Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fire lit up the darkness of the night. A small village stands in flames, its residents burning in their sleep, never to wake again. One stands on the outskirts, taking heaving breaths as she watches her home fall into ashes. A dark forest stretches into the horizon behind her, a green curtain separating the stage from its audience.  And the audience was going wild. Gleeful chortles and amused chuckles seeped from the shadows, the monsters of night watching eagerly as the wooden houses slowly collapsed upon themselves.

The woman turned away from the hellfire and gazed into the forest, holding the one thing she had time to grab closer to her chest. The trees were her only option for shelter now. Tears flowed down her face as she took step after hesitant step towards the treeline, the water staining the burnt black shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The howls of creatures inside grew only louder as she neared, as if warning her of her rapidly sealing fate…but she had no other choice.

She ran. She ran, eyes wide and frantic as she whipped her head around at every noise that wasn't her rapid footsteps against the foliage. She could not see further than arm's length, the crowns of the trees blocking out the aiding light of the moon. Her heart seemed to only pound faster with every unexpected crack of a twig, every loud whistle of wind, every faraway wail of the creatures she was intruding on the territory of.

All these sounds…and the one she heard the clearest was the bounce back of a bow string.

Prey was secured. He watched as the human shrieked and crumpled to the ground, leaving nothing behind but her clothes and the arrow that was once in her back after she fell to dust. The white powder was carried away by the wind, scattered to be one with nature once again. He was not expecting her health to be low enough to dwindle away from a single shot, but was not especially bothered. It didn't seem like she was carrying anything useful, so he turned to leave…but stopped when he heard a cry. 

He turned right back around, winding his bow in defence. A small thing crawled out from under the shawl, revealing that the mound beneath was in fact them, and not ashes. It was a human child, no older than two.

Fat tears rolled down their flushed face, tiny hands gripping the dark cloth like a lifeline. He couldn't help but lower his weapon.

He would have swallowed if he was able. The leather clad skeleton hung his bow back around his shoulders before tentatively approaching the small child. Kneeling, he lightly grabbed the child's arm, who promptly began to wail even harder. That's fine.

Noticing how they weren't immediately harmed, the miniature human slowly began to calm down and let the monster inspect them, lifting their arms and turning them around to the right, then to the left. They sniffled quietly, gradually forgetting about their mother suddenly disappearing. Eventually, he let them go, having made sure they didn't have anything useful on them. The child whimpered as he stood back up and turned to leave. They reached for him, trying to grab onto his retreating hands, wanting to be held again. 

He didn't come back. The tot began to sob once more, throwing themselves down on the ground as they shivered from the midnight cold, suddenly aware of her absence yet again.

"...What am I doing…"

They were picked up. The suddenness of the fact made them cry out, but they settled down when they saw who was holding them. The hood upon his head shielded them from direct view of his conflicted expression as he gathered up the dusty shawl and tucked it around them. The monster cradled the child, running for home before he had a chance to change his mind.

That very same babe is now a child of sixteen. The skeleton watched with a sense of pride as they ran around the old house, gathering their things as they waited for their friends to come by and pick them up. 

He regretted nothing.

He perked up as his child ran up to him. They stopped a foot away and flapped their arms frantically to help the paint upon their skin dry, not wanting to stain his cloak with it again. He only rolled his eyes and pulled them into the hug they wanted. They held him tight.

He fixed the black scarf he'd sewn from the shawl around their neck, ruffling their hair in a final goodbye as a knock sounded at the door. They quickly nuzzled into his chest before calling out a farewell as they ran for the exit.

"Have fun in school, buddy."

Chapter Text

“I’m going to need you to stay still, kiddo.”

The overexcited teenager stopped bouncing in their seat. The monster kneeling beside them was working something to paste in a mortar.

“Repeat everything I had listed five minutes ago.” He said, putting the pestle aside and equipping a small sponge. The human dramatically threw their head forward with a deep sigh.

“Stay away from water, limit physical contact, check for exposed skin every break, don't pick fights, act like an undead, I KNOW, Pa, I'll be fine.” They swore, glancing out the window at the setting sun.

“Good.” Their father said simply, satisfied. He began dabbing green dye onto their arms. “You remember plan B, yes?”

“Drop everything and run until I'm back home.” They recited dutifully. They started swinging their legs back and forth to occupy themself. 

“Precisely. I want you to know, however much you want this, it's still incredibly dangerous. I don't feel like burying my baby anytime soon.” He muttered, gently taking their other arm to work on it. The child stilled their foot in favor of softly bonking their head to the skeleton's skull.

“I know, Pa. I'll be okay, I promise.” They cooed. The monster chuckled, shaking his head.

“I will hold you to that.”

The idle swinging of limbs continued as he eventually moved on to painting their face with cactus green. 

Speaking of. “Are we sure zombies are my only option? Can't I dress up as an enderman? They're vaguely humanoid, aren't they?” The teenager complained lightheartedly, as if they'd ever interacted with any beyond watching the single one pass by the house with their classmates every now and then.

“I am afraid you are much too short for that.” The skeleton chuckled as he turned their head towards him to reach their other cheek. They pouted.

“Come on now, zombies are decent folk. Not to mention, very easy for you to convincingly dress up as.” Placing the final smudge of green upon the shell of their ear, he placed the sponge and mortar aside and wiped his hands on a rag. “Now, go run around a little so the paint can dry faster. You want to get there early.”

Oh, yes. It was the dawn of spring, meaning the academic year is set to start anew in precisely two and a half hours. This is the very first semester the human is to attend.

They ran around the main floor of the house, careful not to work themselves sweaty and ruin their new paint job. They sat back down into their previous seat once they tuckered out.

Not long after, the clicking of bones alerted them to their father's return from the second floor. He carried in his hands a backpack, and a thin strip of cloth. The child tilted their head.

“I packed everything you will need in here.” He placed the bag in their lap, letting them look inside. It contained a pair of notebooks, a quill, an inkwell, a few changes of clothes, and several little jars of green dye. “I'll get you more books if those two are not enough.” 

They occupied themself with squishing the little patchwork sack that was the inkwell while their hair was being messed with. The thin cloth was tied securely around their eyes, hiding the world from the fact that they weren't as gaping empty as they should be.

“Can you see through it alright?” The skeleton inquired as he brushed some shorter locks into place. The human grinned and hummed, as they indeed could.

“Is nobody going to think it weird that I'm wearing this though?” They fretted, smoothing their fingertips along the silky fabric.

The monster chortled. “They will not. Blindfolds are actually a decently popular accessory in the undead community. They symbolize bravery and mental purity.” He told as he fluidly zipped up their backpack and slipped it over their shoulders.

“Really?” The knowledge hungry teenager's eyes sparkled beneath the covering. The mob turned away, hiding a grin as he took his bow off the wall. 

“No. I made that last part up.”

“Way to crush a romantic's dreams, Pa…” the human whined dramatically, tightening their scarf around their neck before their father took them by the hand and led them to the door.

“Oh, please.” The door opened, and the pair stepped out into the chilled air of the fresh night. The freezing touch of winter was still evident, water dripping from the dark oaks’ branches as the layered snow upon them slowly melted away in the remaining warmth of the sun.

The child was practically skipping as they walked, finding it hard to believe that they were really, actually outside. They brushed their hand along every branch they could reach, and picked up every cool looking twig that lay on the ground, only to snap them and or drop them as soon as they saw another. Their caretaker found this extremely amusing. “I do hope you’re at least paying attention to the path. I will not always come along to escort you.” He laughed as his ward tensed and dropped the still green storm-torn branch they picked up, and focused fiercely on where the nonexistent trail led them.

Eventually, they stopped at an ordinary tree.

