Chapter Text
It had been a long day for all who lived or traveled deep within the dark oaken forests that stood tall above the surrounding flower valleys. The suns rays had just fallen below the distant horizon, and now that night had finally descended upon the land, it left the darkened woods feeling claustrophobic, everywhere under the trees drenched in murky, jet-black shadows, unlike the way the ambiance was soothing and beautiful throughout the many hours of daylight that came prior each day; and more than just that, it was almost completely peaceful during the times when one could see more than three feet in any direction.
While many of the animals headed to the safety of their homes at this time, songbirds asleep in their self-made beds and snakes huddled in their burrows with the comfort of the dirt above their heads, there was a certain group of animals who went against their nature and stayed up even after the stars had come up, though the brilliant twinkling above them was entirely invisible with the canopy of tree leaves blocking out the remaining light from the moon and its companions in the sky.
This group, otherwise known as the Woodland Expedition Team, were filled with incessant hunger for exploration, companionship, knowledge and grandeur accomplishments, which often kept them obsessively awake into the later hours of the night, exploring and traveling just as they did during the day. So just like many other nights, this night could be considered rather normal for the group of four who now trudged through the grass, way lit by just a single lantern that swung at their leader's side, assisted only by the bright fires that danced off one of their bodies near the back of the group. So it was to nobody's surprise when not even the nocturnal animals nearby batted an eye to the loud shuffling of several pairs of feet walking through the fallen leaves and ever-green ferns that covered the dirt on the forest floor, or the chatter breaking through that sound while the lantern glow swayed back and forth from its clasp on the leader's belt, or even to the sound of the air swirling around a sword that spun expertly in experienced, practiced hands. It was never quiet when the Woodland Expedition Team was together, and even less-so when they were on the move.
It wasn’t long before another familiar sound drew the attention of everyone present as the one leading at the front of the group let out a loud sigh, followed by several incoherent yet clearly frustrated grumblings under his breath. The group of explorers behind him all looked between themselves, most of their eyebrows scrunched up with concern or distaste for the uncomfortable mood that had settled over them that even rivaled the suffocating nature of the pitch-black woods.
“Hey Grian, uhm… What’s the matter..?” One of them finally asked between the lengthy spiel happening under Grian’s breath and the frustrated tapping of his foot on top of crinkly, loud leaves after they'd all settled to a halt. The inquisitive one wrung his hands together as he stared nervously at the back of Grian’s head, seeing his wings twitch on his back in the way they always did when he was angry. Despite both of them having wings, they looked completely different from each other and, likewise, behaved completely differently. A pair of his own white wings that adorned his head, always drew from the back into a crown-like shape in the front. His yellow eyes seemingly glowed on their own in the dark of night, giving him a much more dangerous air than his timid nature would imply. His three remaining pairs of small yet long white wings were drawn tight against his back in retaliation against the cold of night and the discomfort from the confrontation. Altogether, his eight individual wings, sun colored eyes, and strangly colored hair that curled in locks of blues and purples came together in a look that rivaled the appearances of even his most unique teammates.
“Oh, I sure do wonder ‘What’s the matter’, Jimmy!” The other spat back sarcastically, his eye-roll evident in his voice even before he turned himself around to face the group and do it again to their faces. The leader stood shorter than the rest, and despite his usual scowl and the dark rings always evident under his eyes, his own wings always appeared brighter in comparison to any of the colors of his companions, a waterfall of pretty reds and yellows and blues ruffled out from his back in a pair of large, extraordinary wings. Similarly, he had smaller wings in the same colors that came forward from behind his ears, making him more expressive than his face would lead on. Everyone watched as they followed along with every annoyed movement he made with his hands, almost like he was a puppeteer, pulling the strings for his own self.
