Chapter Text
Everything was a bright, blinding white.
Was he dead?
His papa would sometimes act dramatic and claim he could see the "light at the end of the tunnel" (usually after an incredibly nonthreatening injury like falling off the trampoline), but Chayanne hadn't expected to be travelling down said tunnel so soon.
Although, come to think of it, he was pretty sure the afterlife wasn't meant to be this freezing. Or wet. Ew.
Blinking the spots out of his vision, the boy pushed himself up onto his elbows, squinting to shield himself from the glare. As his vision slowly adjusted, Chay realised that he wasn't actually in the endless void of the great beyond, and that the bright light was, in fact, the sun.
He was lying in the centre of a snowy field, without a single footprint or track around him to suggest how, exactly, he got himself in this predicament. A few white-dusted pine trees dotted the landscape- the only sign of life on the otherwise barren terrain. On the horizon, the land sloped upward into rolling hills, where the sparse trees thickened into a forest. None of these landmarks seemed even remotely familiar to Chayanne.
In short, he was incredibly fucking lost.
He sat up with a quiet groan, a splitting headache choosing that moment to make itself known. Ow. Not a fun addition to an already confusing situation. There was a slight ringing in Chayanne’s ears too, probably from the… Something. His memories were a bit foggy-
Dust and pieces of loose concrete rained from the ceiling, and he was pounding desperately on the thick glass, but it refused to so much as crack-
-but he didn’t have time to sort through his never-ending memory problems, not when he could feel his clothes getting soaked by the snow. Safety now, potential concussion symptoms later.
His dad had drilled him on what to do if he found himself suddenly alone- which had come in handy more times than it probably should have- so it felt nearly automatic to slip into a survivalist mindset. Priority number one, figure out what resources he had to work with. Number two, shelter and food.
Ignoring the rhythmic pounding in his skull, Chayanne patted himself down. He was in his usual clothes- he still had his scuffed orange sneakers, oversized denim shorts and skull-patterned t-shirt (Papa Missa got really embarrassed when Chay wore his band merch, so he made a point to do it as much as possible). He breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw his belt wasn’t missing either. Maybe it was stupid to hang onto something that was probably Federation-made, but the worn leather utility belt with the golden duck-shaped buckle was the only evidence of whoever he was before his dads adopted him. Sue him, he was a bit attached to the thing.
Unfortunately, that was where Chayanne’s stock-take ended. None of his other usual belongings were with him- no backpack, no armour or weapons, not even the tools he usually kept tucked into his belt pockets like his warp stone, communicator or GPS.
He huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. They never made it easy for him, did they?
Why couldn’t he get kidnapped somewhere cool for once, like the Nether, or Brazil? Chay didn’t really know much about good holiday destinations, but based on what other islanders had told him, those were as good as it gets.
He sighed and clambered to his feet, cringing as the muscles strained from disuse. It was gonna be such a pain to build up his strength again. (Maybe that observation should have set off a few warning bells through Chayanne’s subconscious, but they were drowned out by the blaring alarms of his survival instincts.)
Chay brushed his hands over himself and swished his tail slightly to dislodge the layers of powdery snow. His brow creased as he noted the puffs of fog his breath was forming in the cold air. As good as his body usually was at temperature regulation (being probably-part-dragon had its perks, after all), Chayanne was not at all equipped to deal with sub-zero temperatures. He knew that if he didn’t find proper shelter by nightfall, that biting cold would soon seep into his bones and slowly shut his bodily functions down until it killed him.
No way in hell was Chayanne gonna die in such a mundane way. He had a family to protect and a totalitarian government to tear down brick by brick, and he couldn’t do that if he lost a fight against hypothermia of all things. He was stronger than that.
Scanning the terrain, he figured his best bet was to head towards the foothills on the horizon, and try to find a dry cave or cliff overhang to build a fire in for the night. It would probably take him a couple of hours at least to get there in this thick snow, and with the sun already past its midpoint in the sky, he’d be cutting it a bit close for comfort. Chayanne didn’t fancy his chances against whatever horrors the night decided to throw at him, not without any weapons or armour to defend himself.