“Is this it? Is this the entrance?” the human bounced on their heels, clenched fists shaking with happy stims.

“No.” Their father answered simply, and raised his clawed hand to slash into the bark of the innocent plant. “I’m just marking this, because this is where you will need to turn left when you come alone. Until this point, it’s a straight line from the house.” They deflated, but nodded in acknowledgment.

And indeed, they turned left. The skeleton then casually assured his child that though it may be a beeline from here, the track itself is the generous length of a full hour.

During this grueling journey jumping over large roots and almost falling into foliage covered animal burrows, the young one eventually calmed down from their zoomies. They now only carried a large branch that they used as a walking cane. They whimpered softly after about forty minutes.

“Legs hurting?” The monster asked, taking the child’s hand so they had some support other than the old dry branch that was already starting to splinter. They nodded. They weren’t used to walking in general, much less as large of a distance as this one. With a gentle sigh, the skeleton gathered the smaller human into his arms and continued onward, leaving the loyal branch behind.

“Aren’t you gonna get tired like this too?” They asked, their voice muffled as they had their face buried in their father’s leather cloak. He merely shook his head.

“I’ve no muscles to exhaust. Nay, I have ran miles with you in my arms before.” He seemed proud of this fact. They giggled and layed an arm on his hood.

“Ah, yes, when you felt guilty for shooting my mother.”
“Hey now–” 

(Being raised by a monster sure skews one's moral compass, does it not?)

They felt like dozing off. Skeletons were not necessarily warm, quite the opposite really, but it was more of a feeling that had them forget about the chill of the infant March.

“We’re here.”

And just like that they were wide awake! They squirmed wildly as they were put down much slower than necessary, likely on purpose. When upright, they stood in a small, discreet clearing in front of a bare mountain face. They craned their neck up to stare in awe at the very thing that decorated the landscape they drew so many times from the cellar window. “Is…this, the entrance?”

“It is. This is why you need to make friends as quickly as you can.” He knelt before them, and they quickly understood this was an important segment. “This part of the wall is an illusion. The mouth of a cave stands here. However.” He quickly got their attention back from staring at the bare wall as if it was going to open for them. “For humans to step through it by themselves would be a death sentence. The magic would kill you. ”

The child tensed, eyes widening behind their blindfold. “You can enter safely when in contact with a mob like I, and only then.” He took their hand. They trembled, but weakly squeezed his hand back.

“Come now. But don’t make a sound.” They nodded meekly as he tugged them forward. They shut their eyes tight when they saw their father disappear through the seemingly solid wall like it was little more than air. Their body racked with startled shivers as they entered through the field as well, feeling like they just passed through a still waterfall. They wanted to make some exasperated squeal, but stayed silent as per request. They quickly learned why.

A massive cave gaped before their eyes. Stalactites and their ground bound cousins larger than them and their father together decorated the place, some even meeting halfway as if acting as pillars to keep the absurdly high ceiling from caving in. The gentle bubbling of a slim waterfall could be heard deeper in, but only faintly. They could almost make out where the waterfall’s corresponding river flowed by, if only via the help of the single bridge that looked like it reached over nothing from the distance. Faintly glowing cyan lichen on the walls and a gargantuan portal taking up the north-western wall lit up the cave in a dim violet light. The ground however swallowed the colour, selfishly projecting its own greenish twinkle instead.

Every inch of the cave’s floor was blanketed with moss-ish flora, the tiny flowers growing between the dark strands making the room appear as if its bottom opened into a starry sky. In some places it even crawled up the wall, suffocating the lichen like it was invading enemy territory.

“It’s sculk.” The skeleton whispered, nodding towards the stuff on the ground that started a bit away. That’s when they noticed they stood upon a patch of gray carpet. They watched as the little tendril-like grass swayed in the direction of his voice, but otherwise remained dormant. “It is the school grounds’ most aggressive security measure.” He began leading them off to the side through a little tunnel they didn’t even notice. It opened back to the same cavern, but now they had a little walkway to use. “They’re sensitive to sound. If you’re too loud, they scream. That summons the Warden.”

They gulped as they watched their step on the wooden path, walking on the tips of their toes even though the black carpet stretched along it alone would have sufficed. They reached a spot where the walkway merged with another, one that led from the softly singing portal in the distance. They looked up. There, nestled in the back of the cave, stood the school itself.

It was a towering blackstone building, each of its blocks polished to a shine, reflecting the purple light of the cavern even through the lichen that grew up its walls like ivy. Its many towers kissed the ceiling, the blue lights burning in its many windows giving off an aura they could not decipher was welcoming or not. The grand dark oak doors stood open, a pair of blue torches burning on each of their sides. Their father gently ushered them in with a hand on their back.

In the welcoming hall, they were met immediately by a towering staircase spiraling to the floors above. Here the carpet switched from black to maroon. Four high ceilinged hallways opened from this room, two on each side. The space inbetween was lined with benches, some of which were occupied with sleepy students patiently waiting for the night to begin.

“I’m going to get lost here…” The disguised human said quietly, their voice thin. Their father patted their shoulder comfortingly.

“It’ll be fine.” He reassured as he adjusted his hold on their hand and tugged them in a specific hallway. “I got lost back then too.”

They were there quite early. They wondered how lively these castle halls will be in their prime. Large doors and torches lined the inner wall, the outer segmented with domed windows. The hairline cracks webbing the blackstone told a long, long story. How old was this place?

An even larger door at the head of the hallway creaked open. The skeleton perked up.

“Madame Yaga! It is a pleasure to see you again.”

In seconds, an elderly monster was standing before the human, who shuffled themself behind their father. The woman wore flowing black robes with a fringed purple shawl draped around her shoulders. She tucked her hands away into the baggy sleeves of her gown as she looked the man up and down briefly, her lips lifting into a cheerful smile under her long, hooked nose in recognition.

“Jaque, it is you. Why, I did not expect to see you back here so soon.” Her voice was friendly, and just slightly shaky with age. Her single emerald green eye flickered to the child from behind her silver monocle.

“It has been forty years, Madame. Maybe more.”

“Details, details. I didn’t expect you back for another century! You never were the type to settle down easily.” The long, broken tail of her black wide brimmed hat bobbed as she gestured to accompany her rambles. The teenager was more occupied with watching the bouquet of falcon feathers pinned into the same hat sway in a nonexistent breeze. “And who is this?”

They flinched, hiding more behind their father, who only chuckled before introducing them to the old witch. She was quite short, only slightly above eye level with them. She smiled as their father towered over them both.

“The poor thing is quite frightened.” She observed, stepping back if only to ease the nervous youth. “They were lost and alone, were they not? I always knew you had a soft spot in there somewhere young man, I knew so.” The man flushed a dark gray, avoiding eye contact as the elder shook her head in approval of him finding his place in life.

“What did you say their name was…? Ah, wait, don’t say, I remember. Yes, I recall that name on the fresh records, listed first, just above the first-years. I know where you are going.” Her choice of words would have been a lot more ominous if her tone wasn’t so conversational. “I did ask him, I did, why there? Nevermind the age difference, they’d do best with the freshmen! But no, ‘in my class’, he said, ‘in my class is where they will be.’ Is it because they have a mere one desk empty? I asked, he never gave it straight. I will never understand that man, never.”

She was talking to herself at that point, and the skeleton took this time to kneel in front of his child. “Listen close, now.” He began softly. “The Madame will lead you to your classroom. I cannot follow you there.” They froze up. “Don’t worry. You will spend five days here, and I will come to pick you up on the sixth. They will explain everything you need to know.” He securely grasped their shoulders. “You know the rules?” They hesitantly nodded. “Good.”

He stood up, pressing his teeth to the top of their head with the motion. Madame Yaga was still going off about her colleague avoiding her questions.