“Maybe 'the matter' comes from when I left one of you with the map I’ve been working on for weeks now, and then when rain started pouring down from the sky..-” He said, throwing his hands up towards the treetops with the destroyed map still held in his frustrated grip. "-..He didn’t protect it with his life!” His hands, and similarly, the wings on top of his head, then shot forward as he showed the crumpled, soggy map in his hands to everyone who had been following him. “WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS?” He exclaimed, sounding far more distraught than he usually did, even more than when someone happened to get an injury or when the group would run out of rations for the day. “The ink is all running and smudged and the paper is all crinkled and not even suited for writing on and I can’t believe I’m having to say this but I don’t even know where we are anymore!” His breath was now coming out in heavy puffs from his open mouth as his hands, still clenching into the sides of the map with inclemency and disdain now fell to his sides in defeat, the map now held weakly and longingly in his left hand.
Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward hand, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the bandana he wore, the red evermatching with the red of Grian’s sweater and its ever rolled up sleeves, his eyes staring off and searching for some unknown thing deep within the shadowed bushes and leaves; Grian’s own blue bandana was attempting to catch Jimmy’s vision like the moon would in an open night sky. “Look, Grian… I really am sorry but I don’t know what I was supposed to do in that situation.. I’m still soaked from earlier.” He said, hands now wringing into his damp and heavy jacket, which had always been suitable for winter conditions but not as suited for downpours as you’d expect. “I don't think it would’ve survived even if I had hid it in my own clothes..” He said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet that still stood in soggy shoes, which were now covered in dirt and leaves and twigs that stuck to their wet exteriors. What he wouldn’t give to have the energy and dryness required by his wings to keep himself off the ground right now.
Grian pointed an embittered, forceful finger in his direction, though it was clear it was now more exhausted, lacking the original energy from when he had first turned to face them. “Then call me over, Jimmy! The outside of my wings are waterproof for Dragon’s sake! Now I have to remake the whole damned thing!”
It was then that another person pushed through to the front of the group and made his way between them, his horns, height, and demeanor always demanding attention from anyone around him, though even more so now that he held his hands out to stop what could only be described as a petty fight between honestly pretty good friends. His sword was holstered properly now as his voice broke through the tension. “Alright, boys… Let's calm down now. Jimmy didn’t mean to damage the map that we all use and either way, the map can always be remade, maybe even better than before, Grian. Let’s not go making the night any harder than it has to be.”
Grian crossed his arms then, a big frown on his face even as his eyes drew over his intruding comrades' friendly look and his other comrades' defeated and pathetic expression, forever aimed down at the leaves and dirt on the ground.
Grian let out a loud, heavy sigh. “Alright, Jim... I guess Impulse is right. I didn’t mean to get my wings so bent out of shape. I’m sorry.” He said, despite the hard stare he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face, even when his eyes drew over Jimmy’s ever retreating features.
Jimmy waved his hands in front of him, an embarrassed look painting over some of the shame on his face. “Yeah, yeah.. I totally get it though. No worries. I’m sorry, too.” He said, just before feeling a comforting hand on his shoulder from the gently burning fire elemental behind him and turning his head to give him a gentle smile in return, mouthing a ’Thanks, Tango.’ where nobody else could see.
Impulse sighed as he finally felt safe enough to lower his hands without Grian going for Jimmy’s throat like a vex with a taste for passive blood. He ran a hand through his hair for just a minute as his tail swayed in thought, both his hands finally making their way to his hips in a more confident stance. “How about we set up camp here for tonight, then? I’m sure we won’t do much more at this time of night other than get lost without our map.” He chuckled lightly, though it wasn’t because he found it particularly funny.
Grian looked around for no more than a second before he pulled his carrier bag from over his shoulder and dropped it on the ground in an unceremonious thud. “Yep, sounds good to me.” He said, voice apathetic and giving off the feeling that he’d rather be anywhere else.
