Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

(Let's start with context really quickly)
Hybrids of Characters:
Joel - Raccoon
Pearl - Fox
Grian - Pesky Birb.
Martyn - Human
Scar - Human
Cleo - Zombie
Scott - Alicorn
Jimmy - Canary Birb.
Tango - Blazey!!
Skizz - Angel
Bdubs - Cow
BigB - BigB (he’s his own species /lh)
Mumbo - Redstoner /lh (Human)
Impulse - Imp (haha get it no ok)
Ren - Dog (i see how it is)
Lizzie - Shapeshifter
Gem - Deer
Etho - Wolf

Small Backstory:
The winners remember the life games. The non-winners do not.
There are ships, but they’re only implied/except lizzie and joel (they’re still tagged so you guys can pick up the crumbs /lh) and if they are actually shown, it’ll be a QPR. (i cant write romance for shit)
The watchers fucking suck. (We are the watchers. /lh)

(OKAY HERE WE GO)

~~~~~

With the flick of his wrist and the toss of an enderpearl, he plummeted to the ground and finally lost his last life.
All he could remember as he fell through the blood-stained clouds was the bright glowing eyes that watched him sink lower and lower towards the world beneath.

Purple, they were. Purple was all he could remember, up until the crack of lightning echoed throughout the server and suddenly he was laying on something soft. Grass, he thought.

He didn’t lift his head up, it hurt too much for that. The thump of his heartbeat and the screams of friends was all he could hear, and all he could imagine.
“Joel?” a voice perked up.
He still didn’t open his eyes.

“Joel!” the same voice called out to him again. It sounded familiar, like the warmth of a campfire.

And suddenly cold hands were rolling him onto his back—cold, calloused hands. Then, he opened his eyes.

He was met with two concerned looking faces, one with blood-red eyes and golden brown hair, she had long fox ears and a pale, freckled face—Pearl.

The other had inky black eyes with a hint of bright purple that swirled in their depths. Rainbow-coloured wings were in vision and his hair was dirty-blonde and fell messily on his shoulders—Grian.

“Good Void— Are you feeling okay? Usually after you win and stuff it gets rather-“ Pearl began to mumble before Grian cut her off.

“He doesn’t understand what you’re saying, Pearl. He hasn’t gotten his memories back yet.”

Pearl, ears perking up in realisation, looked at the racoon-hybrid under her and back at Grian, her mouth forming an ‘O’ as she remembered what happens every time someone wins another game.

Suddenly, a stinging pain ripped through the dazed-man’s head and he was writhing on the floor, hands clutching his hair like a lifeline.

He saw Pearl and Grian back away, and also casted a glance at three—four?— other figures behind them.

But that wasn’t what he was focusing on right now, no. The flashing images that ran through his mind— the memories playing themselves like a movie tape, but painful to watch.

He could remember it all—
Third Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Real Life, Secret Life—
but most importantly, he could remember the people.
The Dogwarts army appearing at his doorstep, an ashy banner in his hands.
A desperate chase with a cyan-haired foe— the same season where he got to be with his wife.
The Relationship, Bread Bridge, the Mounders—
Lizzie, Etho, Jimmy, Mumbo, Martyn, and—

“Joel!”

He was being shaken by someone. Their hands were gripping his shoulders like claws.

His eyes unblurred and the familiar figure of Pearl was back in his vision once again.

He just-
Holy Fuck.
He just won Wild Life—
But where was Gem? Lizzie?
His eyes widened and he couldn’t help but burst out.

“Bloo— Oh bloody hell! What in the void was-“

“They give your memories back once you win.”
Grian was eyeing him, guilt seeping through his features. He seemed to be familiar with the other winners having these episodes as well.

Pearl, still gripping Joel’s shoulders, looked at the avian and narrowed her eyes.
“Shouldn’t we let him recover from this first before we decide to dump that information on him?”

“What information— What the fuck is going on?” The green-haired man began to writhe in Pearl’s surprisingly strong grip, attempting to make her let go.

“It’s what happens when you win the games, mate.” Another figure was with Grian now— his eyes were bright green with specks of yellow, and his vanilla-coloured hair was littered with pieces of crimson-red coral.

Grian didn’t seem awfully excited about being near Martyn. Neither did Martyn with being near Grian, actually. They both took a few small steps away from one another, leaving Joel wondering what that was all about.

His thoughts were interrupted when Pearl let go of him abruptly, and he nearly half-fell half-rolled onto the ground. Her eyes widened and she helped him back up, mumbling quick apologies and ‘I’m so sorry!’s.

Finally up on his feet, Joel decided to examine his surroundings. Grian and Martyn were still standing awkwardly beside each other, both the former and latter looking extremely uncomfortable with being in the other’s vicinity.
Pearl had stepped away from him and was eyeing him to make sure he wouldn’t fall over again.
Behind the two uneasy blondes were two other people— one with flaming orange hair and the other with messy brown hair that fell to his upper-back.
Cleo and Scar, he concluded.

Shouldn’t there be someone else here, though?

“Where’s Scott?”
Saying the cyan-haired man’s name would usually leave him full of adrenaline and animosity, but any trace of loathing towards the alicorn seemed to have miraculously disappeared.

Pearl’s ears perked up and then drooped sadly on the side of her head. Grian wouldn’t meet his gaze, and the others looked exceedingly more uncomfortable.

“We… don’t know. He always disappears after the games. We can’t even find him in the player’s limbo, either.” Pearl looked distant; distraught, she was. After all, Scott was her brother. Joel would be worried as well if Lizzie suddenly vanished without a trace.
He shuddered at the thought.

“He was there after Last Life, though.” Grian was looking at Pearl. “But he wouldn’t talk to me. He just laid there and nodded or shook his head when I asked him questions.”

Joel thought for a second, before realising something Pearl had said.
“Wait, ‘Player’s Limbo’? Like, the non-winners? How come I don’t remember that?”

“‘Cause you’re asleep when you’re in it. It’s like a border between here and the games. So, no one remembers being there, not even us. We just know Scottie isn’t there because he isn’t in the code.” Pearl answered, her eyes flicking back and forth from the ground to the raccoon-hybrid.

“And here? Where are we?”

“This is the winner’s limbo. The area, however? It’s supposed to look ‘homely’, they said.” Again, Pearl responded. “They let us customise it to our liking, though. That’s probably the only good thing.”

“Wait, ‘the code’?” Code?? “What code?”

Pearl didn’t answer this time. Her eyes flashed open and she suddenly disappeared. Joel was mortified. Grian answered this time.

“It’s something Pearl can do. She doesn’t really like talking about it, so it’s best to leave the topic alone.” He noticed Joel’s open-mouthed stare at the empty space that was once occupying the fox-hybrid. “That’s also something she doesn’t like talking about.” The avian sounded amused, then.

Joel scratched the back of his head awkwardly and walked over to Grian, eyes not leaving Pearl’s former spot in case she re-appeared all of a sudden.

“Do you want to pick a room?” Grian asked.

The raccoon-hybrid tore his eyes away from the empty patch of grass and looked the avian dead in the eyes. “What.”

Cleo laughed and Grian looked oddly amused, “Follow me.”

~~~

Pearl hugged her knees to her chest.

She hadn’t meant to expose herself to Joel that quickly. But that didn’t really mean that much to her—

She just missed her brother.

When she had woken up in the Winner’s Limbo after Double Life, Grian had greeted her. “Where’s Scott?” She had asked him, but he was equally as confused.

Their relationship was rather rocky after Double Life. The Watchers hadn’t put enough recovery time for the players until they had decided to kick all of them into Limited Life, in her opinion.

But slowly, it recovered. Through Real Life, Secret Life, and finally, they were allies again during Wild Life.

He never appeared in Winner's Limbo, however. Not through any of the times she was there.

None of the victors were allowed to mention what happens after they win. Not that it’s punishable, but that they can’t. It’s like your mouth was sewn shut.

No matter how desperate she was to get answers from the alicorn, she couldn’t ask him. And it drove her crazy.

Sure, she could speak to him during the games, but they couldn’t talk about the things they used to. Mentioning anything relating to outside the games was also forbidden. She couldn’t confide in him on her woes, her worries; even if most of them were about him.

She wiped the wet from her cheeks. Her room was dark, just like she had wanted. The blinds were always closed and most of her furniture was black. She found that comforting.

Of course, the Watchers had decided it would be funny to put their celestial titles on their doors. So, everytime she wanted to go into her room, she would be greeted with the achingly familiar name of ‘Moon’ staring back at her.
That’s why she usually teleports to her room now.

Not that she doesn’t like the moon. It’s just—
He always used to call her that. It’s a lingering memory, not one she wants to forget, but one she doesn’t want haunting her.

