Featherfall

by Crystal_Opal

Summary:

Alternate Universe Watcher Fic.

Grian escapes the Watchers and is in hiding until his End magic comes back to haunt him. His friends are in danger because of him, and Grian must face his past again, or else everything he loves will be lost... again.

Notes:

Hello, this is the first fic I've ever written and published. I hope you like it! I already have multiple chapters finished and edited and will add them later :)

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

He breathed heavily, each footstep echoing in the long hallways of the purple and yellow building. Light from the outside shone gently through the purple windows, casting long, ominous shadows across the carpeted floor. He swore that with every slightly changing shadow, he could see them reflected in the darkness… watching.

 

Thump, Thump…

Thump, Thump, Thump… 

Thump, Thump. 

 

His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he pressed his body against the cold wall, listening for any clue that he was followed. Through his peripheral vision, he could see the end of the hallway he had just run through and watched anxiously for the tall figure to pass or, even worse, walk down the hallway. 

 

But… nothing.

 

No sounds, no footsteps, no shadows… absolutely nothing.

 

‘Surely,’ he thought to himself, ‘I’ve lost them…’

 

He turned away from the hallway briefly, leaning forward to catch his breath, but then froze up in fear. A long, flowy purple cape lay ahead of him, not even a meter away.

 

…

 

‘Ḭ̶̋ ̴̖͝f̵̯̂o̴̾ͅủ̷̥n̴͍̑d̵͍̓ ̸͓̾y̵̮̿ö̷͙́u̵̬͝.̶͍̈’

 

—

 

Grian woke up in a cold sweat, glancing around frantically and reassuring himself that he was exactly where he should be. The soft glow of the lanterns illuminated the warm wooden walls, showing him that he was still in his hobbit hole. Soft moonlight shone through his windows, clashing against the warm light with its cooler tones.

 

“Good,” he said aloud to no one in particular, “I’m still here.”

 

Grian continued looking around, however, a little wary. He could see Professor Beak sleeping peacefully on his perch. He could see the corner of a mine cart, a message Mumbo likely sent him that he hadn’t checked yet. He could see the slow sway of his wheat crops outside, rustling quietly in the breeze. His heartbeat slowed as he took deep breaths, practicing his box breathing techniques. The short hermit pushed the blanket off of him. He felt the coolness hit the rest of him as he stood up, sweaty. 

 

“I thought I had gotten rid of you,” he mumbled quietly, ruffling his messy hair and putting on a red jumper.

 

With shaky hands, he pushed the door open and stepped outside, quickly equipping his elytra and flying up towards the sky. He didn’t like how the shiny purple glow of his enchanted elytra reminded him of the dream, but he quickly shook it off as he glided higher up into the night sky. The sound of the rockets was lost in the strong gusts of wind, and the shimmering sparkles from the rockets were quickly lost too. He flew across the lake and over the tall floating gemstone. His and Scar’s creeper farm. He smiled slightly. He made some profit from that farm, selling TNT and gunpowder. 

 

Various flocks of parrots glide above the green stone, beautiful red plumage contrasting with its brazen colour. For a second, he felt a pang of envy for the red macaws. Red was such a nice colour. If he were a bird, he would love to have red, yellow, and blue wings. The flock of birds landed on the stone beside the stone. Grian flew closer to see that one had a white-ish film over its eyes. It was half blind. 

 

He wondered how much harder it would be to fly like that. 

 

In the distance, he could see the glow of Mumbo’s base, each shiny metal wrench-like pillar reflecting the light from the waning moon. The base was still a work in progress, but Grian was excited to see the progress of his best friend's base. He passed the river where Mumbo had his little hobbit hole, his temporary base, a dim light shining through the round window. 

 

He wondered if the redstoner was still awake and considered taking his front door, but ruled it out as indecent, especially since he was likely asleep. He already had enough of Mumbo’s doors; there were at least 30 by now in his shulker box, not including the many hundreds from other hermits. These doors will be put to good use. Maybe he’ll sell all these doors back to them at the end of the season.

 

Grian chuckled to himself. 

