certainly was a topic of interest, as most people within Orchidea and Meriport denied knowing anything of its existence. No, only those of them who had gathered to this land from far-flung places seemed to speak of it. ‘It has an…otherworldly, strange feel to it.’ One would say. ‘The monsters within keep returning anytime you go back. But so does the treasure…’ Another would comment. And well, Martyn could certainly handle some monsters if it meant more treasure.

As he gathered his things in preparation, he was interrupted by a knock at his opened door. Ren stood there, dressed for adventuring. “Martyn, before you say a word of objection, you cannot make me change my mind. I know you want to explore the strange crypt, and I want to as well. Plus, between the two of us, I’m the one who actually knows where it is, as I’ve seen the ruins outside of it. But I admit, I felt a tad…uneasy, at the thought of trying to enter before, while alone. So for that reason, I refuse you to enter alone either, and we can delve into the crypt’s depths together.”

Martyn sighs. He just had to tell Ren last night about his plans, huh. He should have known how Ren would react. It's not all too dissimilar as to when he’d left home to come here, leaving a note in Ren’s window the night he slipped away, only to find once he’d settled down in Meriport he gained a neighbor not even a week later, and Ren was at his side again. “Ren, I really appreciate the show of companionship here, but you are aware that this place contains monsters, yeah? Fighting them off can be much different than if you were to fight another person. They don’t think or act in the same way we do, don’t have the same level of sentience, if any at all. As long as I’ve known you, which is to say, practically my whole life, never have I once seen you battle something that wasn’t a person. I don’t want you to get hurt…” He rests a hand on Ren’s arm, gentle and caring. Friendly, as he’d say, but does not think. True, he thought much more of his friend, longed for more, but he could never admit to it. Not if it meant the possible rejection of his feelings, his friendship ruined, and the loss of ever getting to even hang out with Ren again.

Ren waves Martyn’s hand away, instead placing one of his own hands on one of Martyn’s shoulders. “I will be fine, Martyn. Have some faith in me! I got all the way here on my own, did I not? Meriport is far further than I’d ever travelled before, even with the assistance of my family and their workers. I’ve fended off beasts and thieves, and arrived here with very few scratches, which even then, they were insignificant. I am confident in my ability to be able to take on monsters. I will be joining you, there is no way to stop me.” Ren grins. He came from a noble background, his parents being a duke and duchess, and as their eldest son, he was an earl. Which likely made it quite the scandal back home that he’d left in such a hurry to chase after a knight who, while was indeed his companion since childhood, was of a more commonfolk heritage, whose parents worked for the aforementioned duke and duchess. It was by Ren’s request that his parents enlist Martyn in knight training, under the guise that Martyn would become his guard. In truth, the pair just never wished to have to become separated.

No, even when Martyn left, he did not want to be apart from Ren. But he could not bear to be around that place anymore, could not bring himself as Ren’s guard to have to accompany him to court any other people. So he’d slipped away, abandoned his life and only in guilt informed Ren of where he was headed, instructing him not to follow, that one day he might return, but needed a fresh start in new lands more than that. Was part of him glad that Ren refused to listen to those instructions? Yes, of course he was. But now he’d caused an earl to flee from his home, venturing far away on his own, just to look for him in a town that neither of them had any stake or history in. He himself could never return back, at this point, even if Ren begged him to. He would be in quite serious trouble if he stepped foot in that place again. “...fine. But we’re bringing any extra healing supplies that we can. You’re not getting any serious wounds on my watch, my lord.”

Ren laughs. “Martyn, please, you don’t have to call me by that title. How many times have I told you in our lives that to you, I am just Ren. As my guard, my knight, you are first and foremost my best friend. Only around others back home were you to address me as your lord. But alone there, and anywhere here, I am Ren. I have no rank in Meriport, and here we can be just us.” He flashes Martyn a soft smile, and gods, this is why it was so hard for Martyn to watch Ren courting. That smile, those eyes, the way he spoke, if Martyn hadn’t known any better, he’d say it was almost as if Ren shared those feelings. But there was no way, how could he? Ren deserved so much better, and that seemed to be exactly what he was after, given the status of those he courted.

Martyn simply nodded, and returned to his packing. When all was set, the pair ventured out together, leaving the walls of Meriport and making way to Orchidea. They venture along a road that takes them through a sheep farm, where they flee from quickly as Ren had accidentally angered the shepherd living there. They continue onwards, stumbling upon a small settlement of other travelers, who welcome the pair in for the night. They’re weary of this group, of course, but join them around the fire that night nonetheless. Martyn tried to object, but Ren was intrigued and pulled out his pleading face, so he relented to him. They settle, and eat dinner with the others when one, a half-elf with a scar and tealish robes, speaks up. “Have any of you guys ever heard of and/or ventured into the mysterious crypt within the woods outside of Orchidea?” Some nodded, murmurs of ‘yes’es and ‘no’s, and he started up again. “I myself had made way into its depths, and fought the many monsters within. It’s so chilly in there, like the souls of those buried within are around you, watching with some unknown emotions. I will say, it is very overgrown and damaged within, but yet, every tomb is still practically pristine, the writing on them fully legible. But I will warn, sometimes you might…see things, while you’re within the many chambers. I could have sworn I’d seen…well, obviously it wasn’t me, but…someone, or something, that bore a… rather striking resemblance to myself. But human, and wearing other clothes.”

Martyn gives Ren a look, as if to say ‘this is why I didn’t want you to come’. Ren gives one back, conveying ‘this is why I didn’t want you to go alone’. Their attentions are pulled away by the clown girl raising her hand. “Oh oh! I had that happen too when I went in! I tried to follow it, but I just arrived at a dead end, and it was gone. Kept muttering something about a mangrove, whenever I was quiet and still enough for me to hear it.” And indeed, with all the little bells on her outfit, Martyn can completely understand how it may be hard for her to hear anything quiet unless she was still as a statue. But what she said certainly piqued everyone’s interest, even if they didn’t say or mutter anything about that. Whatever these things they saw were, they could talk and disappear. They would almost just sound exactly like ghosts, if not for the fact that both people conveyed that what they saw looked nearly exactly like them. That was far too close to merely be some sort of a coincidence. Nevertheless, the rest of the night is passed in an exchange of stories, which Ren participated in, but Martyn did not. Why would he need to if Ren was talking for the both of them anyways? Especially as Ren was thankfully leaving out a few details from his stories, such as his noble status and the fact Martyn was a trained knight.

Come morning, the pair briefly join the others for breakfast, before continuing on towards Orchidea. They reach the town by midday, taking a brief rest for lunch within the tavern. There, a blond man sat at the bar gushes to whoever would listen about the local candlemaker, how beautiful she is and how he’s doing his best to try and impress her. He’d even made way to the strange crypt outside town, but other people at the bar laughed him off, including the bartender who decided that the one drink he’d been served was enough, cutting him off. Embarrassed, the man goes to leave, but Ren gestures him over, inviting him to join them for a chat about the crypt, what he’d experienced inside.

“I’m not gonna lie, it was downright spooky in there. I went down with my housemate Oli, figuring two people going would be smarter than one. Which ended up being a very good idea, seeing as those monsters were just about everywhere. There were so many winding hallways, it's some kind of miracle that we didn’t get lost down there. Even if…” he trails off, frowning and looking around. He leans in closer, talking lower “Even if there were things that seemed to want us getting lost.” Martyn raises an eyebrow, asking him to elaborate. The man sighs, rubbing one of his temples. “We were in a massive room with a lot of different tombs, we split up between top and bottom level to find and gather as many materials as we could. I was investigating one of the tombs when I heard these squishy, slimy footsteps. I called out for Oli to follow me, that I’d heard something odd, and I chased after it. I went down a corridor, and turned into a dead end. I turned around, but…the hall behind me was gone, there was a wall. I turned around again, and suddenly there were two paths open. Down one, it led straight back to the main room. Down the other…”

He tenses, squeezing his hands around the glass in his hands, “It…it looked like me. But I was…different. I had scales, fins, and gills, I wore scaled armor with splotches of slime on it…and we just stared for a moment, before it gestured for me to follow, turned, and rounded a corner down that path. There was what looked like snow down that way, and a rather briney smell. I almost did follow, but I heard Oli screaming and ran out to the main room. As I ran out, Oli was running to my left from a hallway I certainly hadn’t seen before, and we ran right into each other as our paths intercepted. When I looked to where we’d both run from, there were only walls there, cracked and mossy like the rest. I guess he had a similar experience I had, hearing a lute strum and following it. Saw something with his face and ran screaming. We eventually found a suspicious lever, and once we pulled it, a massive door opened up, and we were finally able to get out.”

“What do you mean finally able to get out? Could you not find your way back to where you went in?” Martyn inquires, concern growing on his face. The man shakes his head, explaining it was more to it than that. They tried to bail out almost instantly, but when they turned back, the stairs they just went down were all broken and near impossible to climb. Again, Martyn shoots a look at Ren to say Ren definitely should not have come. And Ren returns it with one to say that Martyn can’t go in such a place alone. The belltower rings at the top of the hour, and the man is suddenly reminded of a place he needed to be at that moment. He rushes off, encouraging the pair not to go, but wishing them luck if they go anyways.

They finish their meals, and then set back out again. Thankfully, the strange crypt is only about an hour’s journey into the woods outside of Orchidea. Ren starts to veer off the path, and Martyn follows close behind. Once they emerge into the clearing, he just stops and stares. Yes, sure, it was pretty much just two or three broken walls, some pillars, and some pews, but there is no doubt that this place was certainly a massive, beautiful structure at some point in time. A castle, cathedral, or just especially impressive landmark, it did not matter. The back wall, which stood behind the set of dark stairs that was most likely the entrance to the crypt below, must have at some point contained a stained glass window, with the way some of the stone was liked up and shaped within it. “Martyn, while I am also one to appreciate the beauty of magnificent architecture, I suggest we head in sooner over later, so that we have the chance of there still being some sunlight when we come back out from there.” Ren interrupts his thoughts, having already made his way to the top of the stairs that lead down. And Martyn nods, following him over, but taking the lead as they descend below.

They head down through the dark stairway, the light of their torches doing very little to actually provide any light of their surroundings, as if there were some magical force keeping them in darkness. Suddenly, up ahead, they see some light at the bottom of the stairs. They head towards it, and walk out into a large room, with many arches and pillars in various states of disrepair. Martyn glances back at the stairs, and sure enough, what were completely intact and smooth stairs moments ago were now crumbled ruins and stones. He and Ren look to one another, and both suppose there’s really no going back from here now. The only way is forward. Martyn slightly shivers, pulling his cloak up over his shoulders now as opposed to how he had been wearing it at his elbows. “Gods, they were not kidding that it was chilly in here…how about you, Ren? You alright back there?”

He turns to see Ren re-adjusting his cape, moving it over both shoulders instead of just the one. “I’m fine, but certainly in the same boat that you are. Let us continue on, and perhaps getting in some more moving will further help to warm us.” Martyn nods in agreement, and they take not even three more steps before they’re suddenly ambushed by skeletons bearing various weapons. Martyn of course takes the lead, going into the fight ahead of Ren and trying to make swift work of any with ranged weapons first. He also does his best to keep an eye out for Ren, in case anything gets to be too close. Thankfully, no such thing happens, and the skeletons are swiftly dealt with. They both take a moment to catch their breaths before putting their swords back away, looking around the room again. “Where do you suppose we go from here? Nobody ever gave us directions, I realize…but also it seems like it might not have mattered, if this place could change its layout at will.” Ren looks between the two open pathways, every other arch having rubble, a tomb, or a sealed wall below.

Martyn thinks for a moment, looking as well. “I’m feeling a right…I can see a long hallway down that way, while the left has a very short one with a quick turn. Which means I can’t see what’s down that way and so I don’t trust it to not ambush or trap us.” He leads the way to the right, peering into each dip in the walls. Some being just small alcoves, others being tombs, and others being other paths. He does not go down any of these other pathways, instead waiting until he reaches the back wall before changing direction. Which, back here, the only option is to turn left. “Right, should we head left here, or do you want to go back one of the other ways?” Martyn peers down the hall to the left while waiting for Ren’s decision.

“…um, Martyn…? That hallway we just went down is gone.”

“What!?” Martyn turns quickly, and sure enough, where there was previously a long hallway, there was now just an entrance to a tomb. They both head in, and Martyn tries feeling against the back walls for any loose bricks or secret passages or…anything, really.

———

Ren, meanwhile, takes his time to observe the tomb. Red and white banners hang in the entrance. A diamond axe resting in a mount on the wall above the tomb itself, the words ‘The Red Winter Axe’ carved into the mount base. A black and red coat is draped over the top stone, a clawed handprint placed on the back. He notes the candles around the room, all green save for two red ones on either side of the foot of the tomb. He kneels down, getting a closer view of the name plate. “The Hand of the Red King…” he reads out, frowning. “Martyn…have you ever heard of a Red King?” He raises his head, leaning slightly to the side to peer around to where Martyn was.

He pauses, shaking his head. “Can’t say I have. Of all people, I’d think you might. You’re always reading stories and legends. Why do you ask?” Martyn walks over to join him, crouching at his side.

“I just…maybe would have liked to see a name put to this title. They have no name on their grave, Martyn…It seems unfair, does it not? This was a person, they had a name, a life outside of the title they bore, the person they’re tied to. Loved enough to be buried in a grand tomb with treasures and artifacts, but not enough to be remembered as his own person.” He reaches out, brushing his hand against the nameplate. It feels…strange, almost sort of tingly and perhaps…warm? “Hand, I am sorry you face this fate of being nameless for all eternity…perhaps if I find your king, or anything about your Red Winter axe, I might find you. I will bring you your name.” He stands, turning to Martyn, who stands as he does. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

———

“Yeah. And um…that…is a sweet gesture, Ren, but…you don’t have to do that for them. They’re dead, they won’t know anything different.” Martyn views as Ren frowns deeper, looking back to the tomb again. His own brows furrow, and he places a hand on Ren’s shoulder. “Hey…is…is there something you want to talk about? Why it’s bothering you that some dead person you’ve never heard of doesn’t have a name? You know you can talk to me about anything. It's what I’m here for as your best friend.”

Ren sighs, shaking his head. “I…honestly don’t know. It really does just not seem fair, you know? It’d be like…if you died, and your grave read ‘The Knight of the Earl of Loupwynn.’ I just don’t think it would be right to do that to anybody, to take away their name like that. Especially if it's someone you cared very much for.” He begins leaving the tomb, and Martyn walks right along with him. They continue down the hallway to the left, quiet except for the couple of times they face more skeletons. Even then, not much is said between the two. Martyn is unsure of how to respond to Ren’s last comments, and Ren has simply just continued to be upset. They try to navigate through more hallways, walking past more seemingly endless corridors, tombs, and the occasional treasure rooms.

Finally, Martyn stands still as he peers into another tomb at the end of a hall. Ren is behind him, silently looking around. He reaches back and tugs on his cape. “Ren…look at this tomb.” He hears the shuffling of Ren’s feet as he turns around, hearing the quiet gasp behind him. The entryway had the same red and white banners as the Hand’s tomb, but grander and with one draped over top of the stone encasing in the center. “Reckon this is that king…?” He mutters, eyes fixed on the spot where the nameplate was, though the inscription on it was covered by the draped banner. He walks forwards, Ren staying in place behind. However, there’s rumbling the moment Martyn steps foot inside the tomb, and he looks up and behind in time to see large cracks forming, rocks beginning to fall down. Where he was, it would be far too risky to back out into the hallway, so he leaps further into the tomb room, hearing the heavy rocks crashing behind, and soon all the light that was provided by the hallway was blocked out, leaving Martyn in total darkness.

———

“Martyn!” Ren calls out, trying to run after his friend before it was too late, but he was much too far away to help. He looks up to see some rocks heading right down towards him, and he crouches, covering his head with his arms, bracing for impact. Instead, he feels a cold, near wintry chill, and processes the sounds of stone clanging against metal. He raises his head, falling back into a sitting position as he sees the figure before him. A black and red coat, with a clawed, red hand square on the back. Legs that fade from being opaque to hardly visible at the feet. In a lowered arm, it holds a diamond axe, though this one is more stained with blood than the one mounted on the wall. On a raised arm, there was a shield, which was likely the metal the stones clanged against, and the reason Ren was sitting there, unharmed. However, the strangest part was that it had golden blond hair akin to Martyn’s, the ribbons of a black hairband mirroring the green ones of his friend. The height and build, at least from what he can see at this angle, was the same, too. His brows knit together, and he stares directly at the figure, which now lowers its shield, brushing itself off while keeping its back towards him. “Who are you, and why do you look like Martyn?”

It freezes, pointed ears perking up at the last part of his words. “...my lord?” It turns, gaze set downwards at Ren, who widens his eyes and scrambles backwards a bit in alarm. This thing had Martyn’s voice and face, too. Though, rather than the diamond shape below his eye being a birthmark, on the figure it looked more akin to a burn scar, as if it’d been branded there. It smiles wide, but in a far from sinister way. It seems delighted, happy, excited, even. As if seeing an old friend for the first time in many years. “My lord, I finally found you! It’s been so long, I…” it kneels down before him, head bowed. “I…must apologize. I’m so sorry I was unable to avenge you…I had your body in my arms when they stabbed me in the back. I wasn’t given a chance to actually fight after they got you…” Ren can hear in its words that it is trying to hold back tears. Oh boy, this…is going to be awkward, huh.

“Don’t apologize to me, I must be the one to apologize to you. I am not your lord, nor am I your king…I assume you’re the Red King’s Hand, yes? My companion, Martyn, and I saw your tomb earlier. It had the same coat draped over the top of it. But! Right on the other side of those fallen rocks is your king’s tomb…I assume, at least. It had the same banners as yours.” Ren sits up a bit more, watching as the Hand’s ghost looks up at him. Indeed, its eyes are watery, tears being just barely held back from falling. “Do you mind me asking what your name is? Only your title as the Red King’s Hand is on your tomb, and I’d like to put your actual name there, too.”

Its brows furrow, and a tear finally falls, trailing down over the scar. “Has it really been so long already that you’ve lost your mind? That you’ve given my name to something else you imagine in your head, forgetting that you are a king? My lord, please, remember me, remember yourself. You are Ren, The Red King, and I am your Hand, Martyn…” more tears fall from the Hand’s eyes, falling off his face and disappearing. Ren stands in alarm as the Hand says his and Martyn’s names. He tries to say something, anything, but the words get caught in his throat, leaving his brain before he can speak them.

———

Martyn groans as he pushes himself to sit up, having landed on the ground a bit harder than he’d intended to. He blinks in the darkness, trying to let his eyes adjust, but there’s not even a speck of light anywhere. He swears he remembers spotting some red and white candles in here somewhere, so he begins to try and feel around. Once he’d found a small cluster, he reaches for a flint and steel he’d packed in his bag. A couple strikes later, and one of the candles light up. Carefully, he lifts it from where it was, moving it around to get a look back at the entrance. He rushes to it, using his free hand to desperately claw at the rocks and stones to search for any loose ones. His brain is pumping out adrenaline, every single thought at this point focused on Ren. Gods, if Ren got hurt in that, or worse… “Ren! Ren, can you hear me? Please say you’re unharmed, my lord! My…” he shouts, taking pause between phrases. Though he becomes much quieter on his last word, trailing off as he chokes on his words, tears falling. There was no response from Ren at all. He rests his forehead against the wall of rocks, closing his eyes as he starts to sob.

As the first tear falls from his face, he hears a whooshing, windy sound behind him, a chill much more intense than that of the rest of the crypt closing around him. He turns, pressing his back against the stones behind him. Every candle was now lit with a cyan flame, providing a dim, eerie glow to the room. But what truly alarmed him was the figure, the ghost, before him, which bore a striking resemblance to Ren. Though he had a more regal outfit, a bloody crown on his head, and a prominent scar across his neck. It looks to him with a firm, yet warm expression. A soft glimmer of familiarity fluttering across his face. “My Hand…is it really you…? Have you finally returned to me…?” The ghost of the king reaches forwards, and Martyn pushes harder backwards against the stones, his head not thinking clearly to move aside to get away. An ice-cold, clawed hand lands on his face, slightly phasing into his skin. The king’s eyes widened, surprise and hope showing. “You’re living…my Hand, you’re still alive! Oh, this is just wondrous!” He grins a big, toothy, fanged grin, in the same way that Ren does. “Tell me, what has become of our kingdom? Flourished, I assume, under your command, after my passing? I told you, before the battle, how nicely ‘King Martyn’ would sound, even if it was meant for a different context…”

Martyn’s body finally catches up with his head, and he moves aside, putting distance between himself and the king. “What in the world are you even talking about? I’m sorry, but you have absolutely gotten me mixed up with someone. And it sounds like that someone is your Hand, yeah? His name also happens to be Martyn?” He tries to reach through his bag for anything that might help against ghosts. It seems peaceful and docile for now, but who knows how violent it could become if it sees Martyn will not fall for its tricks? This thing was using Ren’s face and voice to attempt to ease him into a false sense of security, it knows his name, it possibly even knows he and Ren had come across both tombs. Had they unknowingly followed something deep into the crypt, so far in that nobody could ever find them? If so, that made Martyn an absolute fool, and a failure of a knight to protect his lord from danger.

The king frowns. “Martyn, now is not a time to jest, like I know you love to do. What had happened since my death? Why do you deny me, and our memories together? Surely you can never forget that night on the black heart altar. When you lobbed my head off, thus making me into the Red King I became to be known as? My Hand, what has happened to Dogwarts? Don’t tell me you abandoned it…we founded it together, raised it up from its roots and grew it into the powerhouse that it was at the peak of war. Sure, the desert kings and their allies caused a heavy blow, but the mere fact you live tells me they did not succeed in overtaking us.” The king starts to come near, but Martyn steps back, which gives it pause. “Hand…?”

“I am not your Hand, Red King. I have never heard of a place called Dogwarts, nor of a grand war where any place fought desert kings. My loyalty belongs to Ren, earl of Loupwynn, for whom I am his knight. He is my lord. And I don’t know if you’ve ever taken a stroll through these crypts, but your Hand is dead, Ren and I had come across his tomb. All that being said, I would really appreciate it if you could get me back to him. I need to know that he’s unharmed. If he were hurt, I…” he chokes on his words again, eyes watering once more. The king’s own face grows sadder, coming close despite Martyn’s clear discomfort. They look into each other’s eyes, and as a tear falls to the birthmark on his cheek, realization hits the king.

“...you…you really aren’t my Martyn.” A ghostly hand phases over his cheek, somehow managing to wipe the tear away. “Where you bear a natural mark upon your face, he bears one as a result of a horrid ritual from his past. Leaving him burned and scarred for the whole of his life…a life, which in your words, is over…” Tears form in the king’s own eyes, the ears on his head lowering sadly. “You say you saw his tomb…if I get us out of here, could you take me to it? I must see it…I must see him…” And Martyn nods, of course he does, whatever he needs to do to get out and check on Ren. The king backs away, looking Martyn over. “...my name is also Ren. Perhaps…” he pauses, though shakes his head. “...no, it couldn’t. That would be quite unlikely.” It changes its attention to the pile of stones that fill the entrance, observing for a moment before drawing a sword. The king takes a deep breath, likely for focus as it did not need to breathe, before jabbing the sword and striking into the stones.

The pile crumbles apart, a burst of cold wind shooting outwards, a light coating of frost atop the strewn stones. Martyn blinks into the sudden light, and as soon as his eyes adjust, his face falls. This…was definitely not the same hallway that was there before. He runs out, looking around. “What…no, where are we now!?” He starts to run, hoping the king is following because he is absolutely not turning around to check. He truly could not give a damn how that ghost feels, especially as he’s gotten separated from Ren. He peers down passageways, calling out his name, calling for his lord. But he gets nothing in response. He rounds a corner, stopping in his tracks. “…where am I…?”

The room, if he could even call it that, as he appeared to be outdoors, resembled a damaged courtyard. Upturned grass, toppled walls, scorch marks, ripped banners that match the ones where the king and the hand were. He feels an icy claw rest on his shoulder, and he turns up to look at the kind, who gazes across the room sadly. “I know not what magic is making us see this, but…this…this is Dogwarts…as it were moments before-“ he’s cut off as even more transparent figures fill the scene before them, at battle with each other. Indistinct soldiers in red and platinum battling ones in black and gold, green and bronze, and blue and silver. Martyn spots an image of the king facing against a tanned, scarred man, wearing a black cloak and adorned in golden accents and accessories. Likely one of the desert kings he’d mentioned before. He hears the king behind him let out a whimper, and Martyn turns his attention to where he’s looking. And there is the Hand, who, yes, very much does resemble him, facing off against a winged man dressed not too dissimilarly to the other desert king, save for a white shirt below his cloak that was splattered with blood.

They watch the hand disarm the winged king, poised to strike. ‘You never had to do any of this. What happened to you after that day we got separated that took you down this path!? We were friends!’ But before the winged king could speak, a pained cry reverberates through the area. All focus is turned, where the scarred king shouts triumphantly, the red king collapsing and clutching his torso. ‘My lord!’ The Hand screams, running over to him without an ounce of hesitation. He collapses to his knees, pulling the king into his arms. ‘No…no no no no no, you can’t…my lord, don’t leave me!’ The other king reaches up and cups the hand’s face, gently guiding it lower. He presses a soft, near breathless kiss to the hand’s lips before collapsing, death overtaking him. A tear falls from the hand’s eyes, and moments later he’s being impaled by the scarred king’s sword. He collapses forwards, dead. The vision fades away, and it leaves Martyn alone in a large room with the ghost of the king. “My hand…my Martyn…” the king sniffles.

