Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hell. Hell was what this must be. How long had he been here, in this dark, damp place? He was huddled under the small spur of glassy stone. Obsidian. Always obsidian. Aside from this claw of glass, it stretched out, flat and endless, in every direction. Rain dripped down relentlessly just a few feet from where he sat, limbs drawn tightly to his body. Stray droplets splashed against him, hissing on contact. They burned through the short fur, leaving blisters on his skin beneath.

The air was so heavy with moisture that it stung his eyes. His entire body was perpetually sore, his usually water-resistant fur having long ago become saturated from the constant bombardment. The only places spared were his boney horns, and the place under the thick shaggy hair that covered his scalp and then narrowed to a dense mane running down his back to the base of his tail. No water could get under it unless he was submerged.

Ranboo felt tears welling up in his eyes. “No, no, not again,” he whispered. They spilled over, leaving wet, stinging trails down his cheeks. They didn’t burn as badly as the rain. The purer the water, the worse the reaction. But welts rose up anyway. He pressed the pads of his palms against his eyes, wincing at the contact, and wiped the tears away.

Then the voices started.

“Ranboo? Ranboo, where are you?” It was Tubbo, calling out from the drenching darkness. His voice seemed to bounce off the falling rain until it was coming from all directions.

“Ranboo, where the hell are you?” Tommy yelled.

“Dad?” Michael. His son. How badly he wanted to run towards the tiny, confused voice. And yet he knew how badly that would end up.

The voices came in intervals. There was no way to keep track of time here, but he knew they would come back around, again and again, like clockwork. Sometimes it was just one. Tubbo, Tommy, and Michael together were the most common. But Technoblade and Philza, Foolish, Niki, they, too, would cry out for him beyond the curtains of rain.

He’d tried to go to them before, launching himself into the downpour. Had done it a dozen times. He had ignored the agony as long as he could, stumbling blindly towards a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and yet nowhere at all. He never reached it. Always, Ranboo would fall to the slick obsidian, and feel his body burn away as the rain relentlessly fell.

He’d caught his reflection in a puddle the last time he’d tried to reach Michael. His red eye had already dissolved, and his face was disintegrating. Blood oozed out, washed away as fast as it could leak through his seared skin. His cheekbone glimmered, unaffected, as the flesh around it was destroyed. At some point he’d lost consciousness. And just like all the other attempts, he’d woken up whole under the spur of obsidian, just as trapped by the falling water.

Such was his life. Or, lack thereof. Ranboo moved a hand to his stomach. The tips of his fingers grazed along the great rend that parted his flesh there. Sam was responsible for that. It hadn’t even been a quick end to his former life. Not a puncture, but a slash across his gut that left him cold to the core. Left him to feel his life ebb away as red poured onto the grass. Left him to watch Techno’s anguished eyes and Dream’s cowardly figure running away.

Ranboo brushed the edge of parted skin. The wound hadn’t bled since he first woke up here, but remained open. It was agonizing at first, like white fire threading through his nerves. But now the pain of it barely even registered, there so long it was now a part of him.

For an unknown number of times, Ranboo wondered where he was and how long he had been here. All he could think was: Hell. Hell was what this must be.

~

Ranboo’s ears flicked forward. It was the only movement he had made in ages. Something was different. The rain was falling strangely. He lifted his head from where it was tucked to his chest. Atrophied limbs uncurled, sending shooting pain as unused muscle and joints shrieked at their sudden movement.

His eyes flicked around, trying to make out anything in the gloom. Fear throbbed through him. He was trapped here, in a prison with no bars. Running meant death.

A voice called out, “Ranboo?”

He froze, ears pinned back. This voice wasn’t like the others. The others were far away, echoey, and played tricks with his head. This one felt very close, and very real.

“Ranboo? Are you here?” It was another voice, higher than the last. Somehow it felt like moonlight.

He didn’t recognize them, but something in the calls made his heart stop its frantic beating. Cautiously, he replied, “I’m here.” It was scratchy and had no power behind it. He tried again, only marginally louder.

“Did you hear that?” The higher voice said.

“This way.”

Ranboo watched the falling rain, confusion making his head whirl. Something was moving out there, and the rain was pattering off of it, strange and somehow leathery. He could just see the shape of it, getting closer. He waited under in his tiny spit of shelter. He suddenly realized it was two somethings.

They suddenly spotted him against the dark glass and ran towards him. Terror ran through him and he darted into the rain, away from the charging shapes. The burning started immediately and he yelped, turning on one foot and scrambling back towards the spur. The movement was agony, the pads of his feet seared by the endless thin sheet of water that stretched across this place.

He flung himself into the only dry-ish space in this entire world and clutched his feet, finding blisters with blood oozing out between them. All he could do was press himself to the obsidian behind him.

The shapes had stopped a way off, and just beyond his panic, he could hear them again. “Ranboo? Ranboo, it’s Moms. It’s us, honey. Please don’t be scared.”

Moms? That felt familiar. There was a tickle of a memory, of two hazy faces, one with skin the color of midnight skies, and the other so pale she looked like a piece of moon. The memory felt so faint, so tenuous, and yet…

His remembrance was interrupted by the other voice, “We’re going to come closer. Please don’t run again, you’ll get hurt.”

And so Ranboo waited, tail flicking nervously.

The two shapes melted out of the curtains of rain. They each carried a parasol, rain bouncing off of them. Two tall figures, one white as moon and the other black as night. The faces in his memory appeared as they crouched down and peered into his modicum of refuge. And suddenly Ranboo wasn’t afraid anymore. Kindness seemed to pour from their eyes as they settled under the obsidian with him.

“Mom? Mamma?” he whispered, reaching out with singed hands.

“Oh, Ranboo! We found you!”

They pulled him into their arms, tears falling from sets of green and red eyes. Ranboo began crying too, though his tears hurt. “What did that horrible creature do to you?” He couldn’t tell who spoke. Their hands pressed against fresh burns and he jerked away, gasping.

“We can worry about that later, Ran,” said the other, wiping tears from her pale face.

“Let’s get him home, then.” Ran pulled out a flat, rounded stone that hung from a chain around her neck. She set it on the ground. “Boo, could you open the gate while I get him wrapped up?”

Boo nodded and extracted a bottle of sloshing purple liquid from her pocket, dripping some onto the stone. It ran along carvings, previously invisible, and began to glow brightly.

Ran, meanwhile, had pulled a thick blanket out of her bag. “Hey, Ranboo. Can I get you bundled up in this? Traveling this way is hard and cold.”

Ranboo nodded and scooted closer. Ran delicately draped the dense fabric over his shoulders. It was the first soft thing he had touched in ages, brushing strangely over his fur. Ran looped her arms under his and stood, stepping out from under the spur. Ranboo screwed his eyes shut, expecting the burning rain. But Ran already had her parasol out, leaving them in a sheltered void.

“Ran, the gate is opening. We need to go.”

Ranboo looked over Ran’s shoulder, resting his chin on her collarbone. A lattice of glowing purple lines had expanded out from the stone; an enlargement of the carving. Inside them, the ground seemed to ripple and sway.

Boo grabbed Ran’s sleeve, pressing a quick peck to her cheek. They stepped forward together. Ranboo felt a thrill of fear and hugged himself tightly to Ran’s chest. They walked into the center, and suddenly the trio were falling.

Ranboo could see nothing, but knew he was moving incredibly fast. And it was cold, so deeply cold. His head didn’t feel right. Like he wasn’t getting enough air. He tried to speak but couldn’t find words. He was panicking, flailing in Ran’s arms. No light, no air. So cold.

Falling unconscious was nothing short of mercy.

Chapter Text

Ranboo jolted awake, sitting up sharply. It was dark and quiet. So strangely quiet.

He tried to rub at his sore eyes, only to realize there was something wrapped around his face, blinding him. He began tearing at the material, gasping as he panicked. His hands were covered in something, too, and he couldn't get a grip on anything.

Finally he managed to push the material up enough to see. His hands were bound in soft bandages. Oh.

His heart slowed as he took in his surroundings. No rain. No endless falling droplets of pain. Faint light trickled in from between drawn curtains, barely illuminating his resting place.

Ranboo realized he was in a plush bed, the lower half of his body under silken sheets in a deep shade of violet with a thick blanket over top. A dark room stretched out beyond the foot of the bed. He could just make out the shapes of a table and chairs, as well as a trunk on the far wall. On the wall to the right, opposite the windows, stood a tall door.

More curious than frightened now, Ranboo pulled himself out of the mess of pillows that supported his back, and unwrapped his legs from the sheets. He gasped, finding his limbs swaddled in yet more bandages. Concerned, he used his teeth to pull his fingers free from their bindings. The soft fabric came away easily enough and he dropped it at his side.

His hands were smeared with a strong-smelling ointment that glowed faintly. He could see blisters underneath it from where he’d gone running in the rain. He wiped the ointment off with the bandages, wincing. As soon as that barrier was gone, his skin stung. Oh well, he needed to be able to use his hands without slippery, oddly fruity goop all over them.

Ranboo grimaced as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling the prominent tendons bang against the frame. He tentatively stood up, wincing. The pads of his feet, even bandaged, hurt as he put his full weight down. It wasn’t necessarily unbearable, but was enough to make him feel woozy.

He limped through the shadowy room towards the door. Part of him wanted to throw open the curtains, to find out where he was, but something stronger drew him away. With trembling hands, he turned the doorknob and peeked outside.

A long hallway stretched away to the left. It was the first well-lit thing he’d seen in… he didn’t know how long. His skin prickled at seeing the obsidian floor, but the middle of the hall was covered in a long stretch of rich violet carpet. He wouldn’t have to touch the horrible glass. The walls were a mix of pale purple and cream-colored stone. Evenly-spaced niches held glowing torches, throwing warm light into the space.

Ranboo stepped carefully into the hall, door clicking shut softly behind him. On sore feet, he moved stiffly down the corridor. He passed two other doors but found both locked. The hall turned to the right and as he walked around the corner, soft voices reached his ears. They tipped forward, trying to catch the words. They didn’t sound dangerous.

He moved to the end of the hall before stepping out into a massive space. The vaulted ceilings seemed to stretch up endlessly, darkness obscuring their highest reaches. At the far end, a great fireplace blazed. In front of it, several figures sat around a long table, speaking to one another in urgent tones.

Suddenly one caught sight of him. It was Ran. Her green eyes shot open in surprise. She stood up, as did Boo, and they both ran to him.

“Ranboo? We didn’t think you’d wake up for a while longer,” Boo said, pushing a lock of hair out of his face. The gesture startled him and Boo winced at the reaction.

“Sorry,” he murmured, voice weak and confused.

“No, no, don’t be,” Ran said. “Do you want to come sit by the fire? We’re just talking with some friends right now. It’s really important, but it shouldn’t take long.”

“He’s probably still tired, Ran. I can take him back to his room.”

Ranboo’s heart jolted at that, “No!”

Both Boo and Ran turned and stared at him owlishly, startled by his sudden volume.

Ranboo composed himself. “Sorry. No. I don’t want to be alone again,” he said quietly.

His moms’ expressions softened. Ran reached out with a delicate hand, waiting for Ranboo to set his own in her palm. “Okay. There’s some soft chairs by the fire. You can wait there.”

The pair let Ranboo brace himself between their shoulders as he limped to the fire. There were two chairs and a deep couch. He opted for the latter, sinking down on the cushions. He pulled his legs up and slumped against the armrest. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Ran and Boo looked at him with worried eyes before returning to the table. Ranboo took stock of the others sitting with them. There were three more, and they all looked like Ran; shades of black with soft green eyes. One was considerably taller than everyone else, and his skin had purple undertones that made it look like he was covered in an oil slick. His brow was wrinkled in concern.

Boo was clearly having trouble focusing on the conversation. She kept looking back to check on Ranboo.

Ranboo rubbed absently at the fabric of the couch. Part of him knew he should be more alert, more aware. But there was a barrier, somehow, keeping his head hazy. Was any of this real? Or was he still in the dark, horrible place, and this was all some dream his brain concocted to give him a moment’s respite. Was the dark place real, either?

The more he thought about it, the more he felt his mind distance itself from his aching body. He stared into the fire, unfeeling.

The wood in the fireplace suddenly crackled and sent embers scuttling upward. The noise startled Ranboo, and he felt himself slip back into his body with a jerk. His ears swiveled around, picking up the trail end of sentence.

“-a problem. Will you be able to hold the connection until he is ready?” It was the purple Enderian.

“We’ve done our best but I doubt we’ll have more than a few months before she loses control, Mos. The three of you need to prepare.”

One of the shorter ones stood up. She had green dots scattered down her arms and across her nose and cheekbones. Strange freckles. Like Tubbo’s. “We have provisions, but with her out-of-link, the towers lose-” her voice faded as Ranboo sunk into a memory. Tubbo in the sun, ax in one hand and a felled tree next to him. He was grinning, eyes just peeking out from under his hair. His jacket was tossed aside, leaving him in just a tank top. He always got overheated when he was chopping wood for the house. The sun caught on his cheeks, horns, and shoulders.