And there’s also… that.
When she had awoken in the Limbo for the first time, with Grian at her side, everything seemed fine, with the exception of not having Scott, of course.
That’s until they decided to start bothering the two.
They would loom over them like a shadow, a hooded figure with evocative purple eyes.

It started with just watching them, which they all were all used to, and then it went to sharp remarks, ones that made them feel guilt, regret, or bringing up old memories they wished they could’ve kept buried.

And then, it started actually interacting with them.

They were awfully fond of Grian, which Pearl knew the reason why.

It would push them over or pick them up at random times. Sure, annoying, but tolerable.

Until it started pretending to be their friends.
It would take the form of their allies and call out to them with a sickeningly familiar voice. They tried desperately to ignore it.

One time however, the duo were minding their own business, chatting and laughing amongst themselves, when they heard it.
That eerily sweet call.
That voice.
It wasn’t who they usually mimicked, this time.

It was his voice.

The way Pearl froze up and the way Grian’s eyes widened was proof enough for the watchers that impersonating him was enough to make the two despair.
Grian stood his ground, shutting his eyes tight and covering his eyes with his hands, but Pearl?
She couldn’t. She turned around.

What she saw was not her brother.

It looked nauseatingly similar to him, but it wasn’t him.
Maybe it was the purple eyes, the way their puppeting hands gripped his broken limbs like a doll, or maybe it was the revoltingly sweet smile on his lips that were stained with blood.
Or the lifelessness in his eyes.

That’s what made her snap.

She had fought it. She had attacked it with all her might—the frenzied might of an enraged sister.

She could never win, of course. But she still tried.

The beast was glad to get a reaction out of her. And maybe it became a little too cocky, for as when it snapped its fingers it might have accidentally glitched her code.

It was such an idiotic incident, as well. And now? What was she?
The stupid fucking Moon Deity.

~~~
“Wake up.”
No.
“Wake up.”
Stop it..
“WAKE U̴̧̨̥͖͔̙̪̥͚͓̫̲̎͛̑̓̊P̴̛̛̬͉̟̺͙̞̐͊͋͠!̴̨̧̨͎͎̠̠̳̝̪̟̮͐̋́̍̊̆͂͌̅̾̆͝”̴̡̧̰̺̣͔̰͎̤͂̑̃̐̅͠ͅ

A flash of light, and then he was awake again.
Everything hurts.
He’s fine. He’s always fine. He hasn’t got broken, bruised skin. It’s not there, but the pain lingers, like grief. It never goes away.

They’re glad you’re here.

He sobs into himself, wrapping his wings around his body in a desperate attempt to feel warmth.
The Watchers do this after every game. Every time he dies, he’s back here.
He doesn’t want to do this anymore. He just wants his sister.

She hates you, you know that? That was your own doing, not even ours.

He covers his ears with his scarred palms, pushing his knees towards his chest to make himself seem small. Maybe then they’ll go away.

A hand rips his wings away from his body and pulls him up by his chin.

“Speak, victor.”

No.

And then, it opens its mouth and swallows him.

~~~

“How are you feeling?”
Joel whips around to see Cleo leaning on his doorway, her arms crossed and an amused grin on her lips.

Now that she’s closer, he can take a better look at her.
She’s wearing black and white striped tights and rainbow leg warmers. Her eyes are a forest-green colour, he’s not used to not seeing the burning reflection of flames in her eyes.
She’s got bandages around her arms and a sweatband holding her flaming orange curls away from her face. Her outfit is the same as usual, a shiny, black leotard— but this time she’s got a slightly-too-small cape draped around her shoulders.
It didn’t look like hers.
He’d have to ask her about that later.

“I’m doing fine. Just… not used to this.” Joel answered her after a while. He had already customised his room to his liking, but it felt empty without his wife.

“That’s completely understandable.” She laughed, before walking towards his bed. “Can I sit?” Joel nodded.

The two sat in silence for a while.

“Who's is that?” Joel started.
“What?” the zombie tilted her head in confusion.
He gestured to the cape with his shoulder. “That.”
She looked sorrowful, for a while; distant. He felt bad.
“You don’t have to answer if you-“
“It’s Scott’s,” She finally said. Joel’s eyes widened. Of course it was.

His mouth opened in an ‘O’ shape, and he flicked his gaze away from her and to the floor. It was just plain spruce, nothing special.
One of the planks were cracked. He’s surprised he didn’t notice it when he walked in, but he’s never really been an observant person.

“Pearl’s okay, if that’s something you were wondering,” She said, randomly. He looked back up at her. “She just needed some time to herself.”

“Where did she go?” He asked, spinning a strand of his front hair with his index finger.

“Just her room. It wasn’t because of you, by the way. She just needed to think about things.”

Joel understands that.
Although he wasn’t worried if it was because of him, he knew it wasn’t.
Cleo, though, probably would be if she was in his position. He knows that, despite her thick skin, she always worries about what others think of her.
He also hadn’t expected Pearl of all people to be so easy to break under pressure, especially with all of her pestering of Gem during Wild Life.
He could never quite put the pieces together on why they were so obsessed with each other.

“Grian’s working on something. You can come look, if you’d like.” She changed the subject.
“What is ‘something’?” He left his thoughts to bury themselves once again.
“He’s looking for a way to contact the others, at the Player’s Limbo. Or, well, a way to wake them up.” The raccoon hybrid’s ears perked up, now he was interested.
“Like—wake up Lizzie? He can do that?" He was really intrigued now.
“Probably, yeah. If he can figure out how to.” She laughed, amused.

So the two left Joel’s room, a click of the handle slipping back into place as the door was shut. He followed her down the hall—which was rather long, it contained multiple rooms, some of which unoccupied—and towards a flight of stairs that led into a basement.

As they walked down, he could hear the chattering of voices.
“—We can’t just—No, that’s not right—“ Martyn.
“—Idiots—Why not?—“ Pearl.
“—Quiet, please—I can’t focus—“ Grian.
He guessed Scar was down there as well, he usually gets distracted easily.

When the zombie and the raccoon-hybrid reached the bottom, three pairs of eyes fixed their gazes on them, the other was deep in a book.
“Joel! Cleo!” Pearl smiled.
“Hey, mate. You decided to join us?” Martyn chuckled.
Scar was in the corner, he was just watching them interact. He seemed distant.

The room had pearly white walls, the floor was tiles—cold; hauntingly cold. They hurt to stand on, even when he was wearing his socks. He noticed that everyone else was wearing their shoes. Maybe that’s why.
There was a pinboard in the centre wall, it didn’t seem to be being used for its purpose. There were drawings pinned to it of what he could make out to be Gem and Scott. Pearl must’ve drawn them, he observed.
There was a singular desk right in the middle, with one of those spinny black, leather chairs he would never know the name of for the life of him.

Grian was sitting on said chair, glasses on and a stack of all kinds of things—papers, books, pens, some of Pearl’s drawings— next to him. He looked exceedingly exasperated, probably because of Pearl and Martyn lingering over his shoulder like supervisors.

He started over towards where Scar was sitting alone in the corner, but Cleo gripped his shoulder. He turned around and she shook her head.
He understood.

Cleo guided him over to the other three, and he heard Grian groan once he realised he had more people bothering him. Pearl punched his shoulder.
“C’mon Gri, you know you love us,” She giggled, and Cleo stifled a laugh.
Grian just rolled his eyes.

Martyn looked at Joel and then back at Grian, before his eyes widened. “Oh! Mate, we haven’t explained Watchers to you yet, have we?”
Pearl gasped, “MARTYN! We weren’t supposed to tell him—“
“It’s fine, Pearl. He can know.” Grian cut her off. He does that a lot, actually. Joel never really thought about it until now.

Pearl crossed her arms over her shoulders and looked awkwardly towards the floor. She didn’t seem to like this subject.

“Well? Watchers? You were explaining?” Joel looked at Martyn, who was staring absentmindedly at Grian before his gaze snapped back to the raccoon-hybrid. “Right! Watchers! Follow me!” He spun around on his heel and started towards a door Joel hadn’t even noticed existed until now. Joel followed, Cleo did not.

Joel watched as Martyn spun the door handle, the blonde’s hands were rough and calloused, and his arms were littered with scars. As the door clicked open, he noticed how dark it was inside. Martyn just walked straight in, which surprised him a little.

He soon followed, closing the door behind him. Before it shut fully, he cast a glimpse at Cleo and Pearl, who were both looking at him with an unreadable gaze.

He was regretting his choice now.
But did he ever even have one?

Chapter Text

With the flick of a switch, Martyn turned on the light.

Joel groaned and covered his eyes with his arm, shutting them tight and grimacing.
That was unexpected.

“Oh! Sorry, mate. Didn’t need to startle ya.” Martyn turned to the shorter man and chuckled awkwardly. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” Joel replied, taking his arm away from his face to get a good look at his surroundings.

