Chapter Text
. . .
The first and last time that Xisuma embraced the full power of the Void, he destroyed his homeworld and everyone inside it.
Mind you, he did not open himself up to the raw power of the Universe for the sake of killing billions of people and creatures. No, he did it for a very noble reason – to save the other half of his self, when his parents tried to send it to its permadeath.
They were barely into their twenties at that point. They left together at sixteen, had set off to find their fortunes and adventures out in the wider world. It was a struggle for each of them in different ways, but they had each other and that’s all they really needed. Xisuma had some contacts from his placement at the University, and Ex had an eclectic mix of old jailmates and old people he’d befriended in parks and libraries. It gave them a path to follow at least – hopping from world to world visiting old connections and learning things as they went. They didn’t go home; they talked about it extensively but never reached a conclusion that either were satisfied with. Exiona had written off their homeworld as a total loss, but Xisuma still had his parents there, still had family, still had the blind hope that someday he could elicit a change in the callous hearts of the people who raised him.
(This was not and would never be the case. Sometimes you cannot save a wounded limb. Sometimes you have to bite the bullet and amputate, or the infection will kill the whole being.)
(But expectations are difficult to throw off when they’re given by people who should love you. Burdens like you’re the crown jewel of our species and you’re meant to bring about great change and It’s your job to set an example of perfection for everyone else to follow are cruel things to hand to anyone, let alone a child. The noose of you’re the hope of us all sat as a bitter weight at his throat.)
(The worst part is that he knows the expectations are not unfounded. He’s always heard the call of the Universe louder than others; manipulating Code and delving into the Void and bending magic to his will has always been second-nature. It’s like the Universe delights in giving him what he wants, what he asks for, regardless of what it is. It’s the reason he got pushed so hard, why his parents hardly let him rest from his training and studies, why he was the youngest person in a millennium to enter the University to study. It’s why tiny twelve-year-old him spent lonely nights cold and tired and awake working relentlessly, trying to be the best. Because he couldn’t just throw a blessing like this away, right? He had to live up to expectations.)
(It was his destiny to answer the Universe for his people.)
(But also. Also. The Universe sings so sweetly, but her song is the call of the Void itself. To answer is to open yourself to that yawning maw of unknown. It’s to welcome the darkness and all the powers that hide in it into yourself. Accepting unchecked power is worse than a death sentence; it’s what makes people into abominations, monsters, the great leviathans of the deep. It is how you lose yourself.)
(Xisuma only has so much of himself that belongs to him; selfishly, he does not want to give that up.)
(Xisuma also isn’t stupid, nor is he incapable of introspection and reflection. He knows that at least some of the things done to him were wrong, and that a great many of the things done to his other half were definitely wrong. But the wounds are too recent, too tender to pick at and unravel. He’ll leave them bandaged and hidden until a later date, when he’s gotten the distance and stability he needs to destabilize his memories of childhood. Seven years is not enough time to reconcile a lifetime of tragedy.)
All this to say that it was for many reasons that Ex was convinced to come back with Xisuma, when Xisuma’s parents called him home.
Come visit. Please. Their message was brief; no pandering, no meaningless platitudes, no explanation. Just a simple command disguised as a request. Xisuma would have ignored it, but it was the first time his parents had reached out in half a decade. Maybe they were finally having a change of heart? Maybe now they could be reasoned with, could be persuaded?
Whatever reasoning, it made Xisuma curious. And you know what they say about curiosity and cats.
Come with me. Please? It’s for moral support, Xisuma had said to Exiona, who had snorted.
If it’s moral help you want, I am NOT the person to be asking for that. They don’t call me ‘Evil Xisuma’ for nothing, X, it had laughed.
Xisuma just punched them in the shoulder. Told it Hey now, you know that’s not your name, stop stealing it, and the two set off back through the world they were currently hanging out in.