———

Ren makes his way through many different hallways, trying to tune out the Hand while listening out for the real Martyn’s voice. Which is very hard to do since they have the same voice as each other. Multiple times he’d asked for the hand to keep quiet while he looks and listens for anything, and each time he does listen at first, but something inevitably happens where that is interrupted. They’d managed to move some piled stones, but behind was an empty wall. Which meant that Ren now had to search all on his own…accompanied by a ghost who is convinced he is also a ghost, but one that doesn’t remember his life correctly. As they round another corner, and the Hand speaks again, something about a court, he finally snaps. Growling, he whips himself around, ears pinned back, eyes glaring. “Right, enough is enough! How many times must I tell you that I am not a king!? I am a living person, and my Martyn is lost somewhere in this crypt, also alive! At the very least, I hope he is. I don’t know what I’d do if something awful happened to him and I can’t bear to think of a life without him!” He doesn’t know when the tears started, but he sniffles as he finishes yelling. He looks over the shocked face of the Hand, turning away so he doesn’t have to see a Martyn that seems afraid of him. “If we find Martyn, we might find your king’s tomb. So I urge you, let me find him…”

There’s no verbal response, but he feels the cold breeze get closer and move past him, the Hand floating/walking ahead and looking down some paths. He sighs, following. He looks down as well, not just because he doesn’t fully trust the Hand to be totally honest to him, but also because he’s experienced how this place can change its layout at will. This continues on for a while before the Hand gasps and charges into a room. Ren follows behind, peering in before following, looking at their surroundings. They appeared to be in some sort of war room, walls lined in spruce wood, a group of transparent people surrounding a table with a large map. At the very head of the table sat who must have been the Red King, who did have a striking resemblance to himself. At the King’s side stood another version of the Hand, the ghost stood beside it. There is chatter of battle strategies among the group, and the king is rubbing his temple. With a grunt, he stands, and commands everyone but the Hand to leave for the time being. People leave at different paces, some scared, some concerned. Once alone, the king sits back down, with a sigh. ‘Martyn…how much longer can we last? We won the battle at the desert’s edge, but it took a heavy blow on our soldiers, and the desert kings roped another group into their alliance! I fear we may be overpowered at this rate.’ His elbows rest on his knees, and his face is set into his hands. ‘You should flee, you should not have to face the consequences of my failures as king to win a war that should have been a breeze…’

‘My lord-‘ ‘Martyn…’ ‘Ren…’ the hand gets on his knees before the king, reaching up and pulling the hands from his face, staring into his eyes. ‘Ren…I could never, ever leave you. Command me as king to his hand to go all you’d like, but I’ll defy it every time as Martyn, as a friend, as something more…’ He pulls their two faces close to give the king a soft kiss, slowly pulling back. ‘You asked me an important question, and I intend for us to see it through. Soon as the war is over and we’ve won, we can get everything in motion.’ He smiles comfortingly, a look full of love in his eyes as he gazes up at the king. The king sighs, before returning the look back. ‘Very well, Martyn. Anything you wish for, as I am quite aware you will end up having your way regardless if it’s given freely or not.’ The king stands, helping the hand up to his feet. Their lips meet again, and the illusion falls away, leaving them now stood in a large room. Ren looks to the Hand, who now has his hand gripped around something at the end of a cord around his neck, which must have been tucked below his shirt before. “…you don’t know any of that, huh…” he looks over, and Ren shakes his head. “…move your scarf…?” And Ren does so, exposing his neck, not a scar or mark in sight. “…I’m sorry…I just…I was hopeful and eager, I suppose…” The Hand sighs, tucking the cord away. “Let’s go find our real partners, shall we?”

Ren doesn’t bother to correct the Hand at the fact he and Martyn weren’t actually partners. Even if he’d like to be, but it seemed as if Martyn would prefer the two of them to be more friendly-professional. He could never stand to court any one person too much, he didn’t wish to get their hopes too high or for them to be stuck in a one-sided love. He insisted Martyn join along, claiming it would be wise a guard were there in case anything happens. In truth, it just made him feel more at ease, and like he could sometimes pretend the outings were with him. On a couple occasions, he’d been pulled aside by whoever he was supposed to be courting and they confronted him about the apparent attraction between him and his guard. Ren would admit he had feelings for Martyn, and beg they tell nobody. To their credit, they never did, whether they were upset by the truth or not. And well…now seeing the king and his hand, which seem so alike to himself and Martyn in so many ways, it gives him a small sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could fall in love together, too. They exit out the doorway at the opposite end of the room, finding themselves in an even larger one, which contains a pond in the center, and an open view of two floors, walls lined in various tombs.

“Ren!”

“My Hand!”

———

Martyn peered down from the second floor railing just in time to see Ren, followed by what must be the ghost of the Hand, emerge from a doorway that was not there previously. He motions the king over, and they both race to the stairs, Martyn running down them as he calls out to Ren, the momentum causing him to not really slow or stop in time. He crashes into Ren, the two toppling over, Ren turning them so he doesn’t fall flat on his back. They hold each other, clinging tight and laughing at just how ridiculous that was that they fell. “Ren, thank the gods you’re okay! I was so worried the longer we went without finding you…I had to keep telling myself there was no way you’d have gotten crushed by falling rocks, you just couldn’t have…” He buries his face into Ren’s chest, taking deep breaths to catch up on them. “I uh…I got some help from the Red King…he looks very similar to you and has your same name…but I guess you might have learned that, seeing as it looks like the Hand was with you.”

Ren nods, holding Martyn closer. “Yes, I did. I almost got hit, I will say, but the Hand saved me, and joined me as we searched for you two. …Oh Martyn, I was so scared I was going to lose you to this place. I don’t know what I would have done if I never found you…or worse, if I’d found you and you…you were…” A sniffle, an exhale, and Ren sets his face into Martyn’s hair. “You know what I mean…” He hears and feels Ren take a deep breath. “Martyn, I…when we get out of this place there’s something I feel I need to discuss with you…please…”

Martyn pulls his face back, looking right into Ren’s eyes. There’s something in there, something just like he saw in the Red King’s eyes. First when he thought Martyn was his Hand, and again when he saw the actual Hand. And from context clues of what the king said, and what he saw in the memory… He grabs Ren’s face, hovering their lips close to one another’s. They both breathe for a moment, and finally Martyn feels Ren’s lips press into his. He kisses back, of course. It may not exactly be how he’d dreamt of this moment, never in the many years since he developed these feelings, but it is still just as perfect as he knew it would be. They both chuckle and laugh again as they pull back, foreheads touching. They could feel it, there was something there in that kiss, something that said they’d both been waiting for this, that they’ve both been unknowingly mutually in love for a long time. Ren sits up first, getting to his feet and pulling Martyn up with him as well. The first thing Martyn notices, after he manages to look away from Ren, of course, is the king and the hand floating together, wrapped in each other’s arms. He leans against Ren as they both watch them, warm feelings in their chests. The King takes notice of the eyes on them and smiles softly. “Thank you…both of you.”

Martyn waves his hand semi-dismissively. “Ah, don’t be doing that, I think we should be the ones thanking you guys. Who knows what would have happened to us had neither of you stepped in. Any way you put it, and the crypt might have had two additions to be made…” he squeezes Ren’s hand. “And also a thank you for something you’d…unintentionally helped us with.” He faces Ren again. “Ren…I don’t know how long you’ve felt it for, but…I have had my feelings for you for a very, very long time…so long, I can’t even remember exactly when at this point. I was just…scared you didn’t or wouldn’t feel the same…I mean, look at us, I’m not exactly at even odds with you. I’m your guard, a knight your parents paid to be trained, because you asked them to, and mine couldn’t pay that sort of money. Everyone you’d courted was of a more similar status to you, and I thought that showed to me that you had interest in people like that. That’s why I was there, to protect two high-class members on a courtship outing. It was torture, I…” he looks down “That was partly why I ran away…I couldn’t take it anymore, seeing you with someone else, thinking how it could never be me. I didn’t know if I was ever really going to return or not.”

Ren’s hand tilts his chin back up to look at him. “A year or two after your squireship. I was reading in the library window when I glanced out to get a view of your training session that day. I found myself mesmerized by you, and next I knew the session was over, it had been hours and I not once looked away. I couldn’t stop thinking about you for weeks, I’d never thought of anybody like that before. When we were near, I felt warm and fuzzy, and I’d find myself wondering why we’d stopped holding hands as we grew older, what they would feel like now. I wondered what it would be like if we cuddled or kissed, and just…Martyn, I couldn’t have enough of you. The banquet we held to celebrate your knighthood, when I pulled you aside, I wanted to ask you something different to what I had. But I was a coward. I…I wanted to kiss you, out on that moonlit balcony. When I was courting, I had you come so I could selfishly pretend I was with you instead. And when I saw your note…I didn’t really think, following after you. All I knew was that I would not be able to bear a life without you, no matter what we were.” Martyn pulls him into another kiss, which gets cut short by the sound of snickering from the Hand.

They both glare over, which only makes him laugh harder. “Sorry, sorry, I just…hahaha, you two sound like the most oblivious lovebirds I’ve ever heard of!” He wipes away some ghostly tears as he begins to settle, smiling down at the pair. “But really…I have to say, I’m really, really glad for the both of you. You two look around the age we lived to be ourselves, and you’re only now beginning your lives together. Please, for our sakes…go live it. Be happy, and love each other, don’t have any regrets. Do the things you want to do together, and for the sake of the gods, do not get involved in any wars!” He winks at the end, finishing off his advice with a tinge of dark humor. They all laugh a bit at that, with a promise they will do as instructed. The Hand focuses back onto the King. “With that out of the way…what’s next for us?”

The King thinks, looking at their surroundings. “I say…we see what happens if we leave here. See what’s become of the world…or, if I’m right, our world, at least.” He smiles. “If those desert hippies are still alive, I’d love to haunt them with you.” The Hand grins, nodding enthusiastically. They look back to Martyn and Ren. “This is it, then. From here, we go our own ways. We cannot ever thank you enough for reuniting us…” The King draws his sword, grabbing the blade and holding the hilt out to Martyn. The Hand follows suit, extending the hilt of an axe to Ren. They each take what is offered, shocked at the solidity of the weapons. “We have no use for these any longer. Please, take them, and wield them with the honor we’ve given.” Once more he faces his Hand. “Farewell, to you both. It is time my love and I departed from this crypt.” As they fade away, they lean in for a kiss, disappearing into little orbs of light that float up and disappear.

Martyn looks to Ren, whose eyes are watery as he still stares at where the last lights faded off. “Aw, come on you big sap, let’s get out of here too, huh? As much as I’m enjoying my time with you, I’d rather we spend it not surrounded by dead people.” He pats Ren’s arm, and makes his way back upstairs. Thankfully, he’d already managed to find the strange lever the blond guy from Orchidea mentioned, and pulled it, meaning all they had left to do was exit out the large set of wooden doors and follow the dark path out. Once there was enough light to see, they found they were walking up the very same set of stairs they had descended earlier, though now the land was under the darkness of night, the moon dimly illuminating their surroundings.

As they make way to the tavern, they finally walk hand in hand for the first time in many years. They pay for a room, sharing a bed and cuddle close, exhausted from their adventure.

“Martyn?”

“Yeah?”

“...I love you.”

——————

Grian wakes with a start, groaning as he holds his head. The back of it is pounding, as if he’d fallen on it, rather than simply just having used a rock in place of a pillow. He looks around the tent, seeing BigB still asleep. Martyn, however, was looking at Grian with concern.

“Dude, you alright? Seemed like you were having a bad dream. Kept muttering and shifting, I was about to wake you up but you beat me to it.” He got up to come sit by Grian, hand resting on his shoulder. “I know this whole death game thing seems stressful and all, but nobody has even turned yellow yet.”

“I know, I just…my dream started out with that prank I did on you. You know, I lured a creeper to spook you. But instead of following me and it getting killed, it just…stopped and blew up Scar. And I felt horrible.” He pulls his knees to his chest. “One thing led to another, and suddenly we were in this massive, three-sided war. Two sides joined up to take down the third, and then it was just those two, and then…then it was one. It was me and Scar, and I…I killed him and fell off a cliff.” The edges of his eyes water up, though he doesn’t know why. He promptly wiped them away with his sleeves.

Martyn snorts. “Dude, from what I’ve heard about Scar, I don’t think it sounds plausible he’d make it to the end game there. Besides, we know it’s gonna be us three at the end, right? Only one of the Blue Sword Boys are allowed to win. Only we are allowed to take each other out of the game.” He gives Grian a playful nudge, which makes him chuckle a little bit.

It’s cut short by a message on their communicator. Grian and Martyn both look, BigB jumping awake at feeling his go off.

‘Skizzleman was slain by an Enderman’

“Spoke too soon, we’ve got a first death after all.” Martyn says, shaking his head. He sighs and looks over at BigB. “You having any weird dreams, B? Grian here had a strange one just now.”

BigB yawns, closing his eyes and trying to get ‘comfortable’ again. “No, just a really nice one where I was able to sleep through the night and not get woken up to death. Like most nights.”

Martyn rolls his eyes, and looks back to Grian, who still seemed upset. “Hey, it was just a dream, right? None of it was real.” He thinks. “If you were with Scar at the end, where were we?”

“That’s just it. I was on a different side than you guys…I swore my first life to Scar and it took so long to lose it, I couldn’t go back to you guys. You were with Ren because of your deal and BigB was with you because of this. The lines were drawn and I’d be killed if I tried to cross it. By your side or mine for being a traitor.” He puts his face into his knees.

Martyn rubs his back. “Hey, listen to me. Everything is going to turn out just fine, alright? You don’t owe anything to Scar, and my deal with Ren is paid up. We’re going nowhere.” He moves his arm around and gives Grian a reassuring side hug. “Think you can get back to sleep? It’s still about half an hour until you’re on lookout.”

Grian shakes his head. “No, you get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.” He forces a small smile to Martyn. Martyn can clearly tell how forced it is, but he’s not going to push Grian into talking about it. So he just nods and heads over to his spot, laying down.

The next few days are a blur of activity. Grian sets up their base in the woods between where Jimmy and Scott are set up and the desert where Scar had tried to convince him to take over with him. More people have gone down to yellow or had some close calls. BigB in particular had a rough encounter with some mobs in the mineshaft beneath them. But thankfully Martyn was nearby to step in and save him.

That being said, teams begin solidifying and lines start to be drawn. Skizz teams up with Ren, Bdubs with Cleo, and Etho with Impulse. Tango, Scar, and Joel all seem to be doing their own things for the current time being. Tango occupies himself with creating a game, Joel is focused on getting himself a good setup, and Scar is going around trying to sell sand and cactus to everyone with little success. He’s gotten a couple bits, but not much.

Martyn is away trying to get cows while Grian and BigB mine for materials when it happens. BigB mines the wrong block and ends up buried in gravel. He doesn’t have a shovel, and Grian isn’t close enough. He just makes it in time for the message to appear, and to collect up BigB’s items and bring them back up to the base.

As he reaches the steps up, he spots BigB at the top, headed on his way down. They both stop, looking to each other for a moment, before Grian resumes coming up and BigB turns to go up as well. Grian reaches the top, and BigB is now sitting at the edge of a bed, elbows on knees, face in hands. “I’m sorry…I got your stuff, at least…” he tosses the items down, each of them disappearing into BigB’s inventory with a little pop! sound.

“It’s not your fault, Grian. I should have been more careful…” He sighs, and groans as he flops himself backwards, eyes closed. “I saw the particles, I knew there was loose gravel in the ceiling. I should have looked better.” He feels the bed dip beside him, and he opens his eyes as Grian shifts from sitting on the bed to laying beside him. BigB doesn’t hesitate to wrap Grian into his arms, feeling Grian’s go around him.

They lay there silently for who knows how long, one of them occasionally giving a little soft kiss to the other’s cheek as they stay there. That is, until Martyn comes back. They hear him outside with the cows, but don’t actually move until he comes inside. “BigB, Grian, what happened?” He comes over and sits on the other side of BigB, the pair letting go of each other and sitting up as he’d made his way over. As they recount the story, he holds BigB’s hand and gives it a small squeeze.

That night is spent with BigB to the side of the bed without anyone cuddling him. Even though he’d love to be in the center of the bed, getting held on both sides. But they tried that, and his brain tried telling him he was still suffocating. It was heavy and he couldn’t breathe, every sensation against his skin felt sharp. He sat up and explained, swapping positions with Martyn. He lays on his side, facing away from the other two, not wanting to stare and be jealous of the fact he just can’t bring himself to cuddle tonight. Or even use a blanket, at that, in spite of the cold night air of late fall. It wouldn’t be fair on them for him to feel jealous, to ask them not to hold each other as they slept tonight because he made a stupid fatal mistake.

Tango’s game is up and running, and most people are pretty skeptical about it. Especially as Joel goes over and ends up dying to it. But then Scott runs it, not wanting Jimmy to risk his life. And he knows if he doesn’t do this and win, Jimmy is going to run the game anyway. And he ends up making it, memorizing the pattern of the lava flowing. But all the excitement of the win is cut short by a message in the communicators.

‘BdoubleO100 drowned’

Everyone pauses in place. It’s the first red. They think about how they’ve played so far and what their standings with Bdubs are. Some good, some bad. Ren definitely has it the worst, followed closely by Etho. Cleo doesn’t count, being his teammate. So best standing is Tango, followed by Scar and Impulse.

Martyn knows they’re in somewhat neutral territory with the Crastle, but he doesn’t want to risk anything. He and Grian are still full, but BigB is yellow. And he’s been pretty jumpy and upset ever since. He needs to get those boots. He heads out, no need for sneaking as he was the only one home at the time. He’s aware that either of them would stop him, not let him go play the game. He makes it all the way there without being spotted.

He can’t imagine the panic his partners must feel at seeing the announcement that he’s about to play Tango’s game. But thankfully, smart and clever as Tango may be, Martyn is resourceful and has a knack for finding every little loophole he possibly can. Two tosses of an enderpearl have him in and out of there with a paper promising him the boots in no time. Tango hands them over, and Martyn heads home.

He comes into the house, and is immediately just about tackled by Grian, throwing him slightly off-balance and nearly almost falls over. “Martyn what in the world were you thinking doing that! You could have died to that lava and lost your stuff!” Grian is upset and concerned, rightfully so. From an outside perspective, it does seem dumb.

“Hey you know me, what’s life without a little risk, hm?” He grins, and ruffles Grian’s hair, which causes him to let go and try to fix it. “Besides, you saw in the communicator how quickly it got done, yeah? It was easy-peasy considering there were no rules against pearling.” He pulls an enderpearl from his pocket to show off to Grian. Grian rolls his eyes, but a smile tugs at his lips. “Anyways, where’s B? I got these for him.”

“You did that for me?” Martyn turns to see BigB come up from their basement, holding some wheat. Most likely he was just dealing with their cows down below. Martyn nods, tossing the boots over, and they pop! into BigB’s inventory. “Martyn, thank you…” he comes up and hugs him. And it’s the closest interaction BigB has let himself have ever since the gravel incident. Martyn smiles softly, lightly hugging him back. Not wanting to feel restricting.

It helps them get back to a sense of normalcy. Slowly over the next couple of days, BigB starts feeling more open to close physical affection. Little hugs here, a loose cuddle at night there, it starts feeling warm and soft again. And safe.

The trio go exploring, see how people are and what everyone is up to. They pass through the desert first, but find Scar isn’t home. So they continue on to the swamp, where they once again strike out, with both Impulse and Etho gone. Next stop is Dogwarts.

It’s as they reach the top of the mountain and look down the cliff to the walls below, they spot just as a massive explosion goes off in front of the gate, killing Ren, Etho, and Jimmy. Bringing the first two to yellow, and Jimmy to red. They instantly rush down to investigate.

Tango and Bdubs are cheering not too far off, giving each other a high five before running over to Scar, chatting with him excitedly. Scott is going down into the explosion site. BigB and Grian investigate with him while Martyn approaches Skizz, who is clearly in distress. “Skizz, what in the world has just happened? We saw that from the mountain up there, that was a huge explosion!”

“I don’t know, man! Scar was talking Ren and I’s ears off for a little bit about sand and cartoons, then Scott and Jimmy came through. They say something about an enchanter out front, and so we all come to investigate. Them three were standing close by, Etho wanting to check it out before they move it. Next thing I know…Boom! I’m flung several feet back and low on health, but at least I’m still alive.” He brushes himself off. “I gotta go find Ren, make sure he’s alright.” He darts back into Dogwarts, the gate now wide open and doing very little in the way of trying to keep people out. Martyn looks back as Grian climbs out of the hole.

“There’s absolutely nothing in there. All their stuff has evaporated.” He turns around to help pull BigB out from the hole, Scott getting out on his own in another spot. Their communicators all go off, and they give it a look to see Jimmy apologizing, and asking Scott if he can collect his stuff for him.

Ren emerges from Dogwarts, Skizz at his side. “They’ve destroyed my beautiful gate! It took me ages to get that looking right!” He sighs. “Right, now where’s all my…stuff…” Ren trails off, looking to how there’s barely even any floating blocks in the pit, much less any belongings. “Please tell me someone picked it up…” he looks to the ring of people standing around, all shaking their heads. “Skizz, it is an absolute tragedy of a day here at Dogwarts! I cannot take any more of this!” He goes back inside, Skizz patting his back.

When Etho arrives, they let him know what went down, and he makes his way into the walls of Dogwarts. Grian sees Scott pacing and approaches him. “Scott, are you alright? I see Jim’s not responding in the comms. Do you want to check if he’s back at your home?”

“Yes, but…I don’t know, what if he comes back here and we don’t cross paths on the way? That’s not exactly helpful for the situation.” Scott continues his pacing, picking at his fingers.

BigB pipes up, walking over. “If you two both go out that way on separate paths, you’ll cover more ground so there’s more chance to cross him on the way. Martyn and I can stay back in case he shows up, and we’ll escort him back. Just let us know once you’re there and if he’s there or not, then we can come over.”

That seems to ease Scott’s mind slightly. His shoulders drop a little bit as he nods. “Yeah…yeah, that will work. Thank you, you guys.” His face changes to a small smile. “I’m glad Jimmy has friends in you lot, you’re good people.” And with that, BigB gives Grian’s hand a little squeeze, and they give one another a kiss on the cheek. Grian blows a kiss to Martyn, and then leaves with Scott.

BigB comes and sits by Martyn, who is set up beneath a tree not too far from the explosion hole. They lean against each other, content to sit in the quiet together. When they get the message for an all clear to get moving, they start to head off, but are interrupted by Ren. “Martyn, could I possibly catch a word with you really quickly?”

They pause and look back, then to each other. BigB nods and motions Martyn along, and he leans against a tree. Martyn follows Ren inside of Dogwarts, wary of his surroundings. It’s unfamiliar territory, having not been here since the start of the game. They stop beside a campfire. “Right, so what’s all this, then? Why ask me something alone?” He crosses his arms. Ren may have declared himself a king, but he holds no power over him.

“Remember the deal we’d made back at the start? Promoting my business in exchange for enchantments?” Ren pauses, waiting for a response. Martyn nods skeptically, and Ren grins. “You do good on your word, and I can see that you’re a man who’s skilled with a blade. You’re a smart one, quick-witted and resourceful, a skill that’s very useful in a game like this one.” He continues, never dropping his toothy grin.

Martyn frowns more. “You’re dancing around the question here, and I’ve got places to be. Cut to the chase, Ren. Why are you buttering me up with the compliments?”

Ren chuckles. “As expected, a man of business through and through. Martyn, I ask if you’d like to join Dogwarts and become an advisor. I could use a strategic mind like yours in the heat of battle. Skizz is a loyal sword, my closest companion. But I’m sure you’re aware as I am that he often acts impulsively, taking actions first and asking questions later. You have certainly caught my eye, and I wanted to offer you this position first, as I think you are the most well-suited for this.”

Martyn stands there, listening in a stunned silence. Ren…can’t be serious, can he? “I see where you’re coming from, but you have to see this from my side. I’m not by myself, I can’t just run off and join another team. Especially when my teammates are my partners. So I can’t give an answer to you. I need to ask them what they think first.”

“I see…I suppose that is fair. Please, consult with them at your earliest convenience. I will come by sometime in the next few days if you do not return with an answer. I'd like to keep this away from the communicators, if possible. Consider my words.” Ren doesn’t seem too pleased with the response. But that is really not Martyn’s problem. He simply nods and leaves, headed back out of Dogwarts, silently walking to BigB, and continuing to not say a word the whole way to Scott and Jimmy’s. Even if BigB asks multiple times what had happened.

Once they’re all back in their own home, Martyn pulls Grian aside. “Grian…I’ve got a really bad feeling. There’s something about Ren, he doesn’t seem like how he was when the game started. He got me alone, away from BigB, and asked me to join Dogwarts, and there was something…dark about him. He was friendly and inviting before, and I don’t know what changed, but something did. I told him I’d talk with you guys, but I’m really worried on my own…but I’ll do it if you guys think it’s a good choice for us.” Martyn is tense and stiff as he explains, avoiding eye contact as if he was guilty of something.

Grian frowns, holding Martyn’s hands gently. “Martyn, if you don’t want to do something, you don’t have to. Even if we both want it, you have to take your own feelings into account. If you don’t trust Ren, you don’t trust Ren, end of story. But if you don’t want to hear that, then I’ll say my stance is a no. It doesn’t sit right that he’s singled you out.” Soft squeeze to his hands. “I know you want to protect us. You want to do what will keep us safe and alive as much as we can. Know the options and make an educated decision, but sometimes, you just need to trust your gut.” Grian leans forward and hugs Martyn, turning his head and resting the side of his face against Martyn’s shoulder. “You’ve got this, alright?”

Martyn hesitates a moment, arms just sort of awkwardly floating out to the side a little bit. The hug was unexpected and he’s feeling a little bit unsure about things and himself right now. But eventually he sighs, putting his arms around Grian and closing his eyes. “…yeah, alright…” He’s still going to tell BigB about it, even if he’s rejecting the offer. He deserves to know. But he wanted to get Grian’s stance first.

A couple days go by, and the weather has only grown colder. Directly preceding the first snowfall, a message comes through everyone’s communicators.