Ranboo didn’t even realize he was crying until the burning started up again. He pawed at his eyes, sniffing.

Suddenly Boo was at his side, dabbing the wetness away with the collar of her dress. Ran was there a moment later.

“Ranboo, we’re here. We’re not going anywhere, okay?”

Ranboo wanted to feel relief at that. He knew they were his moms, that they were safe, but he only had a few shaky memories that said he could trust them. Not enough to remember who they were, how they loved him. Still, seeking comfort in anything, he reached out. Ran wrapped herself around him.

“I’m going to see our friends out, alright?” Boo whispered, gently petting Ranboo’s hair.

Ran lifted her head, “Please hurry back.”

Boo turned away, back to the table. “I think this concludes our meeting. Queen Ran and I must tend to our son now. I’ll send a message in a week’s time once we know more. Keep an eye out for the void falcons.”

Her voice grew dim as she herded the other Endarians out of a doorway.

“The prince is no solution, Queen Boo. He’s injured and has…”

Ranboo’s ears twitched. Prince? He was about to ask when he felt Ran’s fingers threading through his tangled mane. At once, Ranboo felt all the tension leave his body and he slumped back against his mom.

Another memory, long buried or hidden away, trickled back. He was in another room, different from that of the one he awoke in, but with the same cream and purple walls with glittering black floors. A stuffed toy that looked something like a wolf was in his lap. Boo was reading to him and Ran was behind him, pulling his mane into neat braids. She wove little purple beads into his hair as she went, until his hair was held out of his eyes.

Boo also had braids, though they were messy and the beads stuck out at funny angles. She unconsciously touched them, endearment clear with every movement. Ranboo’s little child hands were responsible for that. Ran had them too, and just as scraggly. Her emerald eyes squinted happily as she focused on wrangling Ranboo’s mane into something presentable.

And then he was back in the present. Boo had returned, the sound of her pushing in a chair pulling him into the moment. She sat down at the other end of the couch, red eyes looking over him softly. “I’m sorry that we weren’t there when you woke up. We had to meet with our friends. It was very important, and I promise we would have been there if we could have been.”

Ranboo nodded, “It’s ok. Where are we, though?”

The Queens shared a look over Ranboo’s head, concern flaring in their eyes. Ran answered, “We’re in the End Palace, dear. You lived here for a long time.”

“Did I? I remember you two, and a room full of toys. But not all this.”

“Oh, that was the nursery! It was your room before we had to-” Ran started but was quickly cut off by a sharp hiss from Boo.

Ranboo glanced between them. He didn’t like that exchange, but said nothing.

Ran coughed awkwardly, quickly changing the subject. “Ranboo, dearest, you are quite a mess right now. Do you have the energy to take a bath?”

Ranboo tensed immediately. He whipped around, ears pinned back and teeth bared, “Why the hell would you want me to be in water?!” He got to his feet, heart thudding at just the thought of that searing agony.

Boo startled at his sudden outburst, perched on the back of the couch like some strange bird. Ran rubbed her hand soothingly before turning to Ranboo. “You don’t remember. That’s okay. We don’t have water here, Ranboo. There’s none within the End that we know of. We have chora here. It will not hurt you.”

Ranboo’s eyes darted suspiciously between the two of them, finally nodding. “Alright. Show me, then.”

His moms rose from the couch, Ran helping Boo down from the back. When she turned to look at Ranboo, he saw a deep pool of anguish. The intensity of it took him aback and he quickly looked away, heart thumping. He’d seen it before, in another hazy memory. Nothing filtered in around it, though. Just Ran’s eyes, full of tears and pain, staring into Ranboo’s.

Shaken, Ranboo allowed his mothers to guide him through a long corridor. Walking unsupported between them, he realized they were both taller than he was, the tips of his horns only just coming level with the top of Boo’s head. Ran was even taller. He was so used to being the tallest. Again, that sadness welled up. Of course he was always the tallest, back in the overworld. Michael and Tubbo made him feel like a giant. Thinking about them made something under his ribs ache and flutter; a trapped and scared bird in his chest.

An ornately carved set of doors stood at the end of the hallway. Each displayed a strange bird-like creature, mirroring each other. Ran reached forward and pulled the doors open before Ranboo could look any further.

Humid air spilled out. Ranboo winced, expecting the same all-over stinging that a damp day in the overworld would bring. It never came, though. He peered cautiously into the room. It was a bathroom, but one larger than he could have expected. In the center, there was a great pool of rippling lavender liquid. The far end held a miniature waterfall, sending ripples across the surface. There were other, smaller basins around the room, scents swirling up with the steam.

“Towels are in the alcove. The little pools make you smell nice and nourish your hair. Rinse your hair in the shower at the back. Take however much time you want. We’ll leave some better clothes in the hall for you. Just come to get us when you’re done and we’ll take you to the doctor to be re-bandaged before bed, okay?” Boo said, bending down slightly.

Ranboo nodded, his unease fading. Ran patted his shoulder gently, as did Boo, and his moms closed the door behind them.

His ears drooped then, exhausted. Ran had pointed out how messy he was, and suddenly felt every inch of it. He was still in the tattered shorts and shirt from the obsidian world. He could feel dried blood in his mane, under his fur. His hair was a tangled rat’s nest.

He turned to the alcove and found stacks of fluffy towels, already warm to the touch. He grabbed one and laid it on a bench near the main pool.

Ranboo took a nervous breath and bent down to the surface of the pool. It moved just like water. Sounded like it. Instead of being completely colorless, though, it was a shade of lavender, and had the slightest smell of tart fruit. Shaking, he dipped a finger in. One second. Three seconds. Five. Nothing. No burning, no blisters. Just pleasant warmth.

Surprised, Ranboo dunked his entire forearm in for the same result.

Standing back up, Ranboo pulled his blood-crusted clothes and bandages off and tossed them near the door. Slowly, he stepped down into the pool. The chora closed over his shoulders, warm and soothing. The feeling was familiar, another scrap of memory. It had been so long since he’d taken a proper bath. A fire potion and a lava bath in the overworld worked in a pinch, but this? Muscles he didn’t even know he had relaxed.

Ranboo sat in the pool, completely still, with the chora level just below his nose for a long time, feeling his aches vanish. Even his water burns stopped stinging when he was still. After a long moment, he dunked his head under to wet his hair. He tried to comb through it with his fingers but found it hopelessly tangled.

He clambered out of the pool, steam rising off his soaking fur. His burns ached as the chora dripped away. On still-tender paws, Ranboo stepped towards one of the basins. It contained a pale green liquid and smelled sharply of mint and lilacs. He touched it curiously, and found it to be slippery. Rubbing it between his palms produced an absurd amount of bubbles, much to his delight. Soap, he supposed.

Taking a palm full, he began massaging it into his mane. The bubbles turned a shade of grey-brown as grime and dried blood was lifted. Grimacing, he found the shower Boo had mentioned. A constant stream of chora fell from the ceiling. He put his head under, feeling all the gross foam wash away and down a drain.

Ranboo was overwhelmed by a sudden wave of exhaustion, so intense that he felt nauseous. He limped to the door, grabbing his towel and knotting it around his waist before opening it. He found a small table had been placed outside. A neat pile of clothes sat on top. He grabbed them, finding a soft set of sleepwear. Little purple flowers and fruits decorated the fabric.

After a few moments of pulling cloth across damp fur (not a sensation Ranboo appreciated), he was dressed. He held his towel up in one hand. He’d never had use for them, owing to his lava baths, and had no idea where to put it. Awkwardly, Ranboo decided to hang the towel on the door handle.

A tiring walk down the hall, and Ranboo found his moms waiting, just as they had promised. Their eyes lit up as he came around the corner. “There you are!” Boo said, standing up from her seat.

They looked him over, nodding. “I’m sure that feels a lot better,” Ran murmured.

“Much. I didn’t realize how gross my mane was,” Ranboo replied. His voice was quiet, revealing his self-consciousness.

His moms picked up on it, “Oh, please don’t feel bad. You’ve been through a lot. Now let’s get you to the medical area, okay?”

Ranboo’s face fell. Another walk to some unknown space in the Palace. He was so tired. “Alright,” he sighed.

Boo and Ran shared a look of concern. “We could also have the doctor come to you, if you want.”

“That would be much better. My feet hurt.”

“Of course. Let’s get you to bed, then,” Boo murmured.

As they padded across the chamber and towards his room, Ranboo stopped. “Before we do that, though, can you take me to the room with all the toys?”

Ran’s eyes got that sad look again, “Your room from when you were a young child. Of course.”

It turned out that it was one of the locked rooms Ranboo had tried to get into when he’d first woken. Boo unlocked it and light from the hall spilled into the space.

The musty smell of old fabric hit Ranboo square in the nose. Dust swirled in the shaft of light from the doorway. Toys were all over the floor. Little sewn or carved creatures. Fake swords. A false pair of elytra leaned haphazardly against a dresser with drawers half open and clothes spilling over.

He stepped inside. This place was like his memory, but the warm energy the moment in his mind held wasn’t here. Instead, it felt like a melancholy freeze of a moment. A chill went down Ranboo’s spine, making his fur prickle. He had the sense he was stepping on his own past. Still, he moved over the carpet and to the bed, avoiding the bits of obsidian that weren’t covered by thick rugs.

He was taller than the bed was long, having long since outgrown it. He pulled back the dusty blanket, looking for what he saw in his memory. And there it was: the little plushie he’d been holding. It had been protected from the dust by the blanket, and he held it close to his chest. His hands could wrap fully around it, now. His heart stilled as he rubbed the fur.

“Ranboo?”

His head swiveled around. Boo tilted her head, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, um. Just remembered something and wanted to grab it.” He began walking back towards the hall when he had another flash of memory. The little purple beads. He pulled the top dresser drawer fully open, stifling a cough as a cloud of dust rose up from old clothes. The canister was there, lid halfway off. He grabbed it and limped back to Boo.

Ran was on the opposite side of the hall, avoiding looking into the room. Ranboo wanted to ask but decided not to press. She turned and saw the beads. The hurt in her eyes receded a bit. “Oh! Your hair beads! Are you wanting to put them in?”

Ranboo nodded as the trio returned to the room he woke up in.

"Here, sit on the floor. You're a bit tall for us to all be on the floor," Ran said, tucking herself up onto the bed. Boo settled beside her.

Ranboo did as he was asked and folded his legs under himself. The rug was rough against his blisters, but they had scabbed over and raw flesh was under a protective covering. He felt delicate fingers begin pulling knots from his hair and upper mane where the tangles were the worst.

Immediately, Ranboo’s shoulders dropped as tension left his body. The gentle tugging in his hair, combined with the soothing smell of mint, seemed to go straight to his eyelids. Despite his aching heart, he felt safe here. In this little bubble with his moms, feeling cared for and loved for the first time since he’d died.

His head began to drop forward as he dozed off. Boo caught his chin and held him upright. “A bit sleepy there, huh?” she asked. He nodded drowsily.

Ran patted his head. “We’re just about done. We can fix any spots we missed tomorrow.” Getting up to stand in front of Ranboo, Ran looped her arms under her son’s and hoisted him onto the bed. Boo pulled the soft blanket over him.

“Goodnight, Ranboo,” they both said, stepping towards the door.

Ranboo sat up, eyes suddenly wide, “Please stay!” he gasped. No. No he couldn’t be alone. Alone felt like that obsidian plane, devoid of anything but himself and agony.

Ran and Boo shared a look of concern, hesitating.

“Please. I can’t-” a sob built up in his throat. His eyes stung with unshed tears, trying desperately to keep them from flowing over. “I can’t be alone.”

His moms’ ears drooped, suddenly understanding his request. “Of course, love,” Ran murmured. The Queens scooted under the comforter on either side of him.

Ranboo felt another scrap of memory float up from somewhere in the recesses of his head. He’d been much smaller then, curled between his moms. They’d seemed like a whole world to his little eyes.

Shame coiled in his gut. He wasn’t a child anymore. He shouldn’t be begging his moms to ward off the nightmares. And yet he could not bear to face the dark without them. Not yet. He rolled onto his side, pressing his back against Boo. Ran reached forward to move a braid from his face.The bead fell in with the others with a soft clack.

Mothers and son did not speak. There was no need. An unspoken understanding that Ranboo had come from that strange place as a broken creature.

Finally, lulled by two heartbeats, Ranboo closed his sore eyes. For just a moment, it felt like he was back in Snowchester, Tubbo’s warmth radiating from his side of the bed. But that illusion was broken as he was drifting off. Boo reached over him to fix the blanket and her arm brushed his face. And for the first time, Ranboo realized both his moms’ skin was stone cold.

Chapter Text

A great roaring startled Ranboo from his sleep. “What the hell?” He muttered, struggling to sit up.

