Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Hermits ran like ants towards the Boatem Pole. One of them, a chivalrous knight named Wels, stopped to grab his friend Scar, whose wheelchair had caught on a rock.

Wels: "Hold on, Scar! We can't leave you behind."

There was no time to bring the wheelchair. He sprinted towards the void as their caring admin, Xisuma, waved them over. He had waited for all of his Hermits to make the leap of faith before he too, jumped in. It was the last time they were going to see each other for a while as the disastrous situation prevented them from preparing a world beforehand. They were only hoping that the problems they were running from were greater than the problems that they had just caused.

The void was a cold abyss, painfully empty even as they continued to fall. Usually, jumping into the void like this would mean the death sentence to anyone who attempted it. They had their admin with them though, and he protected them to the best of his abilities. Anyone who had even a hint of admin power joined in, trying to protect their friends, no, their family.

The terrible destruction seemed to be following them even into the void. Xisuma knew that what he was about to do was risky, but it was their only chance of survival. He typed in the command and hit enter.

Xisuma: "Hold tight, Hermits. We're taking a leap into the unknown. Hopefully, this will get us to Season Nine in one piece."

It was a gamble, but he knew his Hermits were resilient. Teleport commands were always more volatile due to their interactions with living code, but to teleport an entire server to a completely new world was untested and unprecedented.

Xisuma: "If we had only had more time."

He then shook his head. Time was the one thing they should have had plenty of. He wasn’t able to do anything else because there was a flash of blinding light, and he awoke in the New World.

Chapter Text

Wels opened his eyes, not remembering when he had closed them in the first place. He looked around, and he was still falling. That was when he really started panicking. He remembered seeing a flash of light, but then he was still falling. He looked down, and saw something solid below him so he reached out and grabbed it desperately, not wanting to fall anymore.

He looked up, trying to see what he was holding. As soon as he saw that it was a dragon head, he let go, instinctively wanting to stay away from the dragon. He continued falling, but this time the cold of the Void sank into his skin, chilling him and starting to freeze him to the bone. Xisuma was supposed to stop this from happening, but Xisuma didn’t seem to be with him. Nobody was. It was then and only then he realized he was alone and somehow in The End. He was supposed to be in the Overworld, so why was he here? Wels decided that that was a question for another time because he was close to death. Hopefully, this time he was going to spawn with everyone else soon. He closed his eyes as he felt death take him and then opened them once again when he knew that he’d respawned. Instead of the vibrant Overworld he was hoping for, he opened his eyes once again to see the inky black of the Void this time; he was ready for the dragon head he grabbed it and held onto it with all his might. Something had gone terribly wrong.

Wels was terrified, to say the least, but he knew he had to stay strong and find his family again. He was spawning in The End, which was hard to wrap his mind around, but he couldn’t help but feel that that was the least of his worries. He needed to find supplies, food, and make a shelter. Wels didn’t have anything on him, so he didn’t have a way of picking up anything. That was until he realized dragon heads spawned on End Ships. End ships have endgame level loot, and they also have elytra; he wouldn’t be able to fly around quickly without rockets, but he would still be able to fly around.

Wels pulled himself up onto the end ship and ran past the shulker, who barely noticed him. He grabbed the health potions that the ship had and grabbed the first tools he found in the chest, which happened to be a diamond axe with Unbreaking II, and a Silk Touch iron pick. He looted the rest, knowing he would need all the advantages he could get. Anything that he couldn't carry but was still valuable, he put in the chest to the left. Picking it up, he turned to face the shulker, he jumped at it, taking it by surprise, and killing it in two crits. Grabbing the shells that drop, he puts them in the chest to the right.

His wrist buzzes, and he remembers his communicator, and pulls up the holographic screen, hoping to see that the others were safe.

- Ethoslab was slain by Vindicator
- Cubfan135 was slain by Zombie
- Joehillsays suffocated in a wall
- Ethoslab drowned
- StressMonster101 was slain by Wither Skeleton
- ImpulseSV fell out of the world

The list went on and on, and continued to get longer every second. Wels was worried about his friends who weren’t showing up in chat, but from what he could tell, it might be for the better. He paled to think of the torture his family was going through, but he shook his head. “No, I need to stop thinking about this,” he said out loud, breaking the silence that he hadn’t noticed was there. He continued to speak out loud, not wanting the silence to come back just yet. “Okay, I need to find the others. But first I need to get geared up.”

Wels looked at what he had gathered from the chests, then slipped the cold fabric of the elytra on. It shimmered faintly as it shifted to Wels’s preferred look; that of a tattered cloak. He hesitated for a minute before grabbing an unenchanted diamond helmet, a pair of chainmail leggings with Protection III, Iron boots with Unbreaking I, a Diamond sword with smite II and a fully enchanted Iron pickaxe with Silk Touch. He also found 5 loaves of bread, which he ate one of, and held on to the rest.

He left the remaining gear in the chests and put one of the health potions back in the chest as well. Wels decided to start singing to pass the time on the way down to the End City. Singing was one of his favorite hobbies, and it helped to lessen the oppressive silence. Thinking about his friends, Wels started singing Hermit Gang, a personal favorite of his. “Listen Grian, nobody touches my bush, you’re done.”

Chapter Text

TFC was expecting something to go wrong. He’d been alive for a long time, and he knew what the consequences of a teleport that large could be, but he was unable to warn Xisuma in time. He shook off the nausea that he often felt when he was teleported by admin magic and looked around.

TFC: "Well, here we go again."

He instantly recognized the yellow tint of Endstone around him. He sighed and prepared to start digging himself out. Punching the wall in front of him, the Endstone shattered in less than a second. Grabbing the block as it dropped, he kept going. Normally, TFC would be happy or excited to go mining, but nothing about this situation seemed to be normal.

Even though TFC knew how to find weaknesses in the rock and exploit them, and even though he was definitely strong enough to be able to pick up the blocks that dropped, it didn’t change the fact that punching rocks hurt him. He winced as another block broke. That led him to the other main problem at hand for now, regen. He wasn’t healing, at all, and that raised all sorts of questions.

TFC: "What's going on? Why am I not healing?"

What had gone wrong? Why was TFC in the End, even though spawn laws decreed that everyone should start at or around 0,0 in the Overworld? Whatever. He’d deal with it when he had time; right now, he needed to mine.

TFC grumbled to himself: "Maybe it would have gone a little faster if you had only mined above yourself and used the blocks to pillar up, instead of making a staircase."

Inner TFC: "No, you’re very likely to die to the Ender Dragon, and you’d have to do it all again if you decided to go that route."

TFC: "Will you shut up? I’m almost at the surface, and I’m tired of hearing you argue over something you’ve already set your mind on."

Or maybe TFC was delirious from the pain in his hands. Or was it coming from somewhere else? TFC looked at his bruised hands. He was forgetting something important, but he couldn’t remember what. He couldn’t focus on anything, and he was growing weaker at the second. Was it a mechanic that had been added in the newest update?

- TinFoilChef starved to death -

Oh, right, that was a thing. TFC hadn’t remembered it because normally, he would’ve had food by now. TFC stood up, brushing off some dust and walking up his partial staircase, then continued to break the Endstone, wincing at the pain in his hands. It may have just been his paranoia, but the pain hadn’t seemed to go away completely upon respawn. Just one more thing to deal with.

He was luckily not too far from the surface, and so he only needed to mine a couple more blocks. Once he had finished mining the Endstone, he looked up and saw the dragon. She was sitting on one of the obsidian pillars, gazing over her realm. The instant he popped his head up, she turned, snarling. She unfurled her enormous wings and dove down, heading straight towards TFC, her mouth already filling up with the deadly gas she was known for. He instinctively ducked down and back into the safety of the hole.

TFC: "Now how do I get out without her killing me?"

He asked out loud: "And more importantly, how do I get back to the Overworld?"

He knew that he had the methods to defeat her, but he also knew how dangerous it was, both to himself and to the rest of the server. TFC shook his head, knowing that it was far too dangerous to do that, unless absolutely necessary.

He peeked up again, and didn't see her, so he jumped out and ran behind one of the obsidian pillars, then listened for the telltale sign of her wings. He didn't hear anything, so he looked to the sky. Her face was mere blocks from his, and she had her mouth filled with the gas. Before he could react, she poured the gas over him, killing him instantly.

- TinFoilChef was killed by Ender Dragon using magic -

He woke up back in the box and sat down, trying to quell his nausea, an unpleasant side effect of her breath. He sat there for who knows how long, before he could work up the courage to look at his communicator. He was greeted to a sight of hundreds of death messages, in all three realms.

- Mumbo drowned -
- Ethoslab was slain by enderman -
- ImpulseSV fell into the void -
- Falsesymmetry starved to death -
- Cubfan135 was slain by zombie -

He didn't have the heart to read further, instead typing out a simple message, explaining his location. When he tried to send it, it loaded for several minutes until, finally, a message showed up on screen.