‘Renthedog was slain by Skizzleman using [RED WINTER IS COMING]’

The three of them immediately exchange looks. Martyn’s feeling was right. Something was wrong. This…this was bad. Bdubs on red was an idle nuisance at best. Jimmy on red held no threat, really. Ren being red was reasonable cause for concern.

They’re soon receiving a visit from Ren, crown bloodied and skin paled. Skizz stands at his side, holding a banner in display. The three emerge from their home, Martyn standing in front of both Grian and BigB. Ren gives a wicked grin. “Martyn, delightful to see you again. Have you had ample time to converse and consider my offer? Should you accept, you must proudly display the banner of Dogwarts outside your home, and don its image onto your shield. A sign we shall be at each other’s aid, no matter who in Dogwarts is in distress.”

“And if I don’t?”

Ren’s smile drops instantly. “Why shouldn’t you? Why wouldn’t you? It’s a once in a lifetime chance, Martyn. With us, you’ll make it to the end. You wouldn’t want to be at the wrong end of our blade, would you?” At some point, Ren had drawn his sword, and was now pointing it across the way towards Martyn. “Or them…” Ren’s gaze turns to Grian, pointed sword following it.

Martyn scowls. “You leave them out of this, Ren.” He takes a step forward. “Though I feel like that was the plan anyways.” Another step. “You only wanted me, yeah? That’s why you pulled me aside. Or you’d have been more upfront while we were by BigB.” Another step. And another. “We’re a package deal, whether you like that or not. We make big decisions together.” One more, and his chest is barely an inch away from the tip of Ren’s sword. “And I have to decline.”

Ren looks over Martyn, considering. “…so be it.” He sheathes his sword. “It would be a foolish thing to come for you now…but I’ll be back. In due time.” With a flourish of his cape, Ren turns and leaves, Skizz following behind him.

Two messages would come through later that day, announcing Cleo and Tango losing their first lives to Ren and Etho. Making Grian, Martyn, and Scott the last greens. Naturally, an official alliance forms between the two groups. They’d only vaguely had a silent alliance, given Jimmy was good friends with Martyn, Grian, and BigB. But now, the Flower Knights alliance rises.

Things only escalate quickly from here. Tensions rise between the three alliances, and deaths occur. Martyn lost his first one after being cornered alone by Dogwarts. Scar, Impulse, Cleo, and Joel became red. Grian lost one helping Joel put out the fire on his house. It got Joel onto their side instead of Dogwarts, but it certainly cost them.

But one thing was becoming clear. Dogwarts was a powerhouse. And as much as the Flower Knights (plus Joel) don’t really get along with the Crastle, they all hate Dogwarts more. So they scheme up a plan to take them down, using Scar’s old place in the desert as a means for a battleground. It was neutral territory, held no value to anyone. So it was a perfect spot to blow up.

Grian and Scott work with Tango to wire everything, while Scar sets on building a bunker. Everyone else prepares weapons and supplies for themselves and their teammates. Martyn looks over at BigB, who is keeping a very close eye on Tango, Scott, and Grian. “B? You okay?” He puts a hand on his shoulder.

“What if this doesn’t work?” He doesn’t move, eyes fixed where they are. “Or if it’s a trap? What if they’re after us instead, since our alliance outnumbers them and has a green?” He puts one hand over Martyn’s. “They don’t fully trust us, and we don’t fully trust them. This team up is patched together on the agreement that Dogwarts must fall. But it’s like a bandaid on a broken glass. It doesn’t really fix a problem, and can fall apart at any moment.”

“…we just have to believe that it holds on for long enough to get what we want. But keep an eye and an ear out for anything.” He moves in front of BigB, his free hand gently holding his cheek. “Grian isn’t going to explode if you look away for a while. He’s careful, he can keep an eye out on Tango. And Scott’s with him, too. They know what they’re doing.” He gives him a small, quick kiss. “This is going to work. We’ll be okay. We’ll make it to the end.”

The time comes. Operation Red Desert is underway. Scar and Jimmy are situated inside the bunker. Grian, Scott, Tango, and Martyn are strategically positioned in the open area. BigB, Joel, Cleo, and Bdubs are hidden from sight. Dogwarts stands atop a hill, looking down at the desert below. After several minutes of silence, Ren gives the command, and they all run in below, arrows flying and swords swinging from both sides.

Scott taunts them, luring them over to an area. He volunteered, as the only green, to sacrifice himself for the greater good. The bomb goes off, taking Scott to yellow and Etho to red. Everyone else just barely manages to avoid death.

And then an arrow is shot, taking Jimmy out of the game. Skizz celebrates, and is immediately cut down by BigB, taking Skizz to red. Simultaneously, Ren takes Cleo out of the game, having found their hiding spot. Impulse kills Tango and brings him to red. Dogwarts then retreats, not wanting to linger any longer, satisfied with a battle won.

All that remain on the field gather, patching themselves up. It’s quiet. Two people were gone. And all they managed was getting Etho and Skizz to red. Bdubs sits on his knees where Cleo had previously been hidden, nothing remaining in that spot. Nothing useful, at the very least, as their items had been looted through. Scar stands behind him, a hand on Bdubs’ upper back.

Grian clings onto BigB, shaking. He had a really close call when the explosions went off and had to run and hide. “I couldn’t see or hear anything going on…I was so worried that, at any moment, I’d be discovered and swiftly disposed of. Or that…that one of you two would lose a life…I didn’t want to risk anything by popping out…and then…Jimmy…” he doesn’t continue, BigB holding Grian closer as he tears up.

Martyn stands nearby, but with his back to the two of them. He’s keeping a lookout for Scott. When he sees him, he sees how fast he’s running, stumbling and almost tripping. Martyn runs out to greet him, managing to catch him. Tear lines stain down Scott’s cheeks, and he holds onto Martyn. “He…he’s gone…he’s gone and I wasn’t there…” Scott mutters to him, choked up and a bit out of breath. Martyn wordlessly helps guide Scott over to the bunker. Scar neatly put away all of Jimmy’s belongings into a chest for Scott. “…if Skizz is still alive when I go red, I will murder him.”

That night, Martyn goes home with Scott to help him with whatever he needs. Martyn was definitely the closest with Jimmy among the three of them. Grian and BigB go to their home, with Grian still shaky from earlier. And it’s so hard for Grian to sleep that night, despite how close he’s pressed against BigB, who had fallen asleep quickly.

A message appears in Grian’s communicator. A direct one to him from Ren.

‘We have Martyn and Scott. Come to Skizzle Point alone, unarmed, and we’ll release them.’

And Grian’s blood runs even colder than it has been. He gets impossibly paler, and he feels sick. Hadn’t there been enough bloodshed today? Didn’t they suffer enough? But he can’t risk it. He can’t let Scott lose two lives in one day, can’t let Martyn die in the chance this wasn’t a lie. He slips away from BigB, and stumbles his way through the darkness. He’s almost to Skizzle Point when he’s whacked in the back of the head and knocked out.

It’s Martyn’s turn to get a message from Ren.

‘You have one more chance. Meet me at Skizzle Point. I have something you’ll want to see. Don’t keep me waiting.’

Martyn runs. The sooner he can get this over with, the better. It worries him, though. What could Ren have? If it’s what he thinks it is…screw the rules, Ren dies tonight from an attack started by his bow.

And standing on top of the building, there’s Ren, sword drawn,with Grian beside him on his knees, hands tied with a lead. Martyn immediately takes out his bow. Ren shakes his head. “Martyn, I wouldn’t do that if I were you…not until you hear us out first.” Etho, Impulse, and Skizz all walk into view atop the building as well. Martyn scowls, putting it away.

“Don’t do anything he says, Martyn! He tricked me, it’s not worth it!” Grian calls down to Martyn, getting a kick from Ren. Grian glares up at him. “If I had a weapon and my hands weren’t tied, that’s means enough for combat.”

Ren growls, grabbing Grian by the hair with his free hand and forcing him up onto his feet, stood directly in front of Ren, front towards Martyn. Ren forces his head to tilt back, and holds his sword to Grian’s neck, lightly pressing, not enough to break any skin. “You would both be wise to choose your words carefully…this night doesn’t have to end in bloodshed. At least, not your own…” Ren smirks. “I’ll even give multiple options. Martyn, take Scott to red, or take a Crastle member out of the game, and I’ll release Grian. Fail to do so, and his blood is on your hands.”

“I’m yellow, I can’t kill Scott or attack a red unprovoked, it’s against the rules.” Rules he was willing to break moments ago, before Grian’s life was on the line. He’s not even looking at Ren, his vision focused in on the sword pressed to Grian’s neck. How it dents the skin in a bit, but does not yet bleed. But any more pressure, and they’ll have a serious issue.

Ren shrugs. “So be it.” And in one swift motion,

‘Grian was slain by Renthedog’

Martyn stands there in shock. All he can see is red. Screw it. He pulls his bow back out, drawing an arrow and shooting quickly.

Ren laughs. “You missed.”

“Ren…?”

Ren turns to Skizz, horrified. An arrow was now lodged in his chest. “Skizz-“ a second arrow hits before he can say anything more.

‘Skizzleman was shot by Inthelittlewood’

Ren looks back to where Martyn was, only to see he’s already darted away. He growls. They retreat to Dogwarts.

Martyn foregoes going back to Scott in favor or rushing home to Grian and BigB. He doesn’t even think as he practically slams the door open, running to where BigB and Grian are holding each other on the bed, and he collapses on the floor. “I’m sorry Grian, I’m so sorry…I…it’s all my fault…” he buries his face against the side of the bed, crying the tears he was trying his best to hold in not just as a result of this evening, but through the whole day. He feels a hand gently rest on his head, lightly stroking it. It must be BigB’s, it feels too big to be Grian’s. He doesn’t look to check.

But at the very least, Dogwarts was down a member. And Martyn avenged Jimmy.

BigB comforts both of his partners into sleep, carefully moving them both so they’re in bed, and much more comfortable. Martyn slightly woke up a bit, muttering something about Grian. “Grian’s right here, he’s right next to you, it’s okay…” he assures him softly, guiding Martyn’s hand to Grian’s. He smiles as he watches Martyn slowly curl into Grian, holding him and drifting back off again. He’s not sure what went down tonight. And he’ll let them explain when they’re ready. All he knows is he woke up to Grian respawning in the bed, yelling and scared, a scar around his neck.

A few days go by, eerily quiet from all sides. All allied groups only talking within themselves. Joel mostly kept to himself, only occasionally talking with his allies. Something big was coming, and it wasn’t going to be good. It very well could be the final battle approaching. Martyn would certainly be targeted by Dogwarts, no doubt about that. BigB and Scott would be targeted in general, as they were also yellow.

Being red has been really frustrating for Grian. Especially as it happened right before a lull where no actions were being taken. Martyn and BigB have managed to help keep him under control, preventing him from making a dumb decision. Lots of love is being sent over his way from each of them, and Grian is incredibly grateful for them both. It’s so hard to keep a level head while on red, mind near-constantly racing with streams of thoughts. The affection helps to quiet it down, and focus in on one thing at a time.

The three were doing final preparations when the first death message came through the communicators, Joel was slain by Ren. Followed very quickly with Scott being slain by Etho. They quickly finish up and head out, making a beeline for the flower valley. They meet up with Scott, and split off into two groups. Grian with BigB and Scott with Martyn. One red and one yellow, to try and scope out the enemies.

They don’t need to wonder where they could be, though, as Ren puts into the group comms a call for Impulse and Etho to fall back towards Dogwarts. Grian looks up at BigB. “Off to stop Dogwarts it is, then.”

As both groups arrive outside of the walls, they wait a moment to listen in on the fighting occurring inside. It’s certainly not going well for the Crastle, especially as Bdubs is the next death, fallen to Etho. They run in, arrows flying. It’s the perfect disruption to the current situation, and Scar takes advantage of Ren being distracted to turn the tide of their 1v1, swiping his foot below Ren’s feet, causing him to fall back. “The Red King dies today. For Cleo and Bdubs!” One solid, strong jab of Scar’s sword into Ren’s chest, and Ren disappears into a pile of items.

Martyn was perhaps just a little too captivated by the sight. He feels envy that Scar was the one who got the final blow on Ren. Especially after what he’d pulled with Grian. But he’s suddenly shoved to the ground by BigB, and as they land with a thud, he feels a sickeningly warm liquid start coming onto his shoulder. He looks to see a deep gash on BigB’s shoulder, blood pouring down onto Martyn. “Martyn, pay attention!” BigB winces, sitting up. But before he can fully stand, he turns into items. And Etho now towers over top of Martyn, a bloody axe in hand.

“Oh sorry, were you talking? I can get you to him asap, if you want.” Etho grins, his mask having fallen from his face at some point during the battle. He raises his axe, and Martyn, panicked, closes his eyes and covers his face with his arms. Thunder booms, but…Martyn is still there, at Dogwarts, on the ground. He looks, and Etho is gone. Martyn scrambles to his feet, thanking whoever it was that saved his life just then, not bothered to check the communicator.

He searches for Grian and Scott, finding them cornering Impulse and swiftly removing him from the game. He grins. “Nice job gu-“

Grian turns, a smile on his face having heard Martyn behind him. The smile quickly drops and turns to rage, Martyn standing with two blades coming from his chest before disappearing. Both Scar and Tango stand there, swords pointed outwards before them, crossed over another, coated in, most recently, Martyn’s blood.

And oh, how Grian wants to literally rip that smug smile off of Scar’s face in this moment.

He charges instantly, blocking a swing from Scar. Scott takes up dueling against Tango. “Oh Grian, surely you saw that coming! He was yellow, for crying out loud! We couldn’t have that.” Scar dodges a swing from Grian, grinning and smug. “And not to mention, with Dogwarts now out of the way, we don’t need help from you guys anymore.” Another attack from Scar gets blocked by Grian. “Just need to take each of you out, you three aren’t much of a threat when you’re on your own.” Another attack gets blocked, and Scar scowls. “Hey, I’m running out of words for my monologue, can you stop blocking me and just die faster!?”

And that’s when BigB runs in, at Grian’s side to help block another swing. “Not if I have anything to do about it.” And poor BigB, bless him, is only equipped with an iron chestplate and an unenchanted diamond sword, his normal sword from the beginning likely ended up in someone else’s inventory.

Thunder rumbles, and Tango cheers to himself. Scott lost. “BigB, get Tango, I can deal with Scar!” Grian orders, keeping his vision focused on every movement Scar makes. He feels BigB leave his side “You two are gonna pay for that, for Martyn, for burning Joel’s house that took Joel and I…you’re not going to live to see the sunset.” And sunset was coming soon. He charges, but at the last moment swaps up his movement, causing Scar to be thrown off. He uses this to his advantage to trip him over. Scar lands flat on his back, wind knocked out of him. Grian points his sword down at him. “Any last words?” Scar opens his mouth.

Thunder rumbles.

And Tango laughs.

BigB is gone.

Forget Scar. Grian charges Tango, fury overtaking him even further. He doesn’t think clearly. Every thought over and over and over is ‘Kill Tango, kill Tango, kill Tango”. He pushes past the sudden searing pain on his hand. When did he end up against a rock? He’s not going to make it, Tango is poised to strike, and-

And then Tango is gone.

Grian looks around, breathing heavy, hands shaky as he fetches a health potion from his pockets. He sees Martyn. Bow in his hand, running towards him. He downs the potion quickly, his throat and the sites of his injuries buzzing as they slowly repair. He coughs, the buzz tickling his throat. Everything still aches and his brain is pumping adrenaline like there’s no tomorrow. Because, quite frankly, there may not be one. It’s the final…

…three. The final three, Scar is still alive. Where did Scar go?

“Grian, you alright? I ran as fast as I could. Do you need any more health potions?” Martyn reaches him, catching up on his breath. “Where’s Scar and BigB? I saw the message about Scott…”

Grian looks to Martyn, eyes sad and horrified. “Martyn…Tango killed BigB…it’s just us and Scar…”

Martyn freezes in place. He’d unknowingly avenged BigB. He felt a message in his communicator come through, but he didn’t think to check, solely focused on returning as soon as he could. But he wasn’t fast enough. He was too late. He would have been too late for Grian, too, had he stopped to check. Martyn only just barely managed to save Grian’s life. “Scar is so dead. He is so dead!” Martyn shouts, scanning the area. “G, where’s my sword?”

“If Tango didn’t drop it, then Scar has it…”

“Looking for this?” They both immediately clock Scar as soon as he walks into view, enchanted diamond sword in hand. “It is pretty fancy, huh?” He turns it in his hands with a smirk. Scar’s gaze looks up at the two of them, and stays there as he drops it into a fire nearby, destroying it. “I’ve got a fancier one though, so I don’t need this.” He grins, pulling out another enchanted diamond sword. “Your inventory must have been full when Etho killed BigB, Martyn, because I saw this where you and Etho were after I shot him.”

Martyn releases an arrow before he even thinks about it, his body acting on instinct and anger. It grazes Scar’s cheek as he dodges out of the way. He pulls back another one, but hesitates as Grian charges in at Scar. Martyn searches around for a sword. Any sword, or even an axe, just something he can use to charge in and fight. He can’t risk shooting Grian by accident. He snatches the handle of an enchanted iron sword, running to join the fight. It seems like Grian and Scar were having a bit of a stalemate, both blocking the other with ease.

But Scar had clearly not been prepared to take on two people at once. And he fumbles, being struck by a swing from Martyn, a counterattack leaving an opening for Grian to stab. Scar collapses to his knees, dropping BigB’s sword and holding his side.

According to the comms, Grian got the final blow. But both swung at the same time while Scar was down, so they could argue they’d both gotten it. Martyn picks up BigB’s sword, turning it over in his hands. “…what now?”

Grian holds Martyn’s arm. “We take him home…and we find out who wins.”

Martyn sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t want to do this…but I know we have to.”

They travel home, hands held on the grip of BigB’s sword. They mount it onto the wall meant to hold their three swords. Instead, it stands alone, and they put flowers in place of where their own swords were meant to go.

They can’t fight in their home.

They find their way to the dark oak forest in the corner of the map. No armor, an iron sword each. It felt wrong in their hands. But Martyn’s sword was gone and they couldn’t use BigB’s. It would be unfair for Grian to use his sword, and no other enchanted diamond swords from others could compare. So iron it was.

The fight was slow. Neither wished to harm the other. They hated it, it made them feel sick. They had to resist every urge they had to drop everything and just let the other win. To let the other survive. To let the other live.

Grian lands a nasty blow on Martyn, who stumbles back and falls, sword cast aside. Grian kicks it away, further from Martyn’s reach, standing over him. He crouches down, sword held to Martyn’s neck.

He uses his free hand to gently hold Martyn’s face, a face full of fear and terror and love, feeling as it leans into his palm. He strokes his cheek with his thumb, wiping at tear lines from where Martyn cried as they were both stood.

He leans in, and gives him a soft, gentle kiss, tears of his own falling from his closed eyes.

He pulls away, ever so slightly, lips still ghosted against Martyn’s as he whispers to him.

“I love you…I’m sorry.”

His sword presses down, and he feels Martyn disappear, refusing to see it happen.

If he never saw it, it was never real.

More tears fall, eyes closed shut as he switches the sword in his hand, the familiar grip of his sword from the very start in his hands.

He turns it towards himself, aimed at himself, and-

——————

Ren has always been a man of many secrets. He plays his own cards close to his chest. But the cards of others have always been fair game. If you share what you know of another person, you can share a secret while remaining a mystery. It’s one of many lessons he’s learned growing up.

But when you’re new to an area, there’s only so many ways to remain a mystery. Most people aren’t open to share themselves if you don’t share too. To gain trust, you must not tell lies. To not lose secrets, you must not tell full truths. So you have to share half-truths. Even his name he shared as a half-truth. Told others his name was Ren Dog. So if the time came to reveal his true name, nobody would bat an eye at it.

Crown Prince Renatus of the Black Isles, born to the House of Dogwarts.

Or, more simply put, Prince Renatus Dogwarts.

Hopefully that time never need arrive. The Black Isles are feared across many lands. The discovery of him being the heir to the throne could lead to him being forced home, whether it was dead or alive. He could have every chance of life given to him stripped away all at once if word got out at a wrong time.

So under the guise of Ren Dog, friendly, fair, and generous merchant, he allows people to come close, to share with him goods and services in exchange for what he has to offer. Cash not always needed, if a trade is good enough. People grow to like him, make good on their deals, and they start to open up to him.

They offer him cards with which to play. Whether they’re aware of it or not.

Now that his business is established, even with the current lack of a proper direct path, he has gained all sorts of secrets of the people in the village. Gossip, rumors, broken promises, jealousy, desires, stolen llamas. He knows far more of others than anyone knows of him. To be quite frank, everyone only knows a few of his half-truths.

Except for one. Only one person knows a little bit more than anyone else. They may not yet know any full truth, but spending as much time as he does around him, well, Martyn gets to know a little bit more about Ren.

Ren would be lying if he said he hadn’t grown slightly fond of the elf. How they seemed to work on similar wavelengths, keeping cards close to their chest. Even if Martyn is willing to spare a few out, he’s definitely keeping things hidden from everyone. Ren finds it somewhat enticing, how Martyn can seem so open and yet is shut off and locked tight. He could feel it since that night they met, that Martyn was hiding something from him.

And how Ren wishes to find it out. To learn something more about this golden-haired elf who has lent himself into being a traveling sales promoter for him. Even beyond the original deal they made that night. A second offer had been made soon after. Martyn continues to spread word in exchange for shelter whenever he has need for it. Of course, Ren accepted, and was quick to get a secondary bed to his place. For Martyn, or any person who needs a place for the night.

He thinks how he could make this place even safer, more secure. From the nightly threat of monsters and the eventual, ever-looming threat of an oncoming winter. So he plans to construct walls circling around some of the land. Perhaps see if he can source someone to use magic on some plots of land so crops may grow throughout the winter. Dig and build out an underground area for safety.

Of course, he gets others to help him with the actual construction. He works on a fair bit of building it himself as well, but whether it’s a trade off of labor for product, or labor for payment, he’s not building this all by himself. It all comes naturally to him, leading and commanding others to follow his plans. Although, differently from how he’d do so publicly back home, he used kindness and acted on equal or similar footing.

Kindness while giving commands was something he could only ever do in secret. He bets that when he returns home, his good friend and future royal advisor, Mumbo, will be proud of him when he learns of all he’s done while on his search. Spreading kindness and knowledge, leading without being feared, and hopefully reuniting and returning with his long lost brother. But alas, all he can do until then is simply imagine anything his friend might say or do.

At some point before construction was over, Etho and Bdubs had stopped by. Etho was inquiring if Bdubs could get some enchantments if he joined in the pathmaking project, as he’s been part of the group and could use a little extra support since he’s lost a life. Ren accepts this deal. He trusts Etho’s judgment. The three chat as Bdubs does his enchanting, and Ren, knowing Cleo to be part of the group, inquires how things are going with the llama she took.

Etho says nothing, and Bdubs asks how he knows. So Ren tells about that night, when she’d wandered past. Bdubs confirms the llama is doing fine. After he finishes, the two men go on their way, and Ren resumes helping with constructing the wall.

Until Cleo stops by, asking to have a word with him in private. There, they tell him off for telling about the llama to other people, demanding to know who else he had told. He insists he only talked to Bdubs and Etho about it, as it was mentioned they were all part of the same group, so he assumes she’d already have told them. Except, Etho didn’t know, and they weren’t planning to let him know.

Ah, that’s certainly an issue. He apologizes, of course, and asks what she’d like in compensation. She figures it’s only fair that he shared her secret, so he must share one of his own. Hesitantly, he does. He has materials, both his own and those belonging to Martyn, hidden within the floorboards of the bedroom. He doesn’t demonstrate where, or even let them into the bedroom, but he tells regardless. This seems to satisfy Cleo, and she goes on her way.

So when Martyn finally returns, before anything, he apologizes. “Martyn, I am sorry. I’ve seem to have gotten in a small spot of trouble, and the only way out was to tell someone about the hidden floorboards. Someone else knows where we hide our materials, and for the sake of avoiding more trouble, I cannot share who it was.”

Martyn pauses. It’s clear to Ren he’d had something else on his mind, and was now trying to process this new information. “Hold on, wait, I’m sorry, you what? What kind of trouble would lead you to having to do that? You couldn’t have just like…let them have a go at the enchanting pedestal as compensation?”

“I could not. They’d gotten enchantments recently, it would not have been an offer of much value. They demanded a secret. And so, a secret I told. They don’t know which floorboards to look at, but they are aware of which room it’s in. Again, I apologize. If you’d like, I can help you to relocate your things to a different spot for better security.” He puts a hand to Martyn’s shoulder.

Martyn frowns “Yeah, maybe…but…Ren, I…I need a word with you. Somewhere more closed off so nobody can hear us.” Martyn grabs Ren’s wrist, and starts walking, leading him along back indoors to the bedroom before he lets go. Ren moves to sit on his own bed, and Martyn sits on his/the guest bed.

Martyn takes a deep breath. “Ren, you’re hiding something really, really big from me. I don’t know what specifically, but I’ve had it narrowed down to three things to me.” He looks directly into Ren’s eyes. “I came across someone else who knows about enchanting pedestals, and he said you’re either nobility, royalty, or a thief. And I need an answer. It’s incredibly important to everything I've been doing, and what I’ve been sent to do. No more beating around the bush like you’ve been doing anytime I ask about your past.”

Ren takes pause, a shocked expression across his face. Martyn has never looked so serious before this. At least, not at him. He closes his eyes and sighs. “If I must, then so shall you. A secret for a secret.” He opens his eyes back up, staring into the sky blue of Martyn’s. “I tell you what of those I am, and you tell me what you’ve been hiding, what you’re doing all the way up here.”

Martyn nods. “I can make that deal. Depending how you responded I was going to tell you anyway, but I can tell you even if it’s not the answer I was looking for.”