It was a lovely day here – just the two of them walking in the woods, the distant sounds of ocean along sea cliffs, the calling of birds and the rustling of pigs and sheep and chickens in the bushes. The portal was a natural-looking stone arch lit with the deep blue of an off-world portal. The world hub was quiet where they came out at – lots of little alcoves full of these quieter, wilder worlds, things that players looking for long-travelling adventures and exploration came to. They chat as they head back to the more populated areas of the world hub, the streets and shops getting denser and denser the closer to the major travel portals they get.
Some worlds have designated permanent portals – those tend to be the major world hubs, or the heavily trafficked servers like Hypixel or MCC, or the majorly modded worlds which already have unstable coding. Most worlds are accessible through any portal so long as you have the world seed and coordinates and the right permissions. Some are white-listed worlds that remain locked regardless of if you find the right portal, unless you are part of the whitelist. Some worlds have no permanent portal, and it’s as much of a journey to seek out their entry or exit as it is to explore them.
Xisuma’s homeworld falls into the first category – a stable, well-traveled portal for a densely populated world. It’s a hub world of researchers and admins and their ilk. It’s where the University resides and hosts students of the Code from all over the Universe.
It's the homeworld of the Voidwalkers.
Xisuma pauses before the portal. It’s ornate, carved of end stone and obsidian and inlaid with gold and jewels. He can read the Galactic inscribed around the edges – seek knowledge and nothing will be unknown to you, seek power and nothing shall hinder you, seek glory and you shall never be forgotten – and feels the familiar tumult of emotions cresting inside his chest. He loves his parents and his people, truly, but he also knows that that motto has been the source of innumerable agonies for himself and for Exiona.
Exiona, who bumps his shoulder and says Hey, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.
I know, Xisuma says, but I should at least try. Maybe they’ve cooled off in the last couple of years. Maybe they’re less . . .
Bigoted? Assholish? Abusive bastards?
. . . close-minded. I was going to go with close-minded.
Yeah, sure, ‘close-minded’. Let’s go with that.
Xisuma sighs.
You know you can still back out, Ex. I know I asked, but really – they were never as terrible to me as they were to you. You have every right to never set foot in that world again.
Nah, his double says, reaching out to thread their fingers together, we’re a package deal, remember? If they want to see their son, they also get to see his horrifying glitch-clone they wish didn’t exist. And don’t downplay how shit they were to you, too. I patched up every wound they ever gave you.
Xisuma laughs and knocks his head against Ex’s helmet. It does nothing except jar their brains about, but it’s the thought of affection that counts.
I love you, he says, cheeks dimpled with mirth.
Love you too, you derp. Ready to go now?
Sure, Xisuma nods.
They step through the portal together, still hand-in-hand. The magic takes hold, and the familiar feeling of the firewall passing over and through them happens, and the information of the transfer flashes through Xisuma’s sight nearly faster than he can read.
Then something goes wrong.
It’s nearly instantaneous – one second the world is loading in around them, the next Xisuma is struck with agony the likes of which he has never known before. It’s fire in his bones and ice in his veins and electricity running down the ends of every single nerve and it is being flayed alive and dipped in acid and torn limb from limb and joint by joint –
It’s Code, rewritten forcefully.
He collapses, a puppet with cut strings, to the ground outside the portal. He can’t get his lungs or throat to work for the longest few seconds, and then he is heaving breaths of cold End-air as someone pulls his helmet off. Strong hands are pulling him to his feet and supporting him even as his legs buckle, and as his vision and hearing come back online he’s greeted by the sounds of excited voices and his parents pulling him back towards their house, but he’s missing –
Where’s Ex? Where’s my- my-
Shh, shh, it’s okay, everything’s okay now. You never have to worry about it again. We’ve taken care of it.
Someone opens the door, forces him down onto a chair. The room spins with his disorientation. There is a cacophony of people clamoring around him. His head hurts. The door is still open. Everyone is talking.