Light streamed in through the windows. The curtains had been drawn back, revealing a view of a strange garden on the other side of the glass. Oddly curled plants grew upwards, studded with violet flowers. Gangly vines hung over trellises and walls, even partially over the window panes.

Ranboo looked around, remembering that he had fallen asleep with his moms. Ran was nowhere to be found. Boo, however, was curled up under the blanket. Her snow-bright hair was tangled from sleep, draped over the pillow and her horns. She snored softly.

The roar came again, and Ranboo flinched.

Boo’s crimson eyes blinked open at the noise, suddenly alert. “Oh! The Wraith Riders have returned!” She gasped, sitting up.

Not missing a beat, Boo turned to her son, “Ranboo, come on! Get dressed. We need to meet the Captain. Ran will be expecting us.”

“Wraith Riders? Wait, I don’t know what happened to my other clothes. They might still be in the bathroom-”

“Look in your wardrobe! We put some outfits for you in there. I’ll be back in ten minutes to get you.” And then Boo was hustling from the room, messy hair fluttering behind her.

Bewildered, Ranboo got to his feet. His paws were still tender, but felt infinitely better than the day previous. He padded gingerly to the window, finding great lanterns hanging over the garden. He’d been expecting sunlight, but the End had no sun.

Unable to see much besides the garden, Ranboo backed away from the window and to the great wardrobe. He pulled open the heavy paneled doors to find pieces of clothing hanging neatly or folded perfectly square. Dozens of them, in more styles than he could have possibly imagined.

Overwhelmed, Ranboo pawed through the offerings until he found a simple lavender button-down and a pair of slacks. Good enough.

Just as he had fastened his belt, a knock came at the door. “Ranboo, are you ready?”

Ready for what, exactly? He wanted to ask, but instead, he walked to the door.

Boo was on the other side. It was impossible to tell that she had been sleeping a mere quarter of an hour previous. She wore a stately black dress and every hair was in place. A simple gold ring adorned one of her horns, the same way Ranboo had worn his. He resisted the impulse to feel for it, knowing full well he’d awoken in his limbo without it.

The pair walked through the palace corridors. Ranboo tried to memorize the numerous passages they strode past, but within a few minutes, he was hopelessly turned around. Boo seemed to sense his confusion, glancing back, “Don’t worry. You’ll get it in no time. The main halls have purple carpet. It makes a sort of loop from the front entrance to the Great Hall, the dining hall, the infirmary, first-floor bedrooms, stables, and aviary. If you get lost, find a main hall until you know where you are again.”

Ranboo nodded, appreciating the carpet under his feet more than he had previously. Both a guide and a barrier between him and the obsidian floors. As they passed another hall, he glanced down to see the carpet there was a dark coal grey with golden trim.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, a towering set of doors reared up. Two guards, the first Ranbo had seen, stood on either side of them.

“Greetings, Queen Boo.”

Boo’s mouth turned up in a soft smile, “Hello, Nava. Is Ran already outside?”

“Yes. She went to welcome the Wraith Riders as soon as they landed.”

“Excellent. We’re going to join her, if you would be so kind as to open the doors for us.”

Nava peered over Boo’s shoulder, squinting at Ranboo, before she nodded and set her spear aside. She and the other Enderian heaved the doors open, the hinges groaning under their weight. Boo marched forward, dress fluttering behind.

As Ranboo followed his mother through the entrance, he got a prickly sensation under his mane. Glancing back, he saw Nava and the other guard staring at him with undisguised distrust, and beneath that, anger.

Hurriedly, he drew level with Boo, unsettled. “Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“The guard, Nava, I mean-” he started, then stopped. “Nevermind.” Maybe he’d misread Nava’s expression.

Boo lifted an eyebrow, “What’s wrong?”

Ranboo got the sense he wouldn’t get out of this one. Kicking himself internally for saying something, he sighed, “I don’t know. She seemed angry with me, somehow.”

The Queen adjusted her crown. “She’s just tired. End of her shift. If anything, she’s probably cranky with me for having her and Viren open the doors again, after they’ve been doing it all day.”

Ranboo made a noncommittal grunt in response. He hadn’t missed Boo’s ears flicking back, nor her hesitation in answering. Deciding not to push it, he fell in behind her again. Later, he promised himself.

The path spilled into a huge courtyard. Massive pillars of cut purple stone clawed at the ink-black sky. There were covered in vines that glowed faintly. Other plants sprung up at their bases or in huge pots scattered over the brickwork. They came in strange colors; mostly shades of purple, but here and there were splashes of striking crimson or deep teal. Some were completely white and translucent, almost like ghosts hiding between more corporeal specimens.

However, it was not the impressively tended End flora that caught Ranboo’s attention. At the other end of the courtyard, nearly a dozen creatures tossed their heads and snorted impatiently. They were huge, double Ranboo’s height at the shoulder. They sat back on their haunches, balancing themselves with wing spurs. The Wraiths, surely.

As they approached, Boo pulled Ranboo away from the beasts. Queen Ran acknowledged them with a nod but did not turn away from the Endarian speaking to her. He wore stiffened leather armor over a neck-to-toe garment, and a helmet was pinned under his arm.

“-crops already failing on the far reaches. The falcons reported it but we thought it pertinent to see it for ourselves. What grew this cycle was undersized as it was, but it all withered and died in the last two weeks.”

Ranboo stood silently, confused. However, he saw that both the Queens had gone ashen, ears flicking back. Ran’s tail lashed once before she stilled it again.

“And what of the towers, Captain Hazel?” Boo asked.

“The farthest crystals have gone dark, my Queen.”

There was a long stretch where no one spoke. Finally, Hazel looked to Ranboo, a startled look across his face. “Is this the Prince? I heard rumors that he had returned while we were away.”

“Yes. This is our son and heir.”

Already shaken by the moment with Nava, lightning shot down Ranboo’s spine and he stared, wide-eyed at his mothers. “What?” he gasped, backing away.

“Ranboo? What’s wrong?” Ran asked.

“I- I’m your son but that doesn’t mean-”

“You’re the Prince, Ranboo. I thought you knew that.”

“I did. I do! Just-” and then Ranboo was running. He didn’t know where he was going. He darted between a pair of Wraith Riders, nearly crashing into one. They made startled noises, but he didn’t look back.

He found himself at the far wall of the courtyard. Sinking his claws into the covering of tough vines, Ranboo hauled himself upward. Wasted muscles, scrawny from his imprisonment in limbo, ached at their sudden use. Only panic gave him the ability to scramble all the way to the top. He ran over pale bricks, vines grabbing at his feet, until he reached one of the pillars. Huge leaves hung from plants growing from niches carved into the sides.

Ranboo ducked into the foliage, pressing his back to the stems. He hugged his tail, rocking back and forth. Tears spilled from his eyes. He wiped them away with the fluffy end of his tail, sniffling.

Of course he was the Prince. He was the son of the Queens, so that made sense. But the heir? Surely not. They had to be mistaken.

Ranboo felt an ache in his chest so strong that it made him clutch his ribs. Gods, I miss you, Tubbo. All he wanted was Tubbo’s strong arms wrapped around him, solid and safe against everything wrong in the world. He wanted Michael, too. To hold the little toddler close, and feel his tiny hands grasp at his tail.

He wanted to go home.

It wasn’t long before he heard movement atop the wall.

“Prince Ranboo?” It was Captain Hazel.

“Please don’t call me that,” Ranboo muttered back.

The leaves rustled as Captain Hazel pulled the plants back, revealing Ranboo’s shivering form. His moss-green eyes softened. “There you are. I told the Queens I’d come find you. Figured you would want a moment without them.”

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“Want to come down?”

“Not particularly.”

Hazel sighed and settled himself in Ranboo’s leafy den. “Alright, that’s fine. Want to chat, or just sit?”

Ranboo regarded the Captain with wary eyes. “I don’t know anyone here. Not even my Moms.”

“Understandable. You were sent away so young.”

Sent away? Ranboo probed for an answer, “I don’t remember. Why was I sent off?”

Captain Hazel stiffened, tail-tip flicking nervously. He ground his teeth for a moment before finally speaking, “Do you want to meet the Wraiths?”

Ranboo narrowed his eyes, the blatant change of subject making his skin prickle. He wanted to press further, but the set of Hazel’s shoulders and his clenched jaw suggested that he wouldn’t get much from trying. Prince and heir be damned, it seemed. Some secret swirled around him, he was sure of it now, and he couldn’t pin down what.

“Sure,” Ranboo answered at last.

Hazel offered him a hand and pulled him to his aching feet. The climb down was difficult, his already-quivering muscles no longer fueled by adrenaline. The Captain had to grab him by the scruff twice when he began to slip.

As soon as they were both firmly on the ground, Captain Hazel pulled a piece of carved bone from his shirt. He blew into it and a sharp trill sounded.

The wraiths had mostly laid down or were being brushed off by their riders and grooms. One’s head popped up from the mess of reptilian bodies at the sound. It leapt upward, forelimbs opening as it flapped once and caught enough air to clear the others of its kind.

Ranboo yelped and ducked behind Hazel as the monstrous creature barreled towards them on wing spurs and powerful hind legs.

“Halt!” Hazel commanded.

The wraith skidded to a stop, snout mere inches from Hazel’s face. Hazel stepped to the side, leaving nothing between Ranboo and the beast.

Cautiously, Ranboo straightened up. The wraith stared at him with piercing yellow eyes. It tilted its head, not unlike a dog, and looked him up and down. Heavy brows gave it an angry look, but Ranboo saw no malice in its gaze.

“This is Raskforn, but I just call him Rask,” Hazel said, reaching out to pet the wraith’s face. “You can touch him. He’s perfectly safe.”

Very slowly, Ranboo reached out with an open palm. He placed his hand on Rask’s snout. The purple-grey skin was cool to the touch with pebbly scales near his eyes and the top of his head. Two horns protruded upward, twisting back. A mane, not unlike his own, sprouted from the crest of Rask’s neck, stopping just before his shoulders. His wings were folded, the membranes tucked up safely from where the spur touched the ground.

“Beautiful, right?” Hazel said proudly, adjusting the elaborate leather harness over the creature’s body.

Not exactly the word Ranboo would have chosen, but he nodded anyway. He could see why Hazel liked the wraith so much, though.

“Anyway, I should get you back to your moms.”

Ranboo sighed, realizing what he was going to have to confront. “Alright.”

Hazel started walking away, Ranboo following him with his tail dragging behind him. Rask made a strange noise and hopped after them, the buckles of his harness tinkling softly against his hide.

The Queens were waiting, holding hands nervously. Ranboo stopped a few feet from them, ears flat and refusing to look either of them in the eyes.

Ran gave a gusty sigh, “Captain Hazel, please go write up your report and send it and your notes as soon as you’re done.”

Hazel nodded, grabbing Rask’s reins as he turned away. “Come down to the stables when you get a chance. I’m usually there,” he said over his shoulder to Ranboo. And then he was clambering onto Rask’s back, settling himself into a light saddle. Rearing up, Rask cracked his leathery wings and lifted into the air. As they got higher, Ranboo noticed that Rask’s wings seemed to fade to a fine mist at the edges, trailing behind him before dissipating.

“Ranboo.” It was Boo.

Ranboo turned to her, finding a mixture of frustration, concern, and confusion in her features.

Ran wore the same mix of emotions, rolling the seam of her dress between her fingers. “Come on. Let’s go back inside.”

“I’m sorry for running off,” Ranboo murmured as they walked. “But I’m not the heir. I don’t remember this place, and I just want to go home.”

Ranboo got no response as he trailed after his moms, leaving his gut feeling cold and heavy. They padded through the winding halls in silence. Finally, they reached the Great Hall. Boo pulled out a chair at the table for him, gently pushing him forward once he had settled himself. She did the same for Ran before sitting down.

With a sigh, “You are home, Ranboo. This is where you were born,” Ran said.

“Being born somewhere doesn’t make that place home, Mom.” Everyone in the overworld was proof of that.

“You are an Enderian. You are supposed to be here, in the End.”

Ranboo felt a rare trickle of true anger at that. “Then why don’t I remember this place? Why do I barely remember you?”

A hurt look flashed across Ran’s features, “You don’t understand! You had to be sent away. We had to keep-”

Boo grabbed Ran’s hand, shaking her head.

Ranboo bared his teeth, “All I know is that I died and woke up in some horrific place. I lost everything I love. Everyone seems to know something about me that I don’t. And yet you expect me to be okay with all of this? What a ridiculous idea!”

Ran stood up, dress flapping outward. “You will be the King of the End, Ranboo! It is what you were meant to be.”

She wasn’t hearing him. Tail lashing, he shoved his chair back, “A King cannot rule a kingdom that he doesn’t know! I know nothing of this place! I want to go home!”

Ran’s face fell, her green eyes, sparking with frustration just moments before, suddenly dull. “We’ll talk about this later, Ranboo,” she murmured, ears drooping. All the fight had left her. The Queen moved away from the table, pausing briefly to look into the cracking fire, before disappearing down a corridor.