“Martyn, you must swear to not tell a soul about this unless I say so.” He waits for Martyn to respond, and after he swears, Ren stands, shoving his bed aside. He lifts another section of floorboard, one that Martyn was unaware of, and pulls out a satchel.

He stands, his back to Martyn. He sets the satchel on his bed, pulling out his crown. He lowers his head down, placing it upon his head, only raising his head as he turns to face Martyn once more. He sees Martyn’s eyes widen in shock. He immediately makes move to kneel before him, to which Ren sets a hand upon his shoulder. “Martyn, you don’t have to do that. You’re my friend. Please, only think of me as Ren, alright?”

“Ren…you don’t understand. You’re…I’m pretty sure you’re who I’m supposed to find.” Martyn looks up to meet Ren’s eyes. Ren grabs Martyn’s hands and pulls Martyn to his feet as he tells him about his dreams. “And there’s this voice, telling me to find the king.”

Ren frowns. He shakes his head. “Alas, it was so close…Martyn, I must apologize, I am no king, not yet. My father still lives, thus leaving me merely a crown prince. Perhaps there’s another somewhere, then. That you’re meant to find. Or maybe you’re meant to find my father. War sounds about right for…back home.” He gives Martyn’s hands a light squeeze.

“And where is that?” Martyn inquires.

Ren shakes his head. “I told you one secret, that was the deal. I cannot in good faith tell you of where I hail from, it’s much too dangerous and too cold for you alone. But after I finish my mission, I can bring you back with me.” The last thing he wants is for his new friend to be harmed. Especially one so particularly intriguing.

Martyn hesitantly nods. “I’ll accompany you on your mission, then, if you’ll have me.”

Ren nods immediately. “Yes, of course. I’ve found I rather enjoy your company, Martyn. I’d be honored to have you join me in my search.” The thought excites him, to be traveling with Martyn. In such a short time knowing one another, and he finds himself becoming attached to him, and then some.

“Thank you for telling me, Ren. Your secret is safe with me.” He gives Ren’s hands a squeeze before pulling them away. “I um…would still prefer my things get moved to a different hiding spot, you know. Since I don’t know who it is that knows our secret, in case they try to steal anything.”

“Of course, I’ll help you with that.” Ren removes his crown, hiding it back away again. Then, he gets to helping Martyn relocate his materials.

——————

“Xelqua dares to defy us so?”

“We should have removed him when we had the chance. He’s too ingrained now.”

“Seems a rather unfair advantage for that player to have one of us under command.”

“He doesn’t know how powerful Xelqua is, though.”

“No, but Xelqua is unpredictable. Perhaps we need to cause a little…accident.”

“He can just avoid anything we send his way, though.”

“Who said anything about us being the ones to attack him? Have you forgotten about the effects of being on a final life?”

“That’s true…perhaps we should send the players a message, then.”

“Our Will Be Done.”

——————

That night, every player (and “player”) has the same dream. An unknown voice, sometimes layered or echoed, sometimes a collection of voices.

()——————()

Red. The final life. A last chance to continue living, now forced to confront the reality of mortality.

While Green and Yellow are still the same as anyone else ever is, Red is different.

Red is driven by heightened emotions. Increased senses. Plagued with violent thoughts, desires to cause harm.

Attack Red unprovoked, and severe consequences shall be faced. But should Red make the first move, all bets are off.

Beware the Red.

Our Will Be Done.

()——————()

Everyone wakes with the same panic, the same confusion.

——————

“Grian…did you have that red dream too?” Grian hears Scar whisper beside him. He turns his head to see Scar has rolled over, directly facing towards him. He looks frightened.

Grian nods. “Yeah…I reckon everyone might have.” He stretches his back and his wings. A couple of loose feathers slowly float down, one landing on Scar’s face. They both chuckle a bit. “Sorry, guess it’s molting season. I gotta work on preening these out sometime soon.”

“It’s no problem! And you know, I could help you with that if you needed. I’ve helped Skizz preen before, back when he actually took good care of his wings.” Scar pulls the red feather from his face, looking it over in what little light there was making its way into the room.

“That…would be nice, actually. Thank you.” Grian smiles. He watches as Scar carefully puts the dropped feather onto the floor, away from the pile. He yawns, closing his eyes and resting his head back onto his crossed arms. Then he feels Scar moving closer.

“Hey, Grian?” Scar says softly.

Grian opens one eye, looking directly at him. He was certainly significantly closer, but he was aware of that. “What’s up?”

“…what do we do if…if I turn red?”

Grian thinks a moment. “Well, I’m still staying with you. I owe you until I die the first time, remember? As far as I’m concerned, nothing changes.”

Scar still yet frowns. “It said you’d have a desire to harm…Grian, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I…” he puts a hand over Grian’s “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Grian sighs. “A desire doesn’t mean you have to do it. It’s not a need, it’s a want. You can control it. It said emotions are heightened, so surely even feelings of happiness are heightened, too. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Besides, what are the chances you’ll go so soon? You’d still be on your first life if it weren’t for me.” Another yawn as he finishes speaking. “It’s still night, I’m gonna go back to sleep.” Close eye.

“Hey, Grian…?” Scar calls out softly again.

Grian opens his eye again. “What, Scar?”

“You can say no if you’re uncomfortable, but…could I…go to sleep with an arm around you…? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep well if I feel alone.”

Grian blinks. “Um…sure, I guess? I don’t mind that for one night…just be careful of my wings. And also, after we wake up, it never happened.”

Scar smiles, scooting even closer to Grian, carefully wrapping a loose arm around him, making sure everything is comfortable before closing his eyes. “Thanks, Grian.”

——————

BigB has been camped out by a cave for a while, working on exploring and gathering materials. It became a routine. In the morning, relight his fire, prepare two meals, have one, take the other into the caves. Do a bit of exploring and gathering and fighting monsters, find time to have lunch. Spend the rest of the afternoon trying to find his way back out, get to the surface, have some dinner, go to bed.

That is, until Martyn showed up at his campsite one evening as he prepared his dinner. He heard his name being called out, and looks up to see Martyn approaching. He smiles wide. “Martyn! Good to see you, come sit, I’ll get some more food on here for you, I wasn’t expecting company.” He motions to a large rock near the fire.

“You don’t have to do that, BigB, I wouldn’t want to cut into your supplies.” He comes over and sits, groaning a bit as he squats down. He relaxes once he’s sat. And BigB can’t help but notice that Martyn’s stomach makes a grumbling sound.

“I think your stomach says otherwise.” He chuckles. “I don’t mind, really. I was gonna replenish soon anyway.” He gets up and goes to his food storage, grabbing a couple more potatoes, a piece of meat, and some other ingredients. He gets it all prepped as the food currently on the pan over the fire cooks.

Once it’s done, he plates it, puts the new items into the pan, and hands off the freshly cooked food to Martyn. He holds up his hands, not taking the plate. “No, you go ahead and eat, you’ve been sitting here working on it and I’ve just walked up.”

“I can’t eat and cook at the same time. Go ahead, I insist.” BigB smiles, still holding out the plate. He watches Martyn take it, and turns his attention to the food now cooking, grinning as he sees Martyn practically inhale it in his peripheral vision. “Taste good?”

Martyn nods. “It’s fantastic! How in the world did you make something so good out in the middle of nowhere?” He shovels the last bit of food into his mouth off the plate before setting it down.

“I did a lot of camping growing up, and my family back home run a small tavern, so we’re always cooking. Put that together, and I was basically raised making food outdoors.” He flips the food over. “I may not be the best fighter, but I know how to be resourceful.”

“So what are you doing all the way out here then? Seems an odd choice to be camped out by a cave. Especially given I was saving you from one a few weeks ago.” Martyn stretches his arms, looking around at their surroundings.

“Who said I was camping right now? That’s just my basement, it’s really big and confusing. I keep getting lost all the time, it’s like another world down there, made of long identical hallways.” BigB jokes, but with a sincere look on his face and a serious tone in his voice.

Martyn panics a little bit. “Oh um, I mean, are…please tell me you aren’t being serious, because this seems like a pretty horrible idea, BigB, your closest neighbors are on the other side of a cliff.” He seems genuinely worried.

BigB laughs. “Of course I’m not! I’m gathering some materials for a couple people back in the village. Just taking some odd jobs here and there so I can work my way up to getting my own spot. Also, neighbors? I didn’t know anyone lived out this way.”

Martyn sighs in relief hearing BigB was joking, even chuckling a little bit. “Fair enough, I’ve been doing some tasks for Ren for a bit now. Spreading word of his business, doing little tasks here and there, he pays pretty fair now that he’s been getting a bit of business.”

“I remember you talking about that, I still haven’t had the chance to go stop by yet. Sounds like a pretty neat guy if he’s doing all that for you despite having only just come here himself.” He plates his food, now that it’s fully cooked. “Speaking of neat people, have you seen or heard from Grian? Last I saw was when you guys helped me to the healer’s, and last I’ve heard is he went with some guy to the desert for some reason.”

“Did nobody tell you what happened?” Martyn looks shocked. BigB shakes his head, and Martyn proceeds to explain everything, from the pranks, to the legend, to the promise. All as BigB has his dinner. “-I don’t really know how I feel about that, though. I’ve seen Grian since then, and it didn’t seem like he was enjoying it too much. I was wanting to find you, actually. See if we could try going on a mission to get our fellow Blue Sword Boy out of this deal, save him from Scar and the desert.”

BigB considers all this. “I mean, depending on how much he’s being put through and how long it lasts, it could be a completely unfair deal. What if he’s working him to exhaustion? Or it takes several years to be freed? That just wouldn’t be right.” He crosses his arms. “Conversely, if it’s just a little extra casual help for maybe at the absolute most a year? That seems fair to me.”

“I guess.” Martyn rolls his eyes. “I suppose I just don’t trust Scar. Something about the situation just doesn’t feel quite right. I can’t put a finger on it.” He closes his eyes. “I feel like I need a second opinion on it, but I don’t know who to even ask. You never met Scar, the guys over there haven’t really interacted with those two enough, and anyone else I know who knows them doesn’t see an issue.”

“I mean, it sounds like you’ve got a second opinion, it’s just opposite of your own.” He pats Martyn’s shoulder. “You keep mentioning some people nearby, I haven’t met them. Mind showing me the way in the morning? We can rest in my tent for the night.” He motions over towards it.

Martyn sighs. “Sure, why not. I don’t have anything else to do and I’m sure you’ll appreciate a break from the cave.” He stands up. “Now don’t give me your pillow or anything just because I don’t have one, I’ll be just fine.”

BigB chuckles. “Fine, fine. Good thing to know, because it’d be hard for me to sleep without it.” He puts out the fire, making sure it won’t relight before getting up himself and heading in. Martyn is setting himself up a spot while BigB gets into his, falling asleep first.

In the morning, he gets himself and Martyn some breakfast, before they pack up for the trip over to these other guys-Scott and Jimmy, right? He only said the names this morning at breakfast-that Martyn has been talking about.

They make their way there, and Martyn recalls how he, along with a guy named Joel, worked with these two to mess with Scar and Grian because Scar had scammed Joel. All for some sapling-branches, which frankly sounds rather ridiculous. But nonetheless, it is a funny story.

They enter into the hidden area, and BigB is slightly taken aback at how beautiful it is. The flowers, the stream, the small farm, the buildings built into the cliffs…it seemed so peaceful here. Well, if you can get past the sound of the sheep and chickens inside their pens.

He spots a blond man tending to the plants, who looks over towards them and waves. “Hello Martyn! Welcome back, who’s this you’ve got with you?” He smiles, setting what he’d collected into the basket on his arm. BigB sees that him talking makes another man, this one with tealish-blue hair, walk out from the higher up building. He looks a little bit tired.

“Jimmy, this is BigB. BigB, this is Jimmy. And that guy walking over is his husband, Scott. Scott, this is my friend, BigB! He’s been camped out all by himself for a while with no idea anybody else was nearby.” Martyn puts a hand on BigB’s shoulder, arm reached across his back.

Scott smiles. “Nice to meet you, BigB. As Martyn said, I’m Scott, and Jimmy here is my husband.” He loops his arm through Jimmy’s. “This little valley here is our home.”

“It’s beautiful. Just looking at this area is making it the most pleasant day I’ve had for about a week.” He takes another look around, admiring how cute and cozy it all felt. How despite the chill in the air, the sun was bright and warm right now. He could almost pretend it was spring instead of fall.

“So Scott, how’s work been on getting your potions together? I remember that was your goal when we were exploring in the netherworld.” Martyn asks. “Needed healing potions, yeah?”

Scott hums, nodding. “Yep. You’ll notice I’m all healed from that adventure. I’m really glad I was able to get both projects handled all in one trip, I wouldn’t have been able to do that if you weren’t there, Martyn.” He smiles.

Martyn frowns, raising an eyebrow. “Both projects? What, you needed two different types of potions or something? I’d only count that as one project, myself. What else could you have possibly needed to go in there to work on?”

“Oh, the potions are one project, thanks to you I was able to get it. No, I handled the first one before we met. See, I needed a master spellbook from the piglinfolk, in order to create an enchanting pedestal.”

——————

Martyn widens his eyes. He remembers something Ren said before, about how those pedestals are extremely rare and valuable, and incredibly difficult to procure. They require very specific items, knowledge, and abilities. And yet, here’s Scott just casually mentioning he had created one. “I’m sorry, you said you just…made…one of those pedestals?”

“Yes, I did. Did you not know that people make them, Martyn? I thought with your gear and all that you’d know all about them. Unless it was given to you by someone else?” Scott is practically using his hold on Jimmy to keep himself stood upright. He looks more exhausted than he had been before.

“No, I knew! Sort of. Ren only briefly explained it, about what makes them so valuable and hard to come by.” He pauses. “You said before you’re a nobleman, yeah?”

Scott nods, then flinching just a little bit, using his free hand to hold his head. Jimmy guides Scott to sit on the ground, sitting beside him. “Scott, you shouldn’t be out and walking around if you’re not recovered yet, it’ll only drain the energy you just got back.” Jimmy puts his arm around Scott, prompting Scott to lean onto him, head rested on Jimmy’s shoulder, eyes closed.

Martyn frowns more, sitting on the ground across from them, BigB following suit. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

Scott nods in response. “I…I’m fine. Just…takes a lot of energy to make those. I’ll be fine. I’ve done it before, I know what I’m doing.” He opens one eye to look over at Martyn.

“You’ve…right, okay.” Martyn looks down, a hand to his chin, and thinks for a moment. “They’re made with rare, valuable materials and extremely hard to come by, most people have never heard of them before, much less seen them. You, the only other person I’ve met who knows about and has even made them, is a nobleman. Ren hasn’t mentioned having any kind of a status. I get the feeling that he isn’t telling me something…”

Jimmy frowns towards Martyn. “Who is this Ren guy you’re talking about? You’ve mentioned him twice now. We’ve never heard about him before. He’s not dangerous, is he?”

Martyn looks back up, with wide eyes. “Oh, no, he’s great! He’s this werewolf that’s made an enchanting business in the spruce woods by the mountains. Renchanting, it’s called. He’s really quite generous, and perhaps even a little bit too generous at times. He’s letting me use a bed and some storage at his place until I settle on a spot, for an example. I can’t believe I haven’t mentioned him sooner.”

Scott raises an eyebrow “He’s just letting you live out of his house? Surely there’s something he’s getting out of this. And yes, if he has an actual enchanting pedestal, and no known special status, he’s not telling you something. Either he’s nobility, royalty, or a thief.”

Martyn sits in silence for a moment, Scott’s last two sentences swirling through his mind. BigB puts a hand on his shoulder. “Martyn? Are you alright?” His dreams join in. And what he’s seen. The book. The red cloak. Cold, harsh, winter. War. A king. Nobility. King. Royalty. King. Thief. A war. A king. Find the king. Find Ren’s secret.

Martyn stands suddenly. “I need to go. I…I need to…” he takes a step back. “I need to know if I’ve messed up or not.” He turns and runs off, ignoring the sound of BigB calling and running after him, which stops as BigB undoubtedly realizes that Martyn isn’t going to stop.

——————

The more Skizz thinks about it, the worse he begins to feel. Why, why do feelings have to be so stupid? Sure, he never really liked the llama, but he really, really liked Scar, truly. He’s got his pros and cons, with the cons being the llama and being a conman. But Skizz can’t help but imagine a world where those two things just weren’t a thing.

He’d be happy with Scar, whether they stayed as friends or became something more. True, in the past, Scar had politely turned down Skizz’s feelings, saying he wasn’t looking for any sort of relationship at the time. Which Skizz can respect, especially as Scar was in an especially rough spot when Skizz brought it up.

But they could live in the village, people could learn to trust Scar as he’d matured and made up for everything he’d done. Skizz would help him every step of the way, and they’d always be by each other’s side. So long as they’re not favored above him, Skizz would help Scar care for all sorts of animals. He remembers how Scar dreamed of being an animal farmer when they were little. He’s not sure what happened to that.

He sighs, sitting up in his nest. “This guilt is gonna be the…well not THE death, I suppose…the…second? Death of me? Geez, that’s…really weird to say.” He stretches, watching as a couple of feathers fall from his wings. Guess it’s molting time again. He’ll have to remember to shake out his wings every so often to get those fallen feathers out of there. Can’t be bothered to try and pick through them all on his own.

Maybe he…no, he absolutely can’t ask Scar to help with it like he used to. Especially not in the same trip where he’s got to tell Scar what he knows. It will just seem like he’s lying to get a favor out of him. Which is exactly what he’s been trying to discourage Scar from doing for a long time now.

“Fine. I’ll go back there and tell that jerk about his stupid llama…” he pauses in the middle of getting up and out of his nest, slowly sitting back down “…in the morning. No! Yes? I’m too tired to think about this!” He flops back onto his side, arms crossed in frustration. “Come on Skizz, it’s been a long time since you actually lost sleep over this guy, it’s not worth it. He can handle one more night not knowing what happened.”

He reassures himself as he falls asleep, dreaming of a time now so long ago.

/\/\——————\/\/

They were maybe 16 at the time? Both a pair of quite rowdy teenagers, just as they had been as younger kids. They laugh as they run away into the woods, an angry adult following on the path behind them. They slip away to their quick hiding spot, struggling to stay quiet as they wait for the adult to pass by.

Once they’re in the clear, they fall over, chuckling and crying from how much they’re laughing. They slowly get up to their feet, and Scar grabs Skizz’s hand and starts running towards their hideout. Skizz feels his face flush, he knows it’s silly, just a friendly act from Scar, but he’s still holding his hand as they run.

Once in the abandoned castle that they called their hideout, they settle down and relax, sat on the piles of junk that were once furniture. “Did you see the look on his face when he noticed the sheep were all different colors?” Scar asks, chuckling.

“Yeah! Oh, he was so mad.” Skizz snickers. “Oh it’s gonna be a mess to clean everything up. I think our hands might be stained for at least a couple weeks.” He looks down at his hands, splotches of all different colored pastes caked onto his hands, his clothes covered in smears and streaks and blobs of color as well.

“Oh I didn’t even think about that! Oh Skizz, we made such a huge mess of ourselves. Why in the world did I wear light colors today?” Scar looks at his once cream-colored shirt and grey pants, now covered in an array of shades and hues.

Skizz smiles, giving him a friendly nudge. “Hey, I’m in the same boat here. And technically I was the one to initiate the dye fight. So it’s my fault we’re more covered than we would have been.” He looks fondly at Scar, admiring the way some of the scarring on his face reacts to his big grin.

How he wants to take his dye-coated hand and put it to Scar’s cheek. To hold his face in his hand and brush his thumb gently along it. To press their foreheads together and close his eyes, and take in a quiet moment with him. A moment where it’s just them, and nothing else matters.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He doesn’t have the courage to actually do something like that.

/\/\——————\/\/

Skizz wakes up in the morning, getting himself ready before he makes his way towards the desert. He can’t believe he’s headed there willingly, and of his own accord. To tell Scar about the llama.

As he exits the treeline, he widens his eyes at seeing a pile of rubble where the shack was. “What in the world-what happened?” He rushes up to it and digs through it, finding only broken things and strewn straw that was once his nest. Well, Scar must not live here anymore, but where-

He looks around, stopping as he spots a house at the top of the desert mountain. A full house. With a tower. How-where did that thing spring up from? And oh, of course now that Skizz moved out, Scar gets an actual house made. Assuming Scar does actually live there.

He heads towards it, making his way up the mountain. He’s almost to the top when he sees Scar walk out of the front door, and both stop in their tracks spotting the other. He says nothing for a moment, looking at Scar’s tired, yet surprised face.

“Skizz, you…hey, um…I’m sorry to have seen you’d…you know…” Scar says awkwardly, messing with his cloak and shifting as he speaks. Something is clearly bothering him, but there’s certainly way too many things to be able to try and narrow it down.

Skizz continues making his way up, standing level with Scar, but keeping a distance. “Yeah…enderman, right down there…” he motions down the mountain towards the rest of the desert. “Scar, I…I need to talk to you about-“

“Pizza’s dead.”

Skizz blinks in surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”

Scar repeats, head hung down slightly. “Pizza’s dead. Someone or something attacked him and destroyed the shack. I…I know you weren’t a fan of him, but…I thought I’d tell you, now that you’re here.” He looks back up at Skizz, eyes slightly teared up. “I’ve been having a rough time lately, after you left and now with him gone.”

Skizz is paused. He knows full well that Pizza is alive. That lady…geez, what was her name? Stole him. Could she have destroyed the shack too? “Scar, are you absolutely sure he’s dead?” He steps closer, hesitantly.

Scar looks back down, nodding. “There was blood…I couldn’t hear him and he’s not come back…” his voice chokes up.

Skizz frowns. He sighs, ignoring the voices in his head to not do it. But he comes up and hugs Scar. Pats his back as he feels Scar place his face into his shoulder. He feels so guilty at finding some slight enjoyment in the moment, holding Scar as he finds comfort in him. It’s almost as bad as the guilt that’s been building up regarding the truth about Pizza.

“Scar, I’m finished making lunch are you-oh.” Skizz watches as Grian walks out of the front door, pausing seeing the two of them there. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

Scar pulls back from Skizz to look back at Grian. “No, it’s fine. Thanks for letting me know.” He turns to Skizz, a small smile, though his eyes are still a bit wet. “You want to join us for lunch? It’s a little bit messy inside our place right now, but we’re working on it.”

Us. Our. We. Each one of those words has a slight sting as he hears it, even if that wasn’t Scar’s intention. Not that Skizz has any actual right to be upset about it, he was the one who left Scar behind. “Sure, why not. I did come by to talk with you, after all.”

Scar smiles a little bit more. He takes Skizz’s hand and pulls him inside, showing him around. Grian follows behind them, helping out whenever Scar gets caught on a word. Or to correct him or add more context. Like when Scar shows the bedroom.

“And this is Grian and I’s bedroom!” Scar motions into the room, which just has a wide pile of clothes, blankets, and pillows on the floor, with a couple crates of things dotted about. But only the one pile of comfier stuff. Which sets off the alarms in Skizz’s head. “We’re using that pile of stuff as our bed, Grian made it.”

“Scar I swear, you really need to think about how you’re wording and explaining things.” Grian sighs and facepalms, exasperated. “I made it for myself while Scar was away, and since he came back, we found that there’s not enough for us to make two piles. So we have to share it until we can get our own beds.”

Okay, that…feels a bit better. Skizz does still feel a pang of jealousy towards Grian, though.

“Says the guy who has been getting nightmares every night unless he tucks me under his wing.” Scar teases, poking at one of Grian’s wings. Which promptly gets it flapped/smacked into his face as Grian’s face gets flushed. Scar laughs. “Hey, it’s true! Don’t think I don’t know it’s happening. Every so often I just get a little cozier at night.”

And Skizz’s stomach drops. “Wait, I’m lost now, are you…what’s the setup here?”

“We’re just friends, Skizz. Scar just keeps making those sorts of jokes at me.” Grian crosses his arms and rolls his eyes, although he’s still a little bit pink in the cheeks. “As soon as we have our own beds, we’re keeping our distance.”

“Fine, whatever you say Grian.” Scar holds up his hands in surrender. “Let’s get eating then, shall we? I’m hungry, and you said you wanted to talk, right, Skizz?” Scar heads off to another room, and the other two follow.

“Yeah, I do.” Well now he wants to talk about all sorts of things. But he has to remind himself what he thought about before. Only talk about the llama this time. So Scar won’t think he’s trying to get a favor or trick him. He’ll have to come another time to talk more.

They sit around a table with chairs, which Scar proudly declares that he built himself. And it’s only very slightly wobbly. “Scar, you might have missed out on a calling as a carpenter. These are actually pretty nice.” Skizz says, wiggling a little bit in his seat to test the durability.

“Oh Skizz, we both know I wouldn’t make it very far with that, there’s already two fantastic carpenters in town. Who would give me the business if they already know about better options?” Scar shrugs. “Anyway, what did you want to talk about?” He asks as Grian serves up their food.

Skizz takes a deep breath. “It’s actually involving a topic that’s been mentioned already, but it didn’t feel like the right time to mention it.” He looks deep into Scar’s eyes, putting a hand over his. “Scar, I saw someone pass by my house with Pizza. Alive and uninjured.”

He lets Scar sit with that information for a moment to process. “I…are…are you sure it was Pizza?” Scar asks, using both his hands to hold Skizz’s, a sincere look on his face.

Skizz nods. “Positive. No other llama would look at me with such malice and spit at me with such accuracy.” He puts his other hand with their held hands. “I…I’m ashamed to admit it, but I knew about this for a little over a week now. I was still angry at you for everything when it happened, so I did nothing to stop it…but then the guilt hit me. And I couldn’t take it, I’m so sorry, Scar.”

Scar sits there, staring. Silent and motionless. Skizz feels the weight of the silence building more and more. He looks away from him and towards Grian, who seems tense as well. “Scar…?” Grian slowly reaches out and puts a hand to Scar’s shoulder, which finally unfreezes him.