Come here, Xisuma, here – sit, sit. Get him some water! A potion! The effects will wear off soon, I know it was rough but it was the only way –
-was a great success! Ask him what it felt like, we should gather data –
Here, drink, drink. There you go.
-now have a solution for future glitches if they should occur –
-we’ve solved the Herobrine glitch, the Devs are gonna LOVE this –
You’ll have some scars. Sorry about that.
-shouldn’t have taken twenty-three goddamn years but oh well, sometimes science takes time –
-new research opportunities –
-wonder if we could get him to –
Drink slow, don’t waste it, you know better than that.
- has no real right to refuse, after all –
-owes us more than that –
-keeping tabs on the glitch? Rate of deterioration and all that, will be interesting to see how long it lasts without leeching off of –
Xisuma, honey, what’s wrong? Do you need another potion? When did you last eat?
And his body has settled back into itself, has strung its own code back into place, but there is something fundamentally wrong. He feels off-kilter, like someone removed a vertebra without disrupting his skin or the rest of his spine and now he can’t move without doing irreversible damage to himself. There is an echoing space in his head and his heart where there should be the fiery presence of another; instead, there is static. Something there, but something getting further and further away by the second, a second-sense growing numb with distance and loss. Some connection atrophying and dying away with every moment he wastes sitting here and trying to breathe.
What did you do? he asks, voice hoarse. What did you – what the FUCK DID YOU DO?
He’s on his feet and yelling now. He can feel the places where scars stretch across his skin, new and painful and still leaking hurt despite potions. There is the sweet-sour tang of bile and chemical magic in his mouth. His parents try to calm him, to shush him, insist that he’s making a scene and that this isn’t proper, but he’s so distraught he doesn’t think he’ll ever truly be calm again.
We removed that glitch that had attached itself to you all those years ago, they say, in a vaguely puzzled way that means they don’t understand why he isn’t thanking them for their help. We finally found a solution that would work without it completely destroying you in the process.
Xisuma’s head spins. He catches himself before he falls, heart swooping in his chest. He thinks he might puke.
What did you do with him? He demands. Where did you take him?
Really, Xisuma, you’re throwing such a fuss, this is a GOOD thing, dear –
WHERE IS MY OTHER HALF? He shouts, and there is a ringing silence.
All around him are strangers, wearing surprise on their faces. Not horror at their actions, at the desecration of the autonomy of two sapient beings. Not empathy for his pain, physical and emotional. Not alarm for whatever they did to Ex, wherever they sent him. No. They act surprised that he’s upset. That he’s worried about a glitch. That he’s not grateful and submissive and perfect like he’s supposed to be.
A scoff from one of his parents draws his attention and his ire. His heart pounds in his chest.
Back where it belongs, down in the Endless Void where it can’t hurt or corrupt anyone or anything else.
And Xisuma feels his palms and feet go numb, because Voidwalkers they may be, but the Endless Void is . . . different. It’s where things go to die, to disappear, to be consumed by the great leviathans beyond comprehension and understanding. It’s where the edge of the Universe is, if such a thing exists, and it’s the worst punishment imaginable and a place no one goes unless they’re either terribly brave or terribly stupid –
It's a place that things don’t come back from. When you lose something to the Endless Void, you lose it forever.
Xisuma turns his back to his parents, his people; walks out of his old home, drops to his knees, and prays.
Please, Xisuma begs, please, I need him back. You gave him to me; please don’t let them take him away.
And the Universe loves him. And Xisuma loves the Universe. And he is willing to change himself completely, willing to be wholly subsumed by her power and her majesty and her consciousness if it means getting his Exiona back. So the Universe answers his call; delights in giving one of her favorites everything he asks for and more. And Xisuma lets himself do something he has always wondered about but has always feared: opens himself fully to the call of the Universe.