- Error, message unable to send -

He sat back, knowing that his family was in the same predicament as he was, and that he was helpless to stop it. He would try again when he escaped the End. With that thought, he was able to pull himself together, and he stood up. He stretched his back, not wanting to strain himself. He was slightly sore, so it took him a bit longer to climb up his stairs.

Listening closely to the sound of wingbeats before judging that the dragon was far enough away, he unfurled his own shimmering black feathered wings and flew up to one of the obsidian pillars. He had to come up with a plan of attack before doing anything else.

TFC: "While I could just blow up the end crystals, dying over and over again wasn’t my style

. Let's roll with it and pray Jean wouldn’t come back soon."

He kicked the crystal, then jumped away, trying to use it as a way to launch him higher as it exploded, its magic flowing everywhere.

Flying to the pillar on his right, TFC took a moment to try and catch his breath. He really was getting older. He had escaped the worst of the blast, but he was at less than a fifth of his starting health. With only one and a half “hearts” remaining, it wasn’t worth trying to avoid the next explosion. He punched the crystal and let it kill him. This was going to suck.

He repeated the process with the rest of the crystals, respawning several more times.

Then, because of course that was his luck, Jean decided to come back. And boy, she was angry. She dove at him, grabbing him in her jaws, then perched, biting him tight.

- TinFoilChef was slain by Ender Dragon -

So TFC had an angry dragon, and maybe he had forgotten that, but at least he had gotten rid of the last crystals. Now all he had to deal with was the rampaging, angry dragon. At least he could have a conversation with someone other than himself.

Chapter Text

Impulse loved bedrock, don’t get him wrong, but he loved breaking it more. But when he awoke, he expected to see lush green grass and a blue sky. Not the dark, porous surface of bedrock. He didn't have time to react as he fell into the void, and seconds later he respawned, and continued falling.

Impulse: "Oh, wait, no, no, nonononononononono!"

He shouted as he once again fell into the void. Respawn was painful, but he grabbed the bedrock as quickly as possible and held on with all his might.

Impulse knew that he was in trouble. He knew the lengths he had gone through to break bedrock, and that was when he had the equipment and he wasn’t hanging from bedrock. His communicator was buzzing, but he couldn’t check it or he’d fall. At least his fellow hermits made it to the new world. He didn’t want to worry them, but at least they had noticed him missing.

Impulse’s arms were starting to ache, and he had only been hanging there for a few minutes. He had to find some way to get out of here. The other hermits wouldn’t be able to help him unless they knew where he was, and if even Impulse didn’t know where he was, the only person who could help him was himself.

Wedging himself further into the tiny crevice that he was holding onto, he started scratching at the bedrock. Impulse was a demon, and one of the subtle parts of that meant he had sharper and stronger fingernails. He kept scratching. Bedrock was breakable; it just took a lifetime. Bedrock needed a sacrifice to be broken, and while there were ways to get around it, like using a respawn anchor or bed in order to simulate the life it wanted, Impulse had neither of those. The only life he had was his own, and if he wanted to get out of here, he’d have to die.

Suddenly, Impulse felt a strange sensation in the arm holding him up, like it had fallen asleep. He didn’t have time for this! He paused in his work, returning to using both hands to hold on until his arm decided to let his blood circulate again. Instead of stopping, the sensation simply spread, becoming a tickling throughout him, not unlike when you come in from making a snowman and dry off. It went away soon after, so he didn't pay much attention to it, instead returning to breaking the bedrock.

Impulse had been working for an unknown amount of time when, without warning, the strange feeling came back again. It hadn’t been as strong, so he kept working. It lasted a bit longer, but he didn’t care. He continued to scrape at the bedrock as the last tingles went away, and once again lost track of how long he had been working.

He was getting close to breaking the bedrock when the feeling returned, stronger than ever. The sudden pain caused him to let go and fall into the void, his body throbbing with the strange pain. It was distracting enough that he wasn’t able to grab his ledge, causing him to fall again. He returned to scratching at the bedrock.

Impulse had taken up screaming into the void as a hobby. Either that or he was crying. Probably both. He had finally broken through the bedrock, only to discover that the block above was also bedrock. He screamed in anger again and began clawing more frantically at the block with newfound energy. He needed to escape, before he went mad. He was already going crazy from the silence, and Impulse could have sworn he heard someone else, but he waved it off. The phantom pains were just another side effect of being alone, right? It didn’t matter. Impulse continued to chip away at the bedrock.

He’d been trying to convince himself that for a while when he heard a yell coming from below him. Impulse looked down to see- Was that XB? The XB lookalike fell, and Impulse decided it was just him wanting company. The void seemed to be calling him the more he tried to escape, but Impulse ignored that thought. He was going to get out of here, no matter what tricks the void pulled.

Impulse then dared to look at his communicator, after feeling it buzz incessantly, and he blanched seeing that he was in fact not the only one who didn’t spawn right. In fact, everyone seemed to not spawn right. He saw death messages from almost everyone, with the exception of Scar, Iskall, Ren, False, Hypno, and Keralis. He hoped they were safe but knew better than to be optimistic.

The bedrock finally broke, as he had been continuing to chip at it while looking at the screen. The bedrock revealed… DANG IT! Even more bedrock. He sighed and began chipping at it once more.

Impulse (to himself): "Well, this is just great."

Chapter Text

Scar lay on the cold floor, his eyes still closed. He groaned, not wanting to get up, but when he realized that there was nobody with him, he opened his eyes. And was greeted with lush… purple? He blinked to make sure he was seeing right and was indeed looking at amethyst blocks.

He sat up, wanting a better view, and looked around. He was in a bigger amethyst geode, the crystals glowing with a soft light. He turned, wanting to see the entire thing, and saw a small ball of gray and white.

Scar: "Jellie!"

When she heard her name, she instantly leapt up and went to her owner, curling up on his lap.

Scar: “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

He lovingly stroked her fur, glad she had traveled with him, and not after, like she usually did. He nearly flinched at the thought of Jellie being stuck with what was chasing them.

He shook his head, then tried to remember where he put his communicator. Taking off his hat, he rummaged around, pulling out a wooden hoe with one durability, a zombie head, a cobblestone wall, and a raspberry smoothie, until finally, he pulled his communicator out.

- XisumaVoid fell out of the world -
- MumboJumbo drowned -
- Docm77 suffocated in a wall -
- Welsknight fell out of the world -
- Ethoslab was slain by Vindicator -
- Cubfan135 was slain by Zombie -
- Joehillsays suffocated in a wall -
- Ethoslab drowned -
- StressMonster101 was slain by Wither Skeleton -
- ImpulseSV fell out of the world -

“Jellie, I think we’re in a bit of a pickle,” Scar said worriedly, ruffling the top of Jellie's head. Her responding meow made him feel a little bit safer.

Scar: “Where are they? I don’t know, but we can find out. It’ll be like the Jangler in Season 6, but we’re the detectives this time.”

He started with the more unique spawns. Wels, Xisuma, Impulse, XB, and Gem had all fallen into the void at least once. He typed them in as being in the End. Bdubs had drowned and been killed by a Guardian, so he was in an Ocean Monument. Stress had been killed by Wither Skeletons several times, so she was in a Fortress. Cleo had been getting killed by Iron Golems from the beginning, so she had likely spawned in a village.

Idly, Scar broke a piece of amethyst off of the wall behind him, licking at it as he continued to think. Mumbo and - was that? Helsknight? Scar wasn’t going to bother. Mumbo and Helsknight had only drowned since spawn, so they were somewhere underwater. Doc and Joe both suffocated in a wall, so they likely are either in sand or gravel. Maybe a desert? Scar jotted down the possible location and continued on.

He checked his communicator again and saw several new messages.

- Grian was slain by Silverfish -
- Tango froze to death -
- Tinfoilchef was slain by ender dragon using magic -
- Iskall85 starved to death -
- PearlescentMoon was slain by Piglin -
- EvilXisuma was slain by Warden -
- Ethoslab was slain by enderman -
- IJevin tried to swim in lava -
- Xbcrafted fell into the void -

What? How did Etho die to an enderman, drown, and get slain by a vindicator? Scar shook his head, confused.

Jellie licked his hand, her bright green eyes staring at him intently, then meowed.

Scar: “I know Jellie. Etho will be Etho. That doesn’t mean I can’t be confused… Or concerned.”

He added as an afterthought. He shifted his position from where a crystal was poking his back and grabbed it to munch on as well.

Jevin and Pearl were other candidates for the Nether, and Grian was either in an extreme hills biome or in a Stronghold. Xb just fell into the void, so end maybe? Evil X was in the deep dark, and Tango was in a cold biome, as he froze easily.

He sighed, shifting again to avoid the prickly crystals. On habit, he rechecked his comms to see if anyone else had died. There were three of interest this time.