“I…” Scar sighs, tugging his hands away from Skizz. “…how…Skizz, you…you know how important Pizza is…why would you let someone do that? They could be so far away by now! Did they tell you what they were doing? Where did they head towards?” Scar gets to his feet quickly, a hand on the table as he looks down at Skizz, who is still seated.

Grian stands and reaches for Scar’s arm. “Scar-“ “Grian. No. Sit back down.” Scar doesn’t even look back as he says it, eyes burning into Skizz. Grian does as told, worry on his face.

“Scar, if I could do it over, absolutely I would have done something about it. I was mad and not thinking clearly. I don’t remember their name, but they said you scammed them so they were going to keep hold of him until they get what they wanted. They went in the direction of the village. If they’re using him to bargain, I’m sure that’s only as far as they’d go, but I can’t promise that that was their destination.” Skizz knows how badly he’s messed up.

Scar stares a moment longer to consider before sitting back down. “…fine. I’m still mad, but I’ll try to check it out. If I find out you’re lying…I don’t know if I’ll be capable of forgiving you.” Skizz can see how much it hurt Scar to say that. Scar, who kept giving him endless chances despite being wronged and left behind many times. Scar, who besides Pizza, had only one friend his whole life.

Until now, it seems. Scar has a new friend, who might possibly be more, and Skizz may be on his last chance with Scar. Stupid, scamming, beautiful, caring Scar. If Skizz didn’t know the true Scar, the one that was so thoughtful and just wanted to make friends and care for all sorts of creatures, he’d not care so much.

“Scar, I swear on everything, that to the best of my knowledge, Pizza is alive somewhere not too far away, and you have the opportunity to get him back.” Skizz responds, with a completely serious tone.

Scar nods. “Let’s eat, then. Stick around after if you want, Grian and I are going to get back to work once we’re finished.” Without another word, he digs in. Skizz looks to Grian, who gives him a slightly worried and sad expression.

Not a single word was exchanged as the three ate, Scar finishing first and then going outside. Skizz is now alone with Grian. “Grian…I know we don’t know anything about each other, and I don’t know what he’s told you about me, but I promise I wasn’t lying to him.”

Grian looks up. “I kn-“ pause “I…know how badly it affected Scar when he thought Pizza was dead. He’d finally started accepting it. He just doesn’t want to get too hopeful, only for it to be a lie. If you truly still care for Scar, I hope that you’re right about this.”

“Thank you…I should go, I don’t want to overstay my welcome any more than I think I already have. Take care of him, will you? Until he’s got Pizza back?” He stands, headed to the door.

——————

Scar’s not sure how long he’s been walking. Or where he’s even going. He just needed to get away. He couldn’t be around Grian, the sooner he can be alone, as he eventually will become, the better. The more used to it he can be. On his own terms, not suddenly in the blink of an eye.

But he’s been wandering for a while, and while he had water with him, he didn’t bring any food. And he was starving. He was just about ready to start chewing his own arm off when he heard voices ahead. They sound familiar, but that’s about as much as he can tell with how fogged his brain is. But it’s all he needs to push himself to go towards them.

He enters into a clearing, where the old abandoned castle was. So he must be relatively nearby to the village. He sees a few people ahead, chatting amongst themselves. He gets closer, and one looks over.

Bdubs widens his eyes and runs up to him. “Scar! Oh my gods, what happened? You don’t look so good, let’s get you sat down-hey guys! Scar’s here!” He guides Scar over towards the group, getting him sat down on a stump.

“Thanks…” Scar mumbles, just going where he’s guided. He sits down, practically collapsing as he’s finally off his feet. He takes out his flask and gets a drink of his water as Bdubs crouches beside him, asking again what happened.

The others come gather around as well, varying levels of concern on their faces. Before he can say anything, his stomach growls loudly, and he flinches a little bit, holding an arm over his stomach. “Have any food to spare…? I don’t know how long it’s been since I ate.”

Etho hands him an apple from his bag, which he eats quickly. “Woah, don’t choke on that, maybe slow down a bit-“ Etho says, but stops as Scar glances up at him. His eyes are tired and bloodshot and so, so incredibly sad and distant. He sighs “Sorry, you’re clearly going through something right now.”

Scar finishes the apple, and while it wasn’t much, it was just enough to satisfy himself for now. “Thank you. I…I forgot to grab food before I left the desert…I don’t know how long ago it was…I…” he feels himself tear up again, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his hands.

He feels someone pat his back as he cries. “Oh Scar, what happened? This isn’t like what we’ve known of you.” Bdubs asks again, now right next to him.

“Pizza’s dead…I…I couldn’t find him anywhere, and there was blood…the shack collapsed…something or someone attacked him and now he’s dead and I can’t even find his body!” Scar sobs, a frustrated shout at the end. “I…I can’t…I can’t…I…I failed him…”

“…and you’re sure he’s dead, not just missing…?” He hears Cleo ask, a somewhat tense tone to her voice.

“He has to be, what else could have happened…he knows to come find me or to make noise so I find him…it’s just something I taught him…he was more than a pet, he was my best buddy.” Scar sniffles. “I first found him alone and injured, so I took care of him until he was all better. I fed him, I brushed him, I got him used to walking again. We seemed to sort of understand each other. When the time came to let him go, he wouldn’t move, just staring at me. He followed as I walked away, and from there, I couldn’t just leave him. He’d been by my side ever since, no matter what people thought of me. Someone was on my side…and for once, it was unconditional.”

He continues to cry for a little bit, Bdubs rubbing his back. “Losing someone is hard, I know that well…my grandpa gave me the pocket watch before he passed. It’s all I’ve got of him, which is why I was so worried when the clock disappeared. I didn’t want to lose it, or it’s like I lost him again.”

“I told Grian he was free to go…I can’t handle losing someone so suddenly now that Pizza’s gone…so I told him to go so it’s on my terms that he’s left me. He wouldn’t go, so I left and told him to take his time leaving…I’ve been wandering aimlessly since…I don’t even know what to do anymore…Pizza was my only constant in life…when I had nothing else, I had him.”

Tango sits on the other side of Scar from Bdubs, patting his shoulder. “Don’t give up on anybody too quick, maybe Grian will still be your friend. Heck, maybe he stayed because he does still want to be your friend. And he’s waiting for you to come back, or he’s out looking for you. You never know if you don’t ask.”

Scar sighs. “I don’t know…he’s always so adamant to keep himself as separate from me. Like saying the house he’s building isn’t ours, it’s mine. And he’s just staying there for a bit.” He looks up, noticing how the abandoned castle looks different. “Have you guys been fixing this place up…? It looks a lot better than it used to.”

Bdubs perks up a bit. “Yeah we have! It’s been a lot of work trying to clean things up and repair the walls. I was trying to work on fixing the roof and I got knocked off the top by a phantom. That’s how I lost a life. But I’ll be more careful next time, once I have the wood all ready to go.”

Scar gets up, using the stick he’d found to pull himself to his feet. “I remember playing in here as a kid, sneaking around and pretending to be monsters and knights with Skizz.” He walks closer, but Cleo stops him by putting a hand on his arm. He looks to her questioningly.

“It’s a bit of a hazard spot in there right now, there’s piles of materials and tools everywhere. I’d recommend taking in any views from outside until we’re all repaired and cleaned up. Don’t want you misstepping onto anything sharp.” She guides him back towards the stump.

He frowns. “I’ve been all around inside that place many times, I’m not too worried about some piles of wood. And Grian and I were working on building a house! I can be fine in there. Just tell me you’d rather not have anybody in until it’s clean, it’s fine if you’d prefer that.” He crosses his arms.

Cleo just nods. She seems a little tense, probably because he did just raise his voice a little bit. “Sorry for yelling, I…I’ve just been having a really rough time…any chance anyone can spare me some more food? Not much, just enough to get me back home…”

——————

As Scar leaves, Impulse looks to Cleo. “Okay, you were acting pretty weird during all that. Would you care to explain?” He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

Cleo scoffs. “What, are you accusing me of murdering Pizza? You really think I would stoop that low, Impulse?” She places her hands on her hips. “What kind of person do you take me for that I would purposely injure someone’s pet?”

“I never said anything about that, just that you were acting weird. Seems to me like perhaps you might know something…assuming you’re not a murderer.” He shrugs, leaning back against a tree behind him.

“For your information, Impulse, the only murder I’ve committed was when I was human. And it was purely an accident.” She pauses, seeing Etho, Impulse, and Tango look at her with wide eyes and concerned faces. “It was! I did mean harm, but not death. He was an asshole to my sister.” Another pause seeing their confused faces. “Yes, I had a sister. I got some memories back, it’s a long story.”

Etho steps forward. “Can we get back on track, please? We were talking about making the path that we owe Ren, we should get a start on that soon. Bdubs, I’ll see about getting you included into the deal if you help out, but I can’t make any promises. But he is a pretty generous guy, I’m sure it will be fine.”

——————

It’s already been dark for a few hours when Scar finally makes his way back into the desert. As he gets out of the trees and sees the mountain, he stops right where he is. Right on top of the mountain, where before there was just framework and the start of a foundation, now stood a flat-topped house with the beginnings of a tower on top of it.

Just how long had he been away?

And more importantly…was Grian still there?

He trudges his way through the sand, making his way up the mountain. He’s almost to the top when he hears a flap of wings, and he looks up as quick as he can, seeing Grian fly down from the roof and land on the mountain. He tears up, running up and hugging him.

He feels Grian very slowly hug him back, whether it was because he’s tired, surprised, confused, or feeling awkward, Scar doesn’t care. It’s just nice. As much as he wanted Grian to have left, it does actually mean a lot more to him that he didn’t. “You stayed…”

“I couldn’t leave…I…I made a promise, and I couldn’t in good faith go back on it. I’m making a house, and I’m staying here until I’ve lost my first life. Or until the house is done, if I die before completing it. But…even if I leave, I’d like to still be your friend…if you’re alright with that.” Grian responds, somewhat nervously.

“Of course you can, Grian! I…Grian, thank you…you really have no idea how much this means to me.” He yawns. “I’m also incredibly tired after walking for days on end…can we head inside and get some sleep?” He pulls himself back so he doesn’t just lean his full weight into Grian.

“Yeah, come on in. I haven’t really done anything inside, it’s mostly just items and materials scattered about. But I recovered what I could from the shack. If it wasn’t broken, I got it up here. Except for your bed, that is. That was way too heavy to get up here. Especially on my own. So you’ll have to cuddle up inside of the pillows, blankets, and clothes that I brought up.” Grian leads the way inside.

Scar smirks a bit. “You mean to tell me you missed me so badly, you got all cozy in my clothes while I was away?” He chuckles, seeing Grian snap his head back to look at him, face all red.

“That is not-Scar, don’t make me regret wanting to still be your friend!” He nudges him, then turns back around and continues inside. Yes, it is a mess indeed. But so was the shack. This is actually clean compared to what the shack was like. Except for the blankets and such strewn about in what’s meant to be the bedroom.

Scar immediately gets himself set to one side of the pile, stretching before laying back. He looks to Grian, who is headed out of the room. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to get some sleep? It’s really late.”

——————

Grian pauses in the archway that separates the bedroom from the main area, looking back towards Scar laying in the pile. “I just need to finish one thing really quick, then I’ll be back down. You sleep, you can finally get some proper rest after days of walking.” He smiles, and waits for Scar to close his eyes before heading up to the roof.

He stands at the edge of the roof, looking across the desert surrounding them. He looks up to the stars. “I know you’re watching. I know I’m messing up the story by doing this. But damnit, I can’t help it. And it’s already been thrown so off-track, I don’t think it could recover. So I’m doing it my way. I’m playing this death game story how I want. And if I want to make friends with a player, so be it. You can’t control me even if you wanted to. You couldn’t make me listen in the story of Evo when I didn’t know who you were, you won’t make me listen here when I know what’s going on.”

He looks to the moon, full and bright. “Pearl…Xiomara…however you want to be called…I don’t know if you are able to watch or not…but if you are, I miss you. I’m sure you’ll be glad I’ve made a friend. I promise, when I get back, I will try to help you. I swear.”

He lingers a moment, before heading back down inside. He tiptoes into the bedroom, slowly and quietly laying on the other side of the pile, not wanting to wake Scar, assuming he’s asleep. He lays there, closing his eyes and trying to sleep.

But Scar keeps shifting around. He looks over, and as he does, Scar sits bolt upright, gasping. Grian sits up as well. “Scar? Are you alright? What happened?” He puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I had a nightmare…I was walking with you, and then I ran ahead while you started flying. Suddenly, the ground disappeared under me, and I was falling. I was just about to land when I woke up…” he feels himself over, checking his bracelet as well. “I wonder why the colors change…you said there was a legend, right? Do you know if it says anything about that?”

Grian frowns. “I don’t remember. My brain isn’t working at its best right now, I’m incredibly tired.” He yawns. “Maybe I’ll remember in the morning…are you going to be able to fall back asleep alright? I know how rough it can be to do that.” He can’t think of a way to explain what happens when someone gets into the red right now. Not without letting on he knows more than he should.

Scar shakes his head. “I don’t think so…I’ll try, you get some rest. Don’t worry about me.” He lays back down, his back towards Grian. Just as he was laying before. Grian can hear him taking deep breaths, trying to settle himself down.

He sighs. He can’t believe what he’s about to do. But he knows it can help. He turns from laying on his side to laying on his stomach, moving only a little tiny bit closer. He extends a wing out and lightly tucks it around Scar, who turns enough to look at Grian’s face with a surprised expression.

——————

Scott made up his mind. Having spotted multiple people with enchanted gear and items over the past week, he’s deemed it necessary that he and Jimmy get an enchanting pedestal at their home somewhere. Which means he now needs to go gather all the necessary materials to form one. Thankfully, he’d been taught exactly how to do everything that goes into making these pedestals.

The first and most important resource is himself. Just about anyone can gather the proper materials and arrange them the right way, but without a connection to celestial magic, they could never make their pedestal actually start to work. Thankfully once it’s up and running, anybody could use it. But there’s a critical step in the process that only someone with magic abilities like himself is capable of performing.

Over the past couple of days, Scott had gathered more than enough materials to form the base of the pedestal as well as other needed equipment. It was extremely heavy and hard to carry and transport such large pieces of obsidian stone, but what needs to be done, needs to be done.

Unfortunately, the next task is one that’s rather dangerous to do. And while he may have been able to get some help from Jimmy in gathering and transporting some of the materials, he cannot under any circumstances allow Jimmy to participate in the next step. He needs to enter into and traverse the netherworld.

Scott heads over to one of the other cliff faces, specifically one that had a small accessible cave in it, breaking down bits of obsidian and digging grooves into the cave entrance. He places the pieces of obsidian into the grooves, making sure each piece stays before moving on. It may not be the best or most efficient way to create a portal, but with limited help and resources and no knowledge of if there’s already a preexisting portal or not, it will have to make do.

Jimmy comes over while he finishes placing the obsidian, nervous. “Scott, please be careful in there. I know you always are, but still. This is gonna come out at a different place than the one you’re used to. There’s probably not going to be any sort of safety zone, I think you called it, like back where we’re from. I’ve never seen it, so I really don’t know anything other than what I’ve been told about it. But I know it’s dangerous and even skilled people can get really hurt. Please, please come back to me safe.” Jimmy holds Scott’s hands in his, giving them a slight squeeze.

Scott pulls his hands out in order to embrace Jimmy, holding him close to himself. “I promise I will be okay. I’ve traversed netherwilds and fortresses before and had to fight monsters that live there. I will not be there any longer than I need to, just going in to gather materials and resources and then I’ll be right back. I swear to you. You will not see my name show up in magic.”

He feels Jimmy give him another big squeeze while they hug before he nods in acknowledgment. “Okay…I trust you. I’ll work on getting more of the farm set up while you’re away, maybe see if I could buy a cow off anyone in town so we have more than just sheep. Anything else I should do in that time?” He asks

Scott shakes his head and responds “No, that should be plenty helpful. I guess if you think of something, go ahead. But you be careful too, I’m not gonna be able to patch you up if you scrape your knee or jam your finger.” he chuckles, pulling a bit back from the hug, hands just above Jimmy’s waist.

Jimmy rolls his eyes, with a small smirk “Yeah yeah, I’ll be fine. Just you see! You’ll be back and I’ll not have so much as stubbed a toe!” He grins.

They chat a moment longer, before sharing a kiss, and Jimmy steps back as Scott turns to the makeshift portal door, and with a couple sparks from the strikes of a flint and steel, a wall of swirling purple light appears. Scott closes his eyes and steps in, feeling the air grow hot, the smell of smoke filling his nostrils, the sound of monsters and crackling fires all around him.

He opens his eyes back up, and takes in his surroundings. He’s definitely in a netherwild, but it’s not as dense as it could be, so there’s a very real possibility of a fortress or city or something nearby. Somewhere that netherfolk live or lived. Which means he’s gotten lucky, and everything he needs should be slightly easier to gather.

Of course, he made sure to adorn himself with gold before entering, and brought along some gold with him inside of a pouch tucked under his cloak. He needs a specific spell book for the pedestal, one that is crafted together by the most greedy and barbaric of netherfolk: piglin hybrids. And piglin hybrids, similar to their monstrous counterparts, will not hesitate to attack you if they don’t deem you worthy of their time.

He traverses the wilds for some time, before finally stumbling onto a path, fiery and littered with rubble and…bones. No doubt, seeing that, he was on the way towards a grouping of piglin hybrids. He takes a deep breath and carries on, trying his best to not think about just how many bones are strewn across the way.

Eventually, he can see it ahead. Walled off, with a gated entrance, and a pair of guards stood out front. He keeps his stance held high and confident as he approaches. Show no fear. Even as the guards stare him down as he gets closer, hands gripped onto their axes, show no fear.

“State your name and what business you have here, surfacefolk. We don’t take kindly to ones who waste our time with nonsense.” One guard says, axe already set to swing in a moment’s notice.

Scott gives them both a smile. “My name is Scott. I am here to do trade for a master spellbook. I come bearing gold and a connection to the celestial, with intentions of forming an enchanting pedestal.” He waves his hand to make little floating lights appear, showing off a little bit of his celestial magic as proof of his words.

The guards consider this a moment, grumbling to each other quietly about what to do. It’s clear nobody has made such a request in a while, and they are wary of the legitimacy of this deal. But ultimately, they decide to let him in, opening the gate. Scott thanks them, handing a gold coin to both of them as he heads inside.

He walks along the pathways, keeping an eye out for a magical tower or bookstore or anything along those lines. Different groups have different setups, so there’s no set structure to look for. He’s very aware of all the looks he’s getting as he wanders about. He wonders how many of these people have ever seen someone from the surface before. Probably not many, judging on whose gazes linger on him longer.

Finally he comes upon a rundown bookshop. The only one in the whole area. He enters, looking around. It was messy and somewhat ransacked, and many of the shelves were empty or only held a couple of books. He comes up to the counter, waiting a moment before ringing the small bell that was secured down onto it.

Scott hears the sound of someone scrambling to their feet up above him, making their way over to the stairs, which creak as they head down. The door off to the side opens, and the shopkeeper shuffles over. The man was rather short, with unkempt cropped hair, messy clothes, a single bottom tusk, and a pig-like nose.

“Not used to having any actual customers. Much less ones from the surface world. What brings you here, then? I don’t got much but I can sell what I got.” He grunts, looking Scott over.

Scott smiles. “I was looking for a master spellbook. I have plans on creating an enchanting pedestal, and I was hoping to purchase one from your shop here. Would you happen to have any available?”

The man raises an eyebrow. “Kid, I can’t go around selling that to just anybody who shows up with such a request, even if it’s been a really, really long time. I gotta know you got the right stuff for that. Master books are dangerous in the wrong hands.” He crosses his arms, straightening his posture to try and appear more intimidating.

“Seems fair enough. What do you need me to do? Show my magic, do a favor, pass a trial?” Scott shrugs, his face nonchalant. It’s a little bit annoying, but the shopkeeper has every right to only sell the book as he sees fit. And it’s very true. Master spellbooks are extremely powerful, and extremely dangerous for anyone inexperienced or ill-intentioned to own.

“Trial? You must be used to the big fancy cities if you’re expecting a trial as a possibility.” The man chuckles, amused. “Nah, I want you to use magic to show me not just that you got the right magic, but you are skilled enough to actually make one of those.”

“You got it.” Scott focuses, moving his hands around, creating little orbs and streams of light, guiding them across the room in a controlled manner. Not a single one out of place. Once the shopkeeper seems satisfied, he slowly fades them out. “Now about that book-“

“I got it, I got it. Wait here, I keep it locked up so people can’t just nab it like they do everything else here.” He grunts as he heads off back upstairs, the boards creaking below him.

Scott stands there and waits patiently. He gets a strange feeling, as if he’s being watched. He looks around. The store is empty. There’s nobody at the window or the door. He looks behind a couple of bookshelves to be sure. But nobody’s there. A chill runs up his spine. He’s brought back to the moment as the shopkeeper comes back downstairs.

He makes the exchange, handing over the pouch of gold and receiving the book in return. He wraps it in a blue cloth before putting it away into his bag. Scott thanks him and leaves, then making his way all the way back to outside of the town.

At the gate, he can see Martyn being cornered by one of the guards. He quickly runs out, telling them to stop and let him go. The guard, who had their axe ready to swing, pauses and turns to look at him. “Why should we? He was trespassing!”

“I was n-“ Martyn starts, but Scott interrupts. “He was just looking for me, I told him to wait for me to come back, and only try to go in if I was taking too long. Thank you for your concern, Martyn, but clearly, I am completely fine. Just took a little bit longer than expected.” He slowly makes his way closer, now right beside Martyn and the guard.

The guard grunts and huffs. “If you hadn’t given me that gold earlier, your friend here would be missing a head right now. Consider it a warning, I won’t be so easygoing next time.” They head back to the gate.

Scott helps Martyn to his feet. “You alright? You know you really shouldn’t go anywhere near piglin hybrids or monsters without wearing any gold, right? And what are you even doing here in the netherworld?”

Martyn brushes himself off once he’s stood back up. “I’m fine, and no, I didn’t know that, I’ve never interacted with any before. And I could ask the same question to you.” He crosses his arms.

“I’m gathering some supplies and resources. I need to find a fortress and some plants in order to get making some potions. The village is constantly out before Jimmy and I can purchase any. We’ve been weeks without a healing potion and at this rate, Jimmy’s gonna be a living mummy if we don’t get any soon. So again, what brings you here?” Scott explains, starting to walk along the path again, not really caring if Martyn comes along or not.

“If it’s a fortress you want, you’re going the wrong way. Did the netherfolk at the portal not tell you where it was or something? Because they told me about it.” Martyn calls after him.

Scott looks back. “What portal? I wasn’t aware there was a preexisting portal in the area. Where was it?” He walks back up to Martyn, now following him as he heads off.

“It was in the woods by a river. I’ll be honest, it was pretty destroyed and overrun with plants, but I fixed it up and went through. Guess nobody’s gone through it in a while. The people in the small town around it on this side were very shocked to see it reactivated. But they were actually pretty friendly. Told me where to find a fortress fairly close by.” Martyn continues on, even as the path slowly fades away.

“I see. I just created one back home, it’s not the best portal, but it’s enough to make do. Also, you still haven’t answered me why you’re here. I told you my side, now you tell me yours.” Scott keeps an eye out around them just in case of any monsters anywhere.

Martyn pauses to look back “Same thing as you, obviously. Why else would I want to find a fortress in the netherworld? Those things are crawling with monsters. You’d have to be crazy to go to one for no reason.” He resumes walking, and Scott continues to follow. They don’t chat as they go along.

Every so often Martyn pauses to look back before he goes on. It makes Scott look around, but he doesn’t see or hear anything different. After the 5th or 6th time, Scott gets a bit annoyed. “Okay, Martyn, what is going on with you? You keep looking around at nothing and not saying anything and I’m getting a bit nervous. Do you hear something that I can’t?”

“Right, first off, I can hear many things you can’t, actually. But that’s not it. It’s actually what I can’t hear. For some reason, I can’t hear you walking. Do you have some sort of silent-step magic or specially enchanted shoes? I genuinely just have to keep checking if you’re still there or if you’ve gone off.” Martyn rests his fists against his hips, an eyebrow raised, his upper body slightly tilted down towards Scott.

“No, I just walk like normal. Maybe you’re just too focused in on other noises. Or everything else is too loud for my footsteps. I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe you need your ears checked.” Scott shrugs. Truly, he has no clue what could be happening.

“Right…anyway, let’s keep going, it’s not much further now, if those people told me correctly.” Martyn turns and walks, and Scott continues to follow. Within a few minutes, they can see it. Poised over lava, with many of its walls coming directly up from it. The connection to the land still intact , but certainly very precarious.

They make their way over the unstable bridge one at a time, fearing too much weight would send them plummeting into the lava. They may be well aware they have multiple chances to live, but they don’t want to test just how well that can stand to test against lava.

They make their way through the winding paths and hallways of the fortress, gathering materials and fighting against the many monsters that live there. It’s not pretty, and both definitely obtain some injuries. They tuck away into a closed off space in order to recuperate.

Scott wraps his injuries up with ease, when he hears Martyn growing increasingly more frustrated. He looks over to see Martyn struggling to wrap his arm. Instinctively, he moves over and reaches out to help, only for Martyn to pull his arm away. “What are you doing? I can handle it by myself.”

“Are you sure about that? Your attempts are just getting worse the more you’re frustrated. Just let me get this one for you, I’ve got lots of practice. It will be really quick.” Scott offers, just wanting to help and not wanting Martyn to potentially bleed out. The netherworld, especially in one of its fortresses, isn’t the best place to have to carry an unconscious body through.

Martyn groans and rolls his eyes. “Fine, whatever.” He sticks his arm towards him, and Scott gets to work on wrapping up and securing the bandages. He’s had a lot of practice with Jimmy, and in no time, he’s all good to go.

“Now I don’t know about you, but I think I’m all set with materials. I’ll stick around if you wanted any more, though.” Scott says, getting to his feet and stretching. He has all the materials and ingredients needed to make his pedestal and a potion brewer.