“Madame?” He interrupted. The witch paused, blinked, and swiftly changed the topic.

“Oh? Oh! Silly me. Where were we? Ah, yes, classroom. May we borrow your child, dear Jaque?” She asked piously, clasping her hands together.

“You may. I would like them back in one piece.” He joked, but it didn’t sound very humorous. The woman chuckled and carefully offered the timid human one of her long sleeves.

“I promise nothing.”

The child frowned and hugged their father tight, who reciprocated, poorly masking that he was just as nervous as they were. Once they seperated, the new student shyly grasped the old witch’s sleeve. They and their parent waved to each other before the Madame started to slowly lead them away. The skeleton stayed where he stood and watched them off until they turned the corner. They looked up at the old woman uncertainly.

“Fret not, it is a good place, the one you are going. They will take good care of you, yes. Fret not.”

Chapter Text

Rows upon rows of soul torches flicker endlessly on the walls. The flustered human kept their gaze locked to the deep red carpet. Some sort of designs were once visible on it, as seen closer to the edges. It appears as though they have been walked out of it over the years.

“Madame…Yaga?” They spoke up, uncertain. The old witch hummed cheerfully for them to continue. “If I may. Where exactly are we going?”

The black sleeve they were holding onto got yanked away from their grasp as the woman began gesturing around to accompany her words. “Oh, dear child, were you not paying attention? Your homeroom class is where we’re headed. Up the stairs, upstairs. On the third floor, third quarter of Hallway 1” She adjusted her purple shawl, rewrapping it after it had jostled out of place. “At least one of your new friends should be there already, so I shall hand you off to him. He will do the rest of the show-around for you.”

They nodded along, watching their steps on the surprisingly new looking deepslate staircase. They did their best to tune out the elder as she began rambling about how much her knees always ache after each day of walking up and down.

Heavy breathing hit their ears. Only halfway up the stairs to the third floor, they glanced up to their destination. They had no idea what they saw.

Hovering there at the head of the stairs was a ghastly, golden shelled creature, nothing more than a disembodied head resting in a plume of smoke. Fire charred metallic rods circled its nonexistent body. It just stood there, staring at them unflinchingly. The human hurriedly tugged on the witch's sleeve.

“Hm, what is it sweetheart?” They tried to motion with their eyes, afraid to point. Yaga followed their gaze. “Oh. Oh, you poor thing, you've probably never seen a blaze before, have you? Half-organic they are, to fellow mobs they're quite harmless. But not the brightest, definitely not. We use them as hall monitors.” She explained, patting the teenager's shoulder comfortingly.

“Though this one may be malfunctioning… Nothing to see here, nothing, shoo! To your post! Away!” She sternly waved the stubbornly staring machine off. It huffed a few times, conflicted, before floating out of immediate sight. “I should check on that one later. They don't usually freeze like that, ever.”

The child figured it would be best to stick close to the witch for the time being. Setting foot on the deep red carpet once more, they turned their head to see if the automaton had moved a safe distance away. They caught no sight of it.

The third floor was much like the second - a large common room connecting four hallways, lit from above by a tinier version of the massive chandelier downstairs. The Madame led them towards the one second to the left.

“This way, this way. He may not be there when we enter, but that is fine, he should return shortly. You will be in good hands, I assure you. Wyte is a bright young man.” She assured as they made the turn into Hallway 1. They were stopped, however.

“Oh, are you looking for me, Madame?”

A voice called out from behind. A figure dressed in a cloak sat peacefully on one of the wooden benches surrounding the main table, a leather bound book in their hands which they must have been reading a moment prior.

“Ah, there you are! Come here, boy, come here.” Madame Yaga chirped enthusiastically, again making the human dwell on just how much energy such an aged body can contain. The one named Wyte stood up from his seat and strolled over to them with the distinct noise of clicking bones.

An odd, yet familiar creature stood in front of them, then. A tad taller than they were, smiling down at them was a skeleton much like their father – only his bones were tinted a dark gray, as if they'd been burnt. He wore a faded red cloak with the hood drawn upon his head, its two edges clasped together with a white star shaped pin at his collar. It glowed, ever so slightly.

The old witch took it upon herself to introduce them before they even had a chance to open their mouth. The boy only seemed to hold back a giggle at the mildly offended look on their face.

“They will be joining your class for this year, and hopefully the next. I trust you all will walk them through the basics and processes, yes?” Wyte hummed and nodded affirmatively, happily offering the human his clawed hand.

“Wouldn't be us if we didn't. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Though flustered by the warm welcome they committed to the handshake, their own limb trembling with anxiety. They quickly reminded themself that this is what they wanted. The point of no return was crossed quite a while ago. “Likewise.”

Yaga clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! Well, I shall leave you to it. Don't go roughhousing now, we wouldn't want a repeat of last time.” She chided teasingly as she slowly moved away from the children.

“Madame, please, it was just the one time!” The skeleton whined, clearly embarrassed about whatever she was referring to. The woman only chuckled as she approached the staircase. 

“She will never let that go, I swear.” He muttered under his breath, shaking his head before perking right back up. “Nevertheless! Come, sit with me. I'll show you around in just a bit. I recon you've had enough walking around to last you a while.” He said, inviting them over to the long table in the middle of the common room. They sat a respectable distance from him on the bench.

“If you have any questions, feel free to ask. You are welcome to just vibe there as well.” He gently took out his book again, and started to flip through it. It was a photo album.

“I do not know what ‘vibe’ is.” They said quietly. He blinked at them in poorly masked astonishment, but didn't comment. “I did have a question, if you don't mind answering. It's really early – how come you're already here?”

It was a fair question. Wisely admitting this to himself, Wyte rested his skull in his palm.

“Ah, you noticed. See, I'm from the Nether. I come through the portal outside.” He nodded towards the arched windows a bit away. “That alone isn't the thing-  it's that I live so far away from it! I need to walk through what feels like half of the whole wide underworld before I reach that damn portal. And I have a time limit too, so I gotta wake up so fucking early!” He did look a little tired, now that they see him better in the light of the chandelier. “Not that we really have a concept of time over there. We kind of just sleep when the striders do. And let me tell you, when I'm on my way here, they be sleeping.”

The human felt just a little more comfortable now. They smiled, copied his pose, and acted like they knew what striders were. “Well, just go to bed before the striders then. Magic: a healthy sleep schedule.” They wiggled their fingers like a wizard from a story book. Wyte snorted.

“Pft, I wish- but I can't go early because I have errands to run. Father always has me doing something. ‘Go join the guards for patrol, Son’, ‘Go assess the wart plantation, Wyte.’, what do I assess on them, old man? They grow just as slowly as they did yesterday!” He threw his arms out in front of himself before laying on the table with a soft growl.

They tentatively pat his back. He felt genuinely warm.

“Your Pa sounds like a total buzzkill.” They noted. The other laughed out loud.

“He is! Notch above, I had my friends over once and he couldn't take it- ‘These overworld commoners have no place in our fortress, be rid of them immediately!’ Like, how rude can you get! At least he took me aside and not said that right in front of them, stars…” He trailed off before realizing something.

“Oh, shit, you probably don't care about that- my bad. Speaking of my friends, scooch closer, I'll show you some pictures." It was amazing how he could switch between cheery and frustrated so quickly. They did as he asked, smiling down at the album with careful anticipation. Wyte flipped to the second page, where a large monochrome picture took up most of the space. It was a group photo, likely taken in their first year. A small group of hopeful youth smiled at the camera, with an imposing adult humanoid glaring behind them.

“Gosh, were we small- minutes after this was taken we split up and went exploring the castle. Robin and I proceeded to get horribly lost. And I mean horribly, I don't even know how we managed that. You know where Mr. Brine found us? On the far side of the fifth floor, having stumbled into a sixth-year dorm, playing checkers with a husk and a stray. We were losing.”