- ZedaphPlays was skewered by a falling stalactite -
- XbCrafted was slain by a Guardian using magic -
- Bdoubleo was slain by Elder guardian using magic -
- Vintage Beef stepped on a tripwire hook and was impaled -

Zedaph was in a dripstone cave somewhere; he had no clue what Beef’s message was, and Xb… Scar sighed again. He was TRYING to find where everyone was, but some people had to contradict their own deaths.

Hypno and Keralis had been getting the normal achievements, and Scar totally hadn’t cried when he saw those; come on Jellie, back him up!

Ren wasn’t even showing up yet, but Scar took that as a good sign. Jellie meowed again, and he nodded.

Scar: ”Yeah, that is probably good. Let’s look at what we have so far.”

Chapter Text

They have been scattered, their fate to bemoan

Trapped in a world that is not quite home

The knight is in an endless fall

The chef needs to win for the good of them all

The leader resists the voids charm

The magician is kept from any harm

The one from the deep pays the cost of a life

One from the k̶̠̺̻͖̯͉̗̖̎̿̒̾͛̀͋̅̈̎̓̿̕͠͝night’s dragged down by what he lacks

The ocean’s gem has no gold to pay

One of the unknown faces constant strife

The fighter makes a choice she cannot take back

The healer must fight to live another day

The slime cannot put up a fight

The spoon is searching for a light

The embodiment of Hell is caged in bones

The guardian can only hear the watery moans

The businessman is in a crystal heart

The butcher is caught in the webs of the past

The wide-eyed builder has a normal start

The king’s memories do not last

The hitman sits in that what he hates, but is “luckier” than most

The scientist is a reluctant host

The prankster ignores what is going on

The doctor cannot see the dawn

The undead tries to resist the call

The blazeborn freezes, no warmth to be found

The sheep is trapped away from them all

The evil twin cannot dare make a sound

The traveller cannot save them all

The bard believes in their lies

The dryad needs to brawl

The enigma’s secret is in his demise

The e̸̛͙͙̼̹̖̋͑̀̃̃͒̈́͝͝nig̷̢̩̻̝̣͕͋͑̈́̄̇̍͗̅̄m̷̨̛͈͖͈̩̰͇̗̝̺͕̪͓͈̈́̈̽͐̑̆͐́́̾̂a’s secret is in his de̸̛͕̱̭̜͇͚̪͔̭͚̝͒̐̈̎̂m̸͚͙̱͓͙͎̜̪̺͉̖̈́͐́̂̂͊̓̈́̒̔̀̂̒͘͠ī̶͖̯̫̘̪̤̗͕͐̎se

T̶̢̛̜̻̟̮͉͎͌͗̀͐́͛̕ ḧ̴̢͖̱̘̦͇̦͓̗́͒̀͛̐́̈́͝͝ě̴̻̱̄͆͆́̈́͗͒̏̐̈́̉̾͑͘͜ ̸̡̢͖̤͖͈̞̞͙̝̹̭͔̇͌̉͆̔͆ e̷̦̝͓̘̖͔͊̓̃̌͝ ņ̴̧͔̰̰̼̦̭̻͔͙͗̔͛̒͋͌̌̐͆ͅi̶̢͎̹̬̲̯̘̰̪̱̥͐͆̌̓͆̆͋́͠͝g̵̼̥̮͛͛̊͐̍̑͜ͅm̶̨̢̞͔̩̭̜̺͇̗̜̆̏͒̋̉̓̄̾̅̆́͑̚͜͠ͅâ̶͙̯̈̂̌̽͐̀̓͊̆͒̅̒̕’̸͍̼͓̙͇̫̭̖̲͑̓̈̍͐̓̀͜ś̷͇̳̮̃̑̃̎̌̈̑̇́̊̔̚͝ ̸̻͗͆̈́̿ş̷̉̇̍͗͆͒̂͗̔̈́̽̓̚͠e̴͈̬̭͙͈̭̪͕̜͚̹͊̌̄̄̀̑͊̆͋̌̚͜͝c̶̢̹̖̙̘̫͎̟̒̒̂̏͆̀͐̅̌̒ͅr̴̡̰̳̜̤̮͓̈́̿͊̂̊̎e̸̡̤̥̺͙̎͗͆́̄̿͗̌̕t̵͕̞̂̚ ̴̯̳̺̖̳͖̃̽͒̓̆̽̀̇̃͊̆͝͝ḯ̴̙̗̤̫̦̳͚͑̾̑̽̈́͗̒̌̚͘͝s̸̠̟̼̟̮͇̲̬̥͇͖̘̬̥̀͗̒́̌̈ ̶̡̡͇̥̩̮́̓̏͛͋͘̚͝͝͝ị̵̭̭̮͈͇̰̐̒̓́̾͜ņ̸̢̞̟͙͇̳̠͙͈̩̋̽̈́̋̓́̀͗͜ ̵̤̥̬̾̿̉̿̃̄̈́̑̈́͛̎̍̈h̵͉̎͋̍͑̃̓̚ ḯ̸̩̼̥̪̪̓̒s̸̢̡̧̮̲̯̘̼̑́ ̸̢̢̖̞͙̯͈̽̔̚̚͝ͅď̷̬́̐ė̴͇̗̖̹̀́̓̓̏̒̈́̈́̓̇̋͠m̴̧̧͕̬̤̮̖̬̜͙͇̯̓̀͐̐̈́̆̓̐̆i̴̝͚͇̇s̴̨̭͓͛͜ͅę̸͍̀̍̈́͐̀͑̑́̈́̽͘

̷̢̢̟̘͇̱̣̟̊̋́͊̀͒̇̆͛̓̀̂́̕͠

The ones who escape must go through more

The hunters travel in packs

Twenty-six becomes twenty-four

As two are lost in the cracks

Chapter Text

Xisuma clung onto the root, his helmet lost into the darkness. He mentally berated himself for choosing to use the command, but also knew he had no choice. X pulled himself up onto the root, which was a chorus fruit root, and looked at his communicator. He saw the multitude of death messages, and almost cried when he saw the pain his Hermits were going through.

X decided to try and teleport people one by one to spawn, but the message only caused a screen saying error. He sighed and dismissed the screen, then looked up at the pale yellow of the endstone above him. Might as well start trying to get up. He had to be careful because he didn't want to break the roots holding him. After a while, he figured out that the best way of doing it was clearing out the endstone surrounding the plant and using the roots to hoist himself up.

Break, two, three, four. Untangle yourself to move another half step up, retangle yourself so you won't fall down. Those words repeated in Xisuma's head again and again as he worked his way up.

It was very slow going, but he made progress. He was almost at the surface when the abrupt pain in his stomach started. He'd been ignoring his hunger, and now it was coming back with a vengeance.

He did his best to ignore the grumblings of his stomach, but he knew he was out of hunger bars. Then he stopped for a second, wait… he was clinging to a chorus fruit root. If the chorus was edible, then why not the roots?

He broke off one of the lower, smaller shoots and took a small bite of it. The taste was more acidic than a usual chorus fruit, and that was saying something. It wasn't quite unpleasant, just very strong. But he held it down, grabbing another after the one he had was done, and after a couple more bites, the grumbles of his stomach subsided as the chorus properties kicked in, teleporting him somewhere else.

Xisuma was on the surface of an end island. It was a rather large island, with chorus trees dotting the landscape here and there. It was something he was glad about because he didn’t want to be trapped on a tiny island with no way off. He could see other islands not too far off, and what may have been an end city at the end of his render distance, but decided to not mess with that. He instead decided to check his communicator, to see if anyone was nearby. He saw several deaths to the void, Impulse, Gem, Wels, and TFC all had consistent, repeated deaths, like falling into the void or to the Ender Dragon. Of those, only one of those narrowed down a location. When he saw that he instantly realized that if he could find an end gateway he would be able to help TFC. To get out of the End, you have to find your way to the main island, so going there before going anywhere else will increase your chances of meeting up with people.

With that in mind, Xisuma was faced with the dilemma of how he was going to get there. Normal chorus fruits didn't have the range to teleport between the farther islands, so he would either have to find an end gateway on his island or kill endermen to get their pearls.

Holding onto his partially eaten root, he started looping around the island he was on. Once he finished, with no sign of an end gateway, he sat down, thinking hard about his options. He had noticed that the other end islands were within ender pearl distance. He just had to defeat enough endermen to get ender pearls.

There was only a slight problem with that. Enderman would avoid X, and when he looked one in the eye, it simply teleported away. After the fifth or so times this happened, Xisuma had to clench his fists and take deep breaths to calm himself. What do you do if the mobs are buggy and you can’t help your Hermits? You find a different way.

Xisuma was getting hungry again, and reflexively ate another bite of the root he was holding. Once he teleported, he looked around, trying to spot another enderman. Xisuma shot up when he realized that he was on a smaller island. What the- the root! The chorus root could teleport to farther distances than the fruit.

