Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Everything had been really quite normal. Quite normal indeed.

Until Impulse died.

It shouldn't have mattered, here, on Hermitcraft. It should've been a good laugh and some friendly ribbing and that should've been it. But when Impulse climbed back up the mountain Grian's blood ran cold. His friend was pale, dangerously pale but more concerningly his aura, something Grian could usually easily ignore, was burning red.

Grian snuck a quick glance over at Scar, and judging by his wide eyes, he had noticed it too. Something was very very wrong here. They shouldn't be able to reach into Hermitcraft, they should be safe from Their influence here.

"Heey, Impulse, how you feelin' buddy?" Grian pulled out his best totally-just-asking-and-not-suspicious-of-anything-voice when sliding up to him.
Impulse answered teasingly: "How do you think I'm feeling? I died because of you!"
"Because of me? You didn't even wait! It could've been me that fell through there," Grian defended himself. It should've been me, if anyone had to deal with this, it should have been me.
"You said dig, and Scar went, so I followed him!"
"See, there's your problem then, that's what comes from following Scar!" Grian tried to bury his unease under what he knew best, joking at the expense of Scar's proclivity to death.

Though, as much as he teased Scar about it, he was one of the people who knew best that Scar was more than capable of survival when it really counted. He had witnessed it several times now. Just a few short months ago, Scar had won his own game and earned the privilege of remembering. And oh boy, wasn't that a conversation Grian hoped he'd never have to have. How do you look your friend in the eye after they remember you killing them with your bare hands?

Scar had been remarkably okay with it. "I remember you killing me, yes. But I also remember that I couldn't have done the same. I was a coward. I wanted you to win." That's what he'd said. And then he'd placed his arms around Grian, pulled him into a hug and they had promised that they wouldn't hold anything that had happened in the games against each other.

It wasn't that Grian didn't trust Scar when he made that promise but truthfully, he didn't feel like he deserved Scar's forgiveness. These games made his corrupted soul sing with greed and he'd hurt Scar in more than one way on more than one occasion. And up until the last game he'd been able to bury the guilt deep in the far corners of his brain, soothed by the fact that Scar wouldn't remember. And then Scar had won. And then he'd remembered. And then he'd forgiven him. And it had been okay, somewhat, here on Hermitcraft, where They couldn't get to them directly. Where Grian could lock up his blackened soul and not give in to its demand for hurt, for carnage, for betrayal. Where any conflict wasn't real and wars were fun. Fun and games, not blood and death.

But now Impulse had died and the bright red of his aura was burning himself into the backs of Grian's eyes. He could feel Impulses eyes on all of them, flitting from Scar to Skizz, to Joel, to Gem, to himself. Looking for a target to take down, looking for blood to spill.

Grian knew he had to do something, knew he had to intervene. But he didn't know how. This shouldn't even be happening in the first place, how was he supposed to figure out a solution?

He couldn't think of anything to do but keeping an eye on Impulse and challenging the other Hermits to a game of please don't die, I promise there's a reward for the last player standing. He roped Scar into keeping an eye on Impulse but really, he should've known better. Despite his hidden survival skills, it was still Scar Grian was dealing with. It didn't take a single day until Impulse shoved Skizz into the mouth of a cave, impaling his best friend on the imposing fangs of dripstone and watching his blood drip to the floor.

The next time they saw Skizz, his aura was burning red.

Chapter Text

"What did you do that for?" Skizz yelled at Impulse once he was within earshot. "That hurt!"

While his voice was its usual jovial tone, Grian could taste the irritation. And fuck, he couldn't deny the appeal it held. No. No, he couldn't just indulge. This was bad. Focus. Neither of his neighbours could die again, and by the look in Skizz's eyes, Grian had to intervene quickly to avoid just that.

"Just a little Hermitcraft welcome," he chimed in, shooting a stare at Impulse. "Right?"
"Suure," the half-demon answered, trying unsuccessfully to seem calm.
While speaking, Grian put a hand on each of their shoulders and carefully but firmly pushed them into two different directions. "Why don't you two go and establish yourselves at a spot each on our lovely mountain, far enough apart, okay?"