It was a rather small room, a lot smaller than the one they were just in.
There were sheets of paper covering the walls like a blanket, each page either full of drawings or notes with writing too small for him to read from where he was standing.

There was a blackboard in the middle, a green duster and a bucket of multicoloured chalk resting on the floor underneath it.
Seems they didn’t see a need for a desk, then. Though that’s odd.

The floor was carpeted, like the upstairs hallway, and felt a lot better to stand on. He untensed a little.

Martyn clapped his hands together and winked at the raccoon-hybrid.
“Well, how about we get started, then!” He sounded oddly joyful, contrasting with how upset Pearl looked when the ‘Watchers’ were mentioned in front of her.

“Do you want… to like—sit down? Or something?” The blonde awkwardly questioned, pulling Joel out of his thoughts.

The shorter man flicked his gaze towards the corner of the room, in which inhabited a rather small, plastic chair—like the ones you’d find in a primary classroom.

“Oh. Yeah, that would be nice.” He answered, absentmindedly. Martyn frowned.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You’re acting off.”

Joel, startled, flashed a glance towards Martyn before returning it to the chair.
He sighed.
“Yeah, ‘am fine. This is just really bloody confusing, is all.”

And he missed his wife.

Martyn nodded and pulled the school chair out of the corner and to the middle of the room. Joel walked over and sat down, its tiny height causing his knees to go up to his chest as he did.

“Actually, I might just stand,” The raccoon-hybrid gave an inept smile and reached his hand up for the blonde to grab.

Martyn chuckled and took it, helping Joel to his feet before disposing of the chair by kicking it back towards the corner.
It rebound off the wall and clattered to the floor with numerous loud thuds before finally stilling.

Martyn turned back to the blackboard and bent over to take one of the chalk sticks out of the box. He chose a purple one, it looked as if it had been snapped in half, its other piece lost.

“Alright, so-“ he scratched the title ‘WATCHERS’ at the top of the board and dragged the chalk across the bottom, underlining it—the line was a little wonky.

“To begin, ‘Watchers’ are entities mainly seen by players as bright, glowing, purple eyes.” The blonde drew a simple eye shape, just a little one, along the corner.

Joel winced as a nauseating familiarity washed over him, sending a shiver up his spine.
He’s seen that before.

“They’re omnipresent. Existing everywhere. They follow those they seek interest in like vultures hunting their prey, and they feed off of other beings’ anguish.” Martyn took a deep breath in.

“A fear years ago, me, Grian, Timmy, and BigB were sent to a server called ‘Evolution’.” He wrote it as a subtitle and squiggly-underlined it. “Pearl joined us a little later. We don’t really talk about Evo, and I honestly don’t remember that much of it. However—“

He took another, big, staggered breath. Joel hadn’t realised how fast the blonde had been talking.

“There was one thing. When we set out to defeat the Ender Dragon, somehow, all of the players were sent to their own individual battles once we arrived in The End.
It was simple, we’d defeat the Ender Dragon, meet up with the other players once they’d succeeded as well, and then leave.” He fumbled with the chalk for a while, attempting to draw what seemed to be an attempt of starry-coloured dragon, before giving up and erasing it with the duster. He drew another eye instead.

“Once we’d all defeated our separate bosses, every player returned to multiplayer. Except for one.”

Joel’s eyes widened and his mouth stretched into an ‘O’ shape at Martyn’s words.
Oh.
“Who-“

“Grian,” Martyn replied, his face screwed up, an indescribable look in his eyes. “He never came back. When we went through the portal, we didn’t see the universe, or hear its poem. We saw something else.”

Martyn didn’t need to say it. Joel knew what it was.

“The watchers, right?” and Martyn nodded.

“‘Watcher One’ and ‘Watcher Two’ were what they were ‘called’. And they kept talking about this—‘Watcher Three’.”

Joel was lost in thought. “What about Grian? You said he disappeared.”

“And that’s the complicated part, mate.” Martyn sighed. “Promise me that you won’t say anything until after I’ve finished explaining the next part, okay?”

Joel, unsettled by Martyn’s change of tone, nodded tentatively to give the blonde the go-ahead.

He watched Martyn breathe in and out shakily for a while.

“Grian was a watcher,” He said at last, and Joel could practically feel the aghast look that appeared on his face. Martyn gulped.

“They took him, made him one of them. They were the ones who started the games, they were the ones who inflicted the curses and blessed those who they found interesting.
Grian escaped them after Last Life, he’s an ‘Ex-Watcher’ now, that’s what we call him, atleast. Never to his face, though.”

Martyn exhaled, an unreadable expression twisted on his face. “That’s all you need to know for now, mate.” He tried to avoid the raccoon-hybrid’s eyes, picking up the duster and erasing the contents of the blackboard, before shaking out the dust onto the floor.

But Joel wasn’t convinced. He could see a glint in the taller man’s eyes.
He was hiding something.

~~~

Pearl couldn’t help but let her mind wander as Grian murmured to himself.

The avian had come up with a plan for Pearl to attempt to overwrite the code in the Player’s Limbo, and transport the players’ codes to here instead.
She agreed.

She actually had no idea what she was doing.
That fact scared her a lot, actually. More than she’d admit.

Cleo and Scar had already gone upstairs. To their rooms, she guessed. Or maybe somewhere together.

She let her thoughts navigate through other parts of her mind.

She thought of Gem, oh, sweet, sweet, Gem. She missed her a lot.

When the girl had joined the games, back during Secret Life, Pearl was absolutely distraught. She cried in her brother’s arms as he soothingly played with her hair.
That always calmed her down.

She thought of her other friends, asleep in a blank void. They wouldn’t know what it looked like, though.

She very desperately tried to ignore the part of her mind that wandered towards a certain cyan-haired man.

A quiet sob caused the labyrinth of thoughts she was navigating in her head to crumble, and she snapped her gaze towards the crumpled, defeated looking figure of a certain blonde-haired avian.

“Gri? What’s wrong?” She began to rub his shoulder with her palm.

He looked up at the Fox-hybrid and her heart couldn’t help but break as she watched tears roll down his cheeks, like raindrops on a closed window.

She pulled him into a hug and he desperately returned the embrace, clutching his best friend as if she were a balloon about to float away.

“I’m so scared, Pearl.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Me too, Gri. This is so fucking terrifying. But, you’re not alone, okay? You’ve got us to protect you.” She could feel the wet trailing down her cheek.

“But you shouldn’t have to protect me!” He pushed her away and shuffled underneath the desk, wrapping his wings around him like a shield. “I’m the one that got all of you into this mess!
I’m the one they want and because of that they’re hurting all of you to get to me! This isn-“

He was suddenly cut off by the squeeze of arms wrapping around him. Pearl held him close to her body and rubbed the back of his head with her hand until tears no longer dripped from either of their faces.

“Ya feeling better?” She gently moved his wings away from his face to reveal a pale-skinned man with lingering wet streaks down his cheeks.

“‘m fine. Thank you.” He rubbed his eyes and Pearl moved back, letting the avian have some space.

Suddenly, a click sounded and two people exited the room on their right.

Joel and Martyn walked out, the former pale as a ghast, his eyes unfocused and his tail flicking vigorously to-and-fro.

The latter was biting his lip, leaving the area stained a slightly blood-coloured pink. The rest was left dry and cracked.

When the two men spotted Pearl and Grian on the floor, holding each other like children, Martyn gasped and Joel’s eyes returned concentration, fixing their gaze on the pair before widening.

“Fuck—are we interrupting something?” The raccoon-hybrid glanced awkwardly at his shoes and then to the blonde beside him.

Grian picked himself up off of the ground and wiped his eye with his sleeve, before taking his glasses out of his pants pocket and sliding them on his face.

“Actually, no. Everything’s fine.” The avian helped Pearl to her feet, the red-eyed woman’s lips pressing into a thin line, contemplativeness seeping through her features.

“Why would it be your business anyway?” He added more quietly, giving Martyn a detested look. The blonde furrowed his eyebrows and avoided Grian’s loathsome gaze.

Pearl and Joel cast eachother an uneasy glance.

The bitterness shared between the two men was not a new concept for the former, but for Joel? He’d never known they harboured such abhorrence for one another. In fact, it was rather surprising.

Pearl opened her mouth, as though she was about to speak, when a shriek sounded from upstairs.

Martyn, Pearl, and Grian sprung into action immediately, sprinting up the steps as soon as the noise had faltered. Joel followed suit, looking partially dazed, but mostly just confused.

The source of the scream was from outside, where all the winners woke up when they first got here. What came into Pearl’s vision as the group flooded through the front door and out into the open was purple.

Purple sky. Purple eyes.

The beast was towering over two small figures kneeling on the grass, only silhouettes compared to the overwhelming shine of a bleeding sky, stained and dripping with an inky, purple blood.

Cleo and Scar, she concluded. Her lip curled into a snarl as the monster turned towards the newcomers.

The watchers hadn’t bothered them after they had messed up Pearl’s code.

Grian assumed they were embarrassed, Martyn—after she told him about what happened—had given her a reassuring smile and told her they were probably scared of her; she didn’t care why they had stayed away, she wanted to know why they were back.

Animosity seeped through her veins and she charged forward, ignoring a panicked call from Grian and an alarmed gasp Joel. The beasts were hurting her friends again.

She didn’t give a shit what happened to her, all she could think about was protecting who mattered most.

Pearl held her arm to her chest and swung it backward, showcasing a script of letters and numbers, visible only to her eyes. She scavenged through the lines of code, searching for the line that indicated an intruder.

The monster, however, had caught on to what she was doing. It moved like a rock scraping against a rough surface, glitching in and out of view like a virus.

She tapped its code with her finger and began to search for the delete script, her breath hitching as she tried to ignore its sickening figure moving towards her like a snake.

She found it, but it had reached her by then.

Deleting- - -W.35. Initiating-

An agonising pain ravaged her body like poison, and she could feel the scream that tore from her throat, it felt like knives.

She heard someone call out to her—Grian, she assumed?—before her vision faded once again into a haunting black.