 

The longer he flew, the more he tried to rationalize the dream he had just had. It had to be a coincidence, just a bad nightmare about his end-busting trips with Mumbo and Iskall. Those times when a huge horde of endermen would chase him down, when he lacked water, blocks, and an elytra, moments of genuine fear of losing all his items.

 

But as much as he wanted to lie to himself, he knew the dream was something more.

 

The question is, how did they come back? And why now?

 

—

 

A sky of yellow, orange, and pink painted the heavens with a beautiful mix of colours; the leftover dew from last night made the jungle look shimmery and sparkly. The soft pinkish water of the lake brought a feeling of whimsy to the area… as if some wizard was living there. 

 

Grian was working on his mega base, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling from the dream, when he was frightened by a bearded wizard friend.

 

“Hey, Grian! Whatcha working on?” Scar asked brightly, a devious smile plastered on his face.

 

“AAH! Hey Scar, you scared me. Uh, my mega base…” Grian paused. “Why?” he asked suspiciously.

 

Scar held his hands up with a voice of mock innocence, “Nothing, nothing. Just asking as a curious friend who has nothing better to do.”

 

Grian raised an eyebrow. “You know, Scar, you gotta be better than that to try and fool me into thinking you aren’t plotting something prank-ish. So, let’s hear it.”

 

Scar sighed dramatically but continued with an excited voice, “You remember that zombie spawner you used to prank me the first day here?”

 

“Yes…”

 

“Well, I may or may not have an idea on how to prank Mumbo with that… I know about your little ‘secret’ messaging system with him.” Scar did air quotations with his hands on ‘secret. ’

 

Scar leaned in, adding suspense, “What if we sent a bunch of zombies through that system into his base?”

 

Grian laughed. God, that was such a terrible idea.

 

“That is such a terrible idea,” said Grian. “I love it. I’m in. Let's do it right now.”

 

Scar leapt up happily. “Oh my god, yay! C’mon, I already started on the transportation system to your base.”

 

The duo flew towards the zombie spawner, mining a tunnel and laughing as they sent each zombie on a minecart in succession. Every zombie was named with a different, stupid and punny name as they were sent through.

 

“Zumbo Jumbo?” Scar laughed, “Grian, that’s so bad it’s good.”

 

“Mumbo Zombo is good, too,” Grian piped in with a grin.

 

“I know, right?” the wizard replied. “Mumbo is going to love his new roommates.”

 

—

 

After his shenanigans with Scar, Grian returned to building his mega base. The huge, dark mansion was almost close to completion. A dirty blonde hermit finally placed the last block needed for that section of his mega base, and, finally, he was finished (or the front anyway). A sense of relief and awe washed over him as he stepped back to admire his work. The base looked so grandiose, especially with the setting sun right behind it; it made it look heavenly and ethereal. Pride filled his gut as he stepped away from the base and flew back towards his bed at his little hobbit hole. 

 

He unequipped the elytra and took off his red sweater, preparing to go to bed until… There was a horrifyingly familiar purple blotch on his back. Grian turned around to face his back to the mirror, looking curiously at the source of the purple.

 

Oh my god.

 

A pair of small purple wings emerged from his back. The colour was shockingly similar to that of an enchanted elytra. It had a certain glowing sheen to it, and his dream from last night hit him like a very large parrot. 

 

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Not again.”

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

“I thought I had gotten rid of you ,” Grian thought, frustrated. “ I thought I left you behind. You didn’t come back for an entire year. Why now?”

 

He clawed recklessly at his back, attempting to pluck the small feathered wings off of him. Long red scratch marks were left pulsing an uncomfortable heat that made it itch more. He tried rubbing the wings on the wooden pillars of his mini-base to no avail. 

 

He swore under his breath.

 

Professor Beak jumped towards him questioningly, occasionally pushing a curious head towards the new feathery extension. The blue parrot squawked, leaping back every time Grian threw his fist onto the wooden floor in exasperation. He ran quickly towards the mirror again, meeting his tired, yet frantic eyes on the reflective surface… except they weren’t blue like they usually were. Were they purple?