At least he could be grateful for the clear skies. It was bad enough having to walk through snow in thin sneakers and shorts; if a blizzard hit, there was a near-zero percent chance that he’d make it out alive.
Chayanne glared spitefully at the dark clouds accumulating in the sky above him and, for maybe the fifth time in the last half hour, cursed his bad luck. Of course he had to go and jinx it like that. The universe really had it out for him, didn’t it?
The boy had been walking for about three hours. He wasn’t sure how accurate that estimate was, but from the way the shadows were starting to elongate he could tell it wouldn’t be long before the sun vanished below the horizon. And, of course, he still hadn’t found shelter.
As he’d estimated, it had taken him a couple of hours of hiking before the land started to slope into something hillier, but the inclines were much too gentle and coated in thick snow to provide any sort of shelter from the elements. If anything, they just made his journey more difficult. Chayanne’s calves were aching from trudging across the difficult terrain for so long, and the unrelenting sunlight reflecting blindingly off the snow hadn’t exactly done wonders for his headache.
Much too far away, Chay could see the hills morphed into slightly rockier crags, which might actually have potential for a place to rest. Unfortunately, at this rate it would take at least another hour to get there, which would take him well past nightfall. The dragon hybrid had pretty much resigned himself to having to fight monsters for the first part of the night.
He kept reassuring himself that he’d make it to see the sunrise. He did have a track record for worming his way out of predicaments where the odds were actively avoiding his favour. Plus, his dad always told him he was a good fighter, and that meant a lot coming from the Angel of Death himself.
Then again, Philza had never seen him fight whilst exhausted, mildly hypothermic, and using a broken tree branch as a weapon.
Chayanne shook his head and shoved that uncertainty behind a heavy locked door in his head, alongside every other feeling that wasn’t helpful for his immediate survival. He was a warrior; he’d survived worse than this.
If anything, it reminded him a bit of those early days on Quesadilla Island, stupidly rushing into fights with creatures much more powerful than him, and still managing to defeat them with nothing but an iron sword and his dad and sister at his side.
Gods, he hoped Philza, Missa and Lullah were alright. Chayanne would never forgive himself if they were hurt just because he hadn’t managed to find his way back to them in time-
His dad was furious, face streaked with someone else’s blood, blond hair matted and greasy, but it was still him and he was real, and Chayanne thought he screamed something that could have been his name before the world came crashing down around them-
They would be fine. They had to be, because Chayanne had no idea how he would keep going if they weren’t.
Distracted as he was, it was only months of trained instinct that had Chayanne’s head snapping up at the faint sound of shifting soil. With a mental curse, the boy looked up and saw the sun had disappeared below the hills, painting the sky with the dusk’s warm palette of molten copper and gold.
He wished he could pause for a moment to watch the fading sunset like he usually did. Chayanne forced himself to drag his eyes away from the view and scan his surroundings, ignoring the pang in his heart as he did so.
The frozen earth was cast into deep purple shadows, but in the fading light Chayanne could still make out the deep cracks forming in the permafrost as the soil and snow cover was displaced unnaturally. Icy foreboding seeped into the dragon hybrid’s bones alongside the ever-present wintry chill.
The creatures of the night were emerging, and he was armed with a stick.
Something painfully freezing suddenly wrapped around Chayanne’s ankle, and he stiffened, arcing his impromptu spear downward and plunging it harshly into the snow beside him. A sickening but satisfying crunch signified it had found its target.
With practised movements, the boy reached down and pried the decaying hand from where it grasped his flesh, cringing at the bright-red ring it had already left around his limb. Strays were nasty business, considerably more annoying to deal with than your average undead.
Although, there were definitely worse monsters out there. The memory of glowing white eyes in the darkness had Chayanne twirling his viscera-coated stick back into a guarded position and forcing himself to move faster despite how his aching muscles protested.