With glares thrown back at each other, the two reds obliged and as soon as they were out of earshot Grian sat down on the dirt heavily and buried his face in his hands. He felt like screaming.

And when his comm pinged to alert him to the fact that Ren had been blown up by a creeper he did.

While he didn't have eyes on the werewolf, Grian could swear he felt the presence of another red on the server settle into his bones. It was probably just his overactive mind but he couldn't even enjoy his fellow Hermit's teasing pinging through.

Pressing his hands back into his eyes, Grian didn't see Scar approach. He only heard his wheels crunch on the dirt and when a warm hand landed on his shoulder, he didn't even flinch. He dropped his hands and leaned against Scar's wheelchair.
"What do we do? This shouldn't even be possible. Xisuma promised he'd be able to keep Them out." Grian looked up at Scar. "What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong, and we will be able to fix it. Somehow." Scar gently moved his thumb over Grian's shoulder. "How about we go find Pearl? She remembers too. And then we go and find X."
"Okay, yeah." Grian wiped his eyes, pulled himself up and dusted his pants off.

It wasn't far to Pearl's place. Quite everyone had decided to settle close together. It was Grian who knocked on her door and they didn't have to wait long until Pearl opened it. She was covered in sawdust and had some dirt streaking her smiling face.
"Grian! And Scar, how wonderful! What brings you to my humble abode?"

Before either of them could answer, they were interrupted by the synchronous ping of their comms. Heart beating into his throat, Grian checked his and just as he had feared: another death message. Cleo had fallen into lava.
"I told them not to die!" Grian screamed to the result of a very bewildered Pearl.
"Sorry." His voice was small and before he had to explain himself further, Scar chimed in: "That's actually what we came here to talk to you about. Can we come in?"

"Of course, of course!" Pearl opened the door wider and stepped back. "Sorry, I'm still lacking furniture, so the floor will have to do," she apologised.
"That's quite alright, I brought my own seating arrangements," Scar was quick to lighten the mood. Or, he tried. But it was hard to even get a tired smile out of Grian right now. At least Pearl cracked a smile.

Picking up on Grian's mood, her smile faded as quickly as it had come. She didn't beat around the bush for long: "You said you wanted to speak about Cleo dying?"
"Everyone dying, actually," Grian started to explain. He had taken Pearl's offer and plopped himself down on the floor again.

She sat down too, crossing her legs. "And I don't think it's a coincidence that it's the two of you that came over to talk to me about people dying, am I right?"
"Unfortunately. Yeah," Grian admitted.
"Something is happening and we think that it's connected to the games. Grian thinks the Watchers are here, or at least have managed to have some sort of foothold on Hermitcraft. There's red names here," Scar cut to the chase.
"That's... yeah that's no good. Do you have any idea on how They got here? How They got past Xisuma's protections?"
Grian sunk in on himself. "It's my fault." His voice was small. "After we spent so long in Nine the deep void called to me. I didn't leave with you all, I used Grumbot prime to open my own portal. I needed to feel it again. I didn't go into my private world straight away. They must have found me then. And they must have followed me here. I put you all into danger."

Pearl and Scar exchanged worried glances.

Chapter Text

"Shit." Pearl wasn't prone to swearing but she felt like the situation warranted it. "What do we know about what They're doing here? Any tasks, any loops, any influence besides the red bloodlust?"
Grian was glad she was cutting straight to the chase but he couldn't help to wait for the other shoe to drop, for them to blame him for what had happened. It would be deserved. Still, he hoped his discomfort wasn't too noticeable when he answered: "Nothing I could tell. Only difference to my game," he flinched at the memory, "is that they went straight to red. No green, no yellow, just straight from normal to red. And it's definitely the same thing as in the games. Skizz was ready to jump Impulse for killing him and that's absolutely not their style usually."
Pearl agreed: "Yeah no, those two are thick as thieves. They'd probably forgive each other for an intentional death loop instantly." She thought for a moment. "What I'm wondering is: if They are now able to mess with us directly here, why not go all the way? They've proven that They are definitely creative enough to come up with all sorts of trials and tribulations." Her sour face was a sure indicator of the memories from her own game rising to the top of her mind.