Excited by this development, he ran to the only tree on the island. It was partially hanging off of the island. It was on the smaller side and Xisuma pitied it. If he just took its roots, it would surely die. Not to mention, if Xisuma died, he’d have to come back this way regardless, and that wouldn’t be possible if there wasn’t a tree here.

He grabbed some endstone dust from his pockets, placing it where he could without it falling apart. This might take a while.

[XisumaVoid has made the advancement {A Seedy Place}]

Chapter Text

Etho ran as fast as he could, the evoker chasing him following close behind. He rounded a corner, dodged through furniture in another room, but he could still hear the telltale screech of the vex closing in on his location. The first time he spawned, he landed in the middle of a pillager meeting and died quickly. They caught him quickly after he respawned. Last time he had tried running away, it was for naught. The evoker had caused a cage to erupt around him, thus ending his escape attempt. Did they think of him as some kind of pet? This time, Etho refused to be captured. He ran past another pillager, up a set of stairs, and came face to face with another evoker. The fangs that sprouted from the ground pierced his side, through his back. Etho could feel some blood crawling up the back of his throat, wanting to escape. Etho refused to cough blood onto his favorite mask. It was special to him, and he didn’t have much longer anyway. Three, two, one.

[Ethoslab was killed by Evoker using magic]

Respawning was an awful process in the new world. It was more time-consuming than normal, and it hurt a lot. The pillagers had also learned that he only spawned in one place, so they always had a guard in Etho's spawn room. He could almost taste iron blood still when he was grabbed from behind. They brought him to the cages and threw him into a cage with several Allays, the smaller, kinder cousins of the ruthless Vex.

One of them flew over and wiped a little blood off of his cheek then nuzzled his cheek. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cookie he’d managed to grab on the way and gave it to the fairy. The Allay cheered and ate it quickly before her siblings could eat it. Etho chuckled at her antics and smiled. At least he wasn’t alone in captivity.

“I’m unna call you Tamagotchi.” The Allay looked at him quizzically. “No? Not happy with that name? How about I just call you Tammi for short?” Tammi laughed, then settled down onto his head.

Etho smiled, his mask barely showing it as he started cataloging the rooms he’d run through, trying to get a map of the mansion he was in. Well, I’m on the second or third floor. I’m too high up to mine out, and even if I could, I’m pretty sure there’s several rooms between me and the outside wall. Maybe I shouldn’t have shown them I can punch through their walls. The gears in his head began turning, and he began planning something that only he would come up with. He’d have to take it slowly, and try to understand things completely before rushing on like his previous plan entailed.

Etho punched the bars of the cage once more, shattering it into pieces. Some of the shards were stuck in his hands, but the worst was blocked by his gloves, thankfully. He jumped out of the hole he had made, Tammi following after him. He just had to find the roof and get out. He wasn’t safe when he was in here. He could only hope that everyone had calmed down from his last attempt. He had killed one of them, and Etho knew that he shouldn’t have. It was an accident, but that didn’t stop him from imagining their grieving faces. Was he really imagining it? Was that really a flash of a word Etho should understand? Was he just making it up? He shoved his traitorous thoughts aside. He needed to get out.

Walking instead of running, he left the prison room. Walking straight, he fought his instincts to run or fight. He grabbed a couple of planks from a wall, making sure it looked nice this time. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He wasn’t meant for this kind of situation.

Turning right, then taking the second left, Etho recalculated. Backtracking a bit, then turning left instead of right. He wasn’t trying to run this time. So why was he so afraid? Etho could feel the beating of his heart in every move, and every breath he took felt like dry papers scratching against his ears.

Finally, he neared an area that seemed familiar. There was a hole in the wall, and Etho winced as he remembered the creeper that had snuck up on him. Forcing his legs to move, he walked farther down the seemingly endless hallway. Etho had turned this moderately peaceful mansion into a warzone, and he could see it everywhere he went.

He kept walking, refusing to give in to the urge and run. He turned left and kept walking. The halls were deserted, which pulled at Etho's heart. Just another mistake, another consequence of being here. It would be fine once he left.

Etho sighed. He rounded another corner and kept walking. He couldn’t stop, but he couldn’t run. It was almost painful. Why did this always have to happen? No matter where he ran, teleported, or walked, he eventually brought destruction to those around him. Was this his fault?

He started up another flight of stairs, the wood creaking under his weight. Eventually, he reached the top and came face to face with the strange evoker that had killed him last. It spun to face him, and Etho quickly raised his hands in what he hoped was the universal symbol of surrender. “Hey.” He muttered quietly, not wanting to die again. His side ached in what Etho hoped was just a bad reminder of the past. The evoker screeched at him, and he couldn’t flinch before he was stabbed again, in a way eerily close to last time.

[Ethoslab was killed by Evoker using magic]

He didn’t know what to do. He was stuck, no matter which way he went. They’d started keeping an evoker in his spawn room, and their hushed whispers that he barely understood haunted him.

“Why ↸𝙹ᒷᓭ ╎ℸ ̣keep coming ʖᔑᓵꖌ?”
“∴ᔑℸ ̣ ᓵ⍑ 𝙹⚍ℸ ̣ ! It killed ℸ ̣ ⍑ᒷ ᓵᔑ!¡ℸ ̣ ᔑ╎リ”
“It’s ʖᒷℸ ̣ ℸ ̣ ᒷ∷ 𝙹⎓⎓ dead!”
“∴⍑|| ╎ᓭ ╎ℸ ̣running ⎓∷𝙹ᒲ ⚍ᓭ?”

[Ethoslab was killed by Pillager]

Etho wanted to scream. It was his one hundred and seventy-third time dying, not that he was counting. His communicator had broken a long time ago, and he wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse. Tammi had left to try and grab a cookie for him, so at least he wouldn’t starve to death. The giant hole in his side that wasn’t healing

on the other hand… Things were looking bleak, and he was losing a lot of blood.

When he heard wingbeats, he didn’t even look up to greet the friendly Allay. Normally he would try to greet her in her language, but this time he could barely gather the energy to make a wish. “Pꖎᒷᔑᓭᒷ... I j⚍ᓭℸ ̣ wᔑリℸ ̣ t𝙹 g𝙹 h𝙹ᒲᒷ”

He didn’t hear the gasp of what wasn’t Tammi, but a Vex. He didn’t hear an excited Evoker, or the stir that was caused by a want to understand a friend. All Etho knew was that for the first time since he could accurately remember, he fell asleep on a bed.

[Ethoslab has made the advancement {Sweet Dreams}]

Chapter Text

Tango was concerned, all things considered. When they had jumped into the void, he, as one of the lesser admins, had focused on protecting his friends. He was focusing everything he could to keep the cold chill of the void at bay to protect the others. He had a natural resistance to the cold, so Tango prioritized everyone else.

It was a decision he’d make several times over if it came down to it. Resetting everyone's core temperatures as fast as he could, cycling between people so that everyone remained more or less the same.

The void grew colder as they fell faster, farther, more. Tango typed faster in response, pushing his skills to the limit. Tango had forgotten something important about the void. It didn’t just freeze, it consumed. He couldn’t stop what he had started, they were too far for him to change jobs. The cold pressed against the other hermits, digging its nails into anywhere it could reach. Tango desperately continued.

Then, a tug at his code, pulling him out of the void, bringing him into a world that hummed with life and potential, a new start and a clean slate. They wouldn’t have to worry about the Entity chasing them down.

************************************************************************
Sitting up, Tango shook his head to clear the grogginess that had followed the teleportation. He just wanted to sleep, but the new world was waiting. He thought, his brain hazy with exhaustion, that his fellow hermits wouldn’t mind if he took a quick nap. Tango shivered, thinking of the void. He laid back down. Besides, the other admins must have been exhausted after the effort of keeping everyone safe, so they may want to take a quick rest too. Slowly he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, not feeling too cold anymore. One of his friends must’ve gotten him a blanket. How kind of them.

Tango was ripped from sleep, pain coursing through him. What happened? He was in a wonderfully soft blanket, so whoever pranked him wasn’t intending to be mean. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get the fog out. To matter how hard he tried, his eyes refused to open. Tango decided that it was a sign that he needed to sleep a bit longer. Rolling over into a more comfortable position, he fell back asleep.
When he woke to pain a second time, Tango let out a little bit of flame, warning the prankster away. When he opened his eyes, he mentally congratulated himself for doing the right thing and getting some more rest. He saw pure white, a soft warm blanket laying over him, keeping him warm.

Sitting up, he took a good look around at the spawn that was most likely made by Joe. It was completely in shades of white, gray, and blue, and it had a rough, almost natural vibe to it.

Tango shivered. It was harder for him to get cold, but once he was cold it took him forever to warm up. He stood up shakily, trying to wake himself fully. He brushed off the little bits of blanket that had stayed on him absentmindedly, looking for the door leading out. There wasn’t one, at least, not where Tango could find. There was a curtain type thing, so he pushed through it, not noticing how it fell down and piled up behind him.