-eyes, there were eyes watching him from everywhere, and he couldn’t hide from their gaze no matter where he turned, and he twisted to see one gigantic, unblinking eye filling his entire field of vision, and everything was red red red and it had no mouth but somehow Chayanne knew it was smiling as his fear saturated the air-
He had to find shelter soon. It wouldn’t matter how much experience or skill he had if he passed out from exhaustion mid-fight.
Chayanne started stealthily making his way in the direction of the larger hill ahead of him, keeping his footsteps light so as to not attract the attention of the rapidly multiplying mobs clawing their way out of their resting places. Maybe if he made it to higher ground, he’d finally see somewhere to hide for the night. Maybe he’d even see some sign of life in this barren place.
Chay pointedly chose to ignore how pathetically desperate his own thoughts sounded. Because if he acknowledged that, then he’d have to acknowledge how weak he felt, and weakness meant death in a world like this.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, his left knee buckled slightly as he went to vault over an icy outcrop of rocks, and his foot slipped. The sound of clattering stones echoed between the hills, cutting through the quiet like an axe. Chayanne froze.
Shit.
Something whistled past his ear, and Chay whipped his head around to greet the hollow gazes of a horde of maybe five or six strays, bows aimed right at him.
On second thought, fuck stealth. He needed to get the hell out of there and fast .
Chayanne sprinted up the hill, stumbling over rocks as he zig-zagged erratically to dodge the onslaught of arrows. He forced every last ounce of his strength into his legs, gritting his teeth as a searing pain blossomed along his back when a creeper exploded in his wake. Arrows kept thudding into earth beside him, each one sending his adrenaline spiking higher. He put everything into running as fast as he could, every muscle in his body on fire, but the sound of rattling bones only got louder and louder.
He scrambled over a boulder at the peak of the hill, hoping desperately to spot some shelter, only for the breath to leave his lungs.
There, nestled in the valley below him, was a log cabin. It seemed almost comically peaceful in contrast to the moans of the undead converging on Chayanne, its windows glowing golden with torchlight and small trails of woodsmoke drifting from the chimney. He could even make out the faint silhouette of a few horses tied up outside, grazing on a patch of grass that was somehow still growing despite the frozen climate.
There was someone living out here. Maybe it was one of the islander’s holiday homes, and he’d be able to borrow their waystone to finally get back to his family. Chayanne felt like bursting into tears at the idea of a warm bed, a hot drink and a bedtime story.
And just as hope budded in Chayanne’s chest for the first time in hours, a nauseatingly fleshy thunk snapped him out of his reverie.
He looked down. There, protruding from his calf in a sickening taunt, was an arrowhead, driven clean through the muscle.
Well, shit.
Shit shit shit shit shit SHIT -
Less than a second passed before the pain struck. Chayanne clenched his jaw harshly to hold back the scream that threatened to erupt in response, knowing he couldn’t afford to draw even more mobs to him. But gods, it burnt , like he’d thrust his leg into a lava pool and left it there as the flesh slowly melted away.
It took everything in him to not fall to his knees then and there, but he knew if he surrendered to the pain, he’d be dead in moments.
Choking back a sob, the boy raised his stick and turned to rush at the skeletons closing in on him. The thick branch crashed through the bones of the first two, their reanimated forms collapsing to the ground. Chayanne whirled around to parry the rest of the monsters, breath wheezing out in panicked gasps.
But he could feel his strength failing him, the Slowness tipping those arrows starting to take effect as every movement propelled it further through his bloodstream. With each swing, he could feel his limbs getting heavier, could feel his adrenaline wearing off and the pain in his leg becoming something he could no longer push to the side.
Chayanne let out a yell of desperation as he thrust his spear through another skull, and like driving the final nail into his coffin, the wood snapped. His eyes widened in fear, watching the splinters of his only defence plummet to the ground, just to be immediately trampled by the shuffling gait of a zombie.