~~~

A whimper fell from the wounded man’s lips.

A pain in his soul indicated something was wrong.

Not like he was doing alright originally, but—that pain belonged to someone else.

And he knew who it belonged to. His beloved soulbound.

There wasn’t anything he could do.

The star let himself cry.

Chapter Text

“Pearl?” and she opened her eyes.

What she saw was white. Just white—pure, colourless, voidy white. 

Everything hurt.

“Pearlie, are you okay?” The voice sounded weak and hoarse, but as familiar as a childhood bedtime story.

impulsively, she nodded.

“That’s good.” 

A body laid itself down next to her. They took her hand.

“I’m sorry, Pearlie. I’m so sorry you have to go through all of this. I’m so sorry.”

Their hand tightened around hers; protective—like a blanket. A cold blanket.

She wanted to see them. She wanted to look. She couldn’t move.

Maybe as she stared blankly at the endless ivory sky—or was it the floor?—could she begin to paint their countenance in her mind.

“Don’t trouble yourself. Just relax, okay? You’ll wake up soon. They’re trying their hardest.”

She endeavoured the pathetic attempt at a nod, which made her realise that her first one had not succeeded either.

Their voice began to fade, and she felt the floor beginning to open up, swallowing her.

“You’ll be okay. I love you,

Moonie.”

Wait-

“WAIT!”

She opened her eyes, and she wasn’t in that void this time.

She could speak, she could move, but her body was still sore.

Instantaneously, a pair of warm, crushing arms wrapped themselves around her and pulled her close.

“Pearl. Oh my Void—we were so scared,” A shaky breath. “We didn’t think you were going to wake up.”

As she processed her surroundings, she focused on the short—although he wasn’t short, she was just tall—blonde man clinging to her like a child.

She brought her arms to his back, unaware of how shaky she was, and returned the affection, her eyes wide and gaze fixed elsewhere.

A voice—Cleo’s, it resembled—sounded from somewhere next to the bed she realised she was on. “Pearl? What was that? Are you okay?”

In lieu of a response, the fox-hybrid choked out a violent sob and wept into her best-friend’s shoulder. He tightened his grip around her.

“I swear—I’m going to—Fucking Void, I’m-“ he snarled, “Why couldn’t they just-“ 

A hand found its way to the avian’s free shoulder. Grian whirled his head up to see Scar looming above him. The blonde’s apoplectic gaze softened as he met the taller man’s solace one. 

“Hey, wanna take a walk, buddy? You need a breather.” Scar offered, and Grian nodded. A smile crept onto the former’s blemished face.

As Grian pulled away, Pearl slumped over herself, her arms falling down to dangle at her side and her ears pinning themselves to her head. 

She heard the click of the door closing behind the two, and a creak of wood as someone shifted to sit down beside her. They cupped her left cheek with their hand and brought her eyes to meet theirs, their gaze was sorrowful yet comforting, she noticed.

Pearl couldn’t help but lean into the zombie’s embrace. Cleo was her brother’s best friend, the one that was there for him when she wasn’t—wasn’t, not couldn’t—they were the reason for his gaiety and for that she was grateful.

“You feelin’ better?” Cleo asked softly. Pearl simply nodded.

She brought her hand to their neck and tugged halfheartedly on the cloak wrapped like a ribbon loosely around their throat. 

It was a bloody red colour with a glittery-gold lace trim—the colour of a crown. The clasp was an intricate pattern of thin, intertwining silver strings that framed a golden star. Said star was dull; seeming to have lost its shimmer.

Pearl could feel tears welling in her eyes. “Was this his?” She asked the zombie, quietly.

Cleo nodded. “He wore this one a lot during Double Life. He never liked the cold.”

‘He never liked the cold.’

“I never noticed,” The fox-hybrid suppressed a sob. Her voice was raspy and her throat was dry.

No, she did notice, didn’t she? That’s her job, as an older sister—to notice these things. She did notice. She should have.

“He never liked being up in the mountains, so he always stayed down near our base and didn't really venture out much.”

“Pearl?” The man gulped. “Powdered snow? Really?”

“When it got too cold he’d stay over at the ranch. Not our ranch—Jimmy and Tango’s. That’s until they died.”

“What? Too cold for you? Can’t Scottie handle some snow?” She giggled.

“Before we became red, he gave me this. Martyn and I were planning to head up towards the cliffs, anyway. So we could all split up. He didn’t want me to get cold.”

“Pearl-“ 

“Shh! Surely, Cleo wouldn’t want a soulmate who’s afraid of just a little cold? That’s so pathetic, Scottie! You’re better than this!”

“I don’t get cold. Never did, never will—my skin’s too rotten.”

”Pearl…”

“I didn’t refuse, though. Didn’t have the heart. And it felt like I was carrying a piece of him with me.”

Cleo flashed her an apologetic glance. “Sorry, is Double Life a sensitive subject for you?”

Pearl didn’t say anything else.

Instead, She fixed her gaze on the drawing pinned to her wall. 

Back in Empires, when they were kids, Scott had made a drawing of her, Gem, and himself. 

She couldn’t save it, not from the blaze that engulfed her empire, but they wouldn't let her keep it if she did, anyway. 

So she recreated it to the best of her ability.

She tried to capture the unevenness of the lines, the messiness of the colouring and her beloved brother’s shaky handwriting.

Cleo followed her gaze, their face softening as they realised its location. “Oh, Pearl…” 

“Where is he, Cleo?” She sobbed. Cleo pulled her closer until she was laying with her head on their chest. “I want my brother back. Please. I want— I want my brother back…”

Her eyes were blurry, her cheeks were wet, and yet even as a grieving soulmate and a broken sister lay in each other's embrace, there was nothing they could do.

~~~

“Joel?” 

The raccoon-hybrid perked up at his name being called, and whirled around to lock eyes with Scar, standing awkwardly in his doorway, Grian behind him. The former looked upset, but the latter looked absolutely distraught.

Noticing their disquietude, he replied. 

“Woah, woah. Are you good? What’s up?” 

Scar looked away and Grian wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

The avian-hybrid took a staggering breath, and Joel noticed he had blood on his knuckles. 

“They’re bringing us back.”

“…What?”

Grian met his gaze, a look of defeat in his eyes.

“They’re making another game, Joel. They’re bringing us back. Again.”

Chapter Text

The fawn was dead.

Three days ago, Scott and his older sister, Pearl, had discovered a wounded little fawn along the Rivendell border; it had looked to have been attacked by a predator—a wolf, they guessed.

The little cyan-haired boy had dragged his sister to the injured animal and begged her to let him take it home to the stables for care. 

At first, Pearl, knowing it would most likely die, told him that there was no point. But, the boy persisted, and she eventually gave in. 

After it had survived the first day, she began to become hopeful that it would begin to heal. Said hope only growing as it persevered through the hours that faded into the next few days. 

Their older brother kept telling them the fawn would die, and when Scott would refute the statement, cross his arms and stomp away, sympathy would be written on the teenager’s face. Pearl would follow behind him, hugging her shoulders as she questioned the hollow wish she had let grow inside her.

Now, she knelt at her little brother’s side as he cradled the lifeless body of a fighter in his arms. It had fought to survive until the very end; a little soldier.

She held him as he cried that night. 

Truth be told, she wasn’t very good at comforting people. Actually, she was horrible at it. 

“Everything okay in here?” Pearl looked up to find their older brother at the doorway, his hand loosely gripping the doorknob as he stood. She shook her head.

As she moved her gaze back to the slumped figure of her baby brother, she heard footsteps as the teenager started over towards the pair on the bed.

He sat down on the edge of the mattress and Pearl loosened her grip as he pulled Scott out of her arms and instead into his own. Her silk nightwear was drenched, she realised.

“It’s late. I’ll take care of him, if you’d like to go back to bed.” The older boy in front of her took her back from her thoughts. “Oh. Yeah, okay. Thanks, Xor.” She replied, throwing her legs over the side of the bed and starting towards the bedroom door. 

She didn’t look back at her brothers as she turned the knob and entered the hallway, closing the door behind her with a click.

She tiptoed down the ivory-coloured corridors, her woolly blue socks muffling the sound of her footsteps on the crimson carpet. The tall, grand windows that lined the wall to her left were uncovered tonight, the long curtains were tied to their usual spots by a golden rope.

As Pearl settled into bed after changing into a cleaner set of clothes, she let her mind wander back to the little baby deer her brother had been so fond of. The same one that had died earlier.

Fawns, to her, were beings of innocence; something sweet and pure. 

They reminded her of her little brother. 

Maybe as she closed her eyes and drifted off into slumber could she let her mind rest. Let her mind clear—let it still and be silent. 

She’ll wake up in the morning to find a little boy curled up in his bed, tranquility upon him at last. 