Everyone else exchanged one more glance between each other as if they were all telepathically agreeing to let Grian have his time to cool off and then began to shuffle their gear off for the night. Now the ground housed two large backpacks and two smaller carrier bags, the four pairs of feet standing uncharacteristically distant from each other. Impulse wandered off for just a moment before he began to carry over some large fallen logs with ease for all of them to sit on. Jimmy had already begun to clear a space in the middle of the group for a fire to be started. His blazing teammate, Tango, with hair made out of flames and a long tail burning with the same kind, was now lighting up the entire campsite just by being present, the light bouncing off the sides of the trees in a way that might be pleasant for a family gathering on a warm summer's night.
Tango was the type who always tried to keep himself moving, mostly because he had to. His feet always burned with a temperature so high that, not only could he never wear any shoes without them burning to a crisp, but he also tended to set grassy, leafy areas on fire if he stood around for more than a few seconds. But despite this, he was now crouching down beside Jimmy on the ground where Jimmy had already cleared away the dead leaves, and although it would seem he was just waiting to help start the fire with his ever-useful abilities, everyone but Jimmy seemed to know he was just over there to help him finally dry off from the rain, his fires burning a bright blue and causing steam to rise and spin away in big swirls from the other's clothes that he still wore.
As Impulse removed his sword and its holster from his belt to set it down beside himself for the night, he looked over at Grian who had already pulled out a new, dry cartography paper from his bag and was now smoothing it out with his hands on his lap in preparation for tomorrow. “Hey, G?” Impulse tried, his voice always sounding light even at times like this. Grian spared him a glance up from his new map, one of his eyebrows quirked in questioning despite his tired look. Impulse gave him a tentative smile. “Why don’t you go and get some firewood for us? There should be plenty out here in the woods, and I’m sure the walk will help you cool off..” He said, making it sound like an offer more than an order as much as he could.
Grian seemed to ponder it for a second with his eyebrows heavy and scrunched on his forehead before he gave a slight nod, already tucking the paper into his bag, standing up and turning the other way from his log to leave. He felt the thud of a sword in its leather holster being pressed against his chest as Impulse halted his attempt to go. “It’s not good to be without protection in the dark, right?” He said with a kind smile.
Grian felt that nagging in his head, the kind that insisted he wanted to smile back despite how pissed he still was. He accepted the sword with seemingly ungrateful hands and started walking off, clipping it to his own belt on the other side of his lantern and above his bundled up rope as he heard Impulse call out from behind him. “Don’t worry about us, G! I’ll keep an eye on these guys!”
Grian couldn’t shake the urge to smile that time, despite even going so far as to shake his head in refusal, and so he simply did it in secret...
where no one could see.
He walked in peaceful silence for a while, picking up sticks like he was tasked with and letting them collect in a big bundle under one of his arms. When he eventually realized he had been walking for awhile and turned to look back, he could no longer see the glow that Tango always gave off, and it finally registered to him that he had actually wandered quite a bit further away than he had intended. Now, Grian wasn’t lost; Grian didn’t get lost. His sense of direction had always been far superior to that of his comrades. He still knew the way back to his group and if he flew he could be back there in five minutes flat. Still, as he took the rope from its clip on the left side of his belt, being careful not to knock the newly acquired sword off in the process, and knelt down to tie all the firewood together into a bundle with a big loop for him to sling it over one of his shoulders, he used the time to take in his surroundings with his neverending curiosity.
Of course there was nothing too riveting. His eyes scanned along more of the same pitch-black woods, the forest floor around his feet only lit up by his lantern for a couple of yards in all directions.
But for just a moment in time as he glanced around himself, he thought he saw something that stood out from all the darkness. His brain went on autopilot, immediately searching for what he saw that was out of the ordinary again, looking at trees and their leaves and the unending shadowed forest in front of him, until eventually his eyes landed on a golden glow in the distance, but it wasn’t the glow of Tango’s fires that should now be far behind him. No, this was in the direction he had been walking the whole time, to the northwest of camp, away from everyone else, isolated and deep in the woods where no passive civilizations had yet dared to move in.