Boo made a sad noise, drawing Ranboo’s attention. The Queen looked after her wife, red eyes concerned. She turned back to her son. Ranboo expected her to yell at him, but her voice was soft.

“She’s… got a lot on her mind. Come with me, let’s get something to eat.”

Ranboo followed Boo as she led him to the kitchens. Nearly a dozen Enderians were working, putting things into great ovens, peeling strange fruits and vegetables, slicing meats. It smelled incredible.

One of the cooks looked up from where she was chopping up some sort of vegetable. It looked like nothing in the overworld. Boo spoke to her and she nodded before trotting off.

Ranboo waited silently by Boo’s side, mulling over his argument with Ran. Just because he was born here didn’t mean this was home… right? He tried to bring up some sort of connection with this place, but couldn’t conjure anything deeper than his hazy memories of his moms. Of course, he was deeply grateful to have been pulled from the obsidian realm, but still felt no attachment here.

But when he thought of Tubbo. Oh, when he thought about Tubbo his gut twisted into knots. He tried to remember his husband’s voice, but found he could only hear the echoey, almost mocking, version of it that taunted him in limbo. Ranboo felt sick, suddenly, and wrapped his arms over his stomach. He wretched, tasting bile in his throat.

Boo’s eyes widened, “Ranboo? Oh no, come here,” she said frantically, helping him over to a large basin. “Here, it’s okay. I’m here.”

Ranboo vomited into the sink. He hadn’t eaten yet, so what little he brought up burned his throat. Boo rubbed between his shoulders as he continued to wretch. Nothing more came up, and yet his body wouldn’t stop. It didn’t understand that he couldn’t purge the guilt and shame and fear like this.

Finally, his stomach stopped cramping. Ranboo slumped against the wall. One of the cooks appeared, a glass of chora in hand. He offered it to Ranboo, who gratefully took it. The nauseated Enderian gulped it down, trying to wash the rancid taste of bile from his mouth.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet, Ranboo.”

Boo led her exhausted son down the main hallway, but then turned off onto one of the grey carpeted corridors. The torches in the walls burned low here, the dim light flickering strangely against carved brickwork. The Queen pushed open a door at the end of the hallway. The plain woodwork and simple knob were a complete deception of what was behind.

Ranboo stepped into a massive space. It had to be one of the towers of the Palace. Instead of floors, there was a continuous spiraling walkway that wound up the walls. The walls themselves seemed to be made of nothing but bookshelves. Thousands of books sat pristine, embossed leather spines in infinite colors giving glimpses of their contents.

A great chandelier hung from the tip of the spire, the internal supports holding it steadily. White rods and glass wove together to make something of a shimmering serpent that seemed to float elegantly halfway to the floor. Lanterns hung from the underside of the climbing path, illuminating the shelves themselves. The entire tower was awash in light.

“Oh my gods,” he murmured, stepping in.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Ranboo had no words, mouth hanging open. As if the books weren’t enough, there were numerous portraits of Enderians on the walls of the ground level. Some were just bigger than his palm, others stretching from the floor to the climbing walkway.

“Who are they?” He asked softly. Ranboo stepped over a soft rug to gently drag his finger against the jaw of a stranger’s face.

“They are history. They are mostly past monarchs, but you’ll find advisors, guards, Wraith Riders, falconers, and many more with them. Those who aren’t on the walls are sketched into books.”

“They’re beautiful.”

“Indeed. The artists are incredibly skilled. You’ll be getting a new portrait soon.”

“New?”

“Yes. We have one from when you were a young child, but that’s out of date now,” Boo chuckled. “It’s probably in one of the more recent volumes.”

Boo patted a soft leather chair, beckoning Ranboo. He practically had to drag himself away from the portraits. The young Enderian sat down with a plop, immediately enjoying the way he seemed to recede into the cushy seat.

“Stay here a moment,” Boo murmured. She closed her eyes, nose scrunching up in concentration. There was a sharp vwoop and she was gone.

Ranboo looked around frantically, confused. He heard a noise above and looked up, finding Queen Boo near the top of the path, her tail poking out from between the railing supports. A moment later, she reappeared with another vwoop, an old volume in hand.

“How did you-”

“Teleport? It’s easy. You can do it too, right?”

Embarrassed, Ranboo turned his head away. “No.”

“Ah. No matter! We will teach you,” she replied arily. Boo pulled a low table to Ranboo’s chair and another seat for herself. She opened the thick book, leather spine creaking as she flattened it. “You said it yourself, you know nothing of this place. I don’t know why you don’t remember, Ranboo, but I think you should start reading about our history. Maybe it will bring something back to you. Maybe you’ll understand what you’re meant to be.”

Ranboo’s shoulders dropped, “Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“I miss Tubbo.”

Boo tilted her head, “Who?”

“My husband.”

The Queen’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t know… You’re married?”

“Yes. With an adopted son, too. I’m not a child, Mom. I have a family to go back to. I can’t just become King of a realm I don’t know and forget about them,” Ranboo paused, shuddering as he held back tears. “I always forget. My head is messed up and full of holes and fear and confusion. But I remember them. I remember how much I love them, Mom. I remember how much they love me.”

Boo met his tear-bright eyes and he found her own tears spilling over. Quickly, she wiped her cheeks with a sleeve and sniffled before straightening up. “Just… read this. I’ll send someone to bring you down for dinner if you haven’t finished by then.” She stood up and hurriedly left the library, shutting the door behind her.

Alone, Ranboo let the tears spill over. He cringed, waiting for the burn that always
accompanied them, but it didn’t come. There was no pain from his tears, yet it only made his heart twist. The more his body healed here, the more comfortable he became, the more he realized that this is the realm he was meant to exist in. Agony in the ease.

The realization that even his tears didn’t burn now only made him cry more. He curled into a ball, pressing himself into the chair. The noises he made were beyond sobs. He screamed into the armrest, screamed until he gagged. He reached under his shirt, clutched at his ribs, trying to pull out the tortuous grief that gnawed at his organs. There was no reaching it, no way to rip it out. All he could do was give voice to the misery.

After what seemed like hours, Ranboo finally went quiet. His throat ached terribly, but his mind was quiet. He sat up, body aching. He debated going to the kitchens, but knew he wouldn’t be able to bring himself to speak. The idea of interacting with another person made him feel ill.

Exhausted and yet wide awake, Ranboo resignedly took the book Boo had left him into his hands. He stared at it for a long while. The title was illegible, the gold leaf having long ago flaked away. A little tab of paper stuck out between the pages. With tired eyes, Ranboo flipped to the tab and began to read.

Chapter Text

The passing of the connection has been a long-held duty of the current monarch and the heir. Partnering with our great goddess keeps our realm stable and cared for. Very few Enderians are capable of housing draconic power within them, to keep the dragon sated and sane.

While our connections have experienced little disruption over the last few centuries, that has not always been the case. One needs only to look at the tragic death of King Varsong to see what a broken connection does to our world.

Varsong was killed after his wraith was brought down over the Void. Too far to teleport back to safety, he clung to the neck of his mount as she fell. Those who saw him fall recount him shooting arrows as he plummeted. It is not known if the Void or the enemy wyrms claimed his body.

Those who lived on the Draconic Isle, and anyone near one of the great pillars, recall the crystals flaring with searingly bright light before fading to a pulsating glow. A terrible roaring rang out across the Draconic Isle as the connection to our goddess broke. Untethered, she took to the skies.

The Draconic Isle was nearly destroyed. Settlements near the dragon were laid flat. Thousands of Enderians were evacuated to the surrounding islands, away from the panicked rage of the goddess. The Palace was not spared her wrath. Towers fell, gates crushed. Burned and broken.

No one could get near the dragon for months. Crops failed. Starvation set in. Finally, several brave Enderians stepped forward. A mixed dozen of guards, Wraith Riders, falconers, even a farmer. In their midst was a young girl. The girl who would become Queen Ora.

Ora had responded to the dragon’s power before. If they could kill the dragon and begin the cycle anew, the realm would stabilize. Terrified but determined, the band set out for the Draconic Isle on wraith-back.

Seven of the dozen did not return from that mighty battle. No one walked away uninjured. It was the farmer who managed to finish it. Dropped on top of the dragon, he managed to plunge a spear into the base of her head and cut through her spine. They went down and crashed upon an obsidian tower, ending them both.

Ora picked up the egg left behind, reforging the connection. The next months were rocky as the dragon hatched out again and grew, rechanneling her power through her newest body. As the dragon and Ora became bound to one another, the realm once again stabilized. The crystals returned to their normal energy levels. Crops grew again. Reconstruction of the Palace commenced.

It would be decades before…

Ranboo shut the book. Dragon? The goddess of the End was a dragon? And who was Ora? What was this connection?

Questions swirled through his head. He figured the easiest thing to sort would be finding out about Ora. He peered at the numerous portraits hanging from the walls. Surely someone of such importance would be given one of the full-size paintings. Finally his eyes settled on an Enderian woman.

Ranboo got up, moving stiffly to the portrait. A little brass nameplate was secured to the frame. It read: Queen Ora Greenscald. He looked at the painting, head tilted to one side. His braids fell across his face but he was too engrossed to bother moving them.

He expected her to look powerful, domineering. Instead, he stared into the painted eyes of a haunted woman. Her skin and fur was not the lustrous black of a typical Enderian. Instead it was a dark ashen grey, stretched over her bones. Her hair and mane were woven in a tight plait. One of her horns was broken off halfway down, the missing piece replaced with a spike of silver. Ranboo thought she looked like she was starving.

“Ah. Learning about Queen Ora?”

Ranboo whipped around, nearly jumping out of his skin. Teeth bared and his claws curled forward, he looked for the voice.

Captain Hazel stood a good leap’s distance away, hands up, “Whoa! Didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you heard me come in.”

Ranboo forced his fur to lie flat, tucking his tail around his ankle to keep it from lashing back and forth. He cleared his throat, “Yes. I was reading about her.” Looking back to the portrait, he felt a wave of sadness for the former Queen. “The book made her seem so strong. But here she seems like she’s ill.”

“Ah, yes. She was powerful. It took incredible strength to reassemble the End when the cycle broke down. She used so much of her energy putting things back together that age caught up with her more quickly than most. I believe Ora was my age when that painting was done, but I’d have to check the back side to be sure.”

“And how old are you?” Ranboo asked, startled. Hazel didn’t seem old, but Ora felt ancient, somehow.

“Seventy-nine. Near middle age, I guess,” the Captain replied with a chuckle. He must have caught the shock in Ranboo’s eyes because he quickly clarified, “We live for about two hundred years, Ranboo. We age quickly as children, then slow down.”

“I don’t know how old I am,” Ranboo murmured, not realizing he’d said it aloud.

“You were nine when you left. I’m not sure how the Overworld impacts how you age, but you are twenty-three if I remember correctly.”

Ranboo felt much older than that. He was suddenly aware of the aches in his bones and the dull pain of numerous injuries that had healed, just not quite fully. His skin tingled across his gut, feeling like hot cinders peppering his skin. Looking down his shirt, he found the mortal wound closed. It had been since he’d awoke here. Something about it still felt raw and exposed, though. Physically it had been knitted together, but in his soul, something was still parted.

Hazel broke into his thoughts, “Queen Boo sent me to get you. She’ll be expecting us.”

Ranboo followed Hazel through the Palace, head feeling fuzzy and distant. He sat down where the Captain pointed to with a bump. He looked around, finding Boo at the head of the table. She greeted him with a small smile. Next to her, Ran’s seat was empty.

The Wraith Riders filled some of the remaining seats, chattering loudly to one another. They were already eating, slabs of meat and piles of veggies on their plates. Ranboo got the distinct sense they were not the usual crowd that dined in the Great Hall, but he found their raucous company strangely comforting.

A dish of food was slid in front of Ranboo. Some sort of grain filled most of the space, shredded herbs mixed in. Something akin to a steak on top of a bed of vegetables took up another section. He cut into it experimentally, finding the inside a shade of violet. Ranboo felt nauseated again, shutting his eyes. The sensation faded, and he turned the plate so the strange flesh was as far from him as possible.

“Not feeling steak?” Hazel asked, having watched Ranboo inspect his meal.

Ranboo shook his head, pushing the plate away.

“I’ll be right back.” Captain Hazel disappeared down the hall. Ranboo’s heavy eyes watched the corridor, tracking Hazel as he returned.

“Here, try this instead.” Hazel set down a bowl, steam rising from the contents. “Chorabulb soup. No meat. I promise it’s good.”

Reluctantly, Ranboo took a spoonful. The broth was a creamy lavender, with strips of what looked like onions floating in it. Pieces of bread were tossed on the top. It tasted strange, but not unpleasant. Salty with notes of rosemary and garlic, if those things could be found here.

“Thank you,” Ranboo murmured to Hazel.

The Captain nodded, returning to conversing with the other Riders.