~~~

“Lizzie?”

The voice was familiar, and belonged to a blonde haired man with golden wings and a haunting yellow flickering in his bright blue eyes.

The pink-haired woman turned to face her little brother, who had a worried expression painted on his face—he was picking at the skin around his nails and unconsciously shuffling his feet as he stood.

“Yes, Jimmy?” she replied, and he looked back up at her.

“They’re all asleep, right?” he asked. She sucked in her lower lip with her front teeth and nodded. 

“They are.” 

“They don’t have to remember anything?”

“Nothing.”

The Canary fiddled with the shiny silver ring on his ring finger and Lizzie’s gaze softened as she watched him.

“They’ll be okay, dear.” She took a step towards him, and he let his hands still and fall back down to his sides.

“I know.”

“That’s good.”

They didn’t continue the conversation after that. There wasn’t much to say.

Lizzie took in her surroundings—an empty white void with nothing but themselves. She could see Gem and BigB someone off to her right, but that was all.

She looked back at her little brother, who was now sitting cross-legged on the floor as he stared emptily at the ground; his mind was clearly occupied.

So she started towards Gem and BigB, as tranquil as they looked, sitting silently side by side in their own thoughts.

Gem was wearing her green collared shirt, blue overalls with numerous sewn on patches of red and orange fabric, and she had her hair tied messily into two twin plaits with ebony-coloured ribbons. Her verdant green eyes gazed lazily down at her fingers as they played with the strap of her overalls.

BigB wore his iconic navy blue collared shirt, which had the feeble attempt of a sewn-on cookie-looking picture on the front chest pocket. His jeans almost hid his slightly-dirty white socks from view as they faded into black, neatly-tied sneakers. His eyes were the same haunting colour as Grian’s—an inky, voidy blank with a yellow shine instead of a purple one.

The pair leaned against each other, occasionally exchanging glances or small talk between them both.

They raised their heads up to face Lizzie as she moved closer towards them and she gave them a little wave with her left hand. They both returned the gesture as the corners of their mouths twisted into tired smiles.

“Hey, Lizzie. How’s Jimmy?” Gem asked as the pink-haired woman kneeled down in front of them and instinctively dusted her ocean-blue pinafore with her palms.

Lizzie shifted her hands to lay near her stomach, her fingers intertwining together and reminding her of the diamond ring on her third as she replied, “He’s okay, just worried.”

“I don’t blame him,” BigB chimed in, “Our friends are at the mercy of those… beasts—and only Void knows what happens to the winners.” Gem hugged herself tighter and Lizzie bit her lip nervously; they both had people they were close to in that cohort. 

“Back in Empires, Fwhip told me that the watchers had some rather big prejudices against certain players. He didn’t tell me who, or maybe he didn’t know either,” Gem’s gaze flickered back and forth, like a cat’s tail, and her speckled creamy-brown ears pinned to the side of her head. “Hopefully, it wasn’t any of the players in the games. I wouldn’t want to imagine what they’d do if they got their hands on them.”

That was extremely likely, though. Out of 18 players, the watchers are bound to have a few biases. Void, she just hoped Joel was okay.

She could think of a few that they might dislike: like Grian, which was the most obvious one. But they wouldn’t lay a finger on their precious Xelqua—he was too important to be discarded. So, he was off the ‘Potentially In Danger’ list. 

Martyn, maybe? They didn’t like him, that was a common known fact between aware players. However, they didn’t do anything to him in the past, even with all the opportunities they had to harm him. She deemed him safe—for now.

Pearl? She wasn’t particularly well liked between a lot of players, nor between the watchers; especially those who participated in Empires—They wouldn’t forget what happened there. She was on the ‘Slightly-Potentially-In-Danger-List’.

And then there was Scott. 

He was a server admin, and had ties to Tommy and Tubbo—people the watchers very outwardly despised. He was also a winner, which increased his chances of being at risk. She would never tell that to Jimmy, though.

Abruptly, a deafening crash of lightning and a blinding light interrupted her thoughts. Lizzie whipped around to see a giant purple rift tearing the listener’s void in half, it rapidly grew larger and larger by the second. 

“JIMMY!” she shrieked, catching sight of the canary’s crumpled figure staring in horror at the sight in front of him. She tripped on herself a little as she leaped up and sped towards her brother, who was now looking back at her with a terrified expression painted on his face.

Before she could reach him, white blinded her eyes. Her head spun and her chest lurched as she felt an indescribable jolt of pain in her ears. she reached up to cover them, but couldn’t seem to feel her arms. 

Suddenly, she could feel the slightly-ticklish and damp texture of grass beneath her. Cold overwhelmed the environment and she curled up to clutch her head in her hands, a splitting headache ripping through her occiput.

There were voices around her, and the sound of distant footsteps. Then, she opened her eyes.

She wasn’t met with the sight of an ivory, blank void above her. Instead, she was met with the sight of a mauve tinted sky. Dark, grey clouds swirled above her view like vultures and leaves danced through the tumultuous winds before being thrown in all directions.

There was one very particular thing she could see, though. Eyes. Haunting, sickening purple eyes casting a shadow that ripped through the firmament like an open, bloody wound. They blinked back at her, soul-stirring and evocative.

Voices called out names that seemed familiar to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to hear what they were saying. She only snapped back to her reality when she heard her own name being said.

“LIZZIE!” 

Lizzie spun around to find a figure in the distance waving its hands above its head frantically as though they were attempting to grab her attention. She could feel the arising bodies of Gem, BigB, and Jimmy beside her as she shakily rose to her feet, almost tripping in the process. Her friends copied her.

The figure began running towards her, and she could see a fluffy tail and a pair of fuzzy ears bouncing in their silhouette. She focused her gaze through the heavy drops of water obscuring her vision—wait, when did it start raining?—and gasped as she realised who the person was. 

“Joel?! Is that you!?” She called back, fighting against the wind to move closer towards her husband. Her hand grazed the arm of a person beside her, and she instinctively clung onto them tightly. Based on the rough keloid scars that climbed up their arm like vines, said person was Jimmy.

“LIZZIE!” Joel shouted to her once again, his voice was muffled and swiftly stolen away by the roar of the tempestuous gale as it whipped past their faces, leaving their skin red and sore. 

The shapeshifter pulled Jimmy closer to her—he seemed a lot heavier than normal, but she soon realised it was because he was clinging on to Gem and Big as well—and brought her hand up to her face to shield her eyes from the storm. 

The group fought hard against the wind to only just stay afoot, lest they be swept away by the hurricane that swirled above them with a strident howl. 

Fat droplets of rain pelted her skin until it was red-raw, and her eyelids struggled to stay open in the downpour. She was getting closer and closer to Joel, she could almost just reach out and grab him, and then she’d have her husband again.

Well, they’d have to find some shelter from the storm first, of course.

Suddenly, the howl of the wind grew from strident to ear-splitting, and the sheer force of the gale almost knocked them off their feet. Thick beads of rain bombarded them mercilessly, fully intent of sweeping them off balance and carrying them away.

A small, distant, feminine voice could be heard through the pandemonium—it was almost uselessly quiet, but it was something. Lizzie saw Joel turn his head in front of her, and she followed his gaze. 

The silhouette of the crimson witch was joining them in the tempest, and Lizzie could only barely make out what she was saying as she moved closer.

“Joel!” She called, her voice only just definable. “Grab Lizzie! That’s all you have to do! Just grab her and keep holding her until I teleport you all back inside, okay!?”