"Maybe They don't have as much power here as They'd like," Scar attempted an answer.
"Possibly," Grian agreed. "While I'd normally say that hasty interference isn't Their style, They have gotten greedier. Sometimes I can feel it too," he admitted.
"Okay, so we might be dealing with greedy, hungry, impatient Watchers that used Grian's entry to the server as their way in. That's our working theory right now, yes?" Pearl summed up their conversation.

"Yes," Grian agreed, stomach churning at the fact that Pearl was right: he had brought Them here and now They were feeding off of his friends and causing misery and strife. Well, moreso than when They could abduct a handful of them for Their games.
"Well then," Pearl continued, "I think unless you know how to get rid of them right now we'll have to go speak to Suma. He needs to know."
Grian nodded and Scar chimed up: "That was the plan anyways, but we just wanted to speak with you first. Get you in on what is happening."
"Alright, then let's go and find him, I'm pretty sure he settled east from here."

Two more Hermits died during their hike over. Doc and Keralis had been messing with Iron Golems and both eventually pulled the shorter straw. Grian was restless. They were the first two to not have been part of any of the games. He had no idea how being red would affect them but he hoped he didn't have to find out. Especially for Doc. The creeper hybrid easily scared him on a normal day, never mind being influenced by blood hungry deities with no moral compass.

Eventually the three of them found the abandoned villager's hut that Xisuma had shacked up in for the time being, and a knock on his door confirmed that the admin was home. Xisuma invited his Hermits in and they squeezed around the tiny kitchen table.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure? Not that it isn't nice to have you here but I thought you'd be off getting started on gear and builds."
Grian was the first to answer: "Impulse died. And Skizz. And a few other Hermits..." He didn't really know how to breach the topic of reds and the games.
"Oh, so did I, almost. At the start there, at the lava pool," X chimed in, jovial and slightly confused. Death wasn't really a big deal. Why was Grian being so strange?
"And really, no one is more glad that you didn't than us right now," Scar interrupted.

Grian could tell that their admin was thoroughly confused. As much as he didn't want to, he decided to swallow the bitter pill and just lay it all out for him.
"X, do you remember when a big group of us went missing? And I told you not to worry, that I had it handled? I told you to trust me to make sure that everyone was alright? And then we went missing again and again and every time you trusted me to know what I was doing because I was Keeping Watch?"
Xisuma nodded silently. And Grian explained. He explained how the Watchers managed to steal players away from their home servers to have them play in bloody death games for Their pleasure. He explained how only winners remembered, which was why him, Scar, and Pearl specifically were speaking to him right now. Grian explained how he never brought it up because he didn't want to worry their admin and as long as nobody remembered, it didn't matter in the end. He pointed out that the protections he had asked Xisuma for, when he'd first joined Hermitcraft had seemed to be enough to keep Their direct influence away from their home, so it hadn't seemed necessary to strengthen them.

"But now I messed up. I led them here and they're hungrier than ever. When Impulse died he turned red, and when he killed Skizz, he turned red too. And we have reason to believe the same is true for everyone else who has died so far." Grian curled in on himself when he finished, ready to face Xisuma's anger. It was widely known that their admin was slow to anger but the one thing that would do it was endangering his Hermits and Grian had done just that.

For a moment it was quiet while X processed what he had just been told. Grian was surprised when Xisuma merely nodded.
"Okay, that is... far from ideal. But first of all, Grian, I need you to know that I still trust you. I trust that you didn't act maliciously and I trust that we will be able to come up with a solution. You're correct, They shouldn't be here and therefore we will make sure They're no longer welcome."

Chapter Text

Grian wanted to say that he felt relieved by Xisuma's reassurances but the guilt was eating him up and his brain refused to accept that nobody was angry with him. And it must've been showing on his face because Pearl was looking at him with care in her eyes.
"Hey Gri, I know your brain is telling you all sorts of lies but right now we need you to work with us. If your brain is convinced you messed up then prove that you can make it better, help us fix it."

He took a deep breath and nodded. He couldn't beat his brain so he would try to work with it.