And the Universe says I LOVE YOU
Xisuma-and-the-world says
And the Universe says YOU ARE LOVE
Xisuma-and-the-void says
And the Universe says COME HOME
And Xisuma-the-Universe says
NOW.
. .
It is with barely a thought that Xisuma-the-Universe breaks the bedrock beneath their homeworld. He pays it no attention; doesn’t heed the screams or the roar of collapse. Simply turns his all-seeing eyes down, down, down, to where a small newly-scarred figure is plummeting into eternity. He reaches out (or the Universe shifts; he is everywhere and nowhere) and gently plucks the falling body, cradling it in the palm of his hand.
Wake up, Xisuma-the-Void intones.
The tiny figure in his grasp gasps into consciousness. It struggles; from pain or panic, Xisuma-of-everything cannot comprehend, but he reaches out a finger and soothes the poor thing. The barest thought and breath of power and the wounds that mar its body heal. It slumps boneless to the palm of his hand. It speaks – what happened? Who are you? Where is Xisuma? – and Xisuma-the-world smiles with teeth made of stars and black holes.
You are safe now, the Universe says with Xisuma’s voice. I gave you as a gift once; I give you as a gift again.
The body in their hand is tired; they can feel the exhaustion in the newly-repaired code, can feel the strain of healed corruption on its soul. The-Universe-as-Xisuma loves this small precious thing in their hands; enough to heal it, enough to crush it out of existence, enough to sentence it to eternal existence, enough to destroy everything in themself so nothing could ever hurt it again.
I love you, they say, I will keep you safe.
I want Xisuma, the precious thing pleads, clinging to one of their fingers, I want Xisuma. Please give him back to me. Don’t hurt him. Don’t let them hurt him.
The Universe frowns.
She thinks about the scars circling every limb on their shared body, thinks about snatches of time watching two tiny figures navigating the world and being battered and forgotten and unloved by those whom she meant to protect them. He thinks about how it felt to step through that portal and be torn apart. She thinks about a world of compassionless cruelty, and how it could so easily have snuffed out the light she holds in her hand and the light she cradles closely in her-his-their heart. It didn’t; the pair of souls she holds dear are still here. But she thinks could have and knows would have, thinks didn’t and thinks might, and she knows rage she has seldom known before. It is hers-and-theirs, this rage, is Universe-and-Xisuma’s thoughts and memories and knowledge, and it is theirs-and-his decision to retreat out of this cursed world and to swat it like a pesky fly out of existence.
The world, already broken, shatters more.
They settle in the world hub, the-Universe-as-Xisuma with their other half cradled unconscious in his arms, and watch the portal to their homeworld fracture apart and collapse inward on itself. The space where magic flowed between stone goes dark and frigid; the absence of all things, a monument to the fate befallen the inhabitants of this doomed world.
A crowd is gathering; their entrance was unmistakable. Everyone in this world can feel the change of divine intervention shifting the code of the universe. Everyone in further worlds will feel it soon; some fundamental difference in reality has occurred, and its consequences will be felt in butterfly effect for years.
The Universe smiles with Xisuma’s face. Power drapes in great dark wings from his back, glistens in the creases of his armor and in the halo of light at his brow. The crowd gathers silent around them in awe. She gently lays Exiona on the ground and steps around him to lift Xisuma’s arms towards the ruined portal. She moves like a conductor; hands swaying and snapping in crisp, graceful movements, carving into stone new words beneath the old inscription:
Knowledge without compassion is cruelty; power without kindness is tyranny; you will know My glory through your destruction, and all the worlds will remember you for your hubris.
It is the Universe’s own rebuttal.
Gently, gently, gently, she lowers her arms. Gently, gently, gently, she turns to face the crowd. She smiles, warm and suffusive and overwhelming. People gasp; people fall to their knees; people stumble backwards and flee. She laughs, and that fractures a bit more of the world around her, punches a few more portals casually out of existence.