Lizzie was bewildered, but Joel seemed to understand. He strained against the force of the hurricane and reached out to Lizzie with his right arm. She fought desperately against the wind to reach out and grab his in return, and after a few fumbled attempts, she finally caught his hand in hers.

“Pearl! I’ve got her!” He turned his head and called back to the fox-hybrid, before turning back to Lizzie and endeavouring a strained smile. “All of you, just prepare yourselves—It feels weird at first.” 

Lizzie furrowed her brows and was about to reply when her chest lurched as they were swept away by an unknown force. Instead of the barbarous slam of wind, or the stinging pain of water attacking her skin, she found herself in a warm, safe place.

She was still gripping Joel and Jimmy as she fell to her knees at the sudden change of environment, which ended up pulling all of them, including Gem and BigB, to the floor.

They were all soaking wet and hurting like hell. Lizzie was about to attempt to rise to her feet, but was interrupted by Joel suddenly cupping her face with his hands and kissing her. He soon pulled away and held her as she processed what just happened—She could hear Pearl and BigB giggling blithely from somewhere behind them.

And here she was, safe at last in the arms of her husband. She observed her surroundings, but most importantly, the people there. 

She could see Grian sitting beside Pearl, who was laughing and talking with 

BigB—they’ve always been good friends, haven’t they?

Cleo leaned against a doorframe, her eyes closed. Scar was helping Gem to her feet, and Martyn was making jokes with Jimmy, who was laughing along idly. He seemed to be looking around as well. For someone. A certain someone.

Lizzie was about to speak, opening her mouth slightly, before Jimmy beat her to it.

“Where’s Scott?” 

A sickeningly dreadful silence fell on to the once lively room, and Lizzie turned around to face Pearl.

“Pearl?” she queried the fox-hybrid, who wasn’t laughing along with BigB anymore—she was staring at the ground with her fists curled into balls and her tail lashing timidly. “Where’s Scott?” Lizzie repeated her brother’s words.

Grian spoke for her. “We don’t know,” he sighed, and Lizzie whipped back around to face him. “He’s never come here after a game before—he just… seems to disappear.” 

“‘Disappear’? The hell do you mean, ‘Disappear’?” The pink-haired woman heard her brother hiss from next to her. She winced at the ferocity in his voice; it was a harshness that a lot didn’t think the bubbly, ebullient blonde was even capable of. 

Of course, she knew he was very much capable of being intimidating—he’s her brother, she’d seen him mad more times than she’d liked to admit—but that’s besides the point.

“Grian.” Jimmy’s firm tone was becoming more pleading. “Grian, where is he?”

Shakily, he brought himself to his feet and placed both of his hands on Grian’s shoulders. “Grian. Please.” 

Grian couldn’t meet his eyes. Martyn spoke instead.

“Tim, he’s telling the truth.” Jimmy was looking at Martyn now, and the latter seemed to shrink under the former’s distressed gaze. 

As Lizzie opened her mouth, an indescribable noise interrupted her. As the cohort turned around, she saw that hauntingly familiar light. The purple, sickeningly purple rift was open again. It wasn’t like the one that brought them here. 

It was the ones that took them away. To the games, she meant.

“We—we have to go, now.” Grian gently moved Jimmy away from him and took a few wobbly steps forward. “We have to go.”

After that everything was blurry. 

She could remember voices, footsteps as her friends began to obey the task at hand; the next game. 

Did she go through that portal? This is weird. 

She can’t remember if she did or not.

Chapter Text

I don’t want to open my eyes.

No. I won’t. I’ll lay here. Just a little longer—just to think.

Think about everyone I miss, I love, I know, I remember. Which isn’t me. Maybe before this all happened I would’ve thought the notion of forgetting to to be rather silly. I don’t know if I did or not. That’s why I said ‘Maybe’.

Who am I? Where am I?

What’s my name? Is all I can think at the moment.

At least they had the decency to leave me with the memories of those I love. They’re the most precious things to me, they are.

But it’s torture trying to imagine how they loved me—why they loved me. Who I was to them. I try to paint a picture on the inky, blank canvas that covers my eyes. A picture of them. I can’t.

I open my eyes now. I don’t bother observing my surroundings, but as my eyelids flutter open I see an endless road of rough, dead-brown leaves. Lined with trees, tall trees, ones that climb and reach towards the sky.

Their arms are covered with green. Not the pretty type of green, the rotting type of green. I’ve noticed that, even though I’m not good at remembering, I’m good at colours. I think I liked colours.

My mind wanders back to my loved ones, I can’t help the corners of my mouth tilting upwards as I remember their smiles, their voices, their names—But I feel the bliss fade off my face as I wonder whether they can remember me like that.

I’ll get them out of this, I think. Though it’s not a very strong thought on my part, that was the plan from the beginning. I’m sure I’ve repeated it enough times. Lest I forget.

I glance down at the golden trinket that hangs around my neck—it hangs loosely. Not like a noose. Nooses feel tight.

I flip it around with my fingers a few times, until I accidentally catch my fingertip with one of its sharp edges. I don’t feel the pain. It doesn’t draw any blood, either.

It’s a moon shaped trinket, is what it is. It’s slightly dirty but it's one of the cleanest things I ever owned. Pearl always said that, and I make sure to keep it clean just for her. I remember I liked gardening, after all.

So I’d tuck it under my shirt when I’m doing anything that requires getting my hands dirty, and when my hand went up to my chest to instinctively give the necklace a soft rub, instead I’d smudge mud (or blood, either one) all over my shirt.

That includes the games, as well.

I push myself to my knees, for the position I was in before was a little bit too comfortable for my liking, yet still missing something important to its tenderness. It makes my heart ache.

When I fell asleep with my sweethearts they’d usually let me curl up on their chests. They’re not here though. Thank Void they aren’t.

It’s a strange thought really, to be relieved for your loved ones to not be with you. When I think about it like that, I might feel guilty. But I don’t.

But I remember how I got here, and the guilt that threatens to well in my chest is almost instantly replaced with a type of determined feeling I can’t describe.

I finally push myself to stand, where I slowly rock back and forth on the heels of my feet unconsciously as I take a minute to remind myself of my surroundings.

It’s a foggy, hauntingly dark forest, with trees taller than what I can see to the top of. Oh. Right. Yeah. Made note of the trees earlier—why am I doing it again?

Why am I here? I don’t know. How did I get here? Not a clue.

But if you were to ask me the purpose of being here, I would know. Why did the eyes decide to bring me here after the deal? Dunno. Maybe they lied on their side of the exchange. That’s annoying, but fine. I’ll still complete my goal. They can’t stop me now.

Even if Pearl doesn’t remember me anymore, which I know she might now. I have to prepare to face that consequence if it’s true, but then I wonder if I might even be able to see Pearl again to check if she remembers. That’s upsetting.

The eyes don’t like me, that’s for sure. In fact, they despise me. I wish they had let me forget what they did to me. I can’t. They didn’t let me. I didn’t follow a few rules—that’s the reason. And maybe because of my kids? Well, that’s an even stupider reason.

I think of the blonde and brown haired rascals I’m close to.

They mean a lot to me, like Pearl and Jimmy and Tango and Owen and Cleo do. Like that kind of close.

I sigh and decide I was pretty stupid for making the decision I did before I ended up here. It’s something you think you’ll never regret, but you always do. If you even get the chance to.

I begin to walk. I don’t know where I’m going, but I do, at the same time. My best friend Lauren used to say I do that when I’m feeling very strongly connected or inclined to do something. Maybe this time it was my fate? Maybe that fate could be saving my family. I smile and hope that it is.

As I’m walking mindlessly, leaves crunching at my feet. I try to entertain myself. I tell a few jokes that my sister used to tell me to myself in my head. They don’t have the same effect.

I laugh bitterly as I think of my sister. Pearl is my everything, my light, my world, my best friend, my soulmate. I wonder if she felt my agony? I bite my lip and hope she didn’t. Siblings are strange.

You insist you hate them, when things go wrong. You roll your eyes when they steal your clothes or eat the last cookie or wear your clothes without asking permission to, but you love them. People don’t really think about it, but you love them so much.

When I was younger I wondered what it would be like to lose my sister, I imagined it after a little deer I took care of had died. I didn’t imagine losing my big brother, but that’s who I ended up having to lose. It hurts like hell to lose them. It’s not something I’d wish upon my worst enemy.

Pearl might. Actually—she would. And she’d scoff and scold me for ‘being too kind to people’ for not agreeing with her. Maybe I just think of people as what they really are: living things. Someone with something to live for.

Cleo sat me down for a talk on a similar topic once. Except when I explained to her that I couldn’t just outright hate another living thing, and my way of thought, she said my name (What’s my name again?) with a sigh and gave me one of those bone-crushing hugs she always does but never means to do.