"Grian, you said that They might have used your connection to the deep void to get past my protections. I need you to describe to me exactly how you accessed the deep void and how you left it to get here. I may be able to lock down whatever fissure they might’ve found so at least they won't be able to call for others or back out anymore."
With practiced gestures Xisuma pulled up his holographic admin screens that allowed him to interact with the core of their world as Grian began to explain.

It took until deep into the night for Xisuma to finally spot the first inconsistencies in the code that checked out with Grian's explanations.
"There!" he yelled out and Scar, who had been slumped over the table startled up from his light sleep with an undignified squeak.

“I think I found them. I can’t make out how many of them, or how strong they are but I’ll be able to lock them in.”

Grian nodded, feeling a sliver of hope for the first time since Impulse had climbed up Magic Mountain. It was crushed immediately by their comms’ synchronous pinging.
Xisuma was the first to read the message as it appeared on his visor and Pearl was only a few moments behind.
“Etho died,” she announced.
“A creeper got him,” Xisuma added.

Grian sat up straighter. “We need to work faster, the more people die, the stronger They get. X, how long will you need to lock them in? And Pearl, Scar, we need to get together everyone who hasn’t died. We need to keep them safe. But we CANNOT tell them about the games. They don’t need to know that.”
Pearl chimed in: “Are you sure? I think the more they know the more they’ll understand why we’re asking them to do what we’re asking them to do. You know how stubborn us Hermits can be.”
“No! Absolutely not.” Grian was vehemently shaking his head. “They can’t know.” Tears were pricking at his eyes and Pearl understood then that he wasn’t only referring to the games.
His voice was close to breaking when he whispered: “They’re gonna hate me.”

“Oh Grian,” Scar said softly, “no one’s gonna hate you. Most of us aren’t human, it’s fine.”
“But you aren’t a danger to everyone!” Grian’s desperation was starting to boil into defensive anger. “You don’t pit them against each other to gorge yourself on their emotions!”
“No. I just directly eat them.” Scar’s voice was flat, trying to show Grian that it didn’t matter. “Need I remind you that Cub and I are cannibals? Need I remind you that Cleo is a zombie? Need I remind you that Mumbo is a stars damned vampire?”
Pearl didn’t give Grian a chance to respond and she wasn’t nearly as calm as Scar.
“I know that you are scared to tell them you’re a Watcher but it does not matter. If you really want to keep us safe, they need to know as much about the threat they are facing as possible.”
“But- “
“She’s right Grian,” Xisuma interrupted, “I know I promised you that no one would ask about your past but the Hermits can only defend themselves if they know what they’re up against. And if anyone of them has a problem with you because of what you are – which they won’t – but if they do, then they’ll have to go through me first. I protect my Hermits, and that includes you, Grian. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Grian was attempting to hide behind his wings but given the cramped space they were sitting in, he was unable to manoeuvre them properly. Instead, he buried his face in his hands and took a deep breath before nodding ever so slightly.
“Okay. Yeah, okay. I’ll tell them.”
“Thank you,” Xisuma answered before addressing all of them again: “You need to get everyone who hasn’t died yet together and fill them in. I’ll handle the code side of things and you need to make sure you’re armed and ready.”
X was met with grim nods and the three winners pulled out their comms to individually message anyone who hadn’t died yet.
Showtime.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take long to assemble the remaining Hermits in a slightly hidden cave, off the beaten path and yet, to Grian it felt like an eternity. He was nervously fidgeting with the tip of his wing until Pearl silently laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him. She couldn’t bear to see him agonizing over all the what-ifs his brain presented him with.

Grian was grateful for the grounding touch, even though it felt like pins and needles to his overactive brain but all the voices in the small room were almost worse. But he didn’t have time to panic right now. Right now, he needed to just tell his friends and neighbours about his biggest secret and admit to them that he’d put them all into danger. Yeah. Sure. Easy. He can do this.
Biting the meat of his cheek, Grian stepped up into a small alcove that would do as a podium so that everyone could see him.

He didn’t quite have it in himself to pull everyone’s attention on him so Pearl decided to shove him off that metaphorical cliff herself and called everyone to order. When they all quieted down and looked at her expectantly, she began:
“Thanks for getting here so quickly. I know a meeting like this hasn’t been called since the moon fell but what is happening right now might be worse. Scratch that. It is worse.”