He reminisced, watching with great amusement as his newest classmate fought with the urge to laugh. "Wh- Which one is Robin?" To this he pointed at the lanky black mass at the edge of the group, seemingly unsure of what to do with themself.

“The ender, right there. Such a sweet boy. He didn't change a bit…okay he did get taller, but that doesn't count.”

He showed them a few more photographs, each one immortalizing a different set of shenanigans. They were currently looking at one displaying a skeleton of the overworld variety wearing an iron helmet. Though they could only see them from the back, as they were running away from the camera, chased by a pair of creepers.

“That's my cousin, Damien. He's Nether-born like me, but his family moved here when we were three. A little uptight, but he's the voice of reason out of all of us about 95-percent of the time. The two gremlins chasing after him are Sam and Quinn, the chaos twins. Up to no good those two, constantly.”

They giggled, almost hearing Damien yell through the picture to let him be, breathing heavily as he finally stopped once the twins granted him mercy.

Though, by the way Wyte turned his head in question, they gulped as they realized the heavy breathing may have been more than their vivid imagination.

“What could they want…?” There was more than one?? They didn't dare look up from the album, they wouldn't know. “We ain't skipping, classes don't start for another half an hour.” He tried. The wheezing only got closer.

“Eather's sake… come on, they'll leave us alone if we get to the classroom.” He gently helped them up before pocketing his album away in his inventory. They watched as it dematerialised with a faint pop. The disguised human fidgeted uneasily, staring at the ground. The horrible things only approached, now just a mere ten feet away, when they finally looked up. Eye contact was made.

They hastily grabbed onto Wyte's cloak when all at once, the blazes' wheezing turned alert, aggressive. The skeleton had little clue of what was happening.

“The fuck–” With a joined yelp, he yanked them aside when one of the constructs fired a ball of flame at them. The firecharge flew past and exploded on the wall, leaving it charred. The three blazes huffed and puffed, wheezing as if they were choking on words, charging more projectiles as Wyte shuffled the human behind himself.

“What is wrong with you lot!?” His question didn't find an answer. The shorter teen shoved him from behind, making him double over just as another ember was shot at his head. It too, splattered on the abused wall. 

Clearly having had enough, Wyte stepped forward just as a sword carved from stone materialized in his left hand. He raised his weapon, and harshly bonked the closest angry blaze on the head with the flat of it. The resulting sound was metallic. The three hall monitors abruptly quieted.

“Bad! Something in there got frozen over the winter, didn’t it? Making you think you can just fire at will?” Was he actually lecturing them? “Amazing first impression, guys, you almost killed someone on their first day! I hope you're proud.” He glowered at them before whipping around and linking arms with the human. They hurried away into the hallway.

“Mr. Brine will hear about this.” Wyte grumbled, muttering about how this was against a blaze's programming and basic moral values. The other, still shaken, only whimpered.

Reaching the third quarter of the long hallway, the skeleton carefully maneuvered them through a sizable door, the copper plaque upon it marked with the inscription "6/A".

“Here we are…come, sit. You didn't get burnt, did you?” They shook their head. He sat them down in the front row, fussing over them much like their father would. “Are you sure? Absolutely?”

“I think you're worrying too much.” They said quietly, tugging at the end of his cape as he started pacing.

“Am I?” He certainly didn't feel like he was.

“Yes. Come, sit.”

“Using my own words against me…” He gave a good natured shake of his head. Leaning on the desk, he was about to pull out his album again when the door opened with a wave of excited chatter.

A handful of young monsters entered the room. The human gulped and hid under the desk.

“It’s the Overworld Gang! How have you been?” Wyte was welcoming them with open arms in half a heartbeat. They recognised them from the pictures they’ve seen. The bone collection with the iron helmet was Damien, who they witnessed getting smacked by his cousin as a greeting. The poor helmet already looked abused, cracked and dented. It seems it was a tradition. 

“ACK- Must you do this every time!?” The mistreated skel snapped, already exasperated, and the term hasn’t even begun. 

“I swear, you’ll be givin’ him a concussion one of these days, mate…” The shortest of the group spoke up, a mild scolding tone in his voice. He was your model zombie, with messy hair and a blue striped shirt.

Wyte huffed and yanked the two into a hug. “Alright, alright, I’ll spare him for the week. Just for you, Z.” Damien, even while returning the embrace, made a bewildered noise.

“How generous of you! We’ll see if I’ll sharpen your blades for you again!”

“Oh, come on, bro, you know I’m really bad at it–” He was cut off when he was unwillingly separated from the other two, gently lifted up and hugged like a toy.

“Oh, hi Robin–” Wyte had an oddly sweet tone to his words. The enderman holding him captive purred. “Where’d you leave Bruce and Aiya at?”

Damien immediately rolled his eyes, so the zombie answered for him. What did he say his name was? Zachery? “Still outside. Mr. E is calmin’ the Warden.” Wyte made a pained noise as he was put down.

“Scared her again, didn’t he?” He received a nod. “Godspeed, Bruce. Never change.”

He dusted himself down before addressing his friends with a grin. “Anyhow! I have someone to introduce to you!” He paused briefly as he realized there were some more heads missing. 

“...Where are the twins?”

“aaAA–”

“Oh.”

They all watched as someone they didn’t know scampered out from under a desk and jumped on top of it to escape a pair of wildly snickering creepers. The frightened human frantically tightened their blindfold around their eyes when they felt it slipping.

“Um…Good evening?”

Chapter Text

The noise in the halls was growing ever louder by the minute as more students trickled in. Ironically, the loudest were the ones moaning about being tired.

Wyte took it upon himself to introduce the newest addition of his class to the rest, who welcomed them with unmasked enthusiasm. Most of all, Z seemed to be the most excited to have one of his own kin share a class with him. 

They had left them alone to adjust a few minutes prior. This time was largely spent struggling to make out the details in the horribly lit room.

The cold blackstone chamber that was the standard classroom had no source of light beyond the blue torches in the hallway. But then the door got knocked shut by a schoolmate in passing, and the room was enveloped in darkness.

They felt along the desk they sat at blindly, feeling the coarse wood beneath their fingers. At the edge of the table, their hand softly bumped into a small cluster of wax candles. They lamented the fact that they had nothing to light them with.

They sighed and propped their head up on their elbow, resulting to watch the flickers on the other side of the room, where the boys were catching up on all that had happened to them over the winter, completely unbothered by the abyssal blackness. Robin's impossibly bright eyes were the most obvious, as they singlehandedly lit up whoever he was currently looking at in a purple hue like a spotlight.

The next they could make out best was the creeper twins, as their red little pinpricks flew around the room. Those two did not engage in the catch-up session, and instead chased each other around in a cacophony of gleeful hisses and soft sizzling noises. They didn't seem to be able to say much else.

The human stood up with an air of uncertainty. They attempted to tune out Zachary's retelling of his very first village raid as they focused on guiding themself towards the door by running their hand along the evenly spaced desks and the backrests of their benches. One of the twins ran into them. They stumbled forward.

“Where are you going?” Damien's voice came from the abyss. They could suddenly see the door, just faintly, as Robin turned in their direction as well.

“Just opening the door. I can't see anything.” They replied honestly, hand resting on the handle that was just a bit too large compared to their hand. Their answer, surprisingly, got a concerned noise out of the zombie in the room.

“That ain't a good thing. Have you been sick? Or is your blindfold just gettin' in the way of your night vision?” 

Their what now? They stared blankly at where they assumed Zach was, hand slipping off the metal handle.