As I continue on, the only contact I feel is my thick, now tangled hair bouncing against my upper back. It used to be shorter, I think. But I might’ve not been able to cut it. Other than that, the empty feeling is distressing.

I don’t know why, but I want to feel something. To touch something—like entwining my fingers with my lovers’; or holding something smooth or plastic to fiddle with. It’s kind of hard to focus without having something to distract me from the millions of thoughts racing through my head.

But I keep going anyway, and as I persist, I start to wonder if there even is an end. Or what happens if I do make it out? How am I supposed to communicate to others what they have to do? I don’t believe they can see me, now that I think about it.

I gulp and swallow my worries down, where they sit like a rock uneasily in my stomach. No. We keep going. I’ll find a way. I’ll save them. I have to. I love them.

I don’t grow weary as I walk. Fatigue seems a foreign concept now. I’m just a hollow shell of who I used to be; something able to be discarded. Like everything in the universe is. Expendable.

It’s strange to think that I’m not me, but I don’t dwell on the concept. There’s a way bigger thing to worry about than me—someone expendable.

Someone unimportant. Someone discardable.

Me. But who is ‘me’?

Someone forgettable.

Chapter Text

There’s a blinding light. 

It lingers above, it grows and swallows its surroundings like a hungry flame. Smooth, soothing hands reach down to cradle his face, and he’s back here again. 

“Precious Xelqua. How are you?” She says. ‘Xelqua’ doesn’t say anything. Instead he stares at her with a vacant look in his eyes. 

She begins to comb through his dirty, blonde hair with her fingers. 

“I know you do not wish to speak to me, my son.” She continues, either not  caring about or not noticing his lack of response. “But I missed you. We missed you, Dear. I know you’re angry, but in time, you will understand.”

And then he’s falling. Everything’s breaking, everything’s rotting and—

“Grian!” 

“What is it, Asterlyn?”

“Nothin’. Needed to wake you up, is all. You were squirming around in your sleep. Like a worm.” She quipped, amusement in her voice as she wriggled her fingers around, mimicking that of said worm.

He turns to face her now. The girl with stars in her shimmering, space-like eyes, both figuratively and literally. She’s a dreamer, she is.

Her skin is as pale as the driven snow. She has rosy, peach-coloured cheeks, and it brings out her blissful smile. Her fluffy, thick, purple hair reaches just about down to her ankles, and he remembers how when Selene would wash it, it would end up longer than she is tall. He smiles at the memory.

“Why are you even here?” He says, kneeling back on his elbows. She brings her finger to her chin and tilts her head playfully, before replying. 

“Wanted to see how you were doing. You get a little sick of a place when it’s constantly looping in time.” She says, giggling a little.

“We both know that you don’t think that, Lynnie. How about you tell me about this place then, if you’ve gone out of your way to come visit me?” He smiles at her, and she completely lights up.

“Well! There were kids, just wee small!” She brings her flat hand to her chest. “They had striped sweaters, to indicate they were kids. Maybe I should wear one.” 

He brings his hand up to rub her hair, and she melts at the touch. She falls over and rolls to the ground, spreading her arms out wide and laying there with a look of bliss on her face.

Noticing that her winged companion hadn’t joined her on the ground, she pulls roughly on his arm and he lets out a surprised noise as he barrels to the floor. She laughs her head off.

“There were monsters, ‘n stuff. It was pretty cool, but it’s kind of hard. Being around so many other people and yet… no one can see me. It gets lonely.” She sighs, twirling her bangs around her index finger. Grian frowns. 

“What about Selene? Doesn’t she usually go with you?” He asks her, slightly puzzled. She rolls her eyes. 

“The Watchers made a deal with a mortal only a little while ago,” She explains. “Selene went to go watch over them.” 

“What?” He sits up quickly, which he instantly regrets because it makes him feel lightheaded—but that doesn’t matter right now. 

“Yeah. It was really strange—even Selene was shocked.” She muses. 

“Do you know who this mortal is? Or what they looked like?” He gently grabs her shoulders and he can tell that his tone sounds a little too urgent—she’s clearly frightened. 

“Blue—Blue hair. I think. I followed Selene but she told me to go back. Don’t know their name though.” She stutters. He releases her and pulls himself to his feet. “You okay, Gri?” 

“Asterlyn, I need you to listen to me very carefully.” He holds out his hand and she takes it, pulling her up to be on level with him. (Which he’d usually ask her a little sheepishly to sit back down, since he’s a bit embarrassed about his height, but right now there’s bigger fish to fry.) 

“You’re going to go find Selene, and you’re going to give me all the details about that mortal, okay? Can you do that for me?” 

Asterlyn nods her head, eyes wide and slightly frantic. He feels guilty for scaring her, but this is important. Sorry, Asterlyn.