Ranboo picked at his soup, mulling over what he had read. Tomorrow, he decided, he would learn more about the connection the book had described. He had a prickling sensation under his fur that made him squirm in his seat. It suddenly dawned on him that as the heir, Ranboo would be expected to take the connection. His stomach felt cold.

Ranboo pushed the bowl of soup away, what little appetite he had left evaporating. Boo noticed from the head of the table, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

He was about to stand up to leave when Queen Ran seemingly materialized next to her wife. She didn’t look at Ranboo, didn’t look at anyone, really. A cursory glance at most before she leaned against Boo. Every hair was in place, dress immaculate, but she looked ragged, somehow. She was trying to hide it, but Ranboo could see her dull eyes.

Quietly, Ranboo stood up from his seat and approached his moms. Ran didn’t move. Boo looked up at him kindly, “Yes, dear?”

“May I go? I’m not feeling well.”

“Of course,” she reached up and brushed her hand over his cheek, “Get some rest.”

Ranboo looked to Ran, both afraid and hopeful that she would be looking at him. Her hazy eyes met his. With great effort, she cleared her throat, “We’ll talk tomorrow, Ranboo. Try to eat something, alright?”

Boo quickly wrapped up two rolls in a cloth napkin and pressed them into Ranboo’s hand. “Usually we don’t eat anywhere else but here or the kitchen, but maybe you’ll feel hungry later.”

Ranboo nodded, feeling the warmth of the bread on his palms. He began walking away, feeling strange. The softest, “Love you,” brushed past his ears, so faint he could have imagined it. Stomach lurching, he chose to believe it was merely and echo in his head, and then strode from the Great Hall without looking back.

Ranboo took another bath, undoing the braids in his hair and spending a long time and a lot of effort to fully detangle and clean his mane. Whatever grime and blood he’d missed was lifted away. By the time he left the bathroom, his fur and hair was soft and sleek, smelling of lavender and mint.

He let himself slip into a hazy headspace, unwilling to think about his situation. Dressed in soft sleepwear, Ranboo braided his hair with nimble fingers. Once he had finished, he unthinkingly ate the bread Boo had given him, before settling himself in bed.

Ranboo found the plushie he’d retrieved from his old room under the blanket. He curled it to his chest, fingers twisting in the soft fur. He shut his eyes, but with nothing to do but fall asleep, thoughts he’d carefully denied bubbled up. He felt cold, colder than the deepest part of the night in Snowchester. Colder than Techo and Philza’s arctic home.

All he could think of was his argument with Tubbo. Both wounded, neither had checked on each other for many days afterward. Michael had stayed with Eret while they tried to cool down, exploring the great castle, unaware of his dads' turmoil.

He hadn’t seen Tubbo before he was killed. Gritting his jaw so harshly it hurt, trying to ground himself. Unsuccessfully, the thought he’d been wrangling with since he’d awoken in limbo emerged. It’s all my fault.

If he’d have gone to check on Tubbo, gone to his husband to help him bandage his wounded heart, he wouldn't have been where Sam could find him. He wouldn’t have been in prison. Wouldn’t have caused Techno so much grief. Wouldn’t have had his own child used against him.

The last is what broke him. He’d tried to hope for so long that Sam was bluffing, that he’d merely stolen the photo of Michael. That it wasn’t real. But he knew in his heart that Sam didn’t bluff, and that his son was held somewhere, confused and alone. And Ranboo wasn’t even in the same realm. There was nothing he could do. No way to tell Tubbo, no way to tell anyone.

All he had was Technoblade and the photo he’d pressed into the warrior’s palm, crumpled and bloodied, as he faded away. Ranboo prayed he understood, and would find some way to save Michael.

Ranboo waited for the tears, but they didn’t come. His gut churned, a boiling mass of self-loathing. In that moment, curled around his plushie, Ranboo hated himself more than he’d hated anything.

Feeling claustrophobic, Ranboo stood up, grabbing a throw blanket from the end of the bed and the plush. He flung open the door, squinting at the light in the hall, before trudging down winding passages.

Somehow, he managed to find his way to the library. He flung open the door, the smell of old paper and leather washing over him. He tossed the blanket on one of the couches but opted to keep the stuffed animal under one arm as he approached the thick directory book. Maybe he could find something to help with getting home.

He thumbed through the yellowed pages, seeking anything about the overworld, travel between realms. He found titles for several reference books on plants and animals of the overworld, but nothing about how to actually get there. Growing more and more frustrated, he pulled the book open to a random page. The Vanishing of the White Enderians. Ranboo stopped.

Curiosity bubbled up. White Enderians… like Boo? Tilting his head, he made note of its location for later.

Calmer now, he continued looking through lists of titles. Finally, he found something of interest: Dimensional Travel and its Dangers. He ran up the winding path, tail whipping behind him. Up, up, up, level with the bottom of the chandelier to find… an empty space on the shelf. He looked at the books on either side, confirming he was in the right place.

“Damn it!” he snarled, slamming his palm against the shelf. Of all the books to be missing, it had to be this one.

He leaned against the railing, a gusty sigh on his lips. A title caught his eye as he scanned the shelves. The book about the white Enderians. He grabbed the slim volume and tucked it under his arm, descending the path. He wished he could teleport like Boo had done. Maybe one day.

Ranboo settled himself on the couch, wrapping the throw blanket around his shoulders. He propped his chin on the plushie, cracking open the book.

Enderians come in a number of shapes and colors, largely depending on which region we come from. Black fur interspersed with deep shades of greys, purples, blues, and sometimes reds. White, however, is incredibly rare. But it was not always that way.

White Enderians used to be just as plentiful in our society as you see our other common color variations. While the same species, they had some taxonomic differences. They were often more slight, and their horns were smaller and curved backward more sharply. Instead of green eyes, they had red.

And just as there used to be white Enderians, there used to be a dragon that protected them.

A second dragon? Ranboo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t even seen the first one.

The white dragon was much like our black one. Sisters of creation, protection, and power. The white dragon roosted many, many islands away from the black dragon, and together, their combined power over the crystals wove a net that allowed a much wider world to thrive.

The white dragon met her end many cycles ago. During her most vulnerable period, before she had re-hatched, the green god killed the heir and left the white egg unbonded. At the time, it was thought that the green god would bond with the dragon, usurping the throne until the next cycle. A bearable fate.

Until the green god destroyed the egg, that was. Witnesses, the few that survived, recall the god plunging a knife through the shell of the egg, and searing light spilled out, followed by a shockwave that leveled the settlements near the white dragon’s perch. The green god consumed the dragon’s life energy, glowing strings shoveled into a tooth-studded maw that peeked from under his mask.

The green god would go on to try to kill the black dragon, thinking that with her sister’s power now throbbing alongside his own, he would be able to take her down. The dragons, when full grown, are the most powerful beings in this world, and our dragon thrashed the god so deeply that he retreated to the outer realm to lick his wounds. He has not been seen since.

Without the white dragon to protect and give life to their lands, the white Enderians had to move inward, to where the black dragon still had reach to power the crystals. They were grief-stricken and lost, but were thankfully met with open arms. The black Enderians grieved, too, as their dragon had suffered a terrible loss.

While many of the white Enderians were brought within the black dragon’s range, it was impossible to gather them all. Their losses are still unknown, though it is estimated that over a third of the white Enderians died in the initial shockwave, or without the crystals to provide energy for farms and forests, starved before they could be rescued.

White Enderians were never suddenly gone, but the sudden difference in numbers between our two major variants meant that as new generations of children were born, solid white Enderians grew more rare. For several millennia, many of us had spots, patches, or stripes. But by numbers, even those patterns began to fade until most of us are as you see now.

It is possible for white Enderians, or those with patterns, to pop up. This happens mostly along the outer reaches where many of the rescued decided to settle so that they could be as close to their old home as possible. But as time goes on, this seems to happen less and less frequently. One day, the white Enderians will truly be gone, and the last traces of their dragon will vanish with them.

Ranboo put the book down on the side table, heart heavy. So Boo was a white Enderian. One of the last. Ranboo looked down at his hands; one white, one black. A blend of his moms, right down the middle. One half of a people without a guardian, and the other wanting him to become theirs.

He wandered back to the catalog book, head swirling in slow circles. He flipped through stiff pages, jotting down titles and locations of anything to do with the green god. He meandered up the spiral platform, picking three books as he went. Hazily, Ranboo realized he was too tired to keep going.

The Enderian returned to the couch and shuffled himself under the blanket he’d brought, setting the books on the table to read when he woke. He pressed his face to his plushie, feeling his thoughts and emotions grow fainter, until finally his mind was quiet.

Chapter Text

The smell of something warm and floral roused Ranboo from his slumber. Had Tubbo brought tea up to their room? He could feel something soft tickling his face. Michael must have crawled into bed with them.

He sat up and stretched, blinking open his eyes. Oh. This wasn’t the mansion. It had been the plushie against his cheek, not Michael. He sighed and flopped back into the cushions. The floral smell was real, though. Looking around, he discovered a mug had been placed on the table, still steaming.

He also noticed the books he’d brought down were gone. Maybe whoever had brought the mug had put them up? The young Enderian got to his feet and began climbing the platform. He found the places where the books had been shelved empty. Ranboo felt unease prickle under his fur. He pulled the piece of paper he’d noted the other books on and went looking, finding those missing as well.

He strode back to the ground floor, tail whipping back and forth as he looked all around the sitting area for the titles, finding nothing but a few dust bunnies in hard-to-reach places.

“Looking for something?”

Ranboo stood up, finding Hazel in the doorway, another mug in hand. “Yes. The books I had last night.” he responded.

“I didn’t see any books but the one about the white Enderians when I brought your tea.”

Ranboo’s ears flattened. “They were about the green god.” He watched Hazel through narrowed eyes.

Hazel went still, suddenly looking remarkably uncomfortable. His tail twitched, and he set his drink down.

Ranboo’s mane pricked up and he marched resolutely forward. “What is it that you and my moms aren’t telling me, Hazel? And don’t try to tell me it’s nothing, because I’m not stupid and I know when I’m part of a secret.”

Captain Hazel averted his gaze, then sighed, “I can’t tell you.”

Irritated, Ranboo grasped for the power he’d been given, “As the Prince, I demand to know!” His stomach turned as he said it, but he was sick of being in the dark.

Hazel blinked and shook his head, “By orders of Queen Ran, I am not to discuss this with you. She still rules, Ranboo. And so I follow her direction.”

Anger flared bright and hot in Ranboo’s chest before dying with a whimper. He sat back on the couch, heart heavy. He felt ill, calling himself the Prince. He was stuck here, part of some conspiracy, with no way home. He took a miserable sip of tea, the liquid bitter on his tongue. At least it was warm.

Hazel sat down next to him, “Hey. Can we forget about all this for a bit? I wanted to show you something.”

Ranboo couldn’t bring himself to harbor any ill feelings toward the Captain. “Alright,” he said at last.

Hazel leapt up. Ranboo could see his sudden excitement in the whipping of his tail and the way his mane had puffed up. It almost made him laugh; for someone with such a high position, Hazel was easy-going. Rolling his eyes, Ranboo got up and followed as Hazel darted from the library.

-

Ranboo’s jaw dropped as Hazel led him into a massive cavern. Great beams of wood and iron had been braced into the walls, seemingly woven among the stalagmites, stalactites, and rippling columns. They broke the huge endstone cave into sections, each with platforms and perches. Everywhere, reptilian bodies, fading to smoke at the tips of the wings and tails, lounged or played. Some ate, and some wrestled with one another. So this was where the wraiths were housed.

“I didn’t realize there would be so many,” Ranboo said at last.

“Nearly two hundred as of the latest clutch hatching. Though only about fifty are old enough for us to ride at the moment. We try to keep the numbers at about what we have. Too many and we suddenly have babies bursting from every seam.”

Ranboo watched as one of the wraiths flew by. It wasn’t as big as the ones he’d seen in the courtyard. Nearly an adult, he guessed. The wraith closest to him was still small, tucked into a ball with nose hidden under one wing. A thick leather collar was buckled around its neck, with a long length of chain running to a bolt in the wall.

Concerned, Ranboo turned to Hazel, “Why are some of them chained up?”

Hazel sat down by the young wraith. “Two reasons, actually. The adolescents have a strong urge to disperse when they’re nearing adulthood. It keeps them here and out of trouble until that phase passes. However, for this little girl,” he paused, tickling the wraith under the chin as she yawned, looking at him with sleepy golden eyes, “It’s for her own safety. She can’t fly yet, and won’t be able to for at least a year more. The mouth of the cave leads right to the Void. If any of the young ones were to fall, they’d be doomed.”

“Oh,” was all Ranboo replied, feeling a bit silly. He took a seat next to Hazel. The little wraith pushed herself up onto her wing spurs and then reared up to stretch. She chirped something to Hazel, and to Ranboo’s astonishment, the Captain chirped back. They made trilling noises to one another for a few moments before the wraith lost interest and darted to the back of her alcove.

“You can talk to them?”