“Oh.” They are supposed to be able to see in the dark, aren't they? “Yeah, it is a little. But I really like it so I don't want to take it off- I'll just grab a torch from outside and-”

Their impeccable excuse making skills were interrupted when the door opened behind them.

Cyan light poured into the room from the hallway. Everything went silent as a grave, even the twins ceasing their shenanigans in favor of quickly hopping to their seats. For some reason, the soft blue light no longer felt as serene as it originally did.

The teen slowly turned their head, shoulders scrunching up defensively as their gaze traveled up…and further up. The only noise they could make was a soft "Ah–"

It was the figure they had seen in a photograph. But that did not live up to the real thing.

In front of them stood a man. They had almost mistaken him for a human, at first, with their limited knowledge on how they should look like. But even ignoring those piercing white glowing eyes, something about him was so… uncanny. His hands a little too big, his limbs a little too long. As he shifted, they could see his ribs just slightly poke through the fabric of his faded blue shirt. 

Fight or flight, and yet neither hit. The human froze.

The man slowly raised his right hand. Their breath stalled as he reached for them…and tapped their forehead.

The teen was suddenly jolted through spacetime, just briefly, before landing with a surprised yelp back in the front row.

The man stepped back to reach for something by the wall outside, and just like that, a second silhouette was yanked into the backlighting by their ear. He snapped his fingers, and the candles placed upon the desks lit up at once with flickering little lights. Four tall pillars, one in each corner, exploded with sky blue flames. The room was alight.

“Good evening, Sir.” The class chimed in unison. Their teacher was dragging a loudly whining young monster by the ear, and deposited them in the third row. 

They were wearing what looked like a golden gladiator's helm, with heavily patched leather garments. Two pointed tusks poked out from their lips. They were glaring at their desk as their ears flicked periodically in what must have been annoyance.

“Good evening.” Herobrine spoke as he stood beside his desk. It was hard to make out, but it sounded like his voice was accompanied by quiet whispers. “I see you have all arrived safely. Good.”

There was not a sliver of emotion in that body. A small stack of papers appeared in his hands, which he lightly tapped on the table.

“I have with me your schedules for the semester. You are allowed to misplace them no more than once.” He made clear as he walked down the room, slipping a paper in front of each student. The human studied theirs quietly. They were dated to be effective starting the day after. “As always, you have today to settle in and rest. Be weary of the northwest spiral, however. We have yet to see if it works since we fixed it.”

They raised a brow and turned to Damien, who was seated behind them. “What's a spiral?” They asked quietly. The boy looked up from his schedule.

“He means a spiral staircase. They move, you kinda just have to stand on them and they bring you up or down. Northwest only goes upstairs.” He clarified, nodding in the direction of the specific contraption - right down the hallway.

“And it…broke? Can a staircase break?” This amazed and confused the poor human at the same time. The skeleton merely smiled.

“Well, technically, no. You can still use it when it's broken. It's only bad when it's in the middle of acting up.” He explained patiently, to which they made a small awed noise.

“And that is all you must know for now. You are dismissed.” 

And that was when the two collectively realized they were supposed to be paying attention.

Damien whipped around in his seat and started to stammer out the beginning of a sentence he wasn't even sure of how to formulate, while the human read over their schedule in blind panic in hopes that everything would be magically written on it. But alas, their classmates began to file out, so they only shared a defeated sigh and engaged in the walk of shame.

As they carefully made note of how their teacher had suddenly vanished, them and their skeletal companion caught up to Zack, who was waiting for them in the doorway. 

“You two were lookin' mighty distressed back there, is everythin' a'right?” He asked with a teasing chuckle, to which he earned a dejected sigh from his friend. They stepped out into the hallway as Damien began explaining their plight.

“We missed… literally everything Mr. Brine said. We stopped paying attention for a split second and he was done explaining the semester. I'm fairly certain this was the shortest orientation we ever had.” He rattled in tame frustration, his hands moving with soft swishes in front of him to accentuate his displeasure. “So if you could fill us in, we would be ever so grateful.”

The human just chuckled, running one of their fingers through a gap between the bricks in the wall as they listened. He was so serious. Zachary seemed to think the same, although he was surely used to it.

“Ah, it really wasn't much. He mentioned how the back of the cave got a wee unstable over the winter, so we oughta look out for that.” He explained casually as they turned the corner, entering into a little connecting chamber. They could faintly hear Damien ask which part of the cave exactly, but their unsuspecting ears were suddenly assaulted as they felt themselves pass through some sort of sound canceling barrier.

The noise was suddenly intense, and the human jolted out of their preoccupation with the wall texture. They now stood on a plain stone platform, the carpeting having ended when they left the hallway. In front of them towered a spiral staircase, its steps crawling steadily upwards one after another on their tall stone tower with a laboured scraping noise. As if sensing their disbelief, the boys stopped in the entrance of the next hallway to wait for them.

“Quite a contraption, ain't it?” The young zombie commented cheekily, patting a step-less portion of the grand blackstone column affectionately. “They're fun, but you gotta choose carefully when to use 'em, y'know. They can get a tad cramped in rush hour.”

“Plus if they malfunction, they throw you into the wall.” Damien felt the need to comment way too casually, having to raise his voice over the auditory mess the staircase was making. The human squeaked and moved away from the thing, clutching Z's sleeves for some semblance of protection. Said boy tutted at his friend for scaring them.

Wanting to escape the noise, the three made their way out of the chamber, their eardrums immediately relaxing once passing under the arch of the doorway. The next hallway was a long one, and they only stopped when the human cooed at a little firepit tucked against the wall at about the middle of it. A massive painting hung over the azure flames, immortalising the school and its grounds in a pretty still life. They smiled as Damien explained to them how it showed the castle in its first few weeks of existence. He noted the lack of sculk in the yard.

“I'm not sure when they got planted in. It couldn't have been any later than a few centuries ago.”

“I'm sorry- centuries-?”

Neither boys commented further, so the newcomer was left to balk at numbers they couldn't fully understand just yet.

Moving on, the trio arrived in front of a tall wooden door, which Zack opened without hesitation. A pleasant hum of chatter streamed right out into the hallway.

The inside was spacious and cozy. A pair of bookshelves framed the glass doors leading out to a balcony at the end of the room, in front of which sat a little square table with a bench on each side. Paintings and photographs hung on the walls, the latter all group photos accumulated over the years. The red carpet seemed a lot fluffier here than in the hallway.

A few large blanket hammocks hung from the ceiling on one side, and a row of beds with coal black comforters lined the other. All the bedside tables had little candles sitting on them, all currently unlit. A brick fireplace crackled and popped away to the left, with a small painting hanging on its face. Their classmates were all laughing at the table…except the twins, who were holding pillows in their mouths and swinging them at each other.

This must be the dormitory, the human realised.

In all their awe of observing the room, they didn't notice the large white mass in the hammock beside them until it moved.

Freaked out, they looked to the fellow undead for closure, only to find they had abandoned them once in the room. Crap.

They turned back to see some sort of creature observing them curiously, one crimson eye cracked open. They teetered back onto one of the beds with a yelp, attracting the attention of the others.

“Oh, there you are!”

Who was that? Wyte? Sounded like him. They wouldn't know, they were busy panicking. The hammock monster looked a little guilty.

“I was a little worried you stayed behind alone, but I see the boys brought you here in one piece.” The cloaked skeleton walked over and proceeded to fuss over them, probably checking for burns. Luckily they didn't come across any blazes on the way.

Which was odd, but count your blessings.

“What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost.” He inquired, then followed their line of sight. “Oh, you actually have.”

“Very funny, Wyte, thank you.” The monster nestled in the hammock spoke very softly, though the sarcasm was louder than it seemed possible. 