And with the flick of her wrist, she’s gone. 

~~~

Pearl doesn’t know what to think at the moment.

That’s the reason why she isn’t joining Lizzie, Jimmy, and Joel out in the garden. They knocked on her door and told her they were having a picnic, and if she wanted to join. She tried to refuse as politely as she could, but all she could muster was a stale, pathetic “No.” 

She doesn’t think she has the strength to get up anymore. It’s such a strange feeling, it’s horrible. It scratches at her skin and it hurts and it hurts and it hurts so bad. She hates not doing anything, it drives her mad. But she just can’t even bring herself to speak anymore. 

The only people able to coax the words out of her lately have been Grian and Jimmy. Gem and Scott definitely could, but they’re not here right now. The reason for the former being that she can’t and the reason for the latter being that he can’t. 

Everything’s changed after Simple Life. 

When the soulmate gimmick was introduced for Double Life, it was a bit hard to get used to at first. You could feel your soulbound’s heart beating with your own. It was as much of a spiritual connection as it was a literal one. 

Because she had won Double Life, her and Scott, that effect lasted. She couldn’t remember what it was like before having to feel her brother with her, constantly. 

It feels so empty. It feels so wrong. But that’s the way it is. 

It makes her want to tear her skin off her body. Her empty, no-longer-beating heart thumping against her chest leaves bruises on her skin that aren’t real, but exist. It hurts. 

She feels as if she’s a stranger to her own skin. It’s disgusting—revolting. Nauseating. Repulsive. It burns like the flame that tore through her heart when her deer held that explosive to his chest. 

But it’s not the only feeling overcoming her senses right now. There’s one other, probably followed by a few ones she can’t name. But she can name the main aggressor; grief.

As she sobbed in her best friend’s arms, pleading, begging him for answers on what was wrong, and the refusal to accept what he was going to tell her. The look in his eyes was sickening. She won’t ever forget it, and it haunts her. Like the ghost of her sweetheart probably does.

Gem may be her true love, but Scott will forever be her one and only sweetheart. Her darling brother. The love you hold for a sibling is not like that of a friend, of a mother, of a lover—a sibling is someone you fight tooth and nail to protect, and they do the exact same. Because they love you. And you love them.

And love him she does, love him she did. More than she loved herself. More than she loved anyone.

It’s so wrong. It’s something she never wanted to feel in her life but here she is, now. Feeling it. Grief. That feeling that makes you want to tear your heart out and curl up and cry for the rest of eternity. That’s what grief is. She thinks.

Mortals are weak. 

The primal reason for that being their emotions—their feelings. Who you have and then lose and who you loath and who you don’t know. One tiny switchup in that lineup of people could change the course of your life entirely.

Creation’s greatest weakness is also its greatest strength; it’s a strange quality, and it’s known as love. 

It's a delicate feeling, one that must be conscientiously taken great care of. A feeling that she feels overwhelmingly numb from.

Some might argue it’s grief, but there isn’t any point in grieving something you never loved.

And she loved Scott. She loves him so, so, so much. But he’s gone. What does she do now?

She feels it burning under her skin. 

She feels it rot.

It’s rotting. It’s burning. It’s failing. It’s dying. And she can’t stop it.

Scar told her to try and think of happy things. Good things. Like memories. Of Scott. And Gem. And her friends that she cared so deeply for.

Jimmy would sit at the side of her bed and tell her all about the antics of the day, ever since the listeners had come through the portal and into the Winner’s Limbo, everything changed.

It’s strange, though. Why didn’t Gem return after Simple Life? Why didn’t BigB, either?

She doesn’t want to think about that right now. Even the thought of Simple Life makes her grimace. The season that took her brother from her.

Or maybe he had never been hers to begin with.

She thinks about Jimmy, and is suddenly hit with the realisation that he has no idea that Scott is dead. 

Dread overwhelms her conscience, bile slips up her throat, and she almost brings herself to sit up in her bed. 

Maybe Grian told them? 

Should they tell them?

Pearl’s concept of grief is numbness. Haunting numbness. being slowly eaten from the inside out, and it only really hits you months after what has truly occured.

Jimmy’s way of grief is immediate. 

And she thinks about what it would be like if he did know. If someone had bore him that horrible, excruciating news.

While Pearl’s heart slowly rips in half, Jimmy’s would shatter into a million pieces too small to ever, ever be repaired. 

And suddenly she decides that Scott isn’t dead. Because the soulbound that had rotted away wasn’t Scott. Scott would never leave her. He’s okay, and she knows where he is. 

He’s out in the garden, admiring his favourite flowers. Or maybe he’s skidding pebbles across the lake. Or maybe he’s laughing with Jimmy and Lizzie and Joel in the garden, because he is alive. And he is fine.

And now, he’s with her. Lying alongside her as they smile and stare at the ceiling while cracking jokes and giggling until their throats go hoarse. She moves her hand to his and holds it on her own. She smiles.

“You should really clean yourself up a bit, Pealie.” He laughs, but not in a mean way. Scott is sweet, pure. He wouldn’t do that to her. 

It had been a while since she’d eaten. Or drank. Or brushed her hair. Or gotten out of bed. She would stay in bed, because when she did, Scott would stay with her.

“How about I do your hair for you?” He grins, and she looks over to where he’s laying beside to her. She returns the light gesture, because it is a light gesture now. Since she sees it everyday. Because she sees Scott everyday. Because he’s alive.

She brings herself to sit up, and she slips off her mattress and lands softly on the thick carpet floors of her bedroom. 

Slightly lightheaded, she retreats into the ensuite, soon returning with a hairbrush she had found by scavenging through the piles of mess found in her bathroom drawers. She hands it to him, a smile still plastered on her face.

He gestures for her to take a seat, and she does. She sits herself down on her knees at the edge of the bed and feels his knees against her back as he begins to brush her hair.

It’s a clump of matted, golden brown that seemed impossible to untangle. 

“Oh, Sunflower… How could you let it get this bad?” He clicked his tongue and sighed. “You usually love taking care of your hair.”

“Sorry.” Pearl whispers. Scott tugs a loose strand behind her ear and kisses her on 

the top of her head.

“Nothing to apologise for, dear,” He tells her, his voice soft and laced with warm honey. 

She likes being with her brother. It doesn’t matter that when she looks at him he seems a little off-looking. Were his eyes always that shade of colour? She can’t remember.

And his voice sounds a little different. It’s strange.

But no matter how odd, he’s here. And he’s here with her, because he isn’t dead. And she loves him. And he loves her. And that’s all that matters, forever and always. Because that’s how they always will be.

Because Scott is alive.

And when she settles into bed again the matted clump knotted through her hair remains. Which she figures is because Scott couldn’t get all of it out.

Which she is fine with. Because as long as it’s her brother, she doesn’t mind.

Chapter Text

There’s blood dripping down a lover boy’s thumb.

He hasn’t noticed it yet, but his sister certainly has.

She takes one of her cotton-white napkins and holds it to his right hand with both of hers. It isn’t cotton white anymore. It’s stained red. It reminds him of snow.

He doesn’t want to think about snow.

“Jimmy, what happened?” She asks, concern in her voice. She’s looking down at him with big, loving eyes that remind him of someone he doesn’t want to think about.

“Dunno.” He answers, his voice less than a whisper. “Must’ve cut myself on the picnic basket.”

Lizzie sighs and ruffles his hair with her hand. Her touch was warm, like honey when you melt it in a pot on the stove after keeping it in the fridge for too long.

“I know you miss him,” she says, and he brings his head up so quickly to meet her eyes that he feels dizzy after. She seems a bit frightened at that.

“He wouldn’t want you to be upset,” She soothes, albeit rather shakily.

“You’re talking like he’s dead, Lizzie.” His breath catches in his throat and his sister’s name sounds a bit like a choked sob. Her face softens immediately and she looks like she’s about to cry as well.

“I know. ‘m sorry,” she sighs. “I’m such a hypocrite. I miss him too. I miss him a lot.”

Joel had gone inside to refill their lemonade jar they brought out with them. Scar always put a little too much sugar in the beverage, but it’s sort of become his specialty.

He casts a glance down to the silver ring on his finger. It used to shimmer in the sun, but now it seems dull.

Footsteps can be heard behind him and both him and Lizzie follow the sound.

Joel and Scar are walking toward them, a jar of overly sweet goodness filling the jug in the former’s hand. They’re laughing, and Jimmy guesses it’s because one of them said something the other found funny.

He smiles.

It’s better not to dwell on what makes him upset when the moment he’s in right now is one of the happiest.

And then his heart begins to mend, and the weight of heartbreak is lifted off of his shoulders.

~~~

Cleo hums to themself as she chops the vegetables on the kitchen counter.

They listen to the sound of the winds rusting outside the window as they dice as they dice a tomato. All it is now is just her, the sound of peace, and the tap tap tap of the knife hitting the chopping board.

That is soon interrupted by the sound of footsteps, however, and she turns around to find Scar and Joel chattering away and grabbing the giant lemonade jug that sits on the dinner table.

They both wave to her and give her a big, toothy grin before rushing outside to where they think Jimmy and Lizzie would be waiting for the two.

She smiles towards the ground and continues her activity, now lifting up the chopping board and watching the vegetables slide off and into the navy-blue bowl she cracked a few eggs in earlier.

More footsteps edge closer from down the corridor bring her out of her work, and she looks up, fully thinking Joel or Scar or Lizzie or Jimmy returned for something they must’ve left.

But instead, standing with her weight noticeably balanced on only one of her feet, with her honey-gold hair a matted birdnest on her head, was Pearl. In all her glory.

Cleo hears themself gasp and she swiftly places the knife down and rushes to the fox-hybrid’s side.

“Pearl! You finally decided to show?” The zombie laughs, and then she watches the most unexpected thing happen.

Pearl smiles.

“Hey, Cleo,” she says, her voice croaky and strained. Cleo has never been happier to see her.

“Are you feeling better?” They press, rubbing her back with their hand. Pearl nods.

“I’m okay, yeah. What are you cooking?” She tilts her head to look past the ginger’s shoulder and at the navy-bowl on the counter. Cleo follows her gaze and smiles once again.

“Just eggs ‘n vegetables, nothing too special. The boys and Lizzie are having a picnic outside, and Grian’s hasn’t come back yet, so I just figured a small dinner would suffice,” Cleo glances towards the front door, and then back at Pearl. “But now that you’re here, would you like to make something else for you?”

Pearl shakes her head. “No, that’s okay. Eggs and vegetables sound yummy, and I’m not very hungry.”

“Pearl, you haven’t eaten in days,” they sigh. Pearl shuffles her feet and brings her gaze down to the floor. “Are you sure?” she mutters.

“It’s completely fine! I’ll make a bigger batch for you, okay?”

“…Okay. Thank you, Cleo.”

Then suddenly, somewhere far away, a heartbeat that never pulsed to begin with faded away, and Pearl was free.

~~~

“Grian?”

Grian turns around and sees Asterlyn, who smiles as if she had not a care in the world.

“What is it, Asterlyn?”

“Selene says she wants you to play with us—before you go back.”

He presses his lips into a straight line, as though trying to suppress a smile (because he was) and makes a ‘hm’ sound as he brings his finger to his chin as though thinking.

“I don’t know. I’m not that good at games.” He tells her, and she crosses her arms over her chest and makes a pouting face, before grinning again.

“Eh, it’s fine. I get it,” she says, and Grian can’t help but smile this time.

There’s still a heavy feeling that sits in his chest, a feeling that something’s missing. He arrived at Selene’s location and even she was confused what she was doing there.

But why should he be upset that everything was going to be okay again?

The watchers are gone. He doesn’t know why, but they’re gone, and that’s all that matters.

Asterlyn spins around on her heel and begins to walk away, before stopping and casting him a sly glance.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to play with us,” she sighs dramatically. “But I have one last thing for you before I go.”

“Hm?”

The purple-haired girl whips around and taps him on the arm.

“Tag.” She giggles, before running away.

He grins.

~~~

I did it.

I don’t know how, but I did it.

The eyes are satisfied, they’ll leave us alone now.

I can’t help but smile.

Because I saved everyone, I did it.

And they don’t have to be sad that I won’t be there anymore

They won’t remember me.

I remember what happened that day, when I made that deal.

I don’t even remember myself anymore.

Why don’t we start this again?

Hello, my name is memory.

I am dead.

And it’s for the better.

It will always be for the better.

They feed off despair, and now they’re full of it. It makes me feel happy that whoever I used to be was missed so dearly by someone, that it was enough anguish to satisfy them.

My friends are free, and that’s all that matters.

They don’t have to dwell on the memory of me, because that doesn’t exist anymore.

And as I turn around to look at my reflection in the mirror, I find that there’s nothing there.