Chapter Text
The world cried the day Dream died.
The once sunny blue skies filled with dark, ominous clouds and wept at the loss of their loved admin. The once breezy wind stopped mid breeze and stood still, allowing the heat and humidity to settle into the atmosphere. The sunlight faded from the view of others and rain fell down to the earth in a slow, gently, sorrowful manner. In the colder regions, a heavy blizzard started up, unforgiving in who lost their lives in its rage, for the cold of the snow was always less forgiving than the warmth of the sun.
The trees stopped flowing in the now still wind, their tops bending down instead of standing proud and tall like they were meant to. The small birds and critters living in them stalling in their movements as they sensed the change accruing in the air. The rabbits scurrying away to hide in their burrows, holding their loved ones close in fear of them being next. The birds that lived together in the treetops flocking together and creating sad songs with their voices, a truly haunting melody for anyone to hear. Parrots sang their sad song as they remembered the energetic human who would whistle and talk to them, always seeming to enjoy and even at times appreciate their presence, unlike the others. It would be months before another human heard the unmistakable chirps the unusually quiet birds would let out, seeming to hide away from the other humans that would venture into their home lands.
The animals living in the grass plains bowed their heads in respect for they too felt the loss of life seeming to shadow over the lands. The pigs quieted their oinks and snorts and kept their heads down towards the ground, the young ones following the example being set by the elders. Even though they didn't really understand what was happening, being too young in this world to understand their connection to everything, they could feel the change in the air. The cows and sheep followed close by, herding together to provide what ever co fort they could in this time of loss. The wild horses stopped racing each other across the hilled land, coming together and wrapping themselves around each other in a mock attempt at a hug as they remember the sunny soul, who would ride on their backs and shout in joy and excitement when they sped up, was truly gone this time. No more lazy afternoon rides or watching as their human laughed until he cried because one of them got spooked by a bee, all they had now was the memory of what life once was.
The oceans slowed the creation of their waves, the water gently lapping at the sandy beaches. Both giving a moment of silence to the one they lost that they could never get back. The dolphins in said waters, clicking sadly at the loss of their favorite swimmer. The one who they used to swim with, who they would help and who they played with in the cool waters on sunny days as his joyous laughter flowed through the air like a song being sung to one's soulmate.
Villagers all across the overworld stopped their jobs to mourn for their god, their protector. All violence and fighting stops in respect for their lost creator who gave them their everything. Months later, after the world had finally moved on and accepted the fact that nothing could be done, beautiful statues would be planted in all standing villages and temples. No one would know where these statues came from but it would later be theorized that the world herself created them, in memory of her admin. Statues made of beautiful gold and diamonds and other precious gems decorating the figure of a young man, a boy really, barely even a man, who died too soon due to greed and the inability to admit to one's own faults. The one who took the blame for everything just so his family could be happy. Even when they all pushed him away and yelled hateful words in his direction, he still made sure they ended up as one big happy family, even without him.
The stature would be missing the signature white mask that most would be able to recognize him by, his eyes would be the same though, two beautiful emeralds shining back at anyone who stopped and looked up at him. His clothes would be the same ones he would wear everyday, a simple hoodie and jeans, combat boots decorating his feet and fingerless gloves carved above his hands. His curly, long hair would be in a small pony tail at the bottom of his nape, glittering a gentle gold to try and recreate the same golden color that even the freshest of wheat would have trouble comparing too.
It wasn't just the overworld that was affected though, for he was connected to the entire world. In the Nether, all fighting seized momentarily and mobs and hostile mobs alike all came together and bowed their heads. Piglins laid down their weapons and blazes cooled their flames. The ghast continued crying, their scream echoing louder throughout the lava infested land. They were not as connected to the admin as the overworld mobs but they could still feel the loss in their souls, promising to avenge their admin in any way they could. Months later would see a chest that used to be filled with glistening diamonds and glittering gold would be filled with mere bones and hide alike. The nether wart farms that would spawn in the fortresses would be barren, filled instead with brown mushrooms, ones already showing signs or decay and death. Piglin chests, normally filled with gold nuggets, saddles, black brick, and even on rare occasions a music disk, would instead be filled with hide and uncooked pork, an occasional arrow hidden underneath the garbage.
Just like the Nether, the End was affected too, even more so than the nether. Due to being a boss of the game and having a direct connection with the world, both overland and End, the Ender dragon took the death of the loved creator the worst. For months, nothing could be heard but her cries and she mourned the death of dream, her fellow End companions opting to stay with her during this time leaving the overworld bare from the tall, dark creatures. She’d lay in the middle of her territory and cry, fiery purple tears falling from her eyes as anguished roars escaped her gasping muzzle. It would take years for her to truly get over the loss, occasionally needing to take a break from protecting her world to mourn her green companion. Afterwards she would wipe her tears, a bittersweet feeling entering her heart and she would whisper into the air, “It was a good run, old friend. Rest. I will watch over your creations.”
The world would move on eventually, the rain and snow letting up and dying out. The trees would reach back up to the sky, some of their tops seeming to touch the fluffy, white clouds that would aimlessly float throughout the days. The animals would come out of hiding and go on with their lives, the older ones dying out and babies being born every time the season came. The horses would go back to racing each other on the plains, the birds chasing after them and squawking in joy and excitement. Both the Nether and the End would somewhat return to what they used to be, opening back up for others to venture back into. Village life would resume, although a new ritual would be created. Every night, before the sun fully set and the hostile mobs came out to hunt, they would bow their heads to their statues and pray for a peaceful night, their iron golems leaving a red poppy at the foot of the statue before venturing off to patrol the areas.
Some say, if you look hard enough, you could see a figure riding on the back of the horses, hear the faint tall tale sign of a wheeze gently flowing with the northern breeze. Some say that on nights where the sky was clear and the mobs were docile, one would be able to hear the sound of laughter and giggles stretching across the lands, reminding those who were listening that someone was there. Someone was watching out for them.
Someone cared.