The boy stumbled backwards. He raised his arms, as if they could do anything to shield him from those grasping, rotting hands.
Was this it, then? Was he really going to lose his final life, alone, in a barren hellscape so far from the only home he knew?
A tear trickled down his face, carving streaks through the dirt and sweat coating his skin.
Chay was always preaching about wanting to be strong, wanting to be able to protect those he loved from anything or anyone that might threaten them. He’d promised his family- promised Lullah - that he’d always be there to protect them.
Looks like he’d have to break that promise, the shit excuse for a brother he was.
At least he could console himself with the fact that she would always have their dads there to fight tooth and nail for her. Even if he couldn’t.
-Tallulah’s tear-streaked face stared at him from behind layers of glass, her small fist slamming against the barrier that refused to break. They’d been separated, and it felt so fundamentally wrong, and Chay desperately pounded against the walls of his own cage, pleading for his other half-
This time, Chayanne couldn’t hold back the scream that was wrenched from his throat when another arrow buried itself in his shoulder. This time, he couldn’t stop his fall when he stumbled over the rocky earth, shaky legs finally betraying him as he collapsed.
Chayanne’s ears were ringing; darkness was encroaching on his eyesight, probably a concussion. He could feel bile rising in his throat. A shadow fell over his limited vision.
The boy stared up at the rotting face of his would-be killer, another agonised sob escaping his lips when the creature’s maw widened to reveal decaying teeth that he knew could rip his flesh straight from the bone.
God, what a pathetic way to die.
He screwed his eyes shut, bracing for the pain to come… waiting…
Huh.
He tentatively peeked open an eye and couldn’t stop a quiet “what the fuck ” from slipping past his lips. Through his blurry vision, Chay stared in shock at the head of the zombie, cleanly separated from its body and rolling to a slow stop a few feet away.
Zombies don’t just spontaneously decapitate themselves.
“Kid, you alright?”
Chayanne jolted, snapping his head around to find the source of the gruff voice. He attempted to push himself to his feet, which shortly proved to be a bad idea as the entire world took that as a cue to start spinning violently around him.
“Woah, take it easy, you look like you’ve lost a lot of blood there.”
Chayanne groaned as he felt a large hand at his back, the wound in his shoulder sending stabs of pain through the muscle while he was lowered into a sitting position. He squinted up at his apparent saviour.
Through the dizziness, blurred vision and slightly worrying dark spots starting to form Rorschach inkblots in front of him, he could make out a bulky figure silhouetted against the moonlight, staring down at him with an incredibly concerned expression.
That's when Chayanne noticed the bright pink hair, and his eyes grew huge .
“Holy fucking shit, you look like the potato man.”
The arm supporting him stiffened.
“What did you just call me?”
He definitely had a concussion, because there was no way the subject of all his dad’s best bedtime stories was standing over him, brandishing a blood-coated sword like he did in some of Chay’s mediocre attempts at drawing him.
“You are the guy who farmed a shit-ton of potatoes out of spite, right? Dad told me that story so many times that there’s no way I wouldn’t recognise you,” Chayanne rambled, belatedly noting that he should probably be worried about his sudden lack of brain-to-mouth filter.
The pink-haired man (who may or may not have been a hallucination) was staring at him with the most bewildered expression he’d seen since Lullah showed their dad her new pet rhino.
His apparent rescuer was also looking incredibly blurry now, something Chay was fairly sure you called a Bad Sign. Based on his experience, he only had a few seconds left before he blacked out.
“….Kid, who did you say your dad was again?”
Chayanne squinted at the guy, who now resembled more of a collection of coloured blobs than a humanoid person.
“Y’know, your bestie,” he slurred, barely able to get the words out. “World-conquerin’ bros, Technoblade n’ Philza…”
As Chayanne finally gave in to the darkness dragging his consciousness from his grasp, he vaguely registered the hand supporting his back unceremoniously dropping him to the ground again, and a loud, echoing “HEH???”