It was very bright outside, and Tango covered his eyes, walking forward and looking around once his eyes got adjusted to the light. Everything was blue or white, and while he respected it, he would've appreciated a little more color. There was a slight breeze tousling his hair. What was he doing again? He had just come from spawn, so… Oh, right!... Xisuma! How was he holding up? He walked along the path. Was it a path? It was less… organized then he would’ve hoped. He was looking for Xisuma. The man must've been really drowsy after accessing the new world. Tango tripped on a ledge that he could’ve sworn wasn’t there before, face planting into the ground. For a while, he just laid there, not wanting to move. He was still so tired. Why wasn’t he asleep? He wanted to go back to bed. For once, Tango had no jokes about Bdubs’s sleeping habits.

…What was he doing again? He was… so cold. It was getting harder for him to breathe in the chilly air. Absent-mindedly, he sat up and continued stumbling along the path. It was getting a bit harder to see, but he should come across someone's starter base soon. The others must have food, right?

Where was he? It was dark, and Tango was lost. He didn’t know how he got here, or even where here was. What had happened? He was just walking, the sun starting to set, and then he was here. Lost, alone, and cold. The slight breeze he had felt was picking up. When had it picked up? It bit at his arms, his nose, anything that wasn’t covered in clothing was attacked. It whipped around him, rendering the thin outfit he wore useless, and roaring in his ears. He stumbled, falling to one knee.
He curled in on himself, waiting, praying for someone to sleep. It hurt, worse than the void. Tango realized that he’d never truly been cold before. Nothing compared to this, the terrifying sensation of freezing, slowly losing feeling in your own body, until the only thing working was your mind.

Tango tried to scream, afraid to shut his eyes in the fear of them never opening again. Nothing came out, or it was drowned in the howling of the terrible wind. There was wind, and when it started slowing, the snow came.

It was so cold it burned, searing where it touched with a frigidity unknown by the previously unmatched piercing wind. Tango thought he’d long gone numb, but it seemed that only torture remained. It was agony. Nothing helped, and everything made it worse. He tried to light a fire, to warm himself, but it seemed that being a Blaze hybrid was the worst option right now. He was just so cold.

Tango died there, trapped in winter's icy fist. He didn’t know about anything else and didn't have time to focus. He woke at spawn, and for the first time noticed the igloo that had initially protected him. The ceiling was cracked, and the wind threatened to blow it wide open. It didn’t matter whether he was in or out. It only changed the speed he died at. He was as cold as death.

Tango had tried to call for help on his com, but it must've gotten broken somehow because it wasn't even able to turn on. It had long since frozen over and had started sticking to his arm. He didn't want to find out what would happen if he tore it off.

Tango couldn’t remember what it felt like to be warm. There was cold, and there was suffering. His only chance for escape was a clear day, and those were few and far between. When one would come, he would leave, but for now, all he could do was wait and freeze. There was no sign of the blizzard stopping.

Chapter Text

Gem hadn't expected to run away from the previous season, but hey, the hermits never did anything the normal way. She wasn’t alone in thinking that it was a bit strange, though. She noticed that Wels was holding onto Scar, who was trying his best to activate his Elytra. She spread her wings, the downy feathers catching the air and hoisting her up. Once she reached Wels and Scar's level she swam through the void, if she could call that swimming.

Pulling sharply, she tugged on the emergency release in the Elytra he wore. His wings slowly extended and he was able to slip out of Welsknights arms, but both Wels and Gem held onto him so that he wouldn’t get hurt. They saw Xisuma above them, typing furiously into his admin screen. He called down,”I’m going to teleport us all into the new world.” The call was relayed down till all hermits had heard it, Gem noticed that TFC, the elderly hermit, was trying to shout up to X, but his words were stolen away by a bright flash of light.
**************************************************************

Tiiiiiime skip!

*************************************************************
Gem internally winced as a headache hit her full force, but she forced herself to open her eyes after a few moments of silence… and immediately regretted it. She was still in the void, but… how was she not falling. She stood up, and realized she was in the end? She was on a small end island, barely 5 blocks across… except it was cut off by the world border, and on the other side of it… OH DEAR.

Joe Hills was on the other side of the border, looking a bit nauseous. The deer hybrid immediately ran to try and grab him, but was stopped by the impassable border. Joe looked up at her from where he was sitting and smiled.

“Joe?!??!? ARE YOU OKAY?????” Gem called to him. She didn’t know what was going on. He placed his hand on the impassable border and spoke calmly,”I can hear you quite clearly, shouting is not necessary. As for the question, it appears that we have run into a problem.” He spoke without any haste, as if this was a normal occurrence.

Gem sighed at the hermits' antics, then responded, “Well, what can we do?”
Joe frowned. “I’ve been awake a bit longer than you, but have found no way out yet.” He then winced, the only sign he gave about the pain he was feeling.

The deer hybrid placed her hand on the border and gently pushed, the border flung her back to the edge of the island, and the suddenness of it caused her to fall of the island into the void, she faintly heard Joe shouting her name but his voice quickly faded into nothing.

Then the pain started. The first thing she noticed was how unbelievably cold it was, colder than anything she had ever felt. Then she felt the stabs to her chest, the pain was bad enough to cause her to curl up into a ball. Then finally she died, respawning back on the tiny end island, with Joe calling out to her worriedly.

She sat up painfully, still unbelievably cold and hugged herself tight, trying to warm up. Joe was crouching as close to the border as he could, looking at her worriedly. "You have been unconscious for around 2 hours. I was worried… that you… permadied" The last word was spoken quietly, almost reverently but Gem knew better and could hear the worry in his voice.

Joe set his hand on the border as Gem slowly stood up and grabbed her communicator from her belt, and attempted to message the rest of the server, her communicator however wasn't allowing her to send any messages, and then she saw it.

ImpulseSV fell into the void
Tango Tek froze to death
False symmetry starved
Grian was slain by silverfish
Joe hills suffocated in a wall
IJevin fell into lava
[Ethoslab has made the advancement {Sweet Dreams}]
TFC was slain by Ender dragon

Gem looked away from the awful scene on her communicator, and felt a tear drop from her eye as she set her hand on the border across from Joe's. "We're not getting out of here anytime soon are we." She spoke in a broken voice, her ears which usually were sticking up, upbeat and cheerful were laying flat on her head.

Joe nodded sadly, he too knew that their fate was currently unknown. "I'm sorry, I wish… I wish it were different. Before he could speak again he began coughing, and collapsed attempting to breathe, even just a little. But it was no use, and he slowly, painfully died.

Joe respawned almost immediately, and gasped for air, his panicked breaths slowly calming down until he was able to sit up to face Gem who was shoving against the border in an attempt to get to Joe, but before Joe could stop her, the magic once again flung her back into the void, to respawn 10 minutes later, but this time she was awake and saw Joe once again dying to lack of oxygen.

This cycle repeated several times each time it took less and less time for Joe to succumb to the effects of the border until he died as soon as he respawned.

Gem stood helpless as one of her best friends kept dying and she was unable to help… unless. A thought crossed her mind, an old myth that was more like legend, but it just might work.

She kneeled and pleaded to the watchers, an ancient being who watched over servers and protected them, "Please watchers of this server, please help us, please. We can't do this anymore." Joe looked at her in pain and shook his head, unable to speak anymore. But Gem continued, pleading to any being that could help them.

The next time Joe respawned, he didn't die, he just lay there motionless not even breathing. Gem repeated her plead, and added," If you save him… I- I will serve you. I will pledge myself to you."

There was no response, and Gem collapsed, tears streaming down her face, she had failed Joe. And he had paid the price. She lay there for who knows how long before a sound caused her to look up, and she saw 2 beings shrouded in darkness with strange masks over their eyes, but she had the feeling that they were watching her.

"I am Qyrin." Zey had a deep voice that rang with power. "And I am Xieron" She spoke next, an almost hostile expression on her face.
Gem stood and demanded, "Save him, now."
Xieron snarled, and flew close, "Keep this in mind, we control you now, remember? Not the other way around. If you want to stay alive you best get used to this."

Qyrin rose zeir hand, and another figure came out of the darkness, and they pulled Joe out from behind the border then both of them vanished. "You both will be joining us. But first." Zey touched the border and it shattered, a surge of magic flowing out into the world.

Elsewhere on the server, an elderly Hermit looked up, feeling the surge of magic, was that Grian?

Xieron and Qyrin then both touched Gem, and vanished without a trace.
Joe hills left the game
Gemini Tay left the game

Chapter Text

Jevin's eyes flickered open to a world ablaze with fiery reds, a stark contrast to the icy sensation that coursed through his veins. It wasn't the familiar surroundings he expected; instead, he found himself immersed in a surreal landscape, surrounded by molten lava.