Seeing this display of personhood from the once thought beast, the human immediately felt bad and went to apologize for their reaction. The monster merely extended a soft tendril and pat them on the head.

Wyte snapped his fingers and turned to the ghast once again. “Ah, Aiya, before I forget! Why didn't you come to orientation? Are you okay?” He sounded concerned, and was trying not to get distracted by the disguised human getting their hair messed up in the background. Aiya looked amused.

“Took you long enough to ask, huh?”

“I thought you were sleeping! I didn't want to bother you!”

Wyte watched helplessly as the new kid was gently lifted into the hammock by a tendril around their waist. The confused teenager was being cuddled like a plush doll now. At least it looked comfy.

“I know, I know, it's quite alright…now, who are you?” Aiya asked quietly, looking the (by comparison) little human over. They shuffled around a little, trying to escape, but relented to their imprisonment with an introduction. The ghast cooed and pat them on the head again.

“Mr. E sent me off to rest. That's why I didn't show.” She explained belatedly, petting the human like a housecat. Wyte made an odd face.

“Did the thing spook you that badly?”

“You know how persistent it is…”

They could not understand anything the other two were talking about. They instead watched helplessly as the creeper twins exhausted their zoomies with increasing velocity like two squirrels on a sugar rush. It was virtually impossible to tell the two apart, so they resorted to referring to them by various mash-ups of their names. Qam. Squinn. Quinam. The list goes on. Occasionally they would bash into a bench the others were sitting at, causing whoever was the victim to yelp and promptly shake it off. The must have known it was going to be over soon, as only the poor clueless human was at all surprised when the creepers quite literally crashed.

The twins seemed to tire themselves out mid-run, causing them to fall and slide right into the wooden frame of one of the beds. It was Robin who then stood up, picked them up, and tucked them in. 

“...Are they okay?” They asked finally, interrupting whatever riveting conversation Wyte and Aiya were having. The latter was happy to answer.

“They’re alright. They just burned through their leftover energy from their sleep. They’ll be up and running just fine tomorrow, if a little more manageably.” She kept stroking their hair as she explained. They were starting to feel drowsy.

“Their sleep? I can’t imagine those two ever sleeping.” They noted quietly and reached up to stop the tendril messing with their hair from continuing its ministrations. Aiya respectfully complied with their wish to not be petted, even as she hummed in puzzlement.

“Their sleep…the sleep. You know creepers hibernate over the winter, yes?”

“They do?” Their utter cluelessness about certain topics finally had Wyte stop and interject with mild concern.

“Okay, pause…not to be rude, but did you grow up under a rock? I’m asking genuinely.” He was shaking his hands frantically in front of himself. He was still hung up on them not knowing what ‘vibe’ was.

The human tilted their head to the side, needing a moment to understand what he was working himself up on. They smiled when they figured it out.

“Ah…my Pa was always very protective of me. Tonight was the first time I ever truly left the house. I’m afraid I know…absolutely nothing.”

There was silence, for a while. At least between the three of them. Then the human was passed along like a satchel.

“Hold this.” Aiya spoke softly as usual, handing them off to Wyte before hovering out of the hammock and heading for a larger bag resting on the nearest shelf. The wither skeleton held them by the shoulders as they stood.

Eventually, Aiya returned with a thick, forest green leather bound book clutched securely in her tendrils. The bundle of paper was handed to the confused human with utmost care. The sudden unexpectedly heavy weight almost had them drop it.

“...Mobology?” They read the title aloud, opening it on a random page. It detailed the inner workings of a common river salmon. Wyte grinned in understanding of the ghast’s intentions.

“Mhm. You will find all the common knowledge you need in there. Use the Table of Contents page to navigate.” They dutifully flipped to the very first page to do just that. Finding something they felt was particularly important (the section about zombies), they ‘oo’-ed under their breath and read away. The other two chuckled and left them to their reading after Wyte led them to an empty bed and carefully sat them down.

The World of The Undead

The true time and place of origin of our once-human brethren is undeterminable. Be it due to infection or an untimely demise under the most certain of circumstances, it is clear every birth is unique in its own way. Due to this variety, this is the largest monster family we know to date.

Chapter I: Zombies

“UGH-”

The human flinched and dropped the book into their lap. The disgruntled exclamation was made by the hog-like boy from earlier, who was at the table surrounded by his chuckling classmates who seemed to take immense amusement in his displeasure.

He was clutching his schedule in his hands. It looks like this was the first time he bothered looking at it since he received it. The human left the book on the bed and shuffled over in mild concern for their classmate's mental well-being.

“What's wrong?” They asked, worriedly fidgeting with their hands. The upset piglin was about to answer, but Damien quickly reached over the table to keep his snout shut, as he was anticipating him to yell.

“Our first two classes tomorrow morning are both Human Tongue. He's horrible at it.” The skeleton provided helpfully before freeing the other from his clutches, leaving him grumbling.

“...humans speak a different language?”

It was the table that went quiet that time. Z sighed, stumbling over to hold them firmly by the shoulders.

“You…You don't kno' anythin'? Not a word?”

“N-No…” The poor child was filled with dread. It finally sank in that the class they were dropped into was six years ahead of them. 

“Oh you poor thin'...Teach is gonna make ya bleed.”

Chapter Text

The human sleeps.

Swaddled up to the top of their head in duvet, the child slumbers with a sleek black hardcover book clutched to their chest like a plush toy. The book is one loaned to them, which they had studied far into the daylight. It was a beginner's volume of a language textbook – "English", specifically. The tongue the humans in the region spoke. Their classmates, bless their hearts, couldn't bear the thought of leaving them utterly helpless in front of the, and I quote, "most dickish" professor in the castle. Thankfully, their little sponge brain was able to grasp enough that they should be fine with a very basic by-the-book conversation.

They awaken to silence - only the azure flames in the hearth crackle away, keeping the dormitory warm in the children's absence.

Because yes, it appears they were alone. Though this fact doesn't seem to register the way it should, leaving them sluggishly tossing around and fishing for their belongings under the bed.

It wasn't until they were halfway through reapplying dye to parts of their skin which rubbed off during the night that they realized that oh, wait, where the heck is everyone else?

Panicking, the child scrambled – quite literally falling off the bed – to dress themself and rush after their peers, who have evidently already left. 

The human hurriedly barreled through the dormitory door and bolted down the hallway. They skidded through the arch to the spiral staircase, which was much quieter than it was yesterday, and barely caught themself on the moving steps before dashing out into the corridor of destination.

Or, at least, what they thought was the corridor of destination. The hallway stretching on in front of them was clearly the wrong one, if not by the absurd length of it, then by the lack of classrooms lining the right-hand wall. Instead, a massive door stood imposingly in the center, one of its wings opened invitingly inwards.

The blue haze provided by the torches lining both sides of the long corridor didn't do much to cut through the shadows lingering below the high ceiling, where it seemed as if the blackstone walls were swallowed by an impenetrable void the further up they went. This didn't deter the human from squinting to try and find the rafters anyway, if there were any. Not that the blindfold was of any help in providing clear vision.

Their footsteps muted by the maroon rug sprawled along the floor, they stalked towards the gigantic door to peek inside.

Within the mysterious room was an absolute maze of a library, shelves jam packed with books reaching impressively from floor to ceiling. Ladders set on rails idled in random positions along the walls of treatises. Green copper plaques labeled each block of the labyrinth with its contents, little arrows underneath the inscriptions signaling the way to the exit. These arrows were painted on rather than carved, like an afterthought.

They shouldn't be here. Though…they were already late. What's a few more minutes?

Giddy with the rush of rebellion and the promise of knowledge within, the human steps inside the library.

The cavernous room was barren of life, as classes were in session, but they didn't mind. Their hands clung excitedly to the straps of their backpack as their legs carried them into the depths of the labyrinth without hesitation.