His curiosity always getting the better of him, he slung his bundle of wood haphazardly over his right shoulder, which bumped against one of his wings in an uncomfortable way, and then his feet took off in a speedy dash in the direction of the light, nothing more than a soft yellow glimmer in the distance.
As he got closer and more and more of the trees parted from his view, more and more of the same kind of lights came into view, each square shaped and repeating amid the pitch-black wall they stood against, until his feet raced their way into an open and breathtaking clearing, refreshing as the night air, surrounding his body in an openness that made him feel relieved. But when Grian looked up to account for the positions of the stars and the moon so he could map this location on the map come tomorrow morning, he noticed that the stars almost seemed to disappear in a straight line across the open sky, blocked by something large and menacing. It had taken him far too long to realize, but when he finally did, he saw that he was standing right in front of what could only be described as some sort of mansion, there in the middle of nowhere, standing by itself, tall and foreboding.
Grian’s eyes drew to where he assumed the front door would be, his thoughts running wild. Sure, making maps was a passion of his for many years now, but the reason he enjoyed it so much was because of the exhilarating feeling he got when he could explore somewhere new, the feeling of his adrenaline kicking in and his heart pounding, eyes sparkling and wanting, and his entire being feeling renewed, like he'd just been born again and discovered breathing for the first time.
’The lights are on... Are there really people here in the middle of nowhere? If I knock on the door, will someone answer it? But what if the people who answer it are dangerous...-?’ His thoughts were running away with all the possibilities that could be waiting for him if he walked his feet up to that front door, planted them there firmly, and knocked daringly against its rough, unexpecting wood.
As he mulled over his options, hand already drawn up to his chin in thought, he saw the silhouette of someone walking past one of the windows on the ground floor, his eyes following them down the hallway like he had an unquenchable taste for being the cat that the curiosity killed.
Deciding that sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him probably wasn't his best option when going into a possibly hostile encampment, he instead crouched low to the ground as he made his way over, large wings tucked tight against his back in an attempt to dull their size and color, with his small wings shielding his eyes from the bright light of the many, many illuminated windows. When he had shuffled up to the side of the window that the figure had passed by, he peeked his head up ever so slightly just so that his eyes could see inside, though he still couldn't see down to most of the floor. He could see a long hallway that laid horizontally in front of him, rooms built into the wall on the opposite side of the windows, and although nearly every light in the building seemed to be on, the wallpaper inside was peeling in seemingly every spot that it could, the wooden plank walls underneath molding and falling apart. On the left side, where the hallway turned a corner, he could see it open up into a room with some long forgotten armchairs and a coffee table that was still standing despite missing half of one of its legs; the carpets were filthy and growing their own moss and... whatever else that was... and the lightbulb in the ceiling was fractured and flickering, though it still somehow illuminated the entire room.
He frowned to himself subconsciously. It looked completely abandoned except for all of the lights being on and that silhouette from before. Why would anyone willingly be here in this kind of dump?
He sat and waited, for one minute, then five, then ten, and when he saw that nobody else seemed to be planning to pass through the hallway he was surveying, he placed calloused hands under the closed, cracked window and lifted with all his might, attempting to get it to move against the splintering frame that it was stuck inside.
It budged only slightly at first, a cloud of dust puffing up from the windowsill inside that made its way out into the cold night air, and similarly, right into Grian’s face, his breath held tight in an attempt to avoid coughing, cheeks puffed and round in retaliation. He pulled harder against the window until he heard a loud crack followed by a slam, both from the window hitting the top of the frame quickly and harshly and from a piece of wood that had broken off when it happened, flying from some place above him and out into the hallway inside.
He flinched against the loud sound that even echoed out into the forest, causing the nearby chirps of crickets and croaks of frogs to become hushed as if hiding from a predator; there's no way that wasn't about to attract massive attention from the people inside.