The heat, initially deceivingly cold, intensified as awareness seeped into him. Battling against the molten current became a struggle for survival, each movement a desperate attempt to break free. The fiery embrace proved unyielding, relentlessly pulling him deeper into its scorching grasp. Jevin's heart raced, vision dimming as the molten abyss claimed him repeatedly.

Death and rebirth became a haunting cycle, an agonizing dance of torment and fleeting respite. Jevin's tenacity persisted, consciousness flickering back to life only to face the relentless inferno once again. Futility gnawed at his resolve as the fiery demise replayed itself.

The pain deepened into an all-encompassing symphony, the scorching heat branding torment into his very being. Hairline cracks marked his form, evidence of molten rock infiltrating his being. Time lost its grip, moments blending into an unending tapestry of anguish.

Guttural cries escaped Jevin's lips, unheard by any benevolent force. The torment, strangely comforting, pulled him toward uneasy slumber.

As Jevin's consciousness slowly returned, it was like unfurling petals. He found himself in a bed surrounded by chirping sounds that hinted at a jungle. Grateful for this unexpected respite, he wondered if it was Scar, the hermit known for divine beds. But the scene around him unfolded differently; instead of solid land, striders dotted a molten landscape. Unfazed, Jevin stood on the lava, propelled by a mixture of determination and curiosity.

Jevin's journey defied the laws of the realm. As he traversed the molten expanse, a transformation connected him to this fiery world. Perseverance led to solid ground, revealing crystalline formations and an imposing bastion.

In the midst of this otherworldly journey, Jevin found himself alone. Attempts to contact others through his communicator proved futile; the device refused to let him send messages. Isolation added to the challenges of this molten odyssey, and Jevin, left with his thoughts, began talking to himself.

Jevin trudged across the molten landscape, muttering to himself about the deceptive allure of what he thought was a bed. "Great. Just great. A bed that's not a bed. Classic me." Kicking a molten rock, he created a dance of splashing lava. "Who needs a real bed when you can lay on lava, right? Fantastic choice, Jevin."

As he walked, the fiery landscape seemed to echo with his grumbles. "Thought it was a bed, comfy and all. Turns out it's just me, lying in a pool of lava, thinking I've got a fancy setup. Real genius move, that one."

In an attempt to lighten the oppressive atmosphere, Jevin started humming a tune. "La, la, la," he sang half-heartedly. "Maybe a little song will make this lava stroll more enjoyable." His attempts at a melody fell flat, each note off-key, creating a dissonant symphony with the crackling of the molten expanse.

"Okay, let's try this again." Jevin took a deep breath and launched into another attempt, his singing resembling a cat trying to mimic a songbird. "La, la, la. Nope, still not getting it." Undeterred, he continued his off-key serenade, determined to find the right note amid the fiery chaos.

In moments of solitude, Jevin found himself conversing with imaginary hermits. "Hey there, imaginary Hermits! Just thought you should know, I'm walking on lava. Yeah, the real deal. Scar, you'd be proud. Probably. Maybe."

He paused, as if expecting a response from the non-existent hermits. "Impulse, buddy, you wouldn't believe the view here. Lava as far as the eye can see. Just another day in the Nether, you know?"

Jevin examined the molten rocks beneath his feet, speaking to himself, "You know, these rocks aren't half bad. Might make a great souvenir. 'Survived the Lava Walk – got the molten rock to prove it.' I can already see the merch."

He chuckled at his own absurdity, finding a strange camaraderie with the fiery terrain. "Think I'll name this one Steve. Steve the Molten Rock. Good job, Steve, you're doing great down there."

"Is it weird to talk to yourself? Probably. Do I care? Not really." Jevin continued his self-dialogue, the fiery landscape seemingly indifferent to his monologue. "It's like a therapy session, but with more lava and fewer therapists. Cost-effective, I'd say."

He pondered the irony, "Here I am, surrounded by molten chaos, and the weirdest part is me talking to myself. Classic Jevin move. At least I'm keeping myself entertained."

As he walked, Jevin provided a running commentary on his surroundings. "And here we have another pool of lava, looking particularly lava-ish today. Stunning, really. Ten out of ten for that lava aesthetic." He gestured dramatically at an imaginary audience, playing up the absurdity of his situation.

His sarcastic commentary became a coping mechanism, a way to navigate the surreal nature of the Nether. "Just your casual stroll through a lava-filled hellscape. No big deal."

Jevin attempted to contact the others through his communicator, frustration evident in his voice. "Come on, signal. Work with me here. I've got important lava-related updates to share. Maybe a 'help, stuck in the Nether' message would be nice too."

He grumbled to himself, "Note to self: In the future, invent a Nether-proof communicator. Patent that, make millions. Easy."

Throughout the failed attempts to establish contact, Jevin's self-talk ranged from humorous commentary on his predicament to moments of genuine concern about the lack of communication in the fiery abyss.

Resting on what appeared to be a stable surface, Jevin mused, "You know, this lava lounge has a certain charm. It's like a fiery spa day. The burns are just a bonus feature." He chuckled at his own dark humor, finding a bizarre comfort in embracing the absurdity of his situation.

Undeterred by his previous failed attempts, Jevin decided to make singing a regular part of his routine. "I've got to get this right eventually," he muttered, trying to hit a note that seemed to elude him. The Nether echoed with his persistent, off-key serenade.

As the Nether's fiery glow dimmed into an eerie twilight, Jevin found himself contemplating the nature of existence. "If a tree falls in the Nether and no one's around, does it make a sound?" he pondered aloud. The absurdity of the question brought a fleeting smile to his face, a small victory in the face of the molten abyss.

These scattered moments of self-talk, failed singing, and imaginary conversations became Jevin's coping mechanisms in the relentless solitude of the Nether. Each word, whether spoken to himself or to imaginary friends, became a flicker of light in the vast darkness of his fiery journey.

He muttered, "Well, this is a fine mess. Stuck in a fiery pit, no way to reach the others. Great job, Jevin. Really nailed it this time." The monologue continued as he walked, creating a disjointed dialogue with himself that echoed in the fiery expanse.

While traversing the middle part of the lava, Jevin noticed curious formations in the molten rock. He paused, examining the swirling patterns as if deciphering a language etched by the flames. The molten landscape, though treacherous, held a strange beauty that captivated him.

The journey, both physically and mentally taxing, prompted Jevin to reflect on his past adventures. Memories intertwined with the fiery surroundings, forming a tapestry of experiences that fueled his determination. Amidst the molten chaos, he found moments of introspection, contemplating his purpose and the challenges that lay ahead.

Approaching the imposing bastion, a disembodied voice echoed, calling his name with a sense of urgency. Startled, Jevin questioned his sanity aloud, "Am I losing it? Or is this place playing tricks on me?" The voice persisted, urging him forward, and doubt warred within him, mirroring the duality of the realm itself. Taking a deep breath, Jevin steeled himself and stepped across the bastion's threshold, unsure of what awaited him beyond.

Chapter Text

Iskall woke up and the world was spinning around him - Lag, Wow. That's a lot of death. I - What? Did the authors run out of funny places to put people and just decided to put me in DIORITE? How petty can you get? (Very petty, Iskall should know that.) … Ignoring that, he decided to start working on breaking out. After all, who would want to be stuck in diorite. Iskall shook off the thought.

None of the hermits liked breaking blocks with their hands, and obtaining tools was always a priority. Sighing he began to punch at the bird poop textured stone. After a few punches, his knuckles started to get scraped up, but he continued chipping bits of the stone away. After an unknown amount of time, the thick scent of blood started permeating the air. Once he broke this block it would go away, but all the smell did was remind him of a past that he’d left behind when he joined Hermitcraft.

Only a couple hermits knew his past, but he didn’t make it a habit to know the other hermits' pasts either. He’d been a revered hitman once, and he was famous for backstabbing (in a quite literal sense) his targets. 

He pushed the thought out of his head, punching the diorite harder. If he didn’t think about it, it didn’t happen. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the block broke. And what do you expect, but another block of diorite. “REALLY?” Did you really think it would be that easy?

Iskall needed to get out of here before he went insane, or at least hoped he hadn't already. But because he was already talking to himself, he wasn’t too hopeful. 

He halfheartedly hit the next block down, the repetitive motion of hitting it causing him to zone out. 

*Buzz*

ImpulseSV fell into the void

Tango Tek froze to death

False symmetry starved

Grian was slain by silverfish

Joe hills suffocated in a wall

IJevin fell into lava

[Ethoslab has made the advancement {Sweet Dreams}]

TFC was slain by Ender dragon

The barrage of death messages in his vision startled him, after a moment he realized what he saw, and looked at the messages again.

That…. Isn't good. He mused, the wall of death messages growing bigger every few seconds. 

“Oh! Etho somehow made it to a bed, that must mean he has escaped.” he exclaimed, deciding to focus on the positive things. 