“Then why isn’t everyone here?” Tango chimed in, “and why wasn’t I supposed to tell Impulse and Skizz where we are?”
Other voices rose too, mumbling about the odd nature of the meeting and the missing people. Pearl shot Tango an icy look that she would have regretted instantly if the situation hadn’t been this tense.

“I was going,” she hissed, “to get to that.”

The other Hermits instantly picked up on how high-strung Pearl was and quieted back down, allowing her to continue.
“As you apparently have noticed, we aren’t complete in here. And as you also might have noticed, those who aren’t here with us right now have been behaving aggressively. That’s why we called you here. Grian will explain.”

Grian would rather sleep on ice cubes than be the centre of attention right now but since he didn’t have any ice cubes at his disposal, he took over the explanation as had been agreed. His voice was smaller than he would have liked but once he got talking and the others didn’t interrupt him, he grew more and more sure of himself. He began his explanation with the most immediately relevant point: the red lives. He explained their hostility and how, while they were technically conscious, they also weren’t really themselves. To explain how he knew about that, he revealed the existence of the games, and the amnesia that would rob everyone except the winners of their memories. He told them about the pseudo-deities that were responsible for the games and about their cravings for suffering, mistrust, and destruction.

And finally, when everybody thought his explanation had ended, Grian looked over at Xisuma, who nodded encouragingly.
“And I know all of this not only because I won the first game, but because I am like them. I am a Watcher.”
Grian didn’t know what he had expected but it wasn’t the deafening silence that followed.

He could hear his heart beating in his ears and the usually comforting fabric of his sweater felt like it was made out of ants as he looked at the floor, not daring to look his (former?) friends in the eyes.

Cub was the first one to speak up: “So you know how to kill them, right?”
Grian couldn’t trust his ears. “What?” he asked softly.
“If you’re like them,” Cub elaborated, “then you must know what they’re made of, and what they’re vulnerable to.”
“Yeah,” Zedaph chimed in, “tell us how to kick some Watcher ass and get our friends back!”
Grian nodded slowly. And when more encouraging voices rose, he finally dared to look at his friends. He was met with grim but determined gazes and to his surprise, they were looking up to him. They didn’t turn their backs on him, didn’t chase him out of the cave, didn’t try to attack him.

They trusted him. That’s what they were doing. He had just revealed that he was fundamentally woven from the same material as the beings that were threatening their home and their family and they still unequivocally trusted him.

Straightening his back, Grian finally felt in control for the first time since Impulse had died. And he intended to protect his family and make Them pay.

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. Grian had explained that to kill a Watcher you had to blind them first, because similar to how the dragon pulls energy from its crystals, a Watcher pulls energy from the emotions they witness. He showed the Hermits forbidden enchantments for their arrows and blades so they might accomplish that feat. Hours were spent in the mines – in the overword, as well as in the nether to equip everyone with the best armour and weaponry possible.

Xisuma barely ate and slept, focused on finding a way to lock the intruding Watchers into a corporeal form so they could be attacked. Joe tried to help as best as he could but that mainly consisted of taking care of Xisuma, where the admin neglected himself. He would have liked to be of more help but the depths of the code Xisuma was wading through were as arcane to him as they were delicate.

The survivors were as careful as they could be but still, that dreaded noise of synchronous comm chimes filled the server more often than they had hoped. Beef was struck down by a drowned’s trident while he was trying to steal it from the creature. And too soon after, Grian discovered what Doc was like on red when the creeper hybrid crushed Tango with an expertly launched anvil while the blazeborn was trying to trade some resources with the villagers. After every death a new hideout was established to avoid sabotage, or worse even more death at the hands of the newly red Hermits.

It took time, finesse, hard labour, secrecy and caution but eventually the survivors were as prepared as they could be. They were meeting up in their most recent hiding spot, sharing armour and weapons, preparing potions and food. Xisuma was ready to pull the intruders into corporeality and Grian made sure everyone knew exactly what they were getting themselves into with a final explanation and warning.

Everyone was ready. They had everything to lose. Xisuma executed the command.