 

He blinked.

 

And it was gone. His eyes returned to the darkish blue eyes he originally had.

 

“Well, that’s not good,” he murmured with a sarcastic tone of voice. “What’s next, you pesky purple bird-looking thing? No offence, PB.” Grian glanced at Professor Beak, who stood a distance away, cautious. “I get my magic back, too?”

 

He blinked again, and his vision had a mild purple haze to it. If he looked long enough at certain blocks, they would begin morphing and showing their item details on the side, like some sci-fi movie glasses. 

 

“That’s pretty close, I guess.” He muttered. “Thanks a lot!”

 

The short hermit turned his gaze back to the mirror, but what he found in the reflection wasn’t… him or Hermitcraft Grian, anyway. He stopped short and stared at what he saw. His face was no longer his face, but a black void filled with at least 10 purple glowing eyes. A glowing halo with the shape of an eye floated above his head, blinking occasionally and looking right at him. 

 

Oh god.

 

The next thing he knew, the mirror was shattered and cracked, his right fist was bruised and bleeding, and he sat curled up in a pile of sharp glass rubble. His heart pounded in his chest as tears began to trickle down his face, and his thoughts spiralled. He thought about the logistics of this in the past, the logistics of this in the present, and the logistics of this in the future. The dangers that this magic and the appearance of said magic carry to his friends, the server, and himself.

 

“I need to protect them from it. I can’t tell anyone. I have to get rid of these now.”

 

He couldn’t imagine what they would do if they got their hands on the people in this server… or even worse, Mumbo or Scar.

 

“Oh god, how am I supposed to meet up with Scar and, by extension, Mumbo tomorrow if I have these blimmin’ wings growing on me? Stupid colour-changing eyes?”

 

Professor Beak squawked, worried, slowly stepping his way toward Grian. The hermit ignored the bird since he was stuck in his head.

 

“Maybe they haven’t sensed the magic yet since it’s such a small amount. So, how do I get rid of this before it’s too late? I wonder…”

 

Maybe it’s possible to hide this, maybe he could use a bit of the magic to cast a simple protection spell over the server, perhaps a couple of other spells to stop his growth, or even reverse it… Maybe this could all be fixed with just a bit of finesse, and then Grian can return to his regular hermit life of building and doing hermit things. They can leave him alone in his newfound life; in fact, they won’t even know about his newfound life. He can get rid of the magic just as quickly as he did last time, and all of this would have never happened.

 

The dream and the raspy, uncomfortably close ‘I found you’ echoed in his head. Grian shook the idea out and tried to fool himself. ” It’s just a dream, a warning, not the actual thing.”

 

The blonde man stood up, brushing off the thought of the dream as a rush of certainty ran through him. He grabbed a slightly bigger red sweater of his and threw it over himself. He turned to the broken, shattered mirror… “Oh.”

 

The mirror was quickly replaced by another. “I knew keeping an extra one would be handy,” he said, looking at his back. No difference. You could barely tell he was wearing a slightly bigger sweater, even less that there was potentially a pair of small wings growing off his back. 

 

He smiled, impressed with himself. This situation will be fixed as quickly as it comes up, right?

 

—

 

“Grian! Have you seen Mumbo’s reaction yet?” Scar asked. “He found his new roommates, and he seemed to love them!”

 

Grian nodded, absentmindedly. He couldn’t help but think about his ever-pressing and urgent situation, remembering spells and considering how to rewrite spells he already knew to suit his needs.

 

“Grian?” 

 

His mind came back into focus. “What?”

 

“I’ve been saying your name for like a minute now,” Scar said, concerned. “Are you alright? Did you sleep well last night?”

 

“Oh yeah, I’m great!” Grian said. The lie came quickly and naturally to his tongue. “Sorry, I was just thinking about my next big project.“ Not really a lie. ”I’ve seen Mumbo’s reaction, but I want to speak to him in person, too.”

 

Scar smiled, slightly wary. “That was just what I was thinking. Let’s find Mumbo, eh?”

 

“Good idea.”