Now he had a choice, he could wait even longer to make sure the coast was clear, which could mean the window possibly getting reshut on him or, even worse, him getting caught. He also had yet to consider the fact that he should be heading back to the camp soon until just now. His frown refused to part from his face. His friends were probably starting to worry by now.
His other option was one he was more familiar with, one he felt a lot of thrill with in the past. He could rush in now before anyone had the time to check what had happened, and make a break for somewhere to hide inside. That was probably his best bet if he wanted to actually get to explore this mansion tonight, alone, without the voices of his teammates telling him what he should or shouldn’t do.
He quickly threw his leg over the windowsill, his wings easily giving him the boost he needed with nothing more than one big flap, wood collection bumping against his back and the wooden frame, the noise rattling its way into the interior. He found himself inside with his talons digging into the musty, grimy carpets and took the time to dust his clothes off as if he wasn't just worried about being caught moments before.
And perhaps he should've been more worried and observant, because when he finally lifted his head to look around again, his eyes caught on a figure at the other end of the hallway from where he stood, approaching him much faster than he would've preferred. When the light finally hit the one approaching from the shadows, Grian immediately knew he was in some sort of trouble. With grey skin, a large nose, and tall body like that, it had to be some sort of illager, known for being violent, aggressive, and difficult to defeat. His chance of survival would depend entirely on what sort of illager it was, though.
His eyes scanned over the clothing quickly, long black robes and no obvious weapon; which one was this again?
But he was already out of time to assess the situation, and it seemed his question would simply provide an answer itself. As the illager removed its hands from where they were tucked together in its robe, it lifted them above its head in a swift motion, and when Grian realized what was happening, he folded his wings tight against his back, and he bolted in the other direction, through the living room and down the other hall, the sound of monsters being summoned loud and intense behind him and then…
all the lights went out.
He ran as fast as he could, breath already coming out in anxious puffs. As he turned the corner that extended to the right at the end of the hallway, his eyes caught on an ominous red glow behind him.
He had a bad feeling that if he left his back turned to that red light, it would be the end of him.
His feet seemed to stutter and lag for a moment, now stuck in place as he looked back and forth down each of the hallways for his attackers. When he didn’t immediately see them, he let out a shaky sigh that he forcefully made quiet.
But before he could let his now trembling legs continue to carry him down the hallway, the wall to his right started to wobble next to him.
“Wha-..” He breathed out, eyes drawing over it in confusion and fear.
It rippled like the surface of water in the rain, and then the color of the walls began to change, the wood changing from its natural brown to a deep orange, and then, as it began to turn red…
a head popped out of the wall, all blood-red eyes and bluish grey skin.
‘A vex!’ Grian could feel the alarms going off in his mind.
The head tilted one way and then the other as if curiously looking him over, and then, it let out a piercing shriek, causing Grian to raise his hands to his ears, which were then covered by the small wings behind them, his eyes squinting partway shut against the excruciating sound.
When the shrieking finally stopped and got replaced with a far less grating swooshing sound, a noise something like hearing the wind but inside, Grian looked up, hands still hesitantly covering his ears. His weary eyes immediately came face to face with the point of an iron sword just inches from his head, the place where it was phasing through the wall ever-rippling and otherworldly. His eyes widened just as the sword was slashed at his head, his usually nimble feet stumbling him backward just in time to avoid the hit, and more than a few strands of his bangs falling to the ground in front of him. His left hand reached for the sword in its holster while the right one braced himself against the wall as he dodged out of the way of another swing, the creature now fully crawling its way out of the wall, revealing its wings and illuminating the entire hallway in a sickly crimson glow the color of blood, and probably the color of his guts if they ended up on the floor.
‘Why did I put the sword on this side?!’ He mentally chastised himself as he was forced to grab it with his left hand despite being right-handed.
He hadn't expected to actually be using it.