They had no real idea on where they should start. Their mind was mildly overwhelmed at seeing so many books in one place, previously unaware that so many could exist. 

They suddenly remember the language textbook one of the twins had let them have. A helpful translation from Damien revealed it was a borrow from this very library, and needed to be returned a few years ago. So why not start there?

A quick stop to get the book out of the backpack later, they were running up to every plaque in hopes of one of them marking the right section. It was either Language or Culture, maybe Humans, if they had their own. So far they'd only seen words they haven't seen written before in their life, but had a vague idea on the meaning of. Like, "The psychology of non-sentient organisms". Behavioral studies on fauna, basically. They didn't know why it had to be phrased like that.

Eventually, they arrived at an aisle labeled "Of human culture, customs and behavior". All the books were organized alphabetically, so it was fairly simple to find where theirs needed to go.

At least in theory.

They spent an embarrassing amount of time looking for a gap in the impenetrable barrier of literature, up until the point where it felt like even the book itself wanted to help out. In fact, it tugged their hand upwards.

There it is! Up high, close to the ceiling, was a thin gap between two groups of similarity sized textbooks, likely copies of the same volume, or parts of a series. 

It took almost tripping over the rails to remember that they should probably use the ladders instead of climbing up the impossibly tall bookcase.

The human skipped over to the edge of the aisle, where a grand, petrified wooden ladder was waiting for them.

They grabbed hold of the sides of the ladder firmly, and began sliding it along the old rails with moderate difficulty. The wheels were impossibly old and rickety, making a persistent squeaky noise that sounded almost ear splitting in the otherwise silent room.

Once the desired point was reached, they flipped the stopper down and made their way up the sizable shelves. They had to stick the book down their shirt in order to do so, and needed to stop every few steps to adjust it, lest it fall. Eventually, they reached their destination and gently slid the book back in its rightful place between its brethren.

The titan of a shelf creaked, rumbling in what was reminiscent of satisfaction.

…Oh?

The human blinked off their initial shock and giggled, affectionately patting the dark wood. They received no response beyond a feeling that the library was content.

They barely took the first step down the ladder when shuffling hit their ears. Someone must be looking for something a teacher needed.

This was a good thing! They were getting worried about getting out. The way-finding arrows on the ancient copper plaques were a little too aged to say for certain which way they pointed.

“Hello? I'm in the human section- if you can, will you help me find the way out? I haven't been here before.”

The shuffling increased, but the person didn't reply. They heard the dull thuds of several books roughly hitting the floor, along with…silverware?

“...Are you alright?”

More shuffling, more silence, and the human was beginning to feel uncomfortable. They took a few more steps down.

It happened so fast, they almost let go of the ladder. A dozen books erupted to their right, either plummeting straight down or first slamming roughly against the adjacent shelf before doing so. The harsh metallic noise of golden rods clicking together amplifies tenfold as the smoldering automaton tries forcing its skull through the too narrow shelves.

They couldn't afford jumping from their current elevation. 

The finch in their ribcage was determined to break out to fight the blaze itself as they hurried down the ladder, but didn't get far before the shelf cracked, and the hall monitor finally popped through.

Suddenly, a jagged rod of brimstone found itself embedded in the spine of a book where the human's head was just a moment prior.

The frightened youngin had little time to raise their head from where it got sucked between their shoulders in defense before the shelves around them shuddered, enraged, seemingly startling the blaze just as much as it did them.

And then, the ladder moved.

The heavy duty stopper broke with the sheer force of the start, and they were left clinging on for dear life as it rushed them down the aisle. The automaton wheezed harshly as though it was attempting to yell using vocal chords it didn't have, and flew after them.

The aisle was long, but not nearly long enough. The rails ended much too soon, leaving the ladder to lean dangerously off its course with its leftover momentum. It quickly succumbed to gravity, and the top of it careened into the opposing shelf.

The new angle left the human a little closer to the ground. Knowing they didn't have time, as the enraged wheezing was growing closer by the second, they quickly unhooked their legs and dangled for a moment before letting go and landing with a botched roll.

They scrambled to get up, shoes sliding uselessly against the carpet for a precious second, and bolted. They felt another sharp projectile whiz by dangerously close to the back of their head before they finally disappeared behind the corner. A few strands of their hair fluttered uselessly to the floor.

Oh, what they wouldn't give to turn back time. If they had just simply run the other direction upon exiting the dormitory, they'd be in class right now.

As they ran, jagged rods nipped at their heels like aggravated wolf dogs, tearing at the edges of their clothes. The library itself was doing everything in its limited power to impede the blaze's progress. Books flew off the shelves like cannonballs from a ship's hull, ladders toppled over, reading stations slid in the way of narrow passageways – but it was little obstruction for a construct that could fly. Occasionally, a lighter book would be thrown at the child as well, if only to steer them away from dead ends and hopefully towards an exit. Their stamina was starting to run dry, but they pushed on, adrenaline having taken over long before they could register the growing pain in their lungs from breathing as heavily as they were.

A volume about musical studies hit them on their right shoulder, causing them to pivot and dash to the left – only to stagger.

They now stood in front of a railing that separated them from a several story drop, which was a gaping stairwell leading down into the rest of the library on the second floor.

Did…did it want them to jump?

They never even got to consider their options when the blaze finally caught up. The automaton was huffing and puffing in unbridled rage, looking about ready to skewer anyone regardless of context.

Stumbling backwards into the railing, they had about half a second to secure their hold before the entire thing began tearing away from its foundation in a series of dull cracks.

Acting like a gigantic metal python, the railing swiftly dropped the terrified human to the lower steps before shooting back up, letting them roll the rest of the way.

The following racket was lost on the child, as they heard naught but their heart thundering in their ears. Their hands trembled and their legs felt unsteady as they pulled themself up using the stairs. They needed to get back to the third floor, somehow. Their friends must be worried sick.

Within the homeroom of 6/A, said class is enjoying their break in complete serenity. Second period has finally conceded, and the ever grumpy human studies teacher Professor Malvin, an evoker with the personality of a magma block underwater, left the room at last.

The children conversed with moderate volume, mostly complaining about the previous two hours and the general composition of their timetable. But at least their next was potions. Everyone liked potions class.

The twins were running around playing cat and mouse again, Zach was using this short resting period to catch some additional Zs, and the rest giggled amongst themselves as they made light-hearted fun of Professor Malvin. The enderman was currently absent.

“Hey, guys,” Damien spoke up suddenly, briefly apologizing to his cousin, who he cut off. “What do we have today again? I feel like I'm forgetting something.”

Aiya was quick to help her friend, and listed off the day's schedule as the skeleton diligently flipped through the contents of his backpack. Nothing was amiss.

“You're just being paranoid again, don't worry about it!” Wyte waved him off with a smile, though the hand movement faltered towards the end. He paused for a moment, then lifted his own pack onto his lap to look through it as well. He sighed in relief, for he had everything too – but readjusted a few papers which were stuck on the bottom folded in half by his mobology textbook.

Bruce never looked up from where he was busy doodling various little figurines into his notebook. “I've been meaning to ask, actually. Where's the new kid? We kinda just let them sleep in and never went to get them.”

Silence. Sam and Quinn audibly screeched to a halt in front of the teacher's desk. The piglin furrowed his brows and raised his head, only to see the wither skeleton's face dawn with sheer, absolute horror.

“...Wha-?”

“Why didn't you tell me sooner?!” Wyte erupted suddenly, making the others flinch. Bruce took offense, and slammed his book closed.

“Since when was it my job to remind you of shit, Princey?” He mocked, but lost his fire when the other started scrambling in panic. The rest looked guilty beyond comprehension.