Hazel gave a hearty laugh, pulling Ranboo to his feet, “Gods, no. I wish I could. I can gather some things, but beyond how they’re feeling or if they’re hungry or want attention, it’s all lost on me. Raskforn and I understand one another quite well, though. But that’s from years of being together.”

Ranboo looked around for Hazel’s wraith.

Noticing, Hazel shook his head, “He’s not in here. He’s probably out with his mate, since I don’t see her either. Come with me, and I’ll call him.”

The pair moved toward the exit of the cave. Ranboo felt as if he were walking inside a giant tooth-studded maw. They reached the edge, and as he leaned over the railing to look down, Ranboo felt his knees go weak. There was nothing below; just a yawning black haze that stretched out infinitely. The Void.

A sharp trill from Hazel’s bone whistle snapped him from his vertigo. Blinking, he turned away from the Void. A moment later, a great cacophony of leathery wing-beats filled the mouth of the cavern as two massive wraiths shot through the entrance and landed on a platform with heavy thuds. Ranboo recognized Raskforn immediately. The dusty grey-green wraith beside him must have been his mate.

Rask purred something to Hazel as they greeted one another. He touched noses with his mate before she dove from the platform and into the rear of the cavern.

“The wraiths like to be up in the crags above the cave. They can always come inside if they want, but wild wraiths usually dwell in the cracks of cliff faces. But they come when we ask, so it’s no matter where they want to be.”

Ranboo reached out to Rask, unflinchingly this time. The wraith snuffed his hand, his breath startlingly warm against Ranboo’s fur. “He’s warm.”

“Indeed. One of the few creatures here that are. An older line of wraiths could breathe fire, though that was many generations ago. Our wraiths still have that heat in their chest, though.”

“I didn’t realize how hard it would be, not being around other warm people. I’m weird. Everyone is cold. I didn’t remember my moms being cold. I don’t know why I’m not like them”

Hazel gave him a long look, “Ranboo, I think being in the overworld changed your body. It makes you different, but not weird.”

Ranboo changed the topic, skin prickling, “So you were going to show me something?”

Hazel hesitated, but accepted that Ranboo had moved on. “Yes. Let’s get Rask harnessed up and then I can show you. You’re not afraid of heights, right?”

“Uh…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be strapped in!” Hazel said, cheerful demeanor returning. Ranboo did not find that reassuring, but he followed Hazel anyway.

-

A half hour later, Ranboo was tethered to a leather saddle, perched atop Raskforn’s back. Hazel sat in front of him, reins resting easily in one hand while he gestured with the other. “So I think you’re used to the way he moves walking, now.”

“Yep.” Ranboo lied. The strange rolling gait of the wraith felt like it was trying to dislodge him. Each time the great beast reached forward with one wing spur, that entire side of his body would drop and Ranboo would feel himself slipping over smooth leather. Still, he found himself not wanting to disappoint Hazel, who was beaming as he showed Ranboo his world.

“Great! Let’s give flying a shot, then,” Hazel said jauntily, directing Rask towards the mouth of the cavern. The wraith trotted over the remaining distance, sending jolts up Ranboo’s spine. He suddenly broke into a full sprint, and Ranboo clutched the saddle beneath him in an iron grip. And then Rask leapt from between two of the stabbing stalagmites, and began plunging down, down, down towards the Void.

And then his wings opened, catching the air and turning the plummet into a glide.

Ranboo’s heart was thudding wildly in his chest, but he slowly unclenched his fingers from the saddle, wincing as blood flow returned to their tips. He looked about, suddenly noticing they were actually above the Palace island. “Oh my gods,” he breathed.

And suddenly the world was huge. The Palace took up most of its island, with high, broken cliffs of creamy endstone rising behind it. But beyond and below was an island that dwarfed the Palace. A massive expanse of stone and settlements that bordered on becoming a city. They sprung up from the edge of the island, creeping inward, and only stopping at a ring of great pillars.

“What are those?” Ranboo asked, his fear forgotten.

“Those are the towers, my friend. See the crystals on top? The dragon powers them, and they disperse energy to our entire range.”

The columns rose up like blackened ribs, grasping at dark sky. He felt a chill as he realized they were obsidian. Hazel must have sensed him tensing up, and looked back. “You alright?”

“Perfectly fine.”

Hazel was unconvinced, but flew onward. Ranboo ignored the glittering black glass as much as he could, focusing instead on the crystals that hovered at the pillar tops. He expected them to be static, but they moved up and down, and seemed to pulse with energy from the inside. Purple fire so hot that it glowed white at its center, contained within a clear shell.

“Are they dangerous?”

“Yes. They’re perfectly fine to contain the dragon’s energy when they’re left alone, but bump them hard enough and their equilibrium is thrown off, and all that energy is released at once. These ones aren’t even at their full power just now. The dragon is-” he hesitated, “focused on other things.”

Ranboo didn’t even bother to press for more information. Instead, he sat back in the saddle and spread his arms, feeling the air rushing between his fingers. His braided mane whipped out behind him, beads clacking together. The loose section just before the collar of his shirt was tugged this way and that by the wind.

Hazel directed Rask higher, higher, higher, until Ranboo felt he could see the entire End below them. A sea of islands, stark against the Void, stretched out in every direction. Some were completely overgrown, tangles of plants hanging from every protrusion and dangling down past the endstone, as if their very growth taunted the Void below. Others were covered in grass and scrub. One on a far horizon looked like it had huge mushrooms growing on it. Each island its own little world.

“Ready to try something fun?” Hazel called back.

“Your idea of fun is terrifying, but sure, why not,” Ranboo replied.

“Alright, then. If you’re holding your saddle, let go. Trust the harness.”

Eyes wide, Ranboo brought his arms in, but didn’t grip on for dear life as he had before. He managed a shaky, “Okay. Ready.”

Hazel twisted around and shot him a grin. Then, very deliberately, he let go of Raskforn’s reins and gave the wraith some sort of command with his whistle. Rask made a high trill, stopped his ascent, then tucked his wings tight to his sides. And then they were falling.

At first, feeling himself lift out of the saddle, Ranboo screeched. But the sturdy leather clip held him in place, a few inches above the saddle. As the three plummeted, wind screaming in their ears, Ranboo’s terror turned to exhiliration. He found himself laughing, grinning wildly as they shot past the Draconic Isle. Down, down, down, and still they did not stop.

Raskforn snapped open his wings, both Hazel and Ranboo shoved back into the saddle. They skimmed the Void, diving through and between tendrils of mist that curled up from the surface. It smelled and tasted like ancient cold and Ranboo shivered, still smiling, so close to what killed everything that fell into it.

And then Rask was rising. He let out a triumphant cry. Ranboo leaned back, feeling like he was floating.

“Fun, right?” Hazel called back.

“I’ll admit it. That was really cool.”

Hazel grabbed Rask’s reins again and guided him upward. They passed under several small islands, finally ascending to fly level with one of the overgrown islands. Rask lighted down at the edge, wings too large to fit between the twisted trees that clawed skyward from the endstone.

Hazel dismounted, offering Ranboo a hand as he slid down. Ranboo found his legs to be a bit wobbly after all the excitement, stumbling forward. Hazel grabbed the back of his shirt, steadying him.

“Thank you. What are we doing now?”

“Of course!” Hazel replied, then turned to the expanse of foliage, “I wanted to show you some of the End. When you were a child, you loved the hounds. I’m going to see if we can find some wild ones. We have a few domesticated ones on the Draconic Isle, but I suspect they’re busy.”

Ranboo’s ears flicked forward, curious. He followed Hazel into the trees, Rask taking up the rear.

Ranboo wanted to stop and look at every strange vine and flower. Almost everything was a shade of teal, not unlike the warped forests of the nether. But instead of the blistering heat and sulfurous smell of that realm, this forest was cool and damp. Vines draped from branches, covered in soft pink and orange flowers. Light pulsed faintly along their lengths. The bark of the trees glowed faintly. Even the moss held luminous strands.

Hazel bent down, looking at scuffed tracks. “Come on! We’re not far behind them, I think.”

They moved deeper into the trunks. Rask made an irritated grumble as his shoulders were rubbed as he moved through the narrowing spaces. Ranboo thought he wouldn’t be able to keep with them much longer. He was about to say something when Hazel stopped and pressed a finger to his lips. “Rask, stay. Ranboo, follow me but be very quiet.”

Ranboo kept behind Hazel, trying to peek over his shoulder. But between the strange light and foliage, he couldn’t get more than a glimpse of where he would soon be stepping. Suddenly, Hazel ducked down.

“Watch out for the edge, but come look,” the captain whispered.

Ranboo pressed his chest to the lichen and fallen leaves, scooting forward until he was peering over a sharp drop, maybe four times his height. At the bottom, a pack of wolf-like creatures nipped and played with one another. There were a half dozen, all shades of blue-green, with light flickering in their fur. They looked like the little plushie he’d been carrying around.

“Oh wow,” Ranboo murmured.

“This island has quite a few groups of vargens. For predators, they’re very shy.”
Ranboo’s tail flicked happily as he watched the beasts below. Two were clearly adults, with dark teal fur that ticked to seafoam along their bellies and snouts. A third, nearly as big as the other two, rolled around on its back as four mint green pups threw themselves across it. They reminded him of Techno’s dogs.

He was about to ask a question when all of the vargens froze. Strange feathery protrusions lifted from the tops of their heads, like moth antennae. Ears flicked back and forth, antennae waving. Suddenly all six burst into motion and disappeared into the undergrowth.

Hazel and Ranboo breathed shallowly, trying to listen for whatever had spooked them. Ranboo could just hear a repetitive whooshing noise. Then there was a ringing cry and blur of motion. Ranboo jumped back as a massive violet and red bird thudded down right between him and Hazel.

Hazel sat back, laughing. “Oh my gods, it’s just one of the falcons.”

Ranboo eyed the creature warily, heart still thudding. If he was standing, its head would have been at his hip. Four feet of bird was a bit much for his liking. And that wasn’t even including the massive tough-skinned feet. Each toe was tipped with a viciously curved talon. Its beak, the size of a dagger, didn’t make him feel any safer.

Hazel, however, had no such reservations. He tickled the falcon under its chin, earning a thrumming warble, before he reached for the harness on its chest. He opened the leather tube there, pulling out a message and pen.

The falcon combed its feathers into line. Hazel’s smile vanished as his eyes skimmed over the paper. He rapidly scribbled something and then shoved the paper into the tube again, sealing it. Then, he reached into a pocket and pulled out some sort of dried meat. The void falcon plucked it from his hand before spreading massive wings.

Scarlet plumage unfurled from under purple primary feathers. With a bit of difficulty owing to the tightly spaced trees, the huge bird launched itself skyward and vanished.

“We’re going home. Now.”

Ranboo, bewildered, followed Hazel as he jogged back through the forest. “What’s wrong?”

Hazel didn’t answer until they reached Rask. “Your mother. Queen Ran. She’s been wounded.”

Ranboo’s blood went cold. He swung up into the saddle, clipping in his harness. Hazel had Rask move through the trees, double time, until they reached the edge of the island where the great beast could open his wings. .

Hazel was silent, teeth gritted together as he directed Raskforn back to the Palace. The wraith flew with blistering speed. Ranboo stared ahead, unseeing, a heavy mass of fear rolling in his gut.

Chapter Text

Ranboo found himself pacing outside the doors of his mothers’ room. The doors were carved with visages of writhing dragons, their eyes inlaid with some sort of glowing purple stone that made them feel very much alive. It only added to Ranboo’s anxiety.

He’d been waiting for what felt like hours. Maybe it had been. Hazel had briefly gone inside before being run off by the doctors. Ranboo had been met with the same resistance. Hazel had duties to attend to, and so he had left. Ranboo could have gone to the library but couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Exhausted from practically jogging back and forth over the carpet, he finally sat down near the door. His fingers brushed the cold obsidian uncovered at the edges and he yanked his hand up, feeling his heart beating hard. He curled his tail in, brought his legs close to his chest, making sure he wouldn’t have to touch the awful glass. Memories of burning rain hung at the edges of his thoughts.

Suddenly there was a groaning of hinges. Ranboo’s head snapped up, pulled back from thoughts of limbo. One of the doctors stood in the doorway. “Prince Ranboo, you can come in now.”

He stiffened at the title, a queasy sensation settling in his gut. Trying to push it aside, Ranboo got up and followed the doctor into the Queens’ chambers.

The room had high ceilings, crisscrossed with seemingly random beams of violet wood. Plants hung from many of them, as did a number of softly flickering lanterns. Beautiful tapestries adorned the walls. Past rulers, landscapes of the End, and one very large one over the bed that showed Ran and Boo embracing. The weaving captured the love of the moment perfectly.

“Ranboo?” Ran called softly from the bed. Boo sat in a plush chair beside her, pale hands gently rubbing Ran’s knuckles.

Ranboo approached, tail twitching nervously. Ran struggled to sit up, wincing. Boo stood, gently propping her wife up on a pillow. Ran wore no shirt, but was covered from collarbones to hips in thick bandages. Forgetting their past argument, Ranboo rushed forward. “Gods, what happened?” he asked.