He managed a weak swing with his left hand as the vexes sword attempted to collide with his head again, just barely deflecting it in time with the loud clang of iron on iron. He knew that vexes always appeared at the sound of an illagers call in groups of three, and he also knew that he wouldn't be able to fight off more than one of these by himself. He would have to find a way out of this situation before the rest came flying down the hall or popped their heads through the mansion walls. As someone who wasn’t very practiced in swordfighting, he would have no other choice but to run and hide as far away in the building as he could.
With one more weak left-handed slash, he knocked the iron sword out of the vexes grasp, ears waiting for the sound of the metal hitting the ground to convince himself that it had really happened, before he turned quickly on his feet, now carrying himself down the next turn in the hallway with nothing but adrenaline keeping him from falling over from his sudden exhaustion. He was starting to wish he’d stayed back at camp and slept instead. He was sure Jimmy could’ve gotten the firewood without messing it up like he had, suddenly feeling the weight of his bundle of branches more than before.
He could tell from several distant shrieks and hisses behind him that more vexes had spotted him, the demonic red glow that hugged his back growing brighter and brighter the longer he was running down the corridor. He was lucky to come to the end of the hallway then so that he could turn another corner.
Despite the common population avoiding vexes altogether, it was only because the information on them was so thorough that people knew how dangerous it was to encounter or engage with them, so thankfully Grian had picked up a lot of knowledge about them throughout his years travelling. Although vexes have the ability to phase through walls, if they didn't know where he was, they wouldn't be able to find him. His eyes caught on a staircase to his right as he was dashing through the hall. His feet stopped for a moment, his breath now the loudest thing echoing in his head since he put distance between himself and the vexes.
‘If I go down there it might be a dead end...’ He thought, the sound of his heartbeat starting to rise above the sound of his breath. ‘But they might lose track of me… and I might end up too far away for them to find me.’
It was a chance he had to take.
Deciding to risk it instead of trying to pry open a new window or staying on the same floor as the vexes, and with shaking tired legs beneath him, he barreled his way down the stairs as fast as he could, seemingly taking him an entire two stories underground before they came to an end, the walls around him now completely concrete and undecorated, a stark change from the solid wooden build upstairs and its wallpaper, carpets, and all.
His vision blurred for just a moment before he shook his head. He forced himself to focus. There was a hall that ran straight in front of him and at the end it branched off in two directions, to the left and to the right.
He still had just enough energy to run to the end, where he looked both ways, his sword having been tossed to his right hand at some point, which was now clenching it tightly despite how sweaty his palms were. At the end of the hallway on the left was a room with an open wooden door, a flickering light was coming from inside, probably from a candle or lantern rather than a light fixture. The other end of the hallway had an iron door, meaning it was most likely locked from at least one of the sides, and probably couldn't be opened from the other. Through the small window at the top of the door he could see that it was dark inside.
He knew he really didn't have an option here. If they followed him downstairs, they'd expect him to be in the only room that looked accessible, so he’d have to hide in the one place they wouldn't even bother to look by somehow making it accessible to himself. He made his way with less vigor than before towards the iron door, his feet having slowed to an exhausted walk. There was a button to access the door to the right of him, but when he slammed it harshly with his fist, it opened the door for only a second before closing it again. He would be locked inside if there was no button or other mechanism on the other side. He breathed out, there is a way to get inside locked doors by force, but it would ultimately be loud and difficult for someone as tired as him.
But what choice did he have?
He lifted his right arm weakly with the butt of the sword aiming down, and with as much of his energy as he could muster, he slammed it down on the iron door's handle, the metal creaking violently under the pressure. If it was making a sound that dramatic, a few more hits should get him in.
He slammed the handle of the sword down again and again, the door handle groaning in a more dire way each time, until eventually the loud snap of metal breaking was heard, and two clangs echoed as broken metal clattered against the floor, once on his side, and once on the other.
He huffed out a sigh of relief as he grabbed half the handle from in front of his feet, and opened the iron door with a tough pull on the hole where the handle once was. It moved easier than he expected, and with the remainder of his energy, he made his way inside and weakly closed the door behind him.