“Hold on…Oh my god, did y'all forget they were even THERE??” It didn't even need confirmation, and Wyte would have been out the door already if Aiya hadn't gotten a hold of him as quickly as she did. 

Bruce scoffed in disbelief of his friends and stood up, his chair screeching against the wooden flooring.

“Calm your bony ass Wyte, I'll go fetch them. I'm expecting y'all to come up with one hell of an apology when we get back, because WOW.” The group had the decency to look ashamed. Except Zach. He was still having a cat nap.

The piglin rolled his eyes and leisurely left the room. He briefly scratched behind his ears before sticking his hands into his pockets and making his way towards the dormitory. He was absolutely confident they were still asleep. There was no way they woke up and just went the wrong way, is there?

He opened the door. “Oi, Phantomphobiac. You missed two classes already, care to get up?” He poked fun, though he kind of envied them. He'd have liked to sleep through that nightmare as well.

When he received no answer, he actually took the time to see the room. All the beds were made, just how they left them – except one. The new kid's bed was in a state of disarray, blankets haphazardly thrown and pooling on the floor, just barely clinging to the mattress like a betrayed king.

He made the astute observation that they weren't there.

One hundred percent sure he didn't pass them on his way there, he sighed, as that meant they did go the wrong way, and were lost somewhere. See, this is why we don't leave people who have barely spent 24 hours in a massive castle alone in said castle.

“Am I about to miss potions for this?” He thought to himself. He actually liked potions… “Yep, I am. Okay.”

He searched for a while. Assuming they went the way of the library, he followed. He even stuck his head through the gates to yell their name, in case they were in there. No reply.

The students littering the halls diminished as third period began, but there was still no sign of them anywhere.

He was down on the second floor now, and was starting to fall strictly in the annoyed category. He opened his mouth to yell for them again, but –

“BRUCE–”

He whipped around, eyes wide. There they are!

The human looked frantic as they ran towards him, and right past him in the same instance.

“RUN!”

“Wha-”

And there came a hall monitor around the corner. 

“What, are you afraid of blazes? They're harmless, I see them back home enou-”

He didn't get to finish his sentence, as he had to duck in order to avoid a firecharge.

“Okay yeah, I see what you mean!”

“Surely we remember how to make a brew's effect last longer, yes? Pray tell, how?”

Tense silence. Madame Yaga tutted.

“Now, children, why the blueness, why the tensity? You have been cowering behind your stands since we started! You're usually so much more enthusiastic, so why?” The old witch asked, concerned for her students. 

Robin, who had returned shortly after Bruce left, glanced around the room in his usual silence. He didn't really get an explanation either.

Damien rattled anxiously. “You see, Madame–”

Speaking of the devil, the door slammed open. In barreled their two missing classmates, panting, looking like they'd just ran to the mines and back. The disguised human fell forward and onto their hands and knees, while the piglin turned around, lobbed a golden axe into the hallway, and slammed the door shut before collapsing alongside his equally exhausted companion. They shakily reached up to extinguish the tiny flame burning on the red frills of his helmet.

“Oh my.”

Potion class was let go mercifully early. Sitting on their own desk, the human is certain they'd heard the word "sorry" more times in the last ten minutes than they'd had the past two years.

Wyte was fussing over them as he hurriedly explained the situation with the blazes to the others, shoulders drooping more and more with every tear he noticed on their attire. If there had been blood, they were sure he would have fainted.

“How did this even happen?? Did they chase you through a thorn bush?” He asked, and they had to stop him from continuing his worried spiral by taking him by the shoulders and shoving him down to sit on the floor. He quietly blinked in surprise at the sudden action, which was a win.

Having had time to actually think now that their life wasn't in imminent danger, they had the capacity to be tentatively fascinated by the murderous constructs.

“Okay, so – I don't think the blaze in the library is allowed to fire. Kinda makes sense, lots of flammable stuff in there,” They started, and the others agreed to the theory. They ignored Bruce when he asked what the heck they were even doing there. “so it resulted to just…shooting its rods at me instead.”

“They can do that??” Wyte questioned, to which they replied with a cheerful 'apparently!'. “Huh…I need to ask Pops about that.”

The human tilted their head. Seeing their puzzlement on why the elusive party pooper would need to be involved, Zachary jumped at the opportunity to be useful.

“Oh, the school gets its blazes from the fortress Wyte's dad rules over! He's in charge of makin' 'em!” The zombie giggled as his classmate immediately turned to him and leaned forward in curiosity. “I think ours are a special commission too, 'cause a standard blaze malfunctions in the Overworld. Wasn't there like, a whole disaster with that early on?”

Damien discreetly puffed out his chest in pride of his historical knowledge as he answered. “Yes, there was! They were flying around in circles and shutting down at random points in the day because the pressure difference between the two dimensions was too great on their mechanisms. Not to mention the cooler temperature sent them into shock upon arrival. Some never recovered from it.”

Aiya continues, “That experience is why the castle is able to host Netherborn students at all, actually. A spell was cast over the school that shifts it to a sort of "middle ground" between here and there, otherwise we would fall ill shortly after exiting the portal. Of course the cold is still jarring, but unlike the blazes, our bodies can adapt to that.”

The human feels almost enlightened knowing that the oppressing feeling they got upon entering the cave was an actual pressure difference rather than the weight of their own anxiety.

“Is it really warm in the Nether?” They asked, eyes sparkling behind the black silk tied around them. The hellspawns gave a collective shrug.

“Ehh, we can't really give an honest answer since we're built for it. But it's definitely warmer than here.” Wyte tried, doing a so-so motion with his hand.

“Yes, it is.” Damien debunks, “It's a constant melting pot down there. I'm halfway to dusting every time I go to visit you.” Wyte gasped, a hand to his ribcage in dramatic offense.

“Ain't my fault your folks dragged you up here and let you ~acclimate~, Demi. You know I tried convincing you to come back when y'all were suffering through your first winter.”

“At least I've seen snow before. You have no idea how fun it is.” Before the two boys had time to fully devolve into familial bickering, the human interrupted.

“"Demi?"” They asked with a grin, finding the name cute. Damien immediately flushed dark gray in embarrassment. They noted just how much sharper his teeth were than their father's. Must be a Nether thing.

“Oh yeah! Thank you for mentioning that, you need one too!” Wyte stimmed with his hands in his sudden giddiness.

“What, what?” They stimmed back in response.

“A nickname! You're part of the gang now, so you get a special name only we use.”

They squealed with joy. “What's yours?”

Wyte grinned and started listing off everyone's little nicknames like a proud parent. “I'm Princey, you know Demi, Zach is Z, the twins are Tee and Tea, Bruce is Goldie, Aiya is Nightlight, and Robin is Robin. I know that's confusing, I'll explain later.”  He turned to his peers next, calling their wandering attention to himself. “Alright gang, brainstorm time! What do we call our newest addition?”

They stayed quiet, as they now knew just how seriously this process was taken. The group of teens looked like they were holding a conference meeting around the teacher's desk.

The decision was hard to make. All their nicknames were inside jokes, and they had a serious lack of those when it came to the human. They all had one topic in mind, but nobody dared to say it, fearing it to be insensitive.

Robin apparently wasn't part of the collective.

He made a suggestion and the others thought about it, briefly debated it, expressed minor concern, but ultimately agreed.

Towering above the others, Robin approached the fellow youth still sat upon their desk patiently waiting like a puppy, and ceremoniously touched the top of their head.

He called their name, his voice quiet but pronounced, the underlying static and warble startling them briefly. The others tried their best to remain poker faced like the council they were. The human waited with baited breath.

“We have decided, for our hall monitors favor you so very dearly,” – The twins snickered. Aiya gently smacked them upside the head. – “That your name, shall be Cinder.”