You need keep the mood up somehow

“Yeah, I have to- I shouldn't be talking to myself. And I’m doing it again. And again. And- I'm gonna stop talking now.”

Iskall began to keep mining at the poop block, each hit bringing back memories.

*Thud*

The battle against team star in season 6

*Thud*

The jungle crew from season 7

*Thud*

His last hit

*Thud*

The thick smell of blood, a telltale sign he had been there

*Thud*

The fear in her eyes, the eyes that should have never seen what he did.

*Thud* 

The blade clattering down, the woman falling with it. 

“I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.” He cried, the invisible blade only sinking deeper.

And yet you still killed her

Iskall sank down, like she did tears freely rolling down his face, begging towards deaf ears for forgiveness.

She can't hear you, and she never will

Chapter Text

The sheep man screamed in terror as he fell through the void, his hooves kicking the air uselessly. “X is teleporting us!” Impulse called down, and Zedaph relayed the message to those underneath him. A bright flash of light blinded him, and he was whisked away to a new world.

A musty, dusty cave smell hit his nostrils, and he opened his eyes to see that he was in a dripstone cave. Zedaph stood up and immediately hit his head rather hard on a piece of dripstone. Colors flashed across his vision as he crumpled back to the ground, a pained bleat escaping his lips. His hands came up to the spot he hit, a sticky sensation greeting his hands, which he then pulled down to see that they had the telltale red, almost black color of blood. “That’s… probably not good.”

Zedaph tore off a piece of his lab coat and pressed it to the bleeding wound on his head, his curly hair already getting soaked with blood. “Now that's just pleasant,” he muttered sarcastically to himself, his voice echoing faintly in the cavern.

His communicator buzzed away in his pocket, the notification being the sound of Tango screaming. Oh gosh, where are the others? Are they okay? He pulled out his comm, horror filling him as he read the death messages flooding the chat:

ImpulseSV fell into the void

Tango Tek froze to death

FalseSymmetry starved

Grian was slain by silverfish

Joe Hills suffocated in a wall

iJevin fell into lava

[Ethoslab has made the advancement {Sweet Dreams}]

TFC was slain by Ender Dragon

Each name, each death, sent a bolt of fear into Zedaph’s heart. His hands shook as he tried to type out a message, to reach out to the hermits.

Error—message not sent.

Zedaph's heart pounded as the error message flashed on his communicator. His mind raced with the horrifying reality that he might be utterly alone in this treacherous cave. He clutched his bleeding head, the pain grounding him momentarily as he tried to focus.

“Okay, okay, think, Zedaph, think,” he muttered to himself, trying to stave off the rising panic. He needed to find a way out of this cave and locate any surviving hermits. But first, he had to address his immediate concerns: stopping the bleeding and finding a safe place to rest.

Zedaph pressed the torn piece of his lab coat more firmly against his head wound. The fabric quickly became saturated, but it was all he had for now. He looked around, squinting in the dim light of the cave, searching for anything that could help.

The cave was a labyrinth of jagged rocks and sharp dripstones. Stalactites hung ominously from the ceiling, and pools of water dotted the floor, reflecting the sparse light. He noticed some mushrooms growing in the damp corners, but he had no idea if they were safe to eat.

“First things first, light,” he mumbled. Zedaph rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a small piece of flint and steel. He struck them together, creating a small spark that ignited a nearby cluster of dry moss. The tiny flame grew, casting flickering shadows on the cave walls.

With a bit of light, Zedaph felt a slight surge of hope. He needed to find an exit or at least a safer part of the cave to rest. The blood loss was making him dizzy, and he knew he wouldn’t last long without proper medical attention.

Using the weak light from his makeshift torch, Zedaph carefully navigated through the cave, avoiding the sharper rocks and deeper pools. He stumbled a few times, his vision blurring from the head injury, but he pushed on, driven by the need to survive.

After what felt like an eternity, he spotted a faint glow ahead. His heart leaped with cautious optimism. Could it be another hermit? Or maybe just a safer section of the cave? He moved towards the light, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As he approached the source of the glow, he realized it was coming from a cluster of glowing lichens on the cave walls. The bioluminescent plants bathed the area in a soft, eerie light, revealing a small, open chamber. In the center, there was a pool of crystal-clear water, and next to it, a natural stone ledge that looked like a decent place to rest.

Zedaph collapsed by the pool, dipping his hands into the cool water to wash the blood from his head. The water stung, but it was refreshing, and he drank greedily, feeling a bit of strength return to his weary body.

He tore another strip from his lab coat and wet it, pressing it against his wound. The bleeding seemed to be slowing, but he knew he needed more than just makeshift bandages. He lay back on the stone ledge, closing his eyes for a moment to rest.

The death messages of his friends still haunted his thoughts. He needed to find a way to regroup. But for now, all he could do was rest and hope that somewhere out there, the others were fighting to survive just as he was.

As sleep began to overtake him, Zedaph clutched his communicator, praying that when he woke, there would be some sign of hope, some message from his friends that they were still out there, somewhere, fighting to stay alive.

The next day, Zedaph woke to the sound of dripping water echoing through the cave. He winced as he sat up, his head pounding from the injury. The makeshift bandage had helped, but he still felt weak and disoriented. He knew he couldn't stay here forever.

"Right, time to move," he whispered to himself. He stood up slowly, using the cave wall for support, and gathered his thoughts. He needed to find food and a way out. His torch had burned out during the night, but the glowing lichens provided just enough light to see by.

He tore off another piece of his already tattered lab coat, fashioned a crude sling for his arm, and began to explore the cave. As he moved deeper into the labyrinth, he kept an eye out for anything useful. His stomach growled, reminding him of his need for sustenance.

After what felt like hours, Zedaph stumbled upon a small underground stream. He knelt by the water, drinking deeply and splashing some on his face. The cool water helped clear his mind, and he noticed a faint path leading further into the cave. With no better options, he decided to follow it.

The path was treacherous, but Zedaph pressed on, driven by the desire of finding his friends or an exit. His thoughts kept drifting back to the death messages he had seen, so many so quickly into the season, not even Scar can die that much. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread, but he knew he had to stay focused.

Chapter Text

Cleo hates Iron golems, she has decided that. The metallic golem had been relentlessly hunting her for the past 3 hours, and they couldn’t escape, “WILL YOU JUST LEAVE ME THE [Redacted because the author is a cinnamon roll who cannot say words stronger than croissant] ALONE” they run through the marshy swamp, her legs were freezing cold, water chilling them to the bone.

The Iron Golems chasing her didn’t seem to care about her shouting, and soon killed her, leaving her to respawn back in the village center. Cleo sank to the ground, her legs too weak to hold her up much longer.

Her head swam, a dull headache throbbing at the back of her skull, “Please, I just want to go home.” A villager hummed nearby, its hum causing the iron golems to stop attacking. 

Cleo lay on the cobblestone of the village square, her fingers curling around the cold, rough stones as she tried to catch her breath. The faint smell of earth and damp grass mingled in the air, but it brought her little comfort. The Iron Golems, their towering frames casting shadows over her, stood stock still at the edge of the square, their red eyes gleaming like embers in the night.

A villager in a brown hooded robe watched her with a curious tilt of its head. It hummed again, soft and slow, like the beginning of an old song no one remembers the words to. With a cautious glance at the golems, the villager moved closer, its footsteps soft on the cobble.

Cleo felt the urge to push herself up but gave up as her arms wobbled beneath her. She shot a glare at the villager, expecting another empty, wordless hum. “Go on, get back to trading your potatoes or whatever it is you do. I don’t need—” she broke off as a sharp ache pierced through her head.

The villager knelt beside her, murmuring something low in a language she couldn’t understand. Cleo’s heart raced as it reached into its robes and pulled out a single shimmering emerald. It held the stone in front of her face, eyes expectant, as if waiting for her to take it. She hesitated, confusion warring with exhaustion, but finally reached out, fingers closing around the gem’s cool surface.

Instantly, a strange warmth seeped into her palm, traveling up her arm and through her body, dulling the edges of her headache. She gasped, feeling a flicker of energy return to her limbs. The villager offered her a hand, its wide, blocky face still expressionless, but somehow gentle.

She took the villager’s hand, and it helped her to her feet with a surprising strength. She glanced around, searching for an escape, but the golems still stood guard, unyielding as statues. Her chest tightened at the sight, frustration bubbling over. “I’ve had enough of you lot,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “Can’t you just let me leave?”

The villager stepped back and looked up at the Iron Golems. Slowly, it reached out and patted one of them on the arm, and the golem responded with a soft click of its joints, lowering its gaze to the villager.

The villager turned back to her and pointed at her heart, then tapped its own chest, before pointing toward the horizon. She frowned, catching only fragments of meaning. Home. It was trying to help her find her way home.