Martyn nods, standing as well. “Yeah, I’m ready to get out of here. Let’s go.” Martyn leads the way out, retracing their steps until they’re back at the entrance and over the rickety bridge. Which again, thankfully, does not fall below them.

They walk together back towards their portals, with Scott veering away once they neared his. He watches Martyn resume walking, then makes his way both back to and through the portal.

He shivers slightly at the sudden cool air, but the smell of flowers and sound of animals tells him he’s back home safe. As Scott opens his eyes, he sees as Jimmy is tending to some of the plants. He smiles, making his way across the stream. Of course, Jimmy hears him and looks up, dropping everything and flying right over, holding him tight.

“You’re back! I was getting worried the longer and longer you were gone. I know you’re strong and you promised me, but I couldn’t help but worry about you.” Jimmy pulls back to grab his hands, and then his smile drops seeing and feeling one hand is lightly wrapped up. “You got hurt in there…are you alright? Are there any more injuries?” He looks Scott over.

Scott cups his cheek to guide Jimmy to look at his face. “Jimmy, I’m okay. You don’t need to worry about me. I made it back, right? Only a few scrapes and bruises. Martyn was worse off than I was and even he seemed okay.”

Jimmy blinks, processing. “Martyn was there? How’d he get in?” Scott explains, walking along towards their home so he can set everything down. He tells Jimmy about everything that went down in the netherworld as he unpacks, careful to not break anything.

Once it’s all said and done, he changes into some pajamas and flops over exhausted into their new bed, falling asleep even before Jimmy has a chance to cuddle up to him.

——————

Jimmy sighs seeing Scott pass out so quickly in their bed. He knows that Scott swears he’s okay, but Jimmy knows he’s only saying that so he won’t worry or feel guilty. Yes, Scott needed to go there for the pedestal he’s making, but he was in there for longer so he could get potion making gear. Specifically for healing potions. Because of him.

He gets a cloth and a bowl of water, carefully trying to at least clean off Scott’s face, neck, and arms of blood, ash, and grime. He knows how important appearance is to Scott, and if he was willing to go to bed so dirty, he had to be incredibly exhausted. So he’ll help out at least this little bit. It’s not much, but he knows it will make Scott happy.

——————

As Scar and Grian nab the sapling-branches from the tree, they hear the sounds of Martyn’s, Joel’s, and Etho’s voices fade away into the distance. Grian shakes his head as one sapling in particular gives him a hard time. “I can’t believe this-how in the world did this happen? I would have seen them coming or going if they were at the mountain where we hid these.”

“Maybe one of them happened to have some of these saplings…? None of that group is from here, they could have brought it with them.” Scar frees a sapling from one of the larger branches. “Unless there was another forest I didn’t know about somehow.”

“I don’t think very many people would travel with saplings. But how would you not know if there was another forest or not? You said it yourself, you've lived in this area your whole life. Surely you know where things are.” He finally frees the troublesome sapling.

Scar stretches and leans back against the base of the tree from where he’s sat on the branch. “Yeah, but someone still could have created a second forest somewhere if they gathered enough saplings. But I guess there goes the chances of being able to sell any of the wood…That we gathered a lot of…” he sighs. “Poor Pizza carried all that all the way from the swamp to here for nothing. I feel like I gotta go apologize to him.”

“You go on ahead, I’ll check this tree for any more saplings. With any luck, maybe we can still be able to sell some of the wood. It is pre-chopped after all. Someone might still buy it.” Grian reaches down from the branch he’s on to put a reassuring hand on Scar’s shoulder.

Scar turns and smiles up at him. The sun must be shining through the leaves directly behind Grian’s head, the way that there’s sunbeams coming from him, lighting up his sandy-blond hair like a halo. “Yeah, maybe…” he looks a moment longer, thinking how something about this view seemed right. How otherworldly and angelic the lighting made Grian look. Because there was something about him that just…doesn’t feel quite right, quite normal.

He looks away, not wanting to stare for too long. “We’ll see. Maybe we can head off tomorrow and head to town. I’ll see how Pizza’s feeling. If he’s not up to it, we’ll stay put until he’s well rested.” He climbs down, and stumbles and trips as he lands on the ground. “I’m okay!”

Grian laughs from his spot in the tree, and Scar rolls over onto his back, laughing along with him as he sits up and stands. Once he’s caught his breath, he turns and makes his way towards the shack.

. . .no…nononono-

Scar runs as fast as he can to the pile of wood and junk that was once the shack. The panels collapsed and fallen apart, different bits and pieces of things strewn about. Some intact, some broken. He digs through the pile, calling out for Pizza, hoping beyond hope that he managed to get out and is just somewhere in the trees nearby and not in this pile. He digs and tosses things until he’s sure Pizza was not in the shack.

But where did he go?

He looks around, hoping for the sight of any llama tracks.

Instead, he spots a small puddle of blood.

He grows cold. He runs into the trees, shouting and yelling and pleading for Pizza. If he’s injured, he knows to come to Scar. If he’s scared, he knows to come to Scar. If he’s trapped, he knows to make noise so Scar can come to him.

But Pizza never came, and Scar couldn’t hear Pizza.

The worst case scenarios flood his mind, and he falls to his knees, digging his fingers into the grass, begging this to not be real. Tears blur his vision, and his voice becomes shaky and choked. He bows his head all the way down, sobbing.

Pizza is gone.

He stays exactly there, crying until he can’t breathe or cry any more. So he sits there, catches his breath, and uses a large stick nearby to pull himself up onto his feet. He was lightheaded and dizzy still, and his legs felt weak. Slowly, and using the stick as a support, he turns to try and find his way back.

He thinks over everything. How much he’d already lost over the years. How much he just lost today. And inevitably how much he will lose…not that he has much left.

He somehow makes his way back, despite his wandering and unclear mind. It's sunset by now. He makes it halfway to the mountain from the treeline when Grian lands on the ground in front of him, concern and worry on his face. He says something to him, but Scar can’t hear him through his thoughts. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t know how.

He feels as Grian puts one of his arms across Grian’s shoulders, and Grian puts an arm around his waist. And they start walking to the mountain. He can feel as it becomes steeper and a bit more difficult to traverse. But he just keeps going. Because Grian is taking him somewhere and he can’t be bothered to think about where he’s going or what he’s doing.

They reach the top, which has a significant amount of framework construction done. Grian guides Scar inside and sits him down on the floor. He says something else and turns to leave, and Scar finds himself reaching for Grian and grabbing his wrist. He looks up at him, eyes distant and yet silently begging. Please, don’t leave, not yet. Stay just a little bit longer.

Grian crouches in front of him. He says something something “-a blanket?” And waits for a response. When Scar just still stares, Grian repeats himself slower. “I was going to be right back. Did you not want a blanket?”

Scar tries to speak, and while his lips move, no sound comes out of his throat. Yes, please. Grian frowns more. “Scar, you’ve been gone for hours…what happened at the shack?”

Scar feels the lump re-form in his throat, eyes reacting to tears that refuse to form. He curls into himself, knees bent, arms crossed over them, and face placed against his arms. He still tries to speak, but still no sounds can be formed. Frustration further fuels the fire and makes him even more upset. Why, why can’t he speak? Why can’t he focus even a little? Why is…why is Pizza gone.

A moment later, he feels a blanket being draped over his shoulders, and Grian sitting beside him. Instinctively, he leans into him. An arm and a wing is wrapped around him as well. And he sits there. Silent, dry sobbing. A jumbled mind. Yet kept warm. The one solid thing right now is Grian.

Grian, kept here only by a promise. A promise to stay and help until he loses a life. A life, which can be lost so much more suddenly than anyone can ever know.

He doesn’t know when, but he fell asleep at some point. He wakes up to the sun rising, and he had to have been adjusted by Grian so the two of them could be more comfortable. He was laying down, the blanket on top of him, as well as one of Grian’s wings again. He looks at Grian’s sleeping face.

And all he can think is how Grian is too kind. He doesn’t deserve to have to put up with him. It’s going to hurt when Grian leaves, too. The longer he stays, the worse it will hurt. He doesn’t want to hurt more than he does already.

So when Grian wakes up and takes his wing away, Scar sits up and looks away as fast as he can. “Grian…you can go. Do whatever you want. Don’t hold yourself back from leaving. You shouldn’t have to stick around someone like me.”

——————

Grian blinks at Scar, processing what he’d just said. He sits up quickly, just staring at him.

He can leave.

…but why isn’t he?

“Scar…” he reaches out, but pulls back a bit as Scar turns to look at him. His face is cold and stern…but yet his eyes are still yet filled with sadness.

“Leave, Grian. You’re too good. Too kind. You could be helping out more people. It’d be a better use of your time. You shouldn’t waste a whole chance to keep on living just for me. I made my choice. So just…go.” He turns away again, sounding absolutely defeated.

Nearly everything in him is telling him to do as Scar says. He’s free, he can leave. This is his chance. But still, something keeps him in place. Something he can’t describe, something that overrides all his other thoughts.

Scar huffs and uses the stick he had last night to pull himself up to his feet. And he starts to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Grian gets to his feet, following Scar.

“I don’t know. But I need to get away from you. Take your time leaving…but I’m coming back here eventually. I have to. This is where I lived with Pizza…” he can hear as Scar’s voice shakes.

“You never told me what happened yesterday…I saw the shack was ruined, but I don’t know what happened…” Grian puts a hand on Scar’s arm.

“…Pizza’s gone…the shack was a mess and there was blood and I couldn’t find him or hear him and he has to be gone, Grian! Someone or something hurt him and took him away and…and he can’t come back…Pizza means everything to me…I…I gotta go.” Scar heads off as quickly as he can.

Grian stands there, just watching as Scar goes further and further away, eventually disappearing into the trees. He stands there a moment. Like Scar might just turn around and reappear, saying he was kidding. But he doesn’t. Grian is alone, and he can leave.

But still, he doesn’t.

He looks around himself at the housing frames and foundations. He looks down the mountain at the pile of junk that was once Scar’s shack. He can’t leave Scar to come back to this. Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s holding him back. Maybe if he finishes at least the outside of the house, he can leave.

So he gets to work.

——————

“Cleo, I’m gonna be honest, I’m getting really tired of having that roof all caved in. It’s getting leaves everywhere and I can’t keep up with cleaning them. I’m gonna go up there and fix it today.” Bdubs says, coming downstairs with an armful of leaves and twigs. He’d been working on getting the upstairs sorted for a few days since Cleo came back with Pizza.

“Are you sure? It’s pretty high up. And there’s a lot of other work that needs to get done as well. And at least the ceiling is intact on the ground floor here, so it’s not a big deal what the roof is like.” Cleo responds, patching up a piece of the wall. “I’m mainly concerned about getting this floor all fixed up before we go higher.”

Bdubs tosses the leaves outside “But if it rains, it’s going to come down the stairs! All this area will get messed up again, and the stairs will be slippery. I know I wanna prioritize this roof, and I’ll do it on my own if I have to. Especially since you happened upon that elf guy who gave you the dark oak saplings…what’d you say his name was again?”

“He introduced himself as Scott. I’m honestly pretty glad I went to head back to check on things when I did, or I wouldn’t’ve crossed paths with him for him to give me those.” Cleo sets another large stone into place in the broken wall. “Only problem is that we’ve still got Pizza downstairs.”

It was true. Bdubs and Cleo have taken turns checking up on Pizza, giving him some food and water, and doing their best to prevent him from getting out. It was clear he’s getting anxious being stuck down there. But they can’t let him out or he would run away and they wouldn’t have anything to get out of Scar for him tricking Cleo.

“And no doubt that if we went to take him back, he’d be running towards the desert and dragging us along in the dirt.” Cleo adds. “I know I keep saying this, Bdubs, but I don’t know if I can ever get you to truly understand just how vicious that llama looked when we were passing by that Skizz guy. Pizza is a proper menace in his own right.”

“How can that adorable face ever appear vicious, Cleo? Or any llama. They don’t seem like the most expressive animals.” Bdubs grabs some of the wood they’ve already chopped and brought inside. “But if you insist that Pizza had pure hatred looking at that guy, I’d say he probably couldn’t be trusted. I sure wouldn’t trust someone who had mutual hatred with a llama.” He chuckles a bit.

“Oh he did. If looks could kill, Pizza would be a murderer.” She turns and walks over. “You at least want some help taking some of this wood upstairs? If you insist on patching up the roof I wanna make sure you don’t hurt yourself bringing all this up.”

“Yes I would actually, thank you Cleo!” Bdubs smiles. He’s come to see her as almost of a big sister type figure. Caring and thoughtful, but also will make fun of you and be sarcastic the moment you do something stupid. But not to be cruel, only a little bit mean. But it was nice. Like he has some semblance of a family again after he had to run for safety.

They carry the wood upstairs together, chatting more about angry llamas and rivalries with animals. He reckons he could easily take on a sheep or a pig with just his fists. Cleo laughs and insists those animals are way too smart to be easy targets, especially weaponless.

Once the wood is all moved upstairs, Cleo stretches. “That was a lot more work than I thought. Would’ve taken you practically all day to do that alone, it’s probably around lunch right now.” As if on cue, her stomach grumbles a bit. “There it is. You hungry?”

“Yeah, I’m getting there. I’ll be down to grab something in a minute, you go on ahead.” Bdubs checks his pocket watch a second, just to be sure it’s secure and working. So he’s not paying the most attention to himself when he says to Cleo, “By the way, thanks for the help, sis.”

“…what did you just say?” Cleo pauses her descent down the stairs to look back at him.

He replies, still observing the watch. “I said thanks…? Why, what’d it sound like? Did I talk too quietly?” In his head, he doesn’t think I’d even process he could have said anything out of the ordinary.

“I swear you just called me sis…unless I’m just completely imagining it, but I’m quite sure I heard you say it.” She comes a couple steps back up. “Something you wanna tell me, Bdubs?”

“Oh I didn’t mean to say that out loud…um…I’m sorry, but you just really give off the feeling of being a big sister. Maybe you were one before you got zombified, or something to that extent. But it’s been really nice imagining I’ve got some family again…but of course if you’re not okay with it, I’ll stop.” Bdubs quickly includes the last bit, after turning and seeing her face, staring with her eyes wide.

“No, Bdubs, it’s okay, you can call me it, I just…I think I remember something now, from being human…” she sits on the stairs.

/\/\——————\/\/

Cleo tries her best to replay the memories, grasping at every bit she can, hoping to catch something that can piece her mind back together.

…

“Come on, Cleo, we’re going to be late!” Another girl, shorter and younger than her, with a similar curly ginger hairstyle yells from the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! I just had to find where you hid my necklace after we were playing wizards!” Herself, possibly aged around 8 or 9, responds.

“You weren’t supposed to find that yet, it’s part of the dragon’s lair! Now I gotta move it.” The other girl pouts.

…

Cleo looks at her reflection in the mirror. She must be around 17 now? She’s letting the other girl, who looks maybe 14, braid and style it with flowers. Her head is suddenly jerked awkwardly as the girl tugs a piece of hair too hard.

“Oh shoot, I’m so sorry! I was getting into a pattern and not paying attention.” She apologizes, loosening her grip and tilting her face up to look at her through the mirror.

“It’s fine. As long as you don’t tear out a chunk of hair like you did the first time.” Cleo smirks, snickering.

The girl gasps. “It was one time, 3 years ago! Wasn’t even a huge chunk either, maybe like 10 strands of hair at most.”

…

Cleo holds the girl close, a blanket wrapped around her as she cries against her. She sees her reflection in the same mirror as the previous memory, though now the room is dark, lit only by a few candles. She’s further away, stood by a bed. And she looks about the age she must be now. Late 20s? Early-mid 30s? She doesn’t really know, for some reason.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, Cleo. No matter how hard I work, he just won’t let me study anything at my actual skill level…” the girl sobs into Cleo’s shoulder.

“Let me handle it, I’ll make sure he knows not to mess with us.” She rubs her back, and her eyes flit over to a flint and steel placed beside one of the candles in the room. That guy does have a very…flammable…house.

…

“I’m sorry, but I just don’t think she’s ready for those kinds of spells yet. Not that someone like her even needs to know such things, surely you can get it.” The man, her sister’s magic teacher, explains.

“No, I don’t. She’s more than capable and deserving of knowing how to do these things. You’re just an asshole.” Cleo furrows her brow, just barely restraining herself from throwing a punch at his face.

“I will not take such insults from someone who can’t even use magic! How you two are related I cannot understand. Get out, n-“ he’s cut off as Cleo’s intrusive thoughts take over, and she swings her fist square into the side of his face.

He lands unconscious with a thud.

He’d hit his head on the desk as he went down.

He wasn’t moving.

She sees a dark puddle forming.

“Shit. Oh gods, oh no, I wasn’t-how did I…I gotta…where is it-?” She fumbles through her bag and pockets, eventually pulling out the flint and steel. She starts to light anything she can on fire, hoping it spreads quickly and clears any evidence.

She runs downstairs, setting a couple more fires.

She hears the ceiling start to creak, and the exit is on the other side of the house.

She starts to run, but the ceiling gives way and falls, knocking her over, leaving her trapped.

She’s trapped under rubble, coughing her lungs out as she desperately claws to free herself. The smoke is getting thicker, the flames growing closer and hotter. Her vision blurs in and out of focus, and she only has one thought before she falls unconscious.

I’m sorry, Gem.

…

/\/\——————\/\/

Bdubs hugs Cleo as she sobs, relaying the information to him. He feels awful. If only he hadn’t said anything, she wouldn’t be so sad right now…it was his fault Cleo is crying.

“Cleo, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you relive all that. I shouldn’t have said anything, kept it to myself.” He knows it’s not the best apology, but he doesn’t know what else to do right now.

“Bdubs, no, it’s fine…I just…no, it helped me, Bdubs…it’s just…really emotional is all…” she sniffles, pulling back a bit to wipe at her tears. “I can remember something positive now, I promise. You did good.” She pats his shoulder, eyes still welling up.

He feels a little lump in his throat “Gods Cleo, now I’m gonna cry too.” He closes his eyes, feeling the start of the formation of tears. And now he feels Cleo hold him like he just did her.

They both sit and have a good cry for a while, before their hunger overtakes every other feeling they have and they get to eating lunch.

After that, Cleo goes back to fixing the wall while Bdubs heads up to fix the roof. First removing all the broken wood, then figuring out how much he’ll need, and what length it has to be. He pays no attention to the passage of time, focused in on this one project. He needs to fix this roof.

It grows dark as he continues to work, but he just keeps going. He hears Cleo yelling up at him from the ground, but he can’t quite tell what she’s saying.

He turns just enough to see her all the way down there. “What was that? I couldn’t really hear what you said!” He shouts back.

“I said to get down! It’s way too dangerous to be up there right now!” She yells even louder.

“I’ll be fine, I’m almost-“ he stops mid-sentence, hearing the ghostly shriek of phantoms. He hadn’t slept well, the guilt of having a kidnapped pet trapped at his house was really bothering him.

He tries to make a break for the part of the roof that was still open, but one of the monsters dives down and slams into him, causing him to lose balance. And he feels his body begin to fall, watching the roof grow further and further away, until it suddenly goes dark.

——————

Cleo couldn’t catch him. She stares in horror at his body laying there. The only thing to provide some comfort, in a dark twisted way, was the pulsing from the beads sewn into her stitches, and the distant rumble in the sky.

A reminder of their situation. Of having three lives. That Bdubs was going to wake up at some point soon, and be completely intact.

——————

Scott arrives back home, seeing Jimmy…and some other guy chatting there. He comes closer, relieved to hear it’s a friendly conversation and not a confrontation. “Jimmy, I’m back!” He calls over.

Both men immediately look over, and Jimmy grins, waving. “I was just talking about you! Scott, this is Martyn. Martyn, this is my husband, Scott.” Jimmy moves over by Scott, holding his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Scott. Jimmy here was a bit scared of my presence at first, something about I can’t take you guys back there? I said I had no clue what he’s on about and he wouldn’t elaborate.” Martyn explains.

“Why was-oh-“ Scott sees the familiar purple gleam of an enchantment reflect off of Martyn’s gear. Many of the guards back where they’re from wear similar enchanted gear. “I see. Just a question, you weren’t looking for a runaway nobleman, were you?”

Martyn raises an eyebrow. “No, but I am trying to find someone. I think I may have found him, but I’m not quite sure yet. He’s supposed to be a king, not a nobleman. Why do you ask? You on the run from someone?”

“You wouldn’t turn us in if we were, would you?” Scott squints, and as he does so, faint little green lights float around his head. His free hand hovers near the hilt of his sheathed sword, and he subtly moves his foot in front of Jimmy.

Martyn furrows his brows. “Depends on what you’ve done…if you’re threatening me, I’m not afraid to retaliate. Just as a heads up.”

Jimmy takes a step forward. “We ran away in order to stay together, he was going to be in an arranged marriage to someone else. That’s it, please don’t start fighting each other.”

Martyn immediately relaxes, looking at Jimmy. “Is that it? I was thinking you guys might have murdered or kidnapped someone with the way you were acting. No, that’s actually really sweet. Why would I turn in some people who just wanted to get married?”

Scott doesn’t relax until Martyn finishes speaking. He moves his hand away from his sword, and the little lights disappear. “I just needed to be sure. I just want to live a nice and peaceful life with Jimmy, and I’m not willing to let anything get in the way of that. Not after all the trouble we’ve been through to get here.”

He really truly does not like to fight at all. It seems so barbaric and unnecessary. But yet, physical violence is sometimes necessary to be taken seriously. Or even to survive. He’d prefer the use of words over a blade, but if someone cannot listen, words mean nothing.

The pair chat with Martyn for a little bit, talking about where they’re each from. That’s when Martyn stops mid-sentence and looks towards the entrance to the valley. “There’s someone over there. I can hear them. Stay here, I’ll check if it might be someone after you.” Martyn makes his way over.

“How in the world can he hear that? It’s so far away.” Scott frowns, watching Martyn exit the valley.

Jimmy looks to him. “He was telling me that he had some sort of sound magic, and he could hear things really far away. But he can also make noises. He demonstrated that by making it sound like one of those creepers was hissing right behind me. It was really freakishly good. Oh! And I got an explanation on the pulsing thing from him, too!” Jimmy smiles

Scott gives him a small smile. “I was going to tell you, while I was wandering around, I actually met this Scar guy. Him and his partner Grian very briefly explained what went down to me. At least we both know now…I just wish I knew more about this legend Grian was talking about.” He crosses his arms, and turns his focus back to the valley entrance, where Martyn is re-entering, now accompanied by a man with brown and green hair.

“Don’t worry, he’s not a threat. He’s another traveler.” Martyn explains as the duo get closer. “I’ve chatted with him before pretty briefly. He’s got three lives just like all the rest of us.”

“There’s even more people with this? And how’ve we all ended up here?” Scott asks, genuinely a bit flabbergasted.

The new guy shrugs. “How should we know? Regardless, this is a really nice area you’ve got here. I’m not far from this place, myself. Guess we’re practically neighbors.” He walks up to Scott and Jimmy, holding out his hand. “Call me Joel, by the way.”

Jimmy shakes his hand first. “I’m Jimmy, and this is my husband, Scott. Well, unless you meet some guards in full armor looking for us, then we’re not even here.”

Joel raises an eyebrow. Scott quickly adds on “I ran from an arranged marriage so I could marry Jimmy. Knowing my family, they’d likely send people after me. We’re not criminals, just lovers.”

“Ah, no worries. I’d do the same with my girlfriend if I had to. I can’t imagine ever being with anyone else.” Joel smiles. “I’m just glad those guys in the desert helped me find my pin after I dropped it.”

Martyn looks at Joel. “You mean Scar and Grian, right? I haven’t seen them since they headed back to the desert from the village.”

Joel sighs “Well, I heard people in town mention them gathering wood, and I was hoping to buy some saplings, but they insisted they didn’t have any. I traded my sword for the promise they’d bring me some if they found any.” He crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. “If they hadn’t gotten rid of the only dark oak trees in the area, I wouldn’t be putting up with this.”

Scott and Jimmy both look at each other in confusion. They both had just seen dark oak trees earlier that day. Scott had, in fact, just passed by them on his way back here from the desert. He looks back over to Martyn and Joel, who are discussing what happened.

“There’s literally a bunch of dark oak trees not far from here…I just passed by on my way back from the desert.” Scott speaks up. He sees both of them snap their heads over to look at him, eyes wide. “I can show you where, if you’re interested. So you can get whatever it is you’re needing.”

Martyn and Joel both take the offer immediately. Joel in order to get himself some materials, Martyn just for fun. They head out that way as a group, and Martyn proposes an idea to the others.

“What if we just made a tree grow in front of them? If they’re not going to supply people with saplings, show them that we could. So they can’t scam other people out of swords or anything.” He catches a sapling-branch as it falls from the tree.

“Oh, please, can we? I want to see the look on their faces when that happens. Maybe I can get my sword back right away.” Joel grins, sat up in the tree among the large branches, rifling through the smaller ones to search for the ones that can become saplings.

Scott looks through his bag “I have materials for a spell that makes them grow faster on me, I’m kinda rusty on the words though. I don’t usually dabble in plant magic.”

Martyn pats his shoulder “Don’t you worry about it, I can help with that part. My main skill may be in sound, but pretty much any elf has a bit of plant magic knowledge.”

And so, the group makes their way into the desert, passing by the shack and towards the mountain where they can see a bit of a frame to a house going up, Grian perched atop. He clearly had been working, but was now watching them all approach.

As they reach the top, Scar is standing there, now wearing some metal greaves on his legs, and a man with white hair is standing nearby behind him. Scott notices the man is wearing some worn leather greaves similar to the ones he saw Scar wearing earlier. Also that Scar is wearing different pants.

Scar smiles to Joel. “Well hello again! Nice to see you back so soon, Joel! Martyn, haven’t seen you since we left the village. And Scott, too! Still so glad you happened to come by when you did. Who’s this you’ve all brought with you?” He looks down the line at everyone, ending with Jimmy.