“It was nothing-”

Boo hissed, cutting Ran off. “No more lies. I will not see you hurt again, trying to delay what is natural any further. Tell him, or I will.”

Ran’s eyes briefly flared at her wife’s words, but then settled into a troubled shadow. “Very well,” she murmured. She turned back to Ranboo. “The dragon did this. My time of maintaining the connection is rapidly ending. I went to try to talk with the dragon, and she didn’t even recognize me. Her life cycle is nearing the end. She is dying. She is confused. And when I tried to get near her, she clawed me.”

Ranboo stared, ears pinned flat to his head.

Ran continued, “Usually the transition is not violent. The heir is normally in place by now, supporting the dragon as she returns to her egg. The old ruler is released from the bond the moment she dies, and everything begins again.” She gasped in pain as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed to look Ranboo in the eyes.

“Ranboo. You are the only heir. If there was any other with the capacity to take the connection, we wouldn’t ask this of you. Please, Ranboo, you are the only one who can support the cycle. We need you to become King of the End.”

Ranboo’s head was spinning. Boo steadied him as his knees wobbled. He wasn’t meant for this. Wasn’t meant to take care of an entire realm. He couldn’t even protect his husband and son. What made them think he could do this? The tapestries, beautiful moments before, seemed to be crying out, “Save us, Ranboo! We’ll die without you, Ranboo!” He felt sick.

“I- I need some air,” Ranboo gasped, pulling himself from Boo’s arms. He stumbled from the room. Unconsciously, he found his way to the stables. It was the biggest space he could think of. He burst into the cavern, away from the crushing walls of the Palace.

He wandered among the jagged stone points, over walkways of raw stone, wood, even metal plates here and there. The wraiths paid him little mind, though a few of the young ones pulled to the ends of their chains as they curiously approached.

Suddenly warm breath trickled over the back of Ranboo’s neck. He turned, finding Raskforn standing behind him. Even under his severe brow, his eyes showed concern. He rumbled lowly to Ranboo. A language he didn’t understand.

“Sorry, Rask. Not sure what you want,” he murmured, reaching up to pet the wraith’s muzzle. Every exhalation warmed Ranboo’s chilled fingers.

Rask began nudging Ranboo along with his wing spur. Confused, Ranboo let himself be guided by the massive beast. They arrived at a wide spit of stone that had been worn into a smooth platform by untold generations of wraiths nesting on it. Rask settled with a flop, nearly knocking Ranboo over.

Tired and confused, Ranboo sat down beside the wraith. He crossed his gangly legs, finding the rock surprisingly comfortable. Rask wrapped his tail protectively around Ranboo, almost like the young Enderian was his hatchling. The end of it turned into vapor. Ranboo ran his hands through it, finding it cool like mist. How strange.

Ranboo held his head in his palms, staring blankly ahead. Gods, what was he going to do? He didn’t want to be King of the End. Didn’t want untold lives depending on him. Didn’t want to bond with a dragon that had wounded his mother. All he wanted was his little house in Snowchester. Not the mansion, or the bunker. Just the cabin, Tubbo, and Michael.

And yet… they would all die without him. Tears pricked at his eyes.

“Ranboo? What are you doing here?”

Ranboo startled, finding Hazel staring at him with worried eyes. He stared back, shoulders sagging. “I talked with my moms.”

That was all Hazel had to hear. He sat down next to Ranboo. “It’s a heavy burden to bear.”

Ranboo rubbed his eyes with his palms. “Did they- Did my moms bring me back just for this?” he said quietly, giving voice to the fear of being used once again.

“Gods, no! No, Ranboo,” Hazel said fiercely, mane fluffed up. “Your mothers love you. I watched them grieve and hope after you were sent away. I’ve seen their pain for the last sixteen years, Ranboo. They always hoped you would be able to come back, even before you were the only remaining Enderian who could do this.”

Ranboo broke then, sobbing into his hands. Hazel very gently pulled him close and held Ranboo to his chest as the young Enderian’s sides shook with each shuddering breath.

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Ranboo finally choked out.

“No, I don’t think you do, Ranboo,” Hazel said heavily.

“Why am I the only one who can do this? Why was I sent to the Overworld?”

“That… is a long story for another time.”

“What do I have to do?”

Hazel sat back, giving Ranboo a bit of space. “First, we’ll get your moms. Come on.”

The pair got to their feet and trudged back through the stables. Ranboo’s tail dragged sadly behind him as they navigated the Palace’s winding passages. Finally arriving at the Queens’ chambers made him feel ill. Swallowing nervously, Ranboo knocked and then pushed the doors open.

The doctors had gone, and the space felt much more vast without their hovering. Ran was sitting up in bed, scribbling furiously across a piece of paper. She looked up, expression guarded. Her eyes, though, could not hide her fear. Seeing that made Ranboo’s stomach twist.

Boo appeared from a sheltered sitting area at the sound of Ranboo and the captain’s arrival. She strode towards him, dress trailing behind. Wordlessly, she took Ranboo’s hand in her own and tugged him towards the bed. He sat down on the edge, looking down at the floor. He couldn’t look at the hopeful expectation in Boo’s eyes.

“Have you decided?” Ran asked quietly. Her voice wavered.

“Yes. I will become King of the End.”

There was a moment of silence that felt deep as the Void, and then Boo had flung her arms around him in a hug. Ran, with difficulty, sat up and carefully embraced him and her wife. Ranboo, distraught as he was, could not help but take in their joy and let it settle around his heart. A moment of warmth that needed no words.

Ran was the first to pull away, standing up with a wince. “Come. We need to begin now.”

Boo cupped his cheek with a cool hand, “We are proud of you, Ranboo. Know that.”

Ranboo shivered. He’d thought he would have had a bit of time to process everything. Maybe this was better; no time for him to overthink and make his mind more of a fearful mess than it already was. He followed Ran from the room as she limped down the hall, Queen Boo and Captain Hazel at his back.

He had expected to return to the stables so they could be flown down on wraith-back to the Draconic Isle. Instead, they walked down a spiraling staircase that went deeper and deeper under the castle. Finally, they emerged into a small cavern. The stone was carved with strange patterns, and projecting dragon heads held lanterns in their jaws.

In the center of the cave stood half a dozen guards. They surrounded an ornate metal cage suspended by a thick cable. Some sort of mechanism was bolted into the ceiling.

Ran nodded to the guards as she passed and stepped into the cage. Hesitantly, Ranboo moved in beside her. Hazel and Boo piled in as well.

Ranboo gasped and held tight to the bars as the cage lurched and began lowering.

“It’s safe. Don’t worry,” Ran said, giving his shoulder a gentle pat.
The cage passed through a tunnel of stone before dropping out from the belly of the Palace island. Ranboo peered down, noticing they were descending towards a platform that jutted out from the Draconic Isle. His ears moved forward curiously.

“Not all visitors to the Palace can join us on the wraiths, so we have this lift, and a larger one if the need arises.”

Ranboo nodded, watching as the platform seemed to rise to meet them, rather than the other way around. The cage touched down softly. Another group of guards stood about.

They busied themselves securing the lift as it met the stone. Ranboo suspected that with the Palace island floating above, the cage could potentially be whipped about if it suddenly shifted.

One of the guards approached, opening the lift door. She pulled it back, letting them through.

Boo thanked her as they exited and passed between the guards who had arranged themselves into a line.

"Why do we have the guard?" Ranboo asked. "I haven't seen or heard of any enemies.'

Hazel stepped up to answer. "Mostly they assist in doing the more dangerous duties, or things that need focus and precision. Like the lift. The Palace moves a bit, so moving a platform between here and there needs to be done carefully.

"You said mostly."

"Yes. They also travel with the wraith riders to distribute supplies and patrol for Void wyrms."

"Void wyrms?"

Hazel hesitated in answering. Ran nodded. "He needs to learn about them at some point. Now is as good as any."

"Nasty things, Ranboo. They're few and far between mostly, but they're dangerous. They live in the Void. However, they hang around the surface every so often, and they will try to consume anything that gets within lunging distance. There's a whole other world down there we know nothing about."

Ranboo shivered, remembering the dive he and Hazel had taken to skim the surface of the Void.

Hazel seemed to read his mind, "Our ride was safe, Ranboo. I'd never take you into danger like that. The wraiths can sense them, and our patrols haven't seen one near for months."

A sort of heaviness suddenly fell over Ranboo. He looked up, finding one of the great obsidian obelisks rearing up in front of him. It somehow seemed darker than the unyielding black sky of the End. He stepped back, breath quickening.

"Ranboo?" It was Boo. Her concerned tone made Ran and Hazel turn back to him.

On shaking legs, Ranboo bolted. Everything, everywhere, felt like rain-slick obsidian under his feet. He ducked behind a spur of pale endstone, but it only succeeded in reminding him even more of limbo. Trapped under a bit of rock, just as before.

His heart hammered in his ears. The rain would surely start any second now. He'd feel the searing pain and realize he'd never left limbo. That this had all been some illusion his brain had given him as a respite against an eternity of agony.

Ranboo flinched as he felt something against his hair. He gritted his teeth, waiting. But the pain never came. Instead, he felt fingers in the unbraided section of his mane, gently combing through the thick fur.

He hadn't even realized there was a sharp ringing in his ears until it started to fade, and quiet voices slipped in.

"Ranboo. Come back to us."

Still, he couldn't uncurl his trembling body. His jaw ached from clenching, but fear kept him rigid. Arms wrapped around him, cool hands brushing his face.

"Not- not real-" he stammered, pulling away. He didn't want to give into a fantasy. It would only hurt more.

"I'm real, Ranboo. So are you. Can you look at me?"

Slowly, his bicolored eyes flicked over, finding Ran's bright emerald ones staring back. His vision expanded outward, finding her moss-green freckles. Her hair, tied back into a simple braid with loose strands falling into her face. Just behind her, Boo and Hazel. All of them wore anxious expressions.

"See? We're here. Feel the stone? Feel my hands?" Ran said quietly.

Ranboo nodded, letting his senses reach out again. He leaned his cheek on Ran's arm, willing each part of his body to relax. Exhausted, he slumped against his mother, letting her be a barrier between him and all that was wrong. Just for a moment.

"Any better?" Ran asked.

Ranboo nodded, words seeming to stick on the back of his tongue. He wanted to explain his terror, but his body remained firmly muted.

The Queens and the captain sat down beside him, waving away the guards as they approached to investigate the commotion. Ranboo could see their nervous expressions, and his sensitive ears caught scraps of their words.

"-too weak for this."

"He won't be able to-"

He ducked his head, refusing to look at anyone. Boo ran them off with a ferocious glare. He hugged his tail to his chest, finding comfort in the motion. Finally, he managed to form words, gravelly and rough.

"I can't do this."

His companions waited, knowing he wasn't done.

"I'm not a hero. I'm not what the End needs."

It was Boo who spoke, her voice soft. It somehow reminded Ranboo of the near-silent whoosh of an owl's wings.

"Who ever said you had to be a hero, dearest? You are all you need to be. You always have been."

Tears dripped from Ranboo's eyes. No burning, just warm wetness rolling down his scarred cheeks.

"I'm scared."

"We are too. We'll figure it out together," Hazel murmured.

"The obsidian- It's awful."

Ran drew him into a hug. "I won't leave your side. I can't imagine how it must make you feel, but I will be there."

Ranboo took in a shuddering breath, willing himself into a calmer state. Then, he pushed himself to his feet.

The others rose, surrounding Ranboo as they began walking towards the twisting obsidian pillar. Ranboo's heart thrummed in his chest, and he could feel it right down to the tips of his fingers.

However, they managed to walk past it without any further incident. Ranboo's fur remained puffed up, owing to now being inside a ring of obsidian obelisks, but they stretched far away, rising up from the far edges of the horizon.

It struck him how massive the Draconic Isle really was. It had to have been at least four miles to the far side of the ring, and there was plenty of endstone beyond that. He could just see little pinpricks of light outside the barren ring the dragon claimed: other Enderians, nestled in their homes. He wondered if they knew how unstable their future had become. If they were just as terrified as he was. He hoped not.

Let them believe all is well. At least for now. Ranboo thought to himself.

Ranboo was jolted from his musings as he bumped into Ran's back as she abruptly stopped. A narrow pillar of strange grey and black stone rose up from the endstone, encircled by a ring of the same material. Torches burned at its top. To one side, the endstone crumbled away, leaving a sloping hole under the strange monolith.

"Sorry," he said, trying to keep his voice even.

Ran waved it off. She turned around, facing Hazel and Boo.

"This is as far as I can take you, I'm afraid."

She embraced Hazel, giving him a strong pat on the back. He returned the gesture. They broke apart with a nod.

Ran then turned to her wife. Boo's red eyes were shadowed with concern. "Are you well enough for this?" Her pale hand drew gently over where Ran had been clawed.