His legs wobbled for a few steps before he collapsed to his knees in the middle of the small, barren, concrete room, nothing but his loud breath in his ears and the scittering of what was probably several silverfish housing themselves in the walls.
It was only after he had finally begun to feel safe, his vision already blurring and giving him the okay to pass out for the night, that the walls around him began to illuminate despite the dark, lightless interior; the bright, reminiscent glow from behind him made his stomach drop.
Had he been found already?
He had only been downstairs for a few minutes… His legs only getting seconds to rest, if kneeling on hard, unforgiving concrete could really be considered rest.
This time...
Was it really the end of the line for him?
He didn’t have the time to consider it before he turned himself around, sword barely in a position to cover his face from an attack when his assailant landed on him.
His blurry vision struggled to make itself clear, now barely keeping himself conscious despite his predicament. But his brain still forced his eyes to search for the things that were the most important.
There was no sword in its hand…
And when he realized that, his eyes kept searching.
There was no smallness to its size like the vexes from just moments before. And.. it didn’t even seem… not… human?
There was only an unblinking stare inches from Grian’s face that resembled his own curious look from just minutes ago, with eyes that burned with how intensely and brightly they were blue.
Its hands were not clawing mercilessly at his sword to aim for his neck like he thought they should have been, but instead they were planted firmly on the ground on either side of his head, an entire body weight pressing down on him from above.
Still, his hands shook, the sword trembling from where his right hand held the handle and his left hand braced the sword for impact, which was holding the blade's end tight enough to draw the slightest bit of blood from the palm of his hand, which started running down his wrist and into his already carmine sweater.
But still, despite everything he managed to think…
‘Why is the glow so…’
‘blue..?’
And with that last thought, the last ounce of Grian’s energy had completely left him, and along with it, his consciousness, his eyelids barely even attempting to keep themselves open as they fell shut against his will, head thumping back against the concrete harshly. His arms and his sword fell weakly against his chest, and despite the fact that he was fearing for his life only moments before, his once shaky breath now rose and fell in even beats, the only sign he’d been through anything at all being that the dark circles underneath his eyes were now darker than ever before, and that his bundle of wood had cracked and fallen apart, now scattered on the ground beneath his back in a way that could only be uncomfortable.
The other, now sat in Grian’s lap and staring down at his unconscious body, simply blinked to itself, as if it was unable to process what had just happened. It sat up slightly, reaching for Grian’s left arm and lifting it up, only to drop it and watch it fall limply back down beside him.
Now, vexes were not known for being particularly intelligent, only widely known for their bloodlust and their anger.
But while Grian saw vexes and swords and red eyes in the nightmares that tormented him, he missed the way his body was gently lifted off the hard floors, almost as if he was simply floating, and placed against the wall on the other side of the room, and the way the wood was bundled back together by inexperienced and soft but dry hands, with the new knot being almost useless in holding the wood together, but somehow still managing the task. He missed the way the other checked the broken iron door with such curiosity, pulling it open then closing it shut as if it’d never seen it move before in all its life; and he certainly missed all of the effort it took just to get him outside, the climbing up the stairs with his limp body in its arms, the careful watching for guards, the bundle of sticks being carried over one of its shoulders, the haphazard breaking of the window nearest to the stairs, and the climbing through and running off into the woods and out of sight from the mansion, a few drops of blue and red blood left behind on some of the broken glass still left in the window frame, and the sound of tearing fabric barely echoing in Grian’s unconscious mind.
And as his body was laid on a patch of moss and up against a sturdy, old tree, his nightmares changed into something more like blue skies and lilacs and poppy fields.
The wood was propped up against the tree on his left side, and the sword laid down in the moss on his right.
And then, as if he'd never entered the mansion to begin with...
he was all alone...
...in the forest without his friends and without his map...-
and without the red or blue glows.