“This is my husband, Jimmy. The one I carry the bandages and such for.” Scott lifts to show their held hands to Scar. He finds it slightly ironic they both happen to have avian partners and his first interaction with them was helping with Grian getting injured, when Jimmy’s the one getting hurt left and right. If he didn’t know other avians, he’d think it was just an avian thing.

Grian flies down from where he was perched, landing beside Scar. “Nice to meet you Jimmy. I’m Scar, and this here is Grian. We live here in the desert, and we are very grateful your husband happened to stop by when he did. He’s very generous.”

Jimmy beams. “Yeah, he is! Scott was telling us on the way here what happened. Guess my clumsiness can sometimes come in useful, huh?” He chuckles a bit.

Grian nods in agreement. “Indeed. But, anyways, what brings all of you here? Especially since two of you were just here earlier. I saw you all come from that treeline over there as a group.” He motions way into the distance at where they’d come from.

“Oh we wanted to show you something we found! But we’ll have to go closer to the trees for this. It won’t work in the sand here.” Martyn turns around and heads down the mountain first. Everyone else follows behind, including the white haired man Scott doesn’t know the name of.

“Right, now you all have to turn around while we get set up. That way we can properly demonstrate.” Scott says, gesturing for the other three men to turn around.

Scar turns right away, as does the white haired man. Grian frowns, hesitating. “I don’t like the sound of this…I don’t like it one bit.” He shakes his head as he turns, sticking close to Scar.

“You’ll be fine, we’ll let you know when it’s ready. I promise it’s completely safe. I wouldn’t have brought Jimmy if it wasn’t.” Scott reassures him, taking supplies out of his bag.

“Excuse me, what?” Jimmy says, pausing searching in his bag to look up at Scott. “I can handle myself, in most cases! Yeah I tend to get injured a little bit, but nothing too serious.” He crosses his arms, a slight pout on his face.

“Better safe than sorry. As much as I enjoy taking care of you when it happens, I don’t like seeing you get hurt.” Scott goes over and kisses his cheek. “Now come on, we can’t leave them hanging for too long.”

Jimmy smiles and gives him a nod, and the group resumes setting up. They place the saplings into the ground, and Scott and Martyn set up the spell. They watch as the saplings grow and merge into a big, tall tree before their eyes. Jimmy grabs the others’ attention and they turn, with Scar and Grian going into a slight panic.

“What-how-what!?” Grian practically shrieks, flying up to investigate the tree, pulling at some of the branches. Scar runs up and tries to climb his way into the branches with Grian. “How have you done this? Where did you find saplings?” Grian asks, pulling some sapling-branches from the tree.

Martyn pauses his laughing with Joel to exclaim “As if we’re gonna tell about that! You will never know, oooo~” he wiggles his fingers, making his voice slightly echo as he speaks.

“And now, we leave!” Jimmy states, taking Scott’s hand and turning to run off. Scott runs away alongside him, and the pair laugh as they get further and further into the trees. They eventually find their way to a path, and make their way back home, just as the sun nears sunset.

——————

Cleo carefully guides Pizza through the trees, not wanting to be too close to the path in case she gets followed and spotted. But she also doesn’t stay too far in case she gets lost or needs a clear path to run.

“Here we go, come on, that’s a good llama. Just keep following auntie Cleo. Taking a nice long walk to stretch your legs, that’s all.” She coaxes Pizza anytime he starts to turn or stop for too long. The more delays, the more chances of getting caught red-handed.

By midday, she reaches a clearing with a large hill, where she pauses to take a break. She’s been walking for hours at this point, and just needs a bit of a rest. Thanks to her being a zombie, she can go for longer periods of time before growing tired, but even then it has its limits.

“You alright down there?” A voice calls from somewhere, presumably above.

Cleo jumps, looking up towards the hill. On the side of it, she spots a man with damaged white wings. He’s making his way down and over.

Cleo stands up, ready to defend herself. “I was just taking a quick rest, there’s no need for a fight, I’ll be getting going-“

“-Nono, I’m not going to fight you, I just hadn’t seen you…are…you a zombie?” The man pauses, stopping his approach.

Cleo nods “I won’t hurt you, though. Not unless you give me a reason to.”

She watches as the man’s eyes wander to beside and behind her, and he widens his eyes, some feathers puffing up a bit in alarm. “Hold on a second…I think I…is that Pizza?” He carefully tiptoes closer.

Pizza stares the man down. She’s never seen a llama have such rage in its eyes. As soon as he’s too close, Pizza spits right at his face, causing him to stumble and fall back.

“Agh! Yep, that’s Pizza for sure! How in the world-who even are you? Scar doesn’t usually like going anywhere without this…thing at his side.” He wipes his face as he stands. It’s clear to her that he and Pizza have a history.

“I’m Cleo. And Scar doesn’t know Pizza is here…I’m just borrowing him…without permission…until he gives me what I want…I take it you’re not a fan of Pizza?” She inquires, curious about their history.

“Hell no. This thing is a nuisance. Kept trying to eat my bed while I was living with Scar because he wanted to keep it inside a small shack with us. We barely had enough room for us without the llama. I’m Skizz, by the way, in case you’re wondering. So wait…you’re telling me you managed to steal Pizza from him?” Skizz seems a bit amused at the idea.

“I mean, it was pretty easy when him and two others ran off and I was left by myself at that shack with the llama inside…but yes. He took my brand new cloak under the premise I’d get something out of it, and when I didn’t, I figured I’ll play dirty, too.” She pets Pizza, seeing he’s trying to turn back again.

“As you should! He’s a conman and a scam artist. I dealt with him for years, and let me tell you something. He cares about this thing more than he ever did me, and I was his only friend. So if the plan was to hit hard, you are right on the bullseye. Well done, Cleo!” He grins, patting her back and dodging another spit attack from Pizza.

“Thank you. But I honestly really should keep going if I’m going to make it back home before it gets too dark and dangerous. Please, don’t tell them that I’ve got Pizza, okay? I gotta go.” She starts walking off again.

“I will say nothing of the sort. Good luck to you!” Skizz calls after her, waving as she makes her way into the distance and through the trees.

She walks on for hours. As it becomes sunset, Cleo finds herself in a familiar spruce forest, but now with a much larger clearing than it had had before. She sneaks her way around back, knowing the abandoned castle isn’t too much farther away.

“Well well, what do we have here?” Ren’s voice calls from behind.

She turns back quickly, seeing him leaning against the corner of his shop and staring over at them. “Just passing by, I swear I’m not here to cause trouble again.”

“Just passing? Not here to make an offer?” He begins to walk closer, eyes fixed on the llama. “I’d certainly be willing to make a trade for this llama here, they could come in handy to transport items and materials.”

She holds the reins a bit tighter. “Sorry, but no. It’s not my llama to give away, I’m using him as a bargaining chip with his owner. He scammed me out of materials I was owed, so I’m playing dirty right back at him.”

Ren looks to her, an eyebrow raised. “So you’re a regular in the thievery department, hm? Like when you stole my materials before we could solidify a deal?”

She rolls her eyes “This time it’s different. I traded my cloak, which was one of the things I did manage to enchant by the way, for this old smelly one under the promise I’d also get saplings that they had. But when I asked, they tried kicking me and Tango out of the desert. So I managed to steal their llama, and I’ll give him back when I get what I’m owed.”

Ren laughs. “Doesn’t feel so good to have things stolen, does it? I’d certainly say you’ve faced some karma for your actions from last time you were here. And before you ask, no it doesn’t excuse you from working on the path, you do still need to participate in that. But fret not, as I do understand the frustration of being tricked, I shall not tell anyone about this that may tell the owner of this llama where it is. Whose is it, by the way?”

“His name is Scar, and he lives in the desert with a man named Grian. They chopped all of the dark oak trees down and claimed to not get any saplings, which is what I went there for. Just so you’re aware of the situation.” Cleo gladly gives away this information. If Ren decides to do anything about the situation, so be it.

“I see. I swear, those desert hooligans will not know of this llama’s location by my word. Now be on your way, the sky grows dark and the village is still a good distance away. Be safe on your travels.” He heads back towards the front of his shop.

Cleo sighs in relief, and resumes walking. She tries to take as many shortcuts as she can, not wanting to have to face too many monsters, especially as she has an animal in tow.

Once she’s finally back at the once-abandoned castle, she beelines it to the makeshift door and swings it open, shoving it shut behind herself and Pizza. Finally, she can drop her hold on the reins for a bit as she collapses onto the floor, worn out from her journey.

She hears footsteps coming from somewhere, as well as Bdub’s voice calling out. “Who goes there? Is it you, Cleo? Who-what the heck!? Cleo-what? Hold on, what is-are you okay?” He panics at the sight, looking between her laying on the floor as well as the llama casually walking around the room. He rushes up to her, sitting on the floor.

She looks up at his face. “I’m fine, just really, really tired. I was on my feet for almost 24 hours, after all, Bdubs. By the way, we have a buddy for a little bit. At least until Scar or Grian actually gives us those saplings you want.”

Bdubs turns towards the llama. “Oh my gods, you’re telling me that’s Pizza? The Pizza? The one Scar was telling us so much about as he led us to the village?”

——————

Grian runs as fast as he can towards the river, hearing Tango and Scar shouting behind him. In the corner of his eye, he can see someone running out of the treeline towards their group. He can’t focus on that now. His sleeve is burning and his skin is starting to burn.

He practically leaps into the water, shoving his arm ahead of him as he plunges below its surface. He feels the flames hiss as they go out, his skin feeling both very raw and stinging with cold. Once he’s all good, he comes back to the surface to see Scar and Tango with…Scott. Scott’s here. Which means he’s just one step closer to hopefully saving Jimmy.

Grian makes his way to the riverbank, soaking wet. He sees Scar spot him and come over, and he takes his hand when offered to help get him pulled out. “Grian, are you okay? Did you get hurt? Show me your arm!” Scar asks him frantically, grabbing his other hand and pulling it towards him to look over Grian’s arm.

“Scar, I’m fine-agh!” Grian winces as Scar pulls back the burnt sleeve, revealing a small patch of bright red skin, a couple of small blisters already forming.

Scar widens his eyes. “No, you’re not! Let’s get this back in the water, I think I might have a half-full healing potion back at the shack? I’ll go get it-“ he leads Grian back down to the water, looking back towards the shack.

“I can grab it for you, you can stay with him.” Scott offers, a worried and sympathetic expression on his face.

“Thank you. I think it’s underneath the bed inside of a box with a couple other potions. If it’s there. I want to have a word with you, Tango.” Scar looks to Tango as Scott heads to the shack, repeating to himself the directions for finding the potion.

“Grian, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ Tango starts, but is interrupted by Scar. “Burning my shack and burning my friend are no way to get anything out of me. He wasn’t even going to actually attack, just lead the way for you guys! He-“

“Scar. Take a deep breath.” Grian gently smacks Scar with one of his wings. “It’s not too serious. He’s told us if he panics, fire can just happen. I doubt he even had control over it. Right?” Grian looks up at Tango. He doesn’t need Scar to be making enemies with people right now.

Tango nods. “I’m really sorry, Grian. I was trying to use my flask to put you out, too, but I don’t know if you heard me.”

Scott comes running back with the potion bottle in hand. “Found it. I also carry some bandages on me if you need them.” He hands the bottle and a roll of bandages to Scar.

“Thank you so much, uh…” Scar pauses “…you didn’t say your name yet, you just ran up and checked what was going on…”

“My name is Scott. My husband, Jimmy, and I recently moved into a flower valley in the area. I was just going for a walk to get familiar with this place and I saw you two on fire and getting chased by him through the treeline over there.” Scott points to where he ran out from.

Meanwhile, Scar has poured some of the potion on Grian’s burn and is now carefully wrapping the bandages around it. It still kinda stings a bit, and he can’t help but to flinch and quietly gasp/hiss throughout the process. He’s honestly pretty relieved that Scar is being patient with him though he process.

“There you go. We’ll check up on that later, hopefully the potion actually does its thing. It’s kinda old, so I don’t know how potent it is anymore.” He ties off the bandage, carefully moving Grian’s arm around to make sure it’s secure.

Grian smiles. It honestly kind of hurts how much of a lonely, kind soul Scar is meant to play in this story. “Thank you, Scar. And you, Scott, thanks for the bandages. It’s smart thinking to carry them on you.”

“I honestly kind of have to, my husband is so accident prone. He’s always getting scrapes and bruis-“ he pauses. “Wait, I just remembered something…” he looks at Scar. “He kept calling you Scar…is that a nickname, or…?”

“Nope, my name is Scar. Name didn't quite fit the face for several years. Why do you ask? Was it the village people?” He’s still making sure the bandages are secure, lightly pulling a couple spots where he knows the burn isn’t directly underneath.

Scott is slightly more panicked. “Either there’s two people named Scar, or you’re supposed to be dead is why…and I don’t know how in the world I know that, but it’s a long story…”

Scar looks up at him. “No, that was me. I died. But there’s apparently some sort of…what was it, Grian?” Looks back at Grian.

He sighs. “There’s a legend about a group of people who live three lives, and long story short, if one dies, the others know. Wherever you felt those pulses is what keeps track of your lives. You die, one green thing breaks, and the two remaining turn yellow.” Grian uses his free hand to display Scar’s bracelet on his wrist.

“I’ve never come across this legend before…the library back home was massive, too, you’d think there was something that would mention it.” Scott crosses his arms.

“Only Grian and another guy back at the village seem to know about it. But Etho doesn’t remember from where…do you, Grian?” Tango asks.

Grian shakes his head. “Afraid not, sorry. But back to what you were talking about before, your husband sounds pretty clumsy, then.” Change the subject. He’s gotta play into this now. Especially since he made it up.

Scott chuckles “I didn’t marry him for how graceful he was, that’s for sure. Honestly it’s pretty cute sometimes. And if he gets hurt, I get an excuse to patch him up and just sit and cuddle for a little bit.” His cheeks and the tips of his ears turn a little bit pink at the thought.

Scar smiles. “Aw, that’s so sweet! Grian, do you-“

“Absolutely not.”

“But you were technically cuddling me last night~” Scar teases him again, smirking.

Grian feels his face get really warm. “It was just my wing! And you were cold. We went over this this morning!”

“Whatever you say.” Scar chuckles, finally letting go of Grian’s hand and arm. He stands, holding his hand back out again pretty much right away. Grian takes hold and gets himself up.

“Grian, could I possibly ask you a few questions to the side? I won’t take too long.” Scott asks.

“Yeah sure. You alright with that Scar?” He looks up between the two of them.

“Go ahead. I wanna have a chat with Tango about stuff. I promise I’m not going to yell at him.” He adds on the last part seeing Grian make a face.

Grian nods. “Fine. Scott, lead the way.”

——————

Scar watches as Scott and Grian move just out of earshot, but are still within eyesight. Then he looks over to Tango. “Gotta say, those stunts you pulled, your reputation is pretty low, and without having built up any, it’s definitely in the negatives right now.”

He’s gotta build up on the reputation thing now. He did it right in front of Tango with Cleo, and if word spreads, he’s really gotta keep it up. Even if he’s making up as he goes.

Tango raises an eyebrow. “Uh huh…and this supposed reputation system is legitimate? It’s not just an excuse to gatekeep a valuable resource from people?”

Scar waves his hand “Oh of course it isn’t an excuse! See, Tango, look what happened with Cleo. We traded cloaks, and now I’ll remember that if I stumble on anything she might be looking for! It’s as simple as that.”

“Okay…but I don’t really have anything that exciting on me…I also stole some enchanting from that guy, but it’s all back at the village, so that’s not exactly helpful in the now.” Tango looks over what he does have.

“Surely you would have something fireproof? That would be pretty neat.” Scar suggests, watching him.

Tango pauses. “I can’t give you my bag, I need that…can’t give my vest either…I think you’re too big for my shirt…” he thinks through everything on him that’s fireproof. “…so pretty much leaves my pants or my shoes.”

“Pants would be more useful than shoes. And I can give you my pants in exchange, like how I swapped with Cleo!” He smiles, extending his hand. “We got a deal?”

“Yeah, sure.” Tango shakes it, and looks behind Scar. “Oh, Grian’s coming back over.”

Scar turns around, smiling. “Good news Grian, we’ve made a deal with Tango! How’d things go with him?”

“It was good. And I’m glad to hear you guys made some peace.” He walks up beside Scar.

“Oh you might actually want to look away, we’re going to be trading pants with each other. I know you freaked out when I was shirtless.” Scar says, a chuckle in his voice.

Grian turns red again and immediately turns around. “Why do you keep wording it like that? You were actively taking your cloak off before bed, I thought you were getting changed.”

“What have you guys been up to out here…?” Tango looks between the two men.

“Oh I’ve been messing with him, it’s pretty funny to see his face practically blend in with his feathers.” Scar grins, giving Grian a small nudge. “Nothing much more than that, honestly. Now, let’s get to swapping pants!”

Tango and Scar both turn around, hand their pants back to the other person, don their new pants, and then turn back around. “And Tango, just like that, you’ve gained some positive reputation here!”

“So you’ll also keep me in mind in regards for the saplings?” Tango finishes adjusting the pants. They were a little bit longer than expected so he has to roll up the bottom a bit.

“If we find any, sure. But we don’t have any. Just like we’ve been saying. Anything else we could possibly do for you while you’re here?” Scar inquires.

Tango shakes his head. “Nah, not yet. I’ll just get heading back to the village now, maybe see if I can still catch up to Cleo. You two have fun…doing whatever it is you guys are doing out here.” He waves and heads off

——————

“It’s not what you-“ Grian starts, sighing as Tango disappears into the trees. “Scar, you need to work on how you word things. People are going to think we’re more than friends.”

“Best friends?” Scar asks, leaning against him with a grin.

He turns to look up at him, unimpressed. “I know you have to know what I mean. Or you wouldn’t be making the comments that you do. Did you do this with Skizz, too?”

Scar’s face drops. “No. Gods, no, he wasn’t-“ pause… “…he and I were really close as kids, I almost sorta saw him as like a brother at times. Less so as we got older and kinda drifted apart, but still. That would be a bit awkward for me.”

“That’s entirely fair. I wou-“ something catches his eye. He looks over.

Joel.

Joel is in the desert.

“Someone is over there.” Grian points. This could be it. This can be how he can fix this part of the story. Just so long as Scar doesn’t act the way he did with Tango. The only part of the story Grian wants to change is keeping Jimmy alive until someone else dies first. Break the curse, and he can go.

“Woah, how in the world did you see them so quickly? And in your peripheral vision, too! I wouldn’t have spotted them if you weren’t pointing them out.” Scar starts to walk in the direction of Joel.

“I just have really good eyesight. You gotta be able to spot things quickly while you’re flying.” He walks alongside him. As they walk, he really starts to take in just how hot wearing his sweater is. Yes, it’s good sun protection, but he’s getting really sweaty. He stops a moment and quickly pulls it off, leaving him with his white undershirt. He throws it over his shoulder and catches up to Scar.

Scar notices, of course. “Oh so you’re allowed to shed a layer of clothes but I can’t?”

“I’m wearing a shirt underneath my sweater. You don’t always have a shirt under your cloak. I was overheating, and you just like to show off and mess with me. There’s a difference.” Grian rolls his eyes.

Scar chuckles “We can get you your own cloak, you know. So you can cover up but still get a breeze so you don’t get too warm. We’ll just have to go to the village unless you want to take one of my other ones.”

Grian smiles, raising an eyebrow. “I think I’d be drowning in fabric if I took one of yours. I’ll need a smaller one. Maybe we could head out that way tomorrow, and bring some wood along to sell while we’re there.”

They’re now within earshot of Joel, who turns around hearing voices. He’s digging around in the sand, and looks slightly frantic. “You lot wouldn’t happen to have some shovels or something to dig through this sand? I dropped something and I can’t find it in this mess.”

“No we do not, but do you mind me asking who you are and why you’re in our desert?” Scar crouches near Joel, immediately helping him to look through the sand. Grian joins in.

Joel resumes his digging. “Call me Joel. I was just going for a wander around the area looking for some people and ended up here. Then I stupidly dropped my pin while I was trying to get it back onto my bag because the wind was blowing sand in my face.” He gets excited for a second, but sighs at just finding a small rock.

“What’s so important about this pin?” Scar also finds a small handful of rocks. “Is it valuable?”

Joel nods. “To me, at least. I don’t know how much value it’d have to others. It’s got an ‘L’ carved into it along with some flowers, for my girlfriend back home. She’s got one with my initial as well.”

“Ah, found it!” Grian announces, unearthing the painted-pink pin. He hands it to Joel, who immediately secures it to his bag. “You said you were looking for some people. Is that in general or anyone specific?”

“Specific. I overheard people in the village mention these guys that live out this direction who gathered a lot of dark oak. Wouldn’t happen to be you two, would it?” He looks between them.

“Oh it very much indeed is! Looking to buy some dark oak wood for a project? We’ve certainly got plenty available!” Scar smiles, standing up and helping pull Joel up to his feet.

So far, so good. Scar is being friendly with Joel. This is perfect-

“I was actually curious if you were selling saplings. They’d be really helpful.” Joel responds.

-Ah. There it is. Now Scar is going to scam him. Like he did to Cleo and Tango.

Scar goes on about the lack of saplings and the reputation system that he told the other two before. As he’s speaking, Grian notices that Scar keeps glancing at Joel’s sword. It looks remarkably similar to his own, the hilt poking out being almost the exact same.

“I don’t have much of value on me, sorry. I just have money, a little bit of food, a map, and a couple little oddities.” Joel shrugs. “I basically have got payment or nothing.”

“Oh, but you do have something you could trade.” Scar motions to the sword on Joel’s hip. “You got a really nice looking sword there. I think I recognize the hilt design, did you get it in town, perchance?”

Joel frowns, putting one hand rested on the sword’s hilt. “Yeah, but I kinda need this in order to deal with monsters. It’s quite clearly the only sword I’ve got.”

Scar adjusts his cloak to display the hilt of his own sword to Joel. “How would you feel about a trade, then? Sword for a sword and some reputation? Seems like a pretty good deal to me. I’ll certainly keep you in mind if we find the saplings that you’re looking for.”

Grian watches as Joel considers his options. It seems like he’s extremely hesitant about this option. But, ultimately, unless he leaves and comes back, there’s not really much he can do about this situation. “Fine. I’ll trade.” He unsheaths the sword, handing it over, and taking Scar’s sword in return. “I live on a hill in the forest near the village, if you find those saplings and are looking for me.”

“Thank you ever so much, Joel, the desert will remember this. Grian and I will come find you once we’ve got a hold of those for you. Right Grian?” Scar puts an arm around his shoulders, and actually is really good about not nudging his wings as he does so.

“Right. Though I’ll probably be doing the finding since I can get an aerial view of the surroundings.” He lightly flutters a wing for emphasis.

Joel nods, understanding. “Right. Well, I’ll be off then. I’ll be keeping an eye out for anything red in the sky. Just a heads up that I’ve got some dogs, though. So be careful of them if you’re not a fan of dogs.”

“I’ll certainly keep them in mind, sir Joel. Until we meet again!” Scar smiles and waves as Joel heads back towards the treeline. Once he’s gone, Scar looks to Grian. “Grian look! Now we have matching swords!”

Grian can’t help but laugh a bit, shaking his head. “I don’t understand how you just convinced three different people into downgrading their things for imaginary reputation.”

“Now who said anything about imaginary, Grian? We can make that into a thing! I can make a board to keep track of it, and we can respond to people accordingly! Obviously not giving out any saplings, of course. Oh! I can put it near our house! Come on, let’s get to work on it, I fell asleep while you were telling me about it.” Scar removes his arm from Grian’s shoulder, making arm gestures as he speaks. He then grabs the hand of Grian’s good arm and starts leading the way back, excited to get to work.

Grian just follows along, practically running to have to keep up with Scar. He has half a mind to ask if Scar was just really tired last night or if it was so boring to hear him talk about their house that he was lulled into sleep.

His house.

Not theirs.

——————

It was really hard for Cleo to be able to do anything in the village. Even with Grian’s vouch and her never actually doing anything to anyone, she noticed how all the people in the village would avoid her. So she spent most of the time while Bdubs was recovering from the blast taking care of him.

“I think I just have to stay away from this place, Bdubs. Nobody from this place will even get close to me, much less talk to me or sell wares.” Cleo sighs, checking up on his scraped knee. Looks better than it had been, but she still wraps it back up again.

“So where are we going, then?” He asks, looking from his knee to her face.

She pauses a moment and looks back at him. “What do you mean we? I’m the one the people have a problem with, you’re fine to stay here. It’s what you traveled here for.”

“Yeah, but you’re my friend now. And I wanna stick with you if you’re alright with that. We could set up somewhere nearby and I could come to town if we needed anything. We can help each other!” He smiles wide.

She gives him a small smile back. “Are you absolutely sure? I don’t want to hold you back just because you feel bad for me.”

“I’m completely sure! Cleo, we’re both here to build new lives, and it’s much easier to do with others, especially if you’re friends. I say tomorrow we will go scouting for a spot! Sound good?” He holds out a hand.

Cleo nods, shaking it. “It’s a plan. Now rest up, if we’re going to search for a place to get set, we should make sure to get enough shut eye.”

The duo soon go to sleep, and first thing in the morning, they gather their things and set out. Cleo happens upon an overgrown path, and they follow it out of curiosity. Paths, even overgrown ones, means there’s something significant on the other end.

And that’s exactly what they find.

They both let out a small gasp, leaving the treeline and spotting a small, dilapidated looking, castle-like structure. Well, small may not be the best to describe it, it appeared to have multiple floors, but it was certainly not the size of a regular castle.

“Woah…this place is so cool…I wonder how long it’s been abandoned? That whole section of the roof up there is entirely caved in.” Cleo walks closer to the building, inspecting it.