The world trembles around her. She sees the code straining; knows exactly where she could reach out and prod and watch in delighted curiosity as the dominoes fell and the world codes collapsed around her. It is so strange to witness herself through eyes as she has not in eons. The craving to experience is all-encompassing; she has not had a body in so long. There is so much she could do like this, could experience like this, could prod and explore and experiment and rend and destroy and create. Normally she is everywhere and everything and nowhere and nothing, and now she is here and unstoppable–
Please don’t hurt them, a quiet voice asks from somewhere in her heart. Please don’t make me hurt them.
And the Universe remembers that I AM LOVE and the Universe remembers I AM NOT ALONE and the Universe remembers I LOVE YOU and the Universe remembers YOU ARE NOT ALONE and the Universe remembers that this body is borrowed. Feels where it is failing, in the strain of its code and the stretch of its mind as it tries to contain and accommodate her. The longer she stays, the more there is of her and the less there is of Xisuma.
Gently, gently, gently, she breathes in with Xisuma’s lungs. Gently, gently, gently, they breathe out.
And gently, gently, gently, Xisuma-as-himself falls to his knees in front of the ruined portal and Exiona’s sleeping form.
In the wreckage of a world hub, before the ruins of a monument to a billion lives lost, gripping the one person left whom he loves, Xisuma cries for everything he has destroyed. For everything he has willingly become. And for whatever fate the Universe deems for himself and his other half next. He weeps for the unknowable knowledge that exists at the edges of his consciousness now; the terrible truths of the Universe he can never unknow. Xisuma has become and now is, and he can never be anything else.
The crowd gathers itself again. No one dares approach the new – God? Dev? Prophet? – but someone calls admins who call Devs who call –
Hey, Steve says, kneeling next to the sobbing mess of armor, hey, it’s okay.
Let’s get them out of here, Herobrine says from Xisuma’s other side. They need time to recover, away from crowds, and we should see if the other one is-
Alex, Steve says, snaking an arm across Xisuma’s chest and bracing his legs to lift, you get his other side.
Stevie I don’t think he’s gonna let me-
NO! Xisuma shrieks when Steve tries to pull him away from Exiona. He keeps a death grip on his other half while kicking viciously at everyone around him. His breath sticks in his throat, thick and cloying Overworld air getting harder to inhale by the minute, residual damage from the Universe using his lungs making itself known, but still he finds enough breath to shriek NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!
It’s okay buddy, we’re not gonna separate you, Kai soothes.
I’ve got this one’s legs, Noor says from the far side of Exiona, Makena-
On it. C’mon, Sunny, Efe, help me, all together now-
That crowd’s getting a little close for comfort, Alex warns, sharp.
Zuri bares teeth. Ari matches the expression. Herobrine draws his sword, and the three form a protective little triangle around them. There is magic dancing on Ari’s fingertips, and Zuri brandishes an axe threateningly.
Fuck it, let’s just teleport, Steve whispers, still fighting a struggling Xisuma, who’s howling and barking coughs like a wounded wolf. Quickest way to get out of here. Kai, would you-
On it, Kai says, everyone brace and hold on. Are you three fine with cleanup? I’ll come back for you in a bit, just comm me-
Herobrine waves his hand dismissively.
Don’t worry about it. We’re old hat at this by now. The three of us can find our way back. You just worry about the kids.
Okay then. Everyone get set, this will be a bit rough. Three, two, one-
And the world once again falls away from Xisuma. There is no unmaking, this time, no dismantling of his code and rearranging it into a design that fits someone else’s image of himself. But still, it pulls at new wounds and his raw, overworked soul, and when they finally stop jumping through time and space and land in a world of fresh grass and blue sky and open lands, he lets himself collapse.
You’re okay, someone whispers to him, cradling him to their chest, it’s okay. You can rest now.
There are people surrounding him. Exiona’s hand is limp in his grip. And Xisuma is so, so tired.
He sleeps.
. . .