"I've felt better. But we don't have much of a choice."

Boo frowned, tail twitching.

"We will be okay," Ran reassured. She took her wife's hands in her own, running her thumbs over Boo’s knuckles. She pressed her nose to Boo's forehead. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Boo replied quietly.

Hazel approached Ranboo. His eyes, such a soft green compared to so many of the other Endarians, were crinkled in a smile. "You're going to do fine, Prince Ranboo."

The title, coming from him, suddenly felt like a wool blanket. Scratchy and a bit uncomfortable, but protective and warm. Ranboo smiled back.

Boo came next. She tucked Ranboo’s braids behind his ears. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears and her ears were pinned back with worry. It hit Ranboo that she could not follow the two people she loved most in the world. That she loved him. He hugged her tightly.

Boo squeaked in surprise at the sudden affection.

"Did you say 'love you' at dinner a bit back?" Ranboo asked, voice muffled from where his face was pushed into the collar of her shirt.

"Yes. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable, Ranboo. I know you don't have many memories of us."

With a deep breath, Ranboo stood back. "Love you, too." He said simply. And it was the truth. He didn't remember much, but he could not deny the warm feeling that cradled his heart when he looked at Boo. Ran and Hazel, too, for that matter.

Boo smiled, ears lifting for just a moment.

Ranboo suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked back to find Ran.

"Time to go, Ranboo."

He nodded, and with a wave to Hazel and Boo, he turned and followed the Queen towards the pillar.

For a moment, they stood at the edge of the cave that dropped down below. Ran blew a strand of loose hair from her face.

"Ready?" She asked.

"No," Ranboo said with a nervous laugh.

"Neither am I."

"Perfect."

They looked at each other for a moment, a thread of amusement among the worry. A chuckle in the face of looming fate, if you could call it that. And then they descended into the cave and under the unyielding pillar

Chapter Text

Ranboo's skin prickled as he and Ran picked their way down the endstone path into the dragon’s lair. Ran’s face was troubled as she clambered over desiccated rock. Ranboo saw her stop to examine deep gouges marring the trail. Looking closer, he realized they were claw marks. Massive ones.

“She’s not well,” Ran muttered to Ranboo. He nodded, trying to hide his twitching tail.

The Queen motioned for Ranboo to follow. He took a deep breath as she moved into the tunnel proper. The endstone gave way to obsidian just a few dozen feet in. His body halted of its own accord, feet planted firmly as terror began to trickle in.

Ran was at his side immediately. “I’m here.”

“I know. I- I can’t move my legs.”

“Okay. That’s okay. Can you look at me? Not what’s in front of us, just me.”

Ranboo focused on his mother. Her hair, the bits of it coming out from her braid looking frazzled. Brilliant green eyes, like his right one. He let the rest of his surroundings fall away.

“Don’t look at anything but me. We’re going to move one step at a time.”

Ran took one step backward, Ranboo placing his foot where hers had been a moment before. The Queen, having walked this path hundreds of times, never had to look backwards. She guided Ranboo down, until the endstone began to crumble and wash out over the obsidian. She should feel Ranboo’s tension in his fingers as they gripped harshly into her palms. Finally, they were inside the glassy tunnel.

“Ranboo. You did it,” she said gently.

Ranboo’s senses expanded outward. The cold obsidian under his feet made him feel nauseous instantly. His skin tingled unpleasantly, as if it was trying to make its own pain for raindrops that wouldn't be falling.

He let the glassy cold travel up from the pads of his feet, up his legs, until his entire body felt chilled. Breathe in. Breathe out. Ranboo focused on his chest, on the cold residing in his ribs. No pain, no burning. Just cold obsidian, indifferent to what walked across it.

"Okay," he murmured at last, feeling his panic shrink to something manageable.

Ran guided him deeper into the tunnel. Faint glowing purple veins ran through some of the obsidian chunks, providing weak light.

As his fear faded to background noise, Ranboo realized something very unnerving about the cave. It was breathing.

Air would whoosh in from behind them, pause for a heartbeat, then back out of the cave. The deeper they went, the stronger the wind, and there was the distinct smell of smoke, leather, and the dry musk of something reptilian. Like the wraiths, only much stronger.

"Mom, is that…" his voice trailed away.

"Yes. That is the dragon. Goddess of the End."

Ranboo's skin suddenly began tingling and he stopped dead, looking at his palms. They looked strange, somehow, like the purple-veined obsidian had woven its way around his fingers.

He looked up to his mom, about to ask a question. Instead, he jumped back.

Queen Ran's green eyes were gone. Instead, brightly glowing purple had replaced them. "Ranboo! It's okay. This is how I respond to the dragon's energy when I'm close. It's safe."

Tentatively, Ranboo returned to his mother. Strange glowing patterns like those on his hands wrapped all about her skin, but shone much brighter. She had grown taller, her horns nearly scraping the roof of the tunnel. The tuft of fur that usually adorned the end of her tail had vanished. A sharp spade had grown from the tip, like blackened bone.

"See? All good." Ran patted Ranboo's shoulder. He nodded.

"You're showing quite a response, too, Ranboo. Any Enderian capable of taking the bond will have the trails over their body, but eyes don't usually turn, too."

Ranboo gasped, clutching his face in confusion. He found a smoother section of the obsidian tunnel to use as a mirror.

Sure enough, Ranboo's red and green eyes were faintly illuminated, and softly glowing lines traced over his skin.

“I should warn you, Ranboo. When you take the bond, your body will change.”

Ranboo broke away from his reflection. “What?”

“You’ll be something more draconic. Here, look,” she said, pulling at the hem of her dress. Ranboo’s eyes widened. Bands of dark scales covered the Queen’s legs, stopping just below her knees. “I’ve got more running up my back.”

“Oh. That’s kinda cool, actually,” Ranboo murmured, head tilting curiously.

Ran’s soft laughter filled the tunnel. “Oh thank goodness. I thought you would be scared.” They started walking again, soft whooshing of the dragon’s breathing around them. “Some things will only be present when you are near the dragon, others are permanent. My scales stay, but clearly I don’t glow all the time.”

They rounded a corner, and the long tunnel opened up into a massive bowl-like cavern. Ranboo stopped in his tracks. Great purple pillars rose up from the obsidian floor, bolstering the domed ceiling. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but every expanse of the glassy walls was carved with scenes of Enderians, the dragon, creatures big and small, and legends Ranboo would likely never know.

And at the very center of it all, draped over a raised platform, was the dragon.

Ranboo's jaw dropped, his bi-colored face an expression of pure shock. He had thought the wraiths were large, but they were nothing, nothing, compared to the Goddess. The tops of their heads would have just barely reached her shoulders. And unlike the armless wraiths, she had four legs and a set of wings. Even curled up, the dragon was larger than the Community House back in the overworld.

Ranboo closed his mouth, hoping his mother hadn't seen. He glanced over, finding Ran holding a hand over her stomach where she had been clawed.

"Mom? You okay?"

Ran turned to him. "Yes, just a bit nervous. She's not right in her head recently. The bond between us is breaking down, and it makes her reasoning falter."

Ranboo nodded. And yet he felt no fear at the Queen's warning. Instead, there was almost a tug in his gut, beckoning him forward. Warmth seemed to curl in his ears, like half-formed words puffed against them. He stepped towards the dragon, down a wandering ledge to where she slept at the bottom of the cavern.

"Ranboo! What are you doing?" Ran hissed, darting after him.

At last. It was a soft, raspy whisper in his head that made him stop. Ran halted behind him.

"Ranboo, we need to be careful."

Come to me.

Ran startled, looking down. "Is she in your head, too?"

"I thought I was imagining it."

Ran visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping and brow smoothing. "She is fully present, then. It's safe."

The pair descended further until they were level with the dragon's dias. She hadn't moved a bit, but loomed massively over them. A great body of scale and muscle and sinew that seemed to resonate with a thrumming power.

Tentatively, Ran took a step forward. The dragon's eyes flicked open, bright purple with slit pupils.

"Queen Ran," the dragon rumbled, no longer speaking in their heads.

"Queen Ayra."

Ranboo tilted his head curiously. The dragon's name was Ayra?

“This is my son, Prince Ranboo,” Ran said, motioning toward him.

The dragon lifted her head. Her scales grated against one another. Ranboo swore he could hear the tendons in her neck popping as she twisted around to stare down the length of her snout. Violet eyes took him in, nostrils flaring. “Returned at last. I have been trying to summon you home for many months now.”

Ranboo took a step back, feeling a strange pressure in his head. His legs began to move of their own accord, back up the path. Ayra’s tail gently scooped him back and the pressure receded.

“What the hell was that?!” he snapped. It felt like the beginnings of his Enderwalking in the overworld.

“A summons,” Ran answered. “But you shouldn’t have gone all brainless like that. It should only give you a feeling of nearby gateways between the overworld and the End.”

The dragon’s brow crinkled in concern. She gathered her limbs beneath her and stood up. Ranboo could tell it pained her, and his heart twisted. How could something so powerful end up like this?

“Come. I need to see something for myself.”

The Queen and the Prince trailed behind Ayra as she pushed a massive disk of purple stone aside, revealing a yawning endstone tunnel behind it. The dragon spit a glob of fire into a niche set in the wall before entering the passageway. As they went, she continued to leave sputtering flames in the walls.

It was a long spiral down, much longer than the entrance to the dragon’s lair. Ayra needed several breaks, leaning heavily against the wall, before they reached the bottom.

“I was hoping I was wrong,” the dragon growled.

Ranboo couldn’t tell what he was supposed to be looking at. It was a great hole in the underbelly of the Draconic Isle, hovering over the void. Around the edges, chunks of obsidian were strewn about. He didn’t notice anything alarming, until Ranboo’s eyes found the shards of glass that were embedded into the cavern walls.

Ran gasped. “How could this have happened?! I thought it was unbreakable!”

“He must be strong enough to break it, now.”

“I thought he was still in the outer reaches.”

“Evidently not. He’s clearly been accumulating power again. As if my sister wasn’t enough,” Ayra said, the last sentence curling into a snarl.

Ranboo watched the exchange, bewildered. “What’s going on? Who are you talking about?”

The dragon grabbed a chunk of obsidian that looked like it had once been part of a column. "This was the permanent gateway between the overworld and the End. It has been destroyed. This is why you couldn't come home. With this portal broken, all gates in the overworld have been sealed. I've been too weak to keep watch over it."

Ranboo's heart fell as his fears were confirmed. There was no way home. No way to get back to Tubbo and Michael. Tears pricked at his eyes, the already-hazy memory of his son feeling farther away than ever.

Ran's face was ashen. "My Queen, I think it is time for us to part ways, and for Prince Ranboo to begin the cycle anew."

Ranboo gulped, pulled from his thoughts, as Ayra nodded and fixed him in her piercing gaze. Without looking away, she responded to Ran. "Indeed. Our time together is running out. Let's return to my lair."

It was a long journey back up. The dragon moved stiffly, the incline proving difficult. Ayra's hind limbs slipped out from under her at a particularly steep section, and she slid down with a hiss. Ranboo, again, felt that squeeze in his heart, a god so far from her power. Could he have prevented this pain, somehow?

"It's not your fault, Ranboo," the dragon rumbled as she made it to the top of the difficult segment.

Ranboo startled. "You can hear my thoughts?" He asked, backing towards Ran. The Enderian Queen patted his shoulder.

"No, but I can see guilt on your face."

Embarrassed that Ayra could read him so easily, Ranboo trailed behind the Queens in silence the rest of the way back.

The dragon collapsed onto the dais the moment she made it on top, sides heaving. Ran sat down beside her, emerald eyes troubled. "What now?" She murmured.

Ranboo backed away, suddenly feeling like he was intruding upon something private. It didn't stop him from overhearing the Queens.

"I'll be dead in a week or so, Ran. And I will rise again with your son. Until then, you need to prepare the rest of the Enderians for the darkness. And I will teach the Prince as much as I can during that time."

The Enderian Queen was silent for a long moment. Then, she laid a hand on Ayra's muzzle, "I will miss you."

"I'll be back."

"You won't be my Ayra, anymore."

The dragon rumbled a sigh "No. I won't. But it is the way of the world, my friend."

Ranboo carefully tiptoed away, leaving the Queens together.

Quietly, Ranboo moved up the path, tail dragging low behind him. He looked at his hands, finding the glow still there. He traced the lines up his arms until they wound under his shirt.

Sighing, he settled himself upon a projection of purple stone, still very much unwilling to sit on the obsidian floor. Ranboo rubbed his eyes, finding them damp. He hadn't even realized he was tearing up, with no pain to tell him.

Again, that horrible ache in his stomach. He didn't want this. Didn't want to have untold lives depending on him. And yet there was no other path to take. This was the only way, both to save the End, and to see Tubbo and Michael again.

Ranboo found himself rocking back and forth, clutching his tail. Not very kingly behavior, but he didn't stop himself. Instead he hugged his tail tight, swaying back and forth, and waited.