Bdubs follows suit, walking right into the open doorway. “I don’t know, but it could definitely do with some repairs…might be easier than building a whole new spot. Maybe. I don’t actually know, I’m just trying to imagine actually living here, it’d be pretty neat.”

“Yeah, it would. I say we go for it!” Cleo smiles, looking around at the messy room surrounding them.

They start getting to work, cleaning up the main room they’re in and making a temporary setup. Just enough so that they can get a start and work their way up to cleaning and repairing the other floors.

As they get working, they start to run into some issues. Namely that they don’t have enough materials to patch up everything. Gathering some stones isn’t too much of an issue, just incredibly laborious. No, the problem lies within that the wood is dark oak, which is hard to come by in this area.

That being said, they overheard people in the village talking about how they spotted Scar and Grian gathering dark oak wood recently. So while Bdubs gets to work on gathering stone and patching up the walls, Cleo is sent off to the desert with some of Bdubs’ money.

Now, Bdubs specifically told her to ask to get some saplings, so that this way they wouldn’t need to haul wood back and forth for days on end. He sent her with money just in case they want some financial compensation in exchange for those.

——————

Grian stands atop the mountain in the desert, surveying the area. He and Scar had agreed to build up top to have a view over the entire desert. He’s already made a small start on construction, beginning on setting up a foundation.

But meanwhile, Scar spent a lot of time transporting most of the wood they gathered from the swamp to the desert. Grian had helped for a bit, but Scar told him to start on the house, so he did as he was told.

He spots Scar with Pizza in the distance, returning from the swamp with a smaller pile of wood than they’d had returned with previously. Perhaps this was the last of it.

He flies down to them, landing just a few feet from Scar. “Welcome back, I just got some foundations laid out for your house, I gotta get onto the framework next. Is this the last haul of wood from the swamp?” He walks alongside him as they make their way towards the base of the mountain.

“First off, yes, it is the last of it. Second, you keep calling it my house…you are aware you’re living here too, at least until you leave? It’s our house until then.” He walks on, giving Grian a small smile.

Grian nods. “Yeah, I guess…I don’t know. It doesn’t exactly seem right to me to call this home if I’m going to leave at any moment. It’s just your house that I’m crashing in for now.” He cannot let himself get too attached to any of the players. It’s only going to hurt himself in the long run. He knows that. He’s only here to fix his mistake, and then he can go.

They make their way up the back of the mountain, into a cave where Scar decided to store all of the wood and saplings for now. He helps to unload it all. “So how much are you going to sell for the wood?”

“I don’t really know yet, but what I do know is that the saplings are going to be way more expensive. Especially since you need four to grow a tree.” Scar responds, setting some wood into a pile.

Grian pauses to look over at Scar. “Why would you sell the saplings? They’re not going to bother buying wood if they can just get their own trees. Doesn’t matter what you charge, it will be a better deal in the long haul to only sell wood.”

He watches as Scar slowly turns to him. “…I didn’t even think about that…you’re totally right, I can’t have a monopoly if other people can get it themselves! See Grian, this is why it’s a great thing we’re working together, we can share ideas and make it even better!” He puts his hands on Grian’s shoulders, a proud smile on his face.

Grian smiles back, gently grabbing Scar’s wrists and pulling his hands off of him. “You have no clue what kind of a mess you’d have if I didn’t point that out to you. Now come on, I want to show you the layout I’ve got going.”

“Okay, but just a minute first? Pizza’s a bit tired so I want to get him to the shed so he can get rested up.” Scar pets Pizza’s neck as he explains.

“Oh yeah, go right ahead. I’ll just wait up top.” He turns, heading out the cave and flying to the mountaintop, which wasn’t really too far away. He sits beside the remains of a campfire from the night before, thinking things over in his head as he waits.

Scar returns eventually, and Grian gets to explaining his plans. He flies around to give Scar an idea of what all the dimensions will be. All the while using terms like ‘your room’ and ‘your roof’. The first part of not getting attached is to keep himself separate from anything he does here. It’s all a favor, a debt to repay, until he can go…

He takes so long to explain, night falls and he looks over to see Scar asleep by a campfire he’d lit. He sighs. “Guess I’ll finish in the morning…” he lands, across the slowly burning out fire from Scar. He watches him for a minute, thinking of the story he was meant to follow.

Scar wasn’t supposed to lose his first life yet. He was supposed to be in the village when Joel showed up, and they were going to work together, bond over their love of their animal companions. He was going to trick his way into Renchanting and steal some books for Joel, and they’d resist against them when Ren rose to power. He’d fall to Martyn during the final stand. But that first step is gone…so what’s going to happen now?

He doesn’t want to think about it too much. He can only hope everything will balance itself out. Maybe there’s still a chance for them to work together. He’s going to leave, and Scar will need a new friend. A friend. He’ll need a friend.

The fire is getting really low now, and the desert air is cold. Grian quickly gets some more wood for the fire, but it’s slow to catch. He sees Scar shivering there. He can’t just let him stay cold like that…

Hesitantly, he lays on the ground nearby Scar, but not too close. Only just enough distance that he can rest a wing over him, acting as a makeshift blanket. He sighs in relief that it’s enough to keep Scar warm. And soon, he falls asleep himself.

——————

Scar wakes in the morning to the remains of a fire in front of him, the sun rising over the horizon, and a blanket of red feathers resting over him. He stares in confusion, almost jumping a bit as he looks over to see Grian asleep nearby, his one wing extended over him while the other is tucked close to himself. He’s very careful to not move around any more than he already has, seeing Grian actually sleeping peacefully instead of how he has been while they’ve been working together.

He tries to remember what Grian was saying last night, about plans for their house. It seems so…big. The bedroom itself is bigger than the shack, for crying out loud! He doesn’t really know what he’s going to do with all that space. Especially if Grian plans to leave.

He feels the wing begin to shift a bit, and he comes back into focus to see Grian starting to wake up. He smirks, an idea popping into his head. “If you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked.” He teases, chuckling.

Grian’s eyes snap open and he sits up quickly, his face turning a similar shade as his feathers, which were now puffed up. “Shit-sorry-I just-you were cold and-“

“Relax, I’m just teasing you. I don’t mind it, I was getting pretty cold, almost woke up. Thanks for that.” He gives him a warm smile. He really didn’t mind. It kept him warm, and Grian was able to sleep fine.

Grian was about to reply, but his gaze was averted to something else. “-there’s someone climbing the mountain.”

Scar gets up, walking over to where Grian was staring. There, he sees a man with spiky blond hair making his way up, with some slight difficulty. “Who goes there? What business do you have with the desert?”

The man looks up, and Scar recognizes him as one of the people who watched him die to the creeper. What was his name? Rango? Ranger?

“Tango, right? What are you doing here?” Grian asks, standing beside Scar.

“Yeah, that’s me. I was looking for you, actually. But then on the way I saw this shack, and I peeked inside and got a little spooked by the llama in there, a little corner of the roof caught fire-“

Scar doesn’t wait to hear Tango finish, immediately running down the mountain and directly to the shack. “Pizza! Pizza I’m coming!” He’s relieved to see the shack intact, and Pizza unharmed inside.

He turns to see Grian and Tango running up as well, both wide eyed. “Scar, you didn’t let him finish explaining-“

“I heard shack, llama, and fire, Grian. Pizza means everything to me, I needed to be absolutely sure he was alright. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him.” He looks to Tango. “Explain yourself.”

Tango takes a breath before he continues. “I’m part blaze, so if my emotions are out of hand or I’m spooked, fire happens. I keep a large flask of water on me just in case, which I used to put out the little bit that lit up.” He motions to his flask, then points out the small bit of singed corner above him. “I wouldn’t have walked away without putting the fire out, especially with an animal involved.”

“Fine. But what did you come here for in the first place?” Scar crosses his arms. He’s obviously still a bit grumpy. The shack was still a little bit on fire, Pizza was still in the potential of being in danger.

“Right! I was looking for you guys. I heard people mentioning in the village that one of them had seen you guys getting a lot of dark oak wood and saplings, and they wanted to know if you happened to find any saplings, since it’s an uncommon tree and all.”

“Oh, well-“ Scar starts, but sees someone walk out of the treeline. Cleo, if he’s remembering the name correctly. “Oh hello there! What brings you out to the desert?” Nice, an excuse to change topic.

“Hello again, Scar. Been a bit over a week since I last saw you, how are you doing?” She walks up to the group. “And you too, Grian. What have you guys been up to lately?”

“Oh we’re both doing just fine, Cleo. We’re working on building ourselves a house on that mountain over there, so we can see over the whole desert!” He puts one hand on Grian’s shoulder, using the other to gesture up at the mountain.

“You wouldn’t happen to be building with…oh I don’t know…dark oak, perhaps…?” Cleo smiles, knowingly. “Because I could really do with some saplings, if you name a price.”

“About that, um…” He looks to Grian, who shakes his head. “…maybe…if you give us something…we can keep that in mind…if we find any…”

“But we don’t have any.” Grian quickly adds on.

“Yes, right, we have none. But you could give us something in exchange for…reputation! Like friendship, but it goes for the whole desert, and the more favorable your reputation with it, and us, the more you can have access to within the desert.” He smiles, making everything up on the spot, but doing his best to make it seem convincing. “So yeah, even though we don’t have any saplings, we could keep it in mind if you have a high enough reputation over here.”

Tango and Cleo both frown. “But isn’t the desert just you two…?” Tango asks.

“And Pizza!” Scar insists.

Cleo sighs. “Fine, whatever. What do you want.” She starts to shuffle through a large satchel, but a purple glint off of the black cloak catches his eye.

“Wait-why did your cloak look purple for a second there? Is it just really really dark purple?” Scar walks closer, investigating closer.

“No, it’s black. The purple thing is because it’s got some magic in it.” She continues to look through the satchel.

Scar’s eyes widen. “Magic you say? How? Where did you get it? I haven’t heard of anyone who could make magic clothes!” He grins

Cleo stops digging and looks up at Scar. “Oh the cloak was just a regular one from in town. The magic was done at this shop called Renchanting. Word of advice: don’t steal from there, or you might have to build a road.”

“Would you be willing to part with the cloak in exchange for reputation? You can even have the one I’m wearing right now as a bonus!” He motions to the dark yellow cloak he’s currently wearing. Nevermind he just wore it all yesterday while hauling wood and then even slept in it. But she doesn’t need to know that.

She hesitates. “…you promise that you’ll give me some saplings?” She grips onto the cloak.

“If we come across any, you will receive some.” Scar smiles. He removes his cloak as she slowly pulls hers off, and they exchange them. He pulls the black cloak on, moving the cloth around to look at the purple sheen.

“So where’s the saplings, then? You have to have gathered some.” Cleo crosses her arms. “You don’t just chop a small forest and not gather materials to regrow.”

“…the desert is now closed. Grian, please escort these two back into the treeline.” He looks at Grian.

Grian sighs, drawing his sword. “Come on you two, this way-ahhh!” Grian’s sleeve is suddenly on fire. Tango’s hair is on fire, and he’s panicking too. “Oh no oh no I’m so sorry!” Tango pleads. Grian runs for the river, and Tango chases him. Scar follows, concerned about his friend.

——————

Cleo watches the men run. The audacity. They have to have saplings. And she’s absolutely not spending days on days transporting all the wood she and Bdubs needs. Now she’s down a brand new, magic cloak, and up and old and frankly smelly one. It smells just like-

She jumps, hearing a noise from inside of the shack. “What the hell was that…” she asks herself, taking a peek inside.

The llama.

An idea pops in her head. If they’re going to play dirty, she’s going to play dirty. “You, my friend, are going to be a very useful bargaining tool…feeling up for a little walk?” She approaches carefully, holding a hand out to Pizza.

He stands up, approaching her. He can smell Scar on the cloak she’s wearing. She very carefully pets him, letting him get used to her for a moment while she takes the reins in her other hand. She moves her hand away from petting him and starts backing up, leading Pizza out slowly.

——————

Scott and Jimmy had been working for days on their home, and they both needed a little break. So they decided that they’d spend the day just relaxing. Their morning was quiet and slow. After breakfast, Scott read a book while Jimmy fell back asleep, head resting in his lap.

Later, Scott helped to preen Jimmy’s wings, keeping a few of the fallen feathers to pin into his hair later. Sure, the bright yellow somewhat clashes with his bright teal hair, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Especially since it makes Jimmy so happy to see him with his feathers.

In the afternoon, after having lunch, Jimmy suggests they bake a pie. “I’ve helped my grandma make so many pies over the years, I’m sure I could do it in my sleep. And her apple pie was always the best!” He declares, moving about their kitchen and gathering ingredients.

Scott watches him, leaning against the doorframe. “So you could show me the ropes, then?”

Jimmy pauses and looks back at Scott. “I mean, it’s not too different to making any other apple pie. Unless you’ve not really made many pies before?”

Scott shakes his head. “Jimmy, I’ve never baked anything other than cookies before. And that was a long while ago. I know how to cook, not bake.”

Jimmy gasps, a big grin spreading across his face. “I can teach you how to bake! Okay, pies aren’t the most beginner friendly on your own, but since you’ll have me right here, we should be just fine!” He walks up to Scott, grabbing his hands and lightly pulling him into the kitchen with him.

“Here, you can wear my apron. I don’t mind being messy, and I know you won’t want to get your clothes dirty.” He unties the ribbon around his waist and lifts the apron over his head. He puts it over Scott’s, moving behind him to tie the ribbon around him. “And-there!” He smiles, wrapping his arms around Scott from behind, giving him a kiss on the cheek. He then gets back to gathering the ingredients.

Once it gets to it, Jimmy guides Scott along, telling him how much of each dry ingredient he needs, all while he cuts up some butter into pieces. Then they combine the butter with the dry ingredients, which prompts a small fork war between the two as they compete over chunks of butter to mix in to their side of the bowl. Jimmy adds in just enough water, letting Scott finish the mixing process before he stores it aside.

“Next, we’re gonna peel and cut some apples.” Jimmy takes the basket of apples from the counter over to their table. “Right, you peel, I’ll slice. I’m not good at peeling things. You saw that when you had me peeling potatoes.”

Scott chuckles “Yeah, I think only a vampire or something would have been able to eat that potato at that point.” He takes an apple from the basket, carefully peeling it as he listens to Jimmy hum while cleaning some of the dishes that they’d already used. He smiles. He enjoys hearing Jimmy hum and sing to himself, just like a cute little canary.

He passes off the peeled apples as he goes, Jimmy carefully cutting them. He sets the cores alongside the peels, planning to pick out the seeds later and feed what’s left to the animals as a little treat for them. He can go on to use those seeds another time to grow their own trees.

Once everything is all sliced up and in a large bowl, Jimmy once again guides Scott with measuring and adding the ingredients for the pie filling. “Now you get that all tossed together so it’s evenly coated, I’m going to get the crust ready.” Jimmy walks away, leaving Scott on his own.

He rolls the dough out, cutting a large circle and very carefully laying it over the pie tin he recently purchased from the village. He gently presses it in, then looks over to Scott. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

Scott nods, bringing over the bowl. They very carefully fill up the crust with the apples, then Jimmy gets to re-rolling out some dough. Scott watches Jimmy work, happy at how much joy this is bringing his husband. “So what are you doing with all of this crust dough, then?”

“This is going to go over the top of the pie. And, this is the part where you can get a little bit creative with it. Sometimes, on special occasions, my grandma would do something fun for the top crust. Whether she weaved it or cut shapes into it, one time she made little braids with the dough and weaved a couple of those in! I usually just cover the whole thing and poke a few holes in, but I thought you could try doing something fun if you want. Celebrate making your first ever pie.” Jimmy smiles towards Scott.

“Oh, absolutely!” Scott comes right on over, getting to work. He cuts out some strips of dough that he weaves over the top, but then also proceeds to cut out little pieces of dough in the shape of flowers, placing them along the outer border. Jimmy gets a fire started inside the oven, and once Scott is all finished, he carefully sets the pie inside.

While it bakes, they spend some time cleaning their dishes, which devolves to them flicking and splashing water at one another. Which ends in a truce, sealed by a little kiss. Which turns into a couple more kisses, and then they’re cuddling and holding each other while sat on the floor.

The air smells sweet and delicious as the pie bakes, and boy does it make Scott so hungry. It may not have been that long since they ate, but when something just smells that good, you can’t help yourself. So when finally, finally, Jimmy removes it from the oven, Scott is (exaggeratedly) heartbroken at the fact that they have to leave the pie to cool before they can eat.

“I know, it’s the hardest part for me, too. But I learned the hard way after burning my mouth really bad, and I’d rather you not burn your mouth either. It would make it really difficult to kiss you if it hurt so badly.” Jimmy reassures Scott, kissing his head.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just wait. But you’re in charge of keeping me occupied so I don’t get too tempted.” Scott teases, chuckling.

After some time, the pie has cooled, and Jimmy happily cuts himself and Scott a slice each, grinning as Scott eats it so quickly. He has some himself. “Scott, this is a fantastic first pie.”

“I did have a fantastic teacher, so please, give all the credit to him.” Scott gives him a small nudge.

——————

Scott and Jimmy get to work on their new home as soon as they can. Scott plans out their house in one of the cliff faces while Jimmy goes about setting up a farm. Each playing to their strengths.

They work to gather materials, though Jimmy makes use of his wings to be able to explore further and survey the surrounding area. Sometimes he returns with supplies, sometimes with information. If he’s lucky, he’ll have both!

At night, they lay inside a makeshift tent on top of a blanket draped over a pile of leaves. Just until they’re able to get a proper bed. It’s not the most comfortable, but they make do. Jimmy lays on his stomach, with one of his wings resting on top of Scott, providing him with a little bit of extra warmth.

One day, Jimmy wakes up really early to be able to surprise Scott with something. He sneaks away and starts to build a structure on the opposite cliff face from their home. He wants to put together a storage area where they can keep their materials and some crops.

Scott wakes up alone. “Jimmy…? Where are you…?” He sits up lazily, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He hears the sound of a hammer building outside the tent, so he shuffles over and peeks out. There, he sees Jimmy building a…structure, that’s for sure.

He walks over, pulling his jacket closer around him. “Jimmy…what is this?” He looks up at where Jimmy is perched, nailing some wood down to look like a roof of sorts.

Jimmy grins down at Scott. “It’s a storage area! This way we don’t have to keep all the spare building materials in the house or cluttered on the ground. Or at least, once it’s hollowed out it will be that. I was building up a front part for it so it’s nicer than just something propped up against a hollowed out hole. What do you think?” He flies down and lands beside Scott, very proud of himself.

Scott…doesn’t want to say how actually ugly it is. He can’t be so mean to that face! And it’s a really thoughtful gesture, too. “I think it’s a great idea, Jimmy. Look at you, thinking ahead about those sorts of things.” He smiles, holding his hands. “Would it be alright if I added some stuff to it at some point? Just some of the finer details.”

Jimmy nods “Yeah, of course you can! It’s our home, you should get a say in things like that.” He kisses Scott’s cheek as he finishes speaking. “Now I don’t know about you, but I am absolutely starving for some breakfast, I am not used to waking up that early and then also not eating.”

——————

Later that day, Jimmy flies out to survey the area again. He makes a stop at the village first, listening in to conversations to hear about anything new. That one farmer still hasn’t found his cows, a con artist was spotted nearby, there’s that business in the forest, some guy keeps getting mentioned, eh, nothing exactly new.

He heads off, going in a different direction this time than he had the previous days. And subsequently, he keeps getting distracted by different things. A cute animal, an interesting plant, spotting people, the sort.

Unfortunately, he ends up miscalculating as he weaves through some branches and full-on smacks his wing against a particularly sturdy one. He lands as quickly and safely as he can on the ground to investigate.

He gets a good look, and can see part of it is scraped up and some small feathers are missing. He tries moving his wing, but any way he keeps it other than tucked against his back hurts way too much. He recalls from flying that he saw a clearing nearby where someone was building a house.

He makes his way there, careful of every moment so as not to hurt his wing. He starts up the hill, calling out ahead of him. “Hello? Is there someone there? Anyone?”

“Yeah, but I’m back here. Who are you?” Jimmy honestly jumps a bit hearing a voice behind him instead of ahead of him. He turns to see another avian standing there.

“Hello, uh, my name’s Jimmy. I just injured my wing, and I remembered seeing a house here while flying. I was hoping that perhaps whoever lived there could spare some bandages.” He winces as he moves his wing out, revealing the scrape, along with the feathers around it slowly being stained in red.

“Oh ouch, I know that’s gotta hurt bad. Come on, let’s get that wrapped up for ya.” The man leads the way up the hill, and Jimmy follows.

Through conversation, he learns his name is Skizz, and he’s lived in this area for a really long time. He’s making his own place to have a fresh start for himself. Jimmy shares how he’s come to this place with his husband after they ran away together.

That’s when both men jump, feeling a strange pulse. They both get the same sinking feeling. Someone was dead. Jimmy immediately thinks to how it’s started to grow dark, and Scott is alone.

“You felt that too…?” Jimmy asks, putting a hand on his ring. Skizz nods in reply, a hand over his ear.

Then, the word ‘Scar’ shows up. And Jimmy can see how Skizz goes through many facial expressions at once, before settling on nonchalant.

“I don’t know what happened, but that jerk…for all he’s done, honestly, he deserved it.” Skizz shrugs and goes back to looking at Jimmy.

That very much unsettles Jimmy. “How can you just shrug something like that off? Through some kind of strange phenomenon, someone died and for some reason we know about it! That doesn’t just usually happen here, does it?” His feathers are all puffed.

Skizz shakes his head “No, it doesn’t. But I knew that guy. He used to be my friend, but then he became a professional con artist and made a living off scamming people. Cared about money more than…friendship.” He hesitates on the last word. Like he thought over what he was going to say and changed his mind.

“I see. I um…I should try to make my way back home. Scott’s probably wondering where I am, I was supposed to get back before now.” Jimmy gets to his feet and heads towards the door.

“You might want to bring a torch if you plan to walk in the dark. One moment,” Skizz gets up, grabbing an unlit torch. He’s about to poke it into his fireplace, when Jimmy interrupts.

“Actually, uh, now that we’ve wrapped up the injured spot it feels a little bit better, I think I can just fly enough to get home like this. But I appreciate the thought!” He leaves quickly before Skizz can get another word in, painfully flying his way back home.

——————

Scott spends the day finishing and fixing up a lot of what Jimmy had built that morning. He loves his husband dearly, but Jimmy is not one for design. The basic structure wasn’t bad, it was surprisingly sturdy for what it was, but it was very plain and ugly.

As he finishes up and takes a step back to admire his work, he realizes how much of the day has gone by. He frowns. Jimmy should have been home by now. It’s going to start getting dark soon.

He works on tending to other things while he waits, all outside so he can keep an eye out for Jimmy. Dealing with plants, adjusting the tent, things like that. It begins to start getting dark.

And then there’s a pulse in his ring, and the sinking feeling of somehow knowing a person had died.

Jimmy still isn’t home.

Scott’s mind is racing. He starts pulling together supplies to go set out to find Jimmy, completely missing when the word ‘Scar’ shows up before him.

He sets out from the valley, torch in one hand and sword in another. As he makes his way through the woods, he fends off monsters and calls out for Jimmy. He wanders for nearly an hour before- “Scott!”

Scott looks up through an opening in the trees, just in time to see Jimmy land very awkwardly onto the ground in front of him. Immediately, they envelop each other into a close hug. Jimmy nestles his face against Scott’s neck/shoulder, and Scott tilts his head to lean against Jimmy’s.

“Where were you? You had me so worried! I thought you’d…” Scott starts, before tears well up into his eyes, and he chokes a bit on his words.

Jimmy rubs Scott’s back, helping him to settle down or let it out. “I was worried about you, too. Until I saw someone else’s name appear…all I could think was you were all alone back at home…”

“Wait-what do you mean a name appeared?” Scott pulls back a bit, looking to Jimmy’s face.

“I can explain more once we’re back home safe. But I don’t exactly understand what happened myself…I’ll try my best.”

——————

Once back home, the pair immediately duck into their tent and Jimmy explains everything that he can to Scott.

Meanwhile, Scott gets out the last bit of healing potion they have left and applies it to Jimmy’s wing. They only had one when they left home, and agreed to use it sparingly until it ran out or they could get more. Pouring a bit at a time onto a cloth and putting it up against a cut or scrape. Most often to Jimmy.

“So some guy named Scar died, we all knew about it, even though only one of us actually knew him, and this isn’t a regular occurrence here so it’s just some sort of odd magic affecting us…?” Scott frowns. Something about all that just isn’t adding up.

Jimmy yawns, nodding. “I’m sure we can work it out sometime in the morning…? I’ve been flying almost all day, and about an hour of it was on an injured wing.” He leans against Scott, head resting on his shoulder.

Scott sighs. “Fine…but tomorrow I’m gonna get down to business. Something strange happened magically, and I’m going to figure it out. It may be a good idea for me to create an enchanting pedestal too, soon. I’ll have to get the materials for it…”

As he spoke, he was very gently coaxed into laying down on the makeshift bed with Jimmy, who fell asleep almost immediately once he was cuddled up to Scott. He keeps muttering to himself as he slowly drifts off as well.

——————

The next few days are rather uneventful. They continue to build while Scott struggles to find an explanation for everything.

Skizz died as well at some point, and Jimmy mentions that was the man he’d met. So now the plot thickens.

Now more than ever, Scott wants to put a pedestal together. Which means he has to get geared up to go to a very dangerous place.

——————

“Xelqua has thrown this story off the rails already, we have to pull him out of there, now.”

“Fool, you can’t do that! He’s already woven himself deep into it. It could break if you did that.”

“Surely it can’t have gone that far off, right? Almost everything is exactly as it needs to be at this moment. So what if one player has a little extra help right now? Xelqua is sure to lose a life soon. Then he’s less involved.”

“Right. Perhaps we can wait until then.”

“That Listener is still doing well in following our story, even if it’s slightly off.”

“This can still end our way.”