She blinked, feeling a surge of hope that felt almost foreign now. Another villager approached, offering her a piece of bread with calloused hands. More of them were gathering around her now, murmuring to each other, offering tiny comforts—a potion bottle, a handful of flowers, even a weathered map with cryptic markings. Each one seemed to want to help, in their own quiet, clumsy way.

Cleo looked at them, unable to suppress the smallest of smiles. Maybe this wasn’t her world, but for now, maybe… maybe she had allies. Even if they were the last she would have expected.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. The villagers continued their soft hums and nods, forming a gentle circle around her as if to keep the iron golems and the dangers of the night at bay. And for a moment, in the center of this strange village, Cleo felt safe.

Cleo fumbled for her communicator, her hands still trembling as she pulled it out from her inventory. She pressed a button, the screen flickering to life with a dull, gray glow. The familiar chat interface appeared, but it was eerily empty. Normally, the chat would be alive with the banter, updates, and pings from her fellow Hermits. She tapped out a quick message:

Where is everyone?

She hit send, but instead of the comforting whoosh of the message going through, a harsh error sound buzzed from the device. The message blinked once and then vanished, replaced by an ominous red text: Message unable to be sent.

“Come on…” she muttered, thumbing the communicator. She tried messaging a few Hermits directly—Impulse, Joe, anyone who might respond—but each attempt ended the same way. The red error glared back at her, a cold reminder of how alone she was out here.

Panic flared. She hadn’t realized just how much she depended on that steady link to the others. She’d always known that if things got bad, all she had to do was call, and one of them would be there. But here, in this place that felt too far away, that safety net was gone.

A villager nearby cocked its head, watching her with its blank expression. She could almost imagine it was curious, trying to understand the flashing device in her hands.

With a sigh, she shoved the communicator back into her inventory, running a hand through her hair. Alone in this strange, silent village, cut off from her friends, the sense of isolation weighed on her, pressing down like a heavy cloak she couldn’t shake off.

The hum of the villagers broke the silence again, and one of them offered her a simple wooden stick, an odd gift, but she took it. If she was stuck here, she'd need all the help she could get—even if that help came in the form of these strange villagers and a piece of driftwood.

With a frustrated groan she throws the comm against the wall, the device shattering, as she realizes she just broke her one method of communication. Walking over she scooped it up, and examined it, trying to turn it back on, to no avail.

Cleo slipped the communicator into her pocket, half hoping it might flicker back to life on its own, but she knew deep down that it was useless. She was well and truly cut off. The device made a faint crackling noise and sparked once, the screen flickering to black. She didn’t even look at it, just shrugged it off and turned her attention to the village.

She found herself standing near the small group of villagers who had offered her bread and flowers earlier. They were bustling about now, doing the strange, wordless tasks of their daily routines. A farmer was tilling a field, but his tool kept getting stuck in a stubborn root; a few children were huddled around a well, trying to draw water but clearly struggling with the heavy bucket.

Cleo took a breath and headed over to the well first, crouching down next to the kids. “Alright, let’s give this a go, yeah?” she muttered, wrapping her hands around the bucket’s handle and hauling it up. The children’s wide eyes followed her, and when she finally set the bucket down, they clapped with that same low, murmuring sound that was somehow becoming familiar.

One of them tugged at her sleeve, gesturing to a small plot of land overgrown with weeds. She squinted, realizing it was supposed to be a garden, but neglect had left it more of a tangled mess than anything else. With a sigh, she pulled out her battered hoe and started clearing the weeds, tearing at the roots and tossing the vines aside.

As she worked, the villagers began to gather around her, some even joining in with simple tools they’d fashioned from sticks and stones. For the first time since she’d respawned here, Cleo felt a spark of purpose, even if it was something as mundane as clearing a plot of land or mending a villager’s broken fence. The tasks kept her moving, her mind focused on something—anything—that wasn’t her isolation.

Hours passed, and as the sun dipped below the trees, the villagers gathered together to light small torches around the village, creating a warm glow in the encroaching dark. One of the farmers handed her a bowl of mushroom stew, and she accepted it gratefully, the warmth of the bowl grounding her, calming her.

A quiet evening settled over the village. Cleo sat on a simple wooden bench, watching the villagers finish their tasks and return to their homes. Her communicator lay forgotten in her pocket, broken beyond repair, but she found she could live with that. For now, this place and these people were enough to keep her going. And, despite everything, she found herself content in their company.

Chapter Text

False opened her eyes to a sky that wasn’t a sky. Just endless, unmoving, suffocating stone, pressing down from above like the weight of an entire world she could no longer reach. The Nether roof.

She pushed herself upright, stiff and sore, her wings dragging awkwardly behind her. The black stone beneath her was smooth and unyielding, broken only by the occasional flickering ember that had somehow found its way up here. Her head throbbed. Her arms ached. But nothing hurt as much as the silence.

She was alone.

The realization settled in her stomach like a stone. The last thing she remembered was the world falling apart around them, the Hermits scrambling to escape—rushing toward the Boatem hole, X teleporting them, and then.... they were safe.

Weren't they?

False took a shaky breath and reached for her communicator. The smooth glass was cracked down the middle, a jagged wound splitting the screen in half. She clicked the power button once. Twice.

Nothing.

She tried again, this time shaking it slightly, as if that would somehow fix it. Still nothing. She flipped it over, checked the backplate, pressed uselessly at the edges. Dead. It was dead.

“Right,” she muttered. Her own voice startled her, breaking the heavy quiet. “Right. That’s fine. That’s totally fine. I don’t need the communicator.”

It was a lie, and she knew it. Without it, she had no way of contacting the others. No way of knowing if the others were even here.

She swallowed hard and stood up, forcing her legs to cooperate. She flexed her fingers, shaking off the numbness. First things first—she needed to get down.

False turned, scanning the flat expanse of bedrock. The Nether roof stretched on in every direction, a bleak, endless prison of stone. No terrain, no landmarks, no portals. No signs of life.

She sucked in a breath through her teeth and turned her attention to the ground, crouching and pressing her palm against the bedrock. It was cold. Solid. Wrong.

It was in her way.

She clenched her fists and stood up. Then she swung.

Her knuckles cracked hard against the bedrock, pain jolting up her arm like fire. She gritted her teeth and struck again, harder this time. Nothing.

Again. And again. And again.

She slammed her fists into the rock until her hands were screaming, until her breath was ragged, until she had to stop or risk breaking something. She pressed her forehead against the stone, eyes shut tight.

"Okay," she whispered, voice shaking. "Okay, not gonna work. Fine. Fine."

She took a step back and flexed her fingers. They ached. Her feathers twitched with frustration.

She looked up again. The Nether roof stretched on, unyielding. No weak spots. No cracks. No way down.

She was trapped.

False let out a long, slow breath. "Alright. Think, False. Think. There's gotta be another way."

She started pacing. Talking to herself helped. Kept the silence from swallowing her whole.

"Right. Breaking the bedrock’s not an option. If I had TNT and some pistons, maybe—" she cut herself off with a bitter laugh. "Yeah, because I just carry that around. Sure."

She rubbed at her face, trying to ignore the stinging in her eyes. "No communicator. No portal. No way down. Fantastic."

She stopped pacing, tilting her head back to glare at the unmoving ceiling. Her wings ruffled, restless, useless.

"Okay. Okay. I just need to find another portal. Someone must've made it out. I can’t be the only one."

But what if she was?

She shoved that thought down fast. She wasn’t alone. She couldn’t be. She refused to believe that.

False flexed her wings, then shook them out fully. She could fly, but what good would that do her here? There was no sky. No space. Nowhere to go.

"Alright. Alright," she said, rolling her shoulders. "I’ll walk. Maybe there's a portal somewhere. Maybe someone's already gotten out."

It was a long shot. A really, really long shot. But it was better than standing here, waiting for nothing.

So she started walking.

The Nether roof was eerily quiet. No ghasts wailing, no zombified piglins grunting, no crackling fire. Just her own footsteps and the occasional rustle of her feathers.

She didn’t know how long she walked.

Minutes. Hours. Days? No, not days. She would’ve noticed. Right?

The hunger set in slowly, creeping in around the edges. The emptiness of it made her stomach churn. She was running on nothing, and there was nothing up here to fix that.

She clenched her jaw and kept moving.

At some point, she tried the communicator again. Still nothing.

"Useless piece of junk," she muttered, but she kept holding it. Just in case.

She lost track of time.

Her hands still ached.

Her stomach still ached.

And she was still alone.

She didn’t want to admit it—not even to herself—but she was starting to get tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep would fix. A deeper kind. A heavier kind.

She sat down. Just for a second. Just to rest.

"Someone will find me," she murmured, pulling her knees up to her chest. "Someone has to."

The Nether roof stretched on in every direction. Empty.

Endless.

False swallowed hard.

No one was coming.

Not unless she got out herself.

She took a slow, shaky breath and pushed herself to her feet.

She wasn’t done yet.

Not by a long shot.