 

Scar paused, grabbing the red-sweatered hermit by the arm. “You know, Grian, if you have anything that’s bothering you, you can tell me, right?”

 

“Yes, of course,” Grian said cautiously. “Why do you say that?”

 

“You just seem out of it today.”

 

“I’m good, maybe just a little bit tired.”

 

“Okay–” 

 

Scar was immediately cut off by Grian leaping into the air, shouting, “Last one there is a pesky bird!”

 

The wizard laughed; maybe he was just overanalyzing the situation, and he quickly followed suit. He wasn’t going to lose against Grian this time. The pair flew to Mumbo’s hobbit hole base, it seemed like Mumbo was already there, waiting for them. He waved at the two hermits who landed in front of him, one quite gracefully and the other less gracefully. Mumbo noticed that Grian was flying significantly slower than he usually did, but ruled it off as being generous to Scar, which was a bit unusual.

 

“Ow,” Scar said, pushing himself off the floor and pulling out a golden carrot to take a bite out of it.

 

“I win!” said Grian. 

 

“I’m not letting this one go, Grian. I hope you know that,” Scar said, eyeing the hermit. “Besides, it’s my magnificent beard,” he flips it dramatically. ”It looks amazing, but it gets in the way of me flying.”

 

Grian laughed, ” Yeah, yeah, excuses.” He rolled his eyes. “Hey, Mumbo! Have you seen your new roommates?”

 

Scar added, beaming, “Yes! Me and Grian took it upon ourselves to give you some friends.”

 

Mumbo smiled, quickly brushing off his observation temporarily. “Yes! Yes, I have.” He turned towards his base, peering into the window and looking with a confused but amused expression at the huge stack of zombies in mine carts. He shuffled back and forth on his feet, a frequent habit of his that prevented him from standing still. “Um, they’re quite noisy and, frankly, terrible roommates. They are not afraid to bite either.”

 

He turned to face Scar and Grian. “I like their names, though. It’s like looking at an uglier and noisier version of myself.”

 

They laughed. Scar shot back a joke, causing Mumbo to laugh again. Grian took this moment to take in what he was experiencing, the soft afternoon beams shining through the jungle leaves, casting circular shadows onto his friends' faces. The soft grin on Mumbo’s face, his mustache slightly curled to match his facial expression. The exuberant smile of Scar’s, his newfound beard and wizard hat rustling gently to the breeze. 

 

He shifted his shoulders a bit. Grian would do anything to protect this world, this moment and his friends. 

 

“What’s wrong, Grian? You look extraordinarily joyous today,” Mumbo said, elbowing him playfully. “Am I extra bad-looking this morning?”

 

Grian smiled. “No, handsome as always, Mumbo.” He added. “But only because you have your mustache.”

 

“Right, naturally. My mustache is my best physical characteristic,” he snickered. 

 

“Obviously,” Grian said with a smile. “I’ll have you know I’m still coming for that mustache.”

 

Mumbo laughed, a bit nervous and turned away from Grian, noticing that Scar had disappeared from where he was standing before. “Oh god, where did Scar go?” Comically, a quick shout could be heard inside Mumbo’s base, and Scar took a huge leap away from Mumbo Zombo. The duo laughed at the wizard's shenanigans, stepping into the comfort of the hobbit hole and discovering the meaning behind his actions.

 

Grian couldn’t help but feel a looming sense of doom enveloping him the longer he spent with them.

 

—

 

“I’ll see you guys later! It was fun hanging out,” said Grian, waving to the duo as he leapt into the air and departed. Mumbo and Scar reciprocated the goodbye, both waving at the short British hermit who was beginning to disappear into the afternoon sky.

 

“Hey, Scar,” Mumbo said slowly, “Am I going crazy or is Grian a little different than he usually is?”

 

“No, you aren’t going crazy,” Scar replied, his smile fading. “Earlier, he looked like there was something big and important weighing on him. I don’t think he slept last night. You saw those dark circles, right?”

 

“I did, yeah.” Mumbo paused. “He was flying a lot slower than usual, too. You were way too close to winning against him in an elytra speed race. He typically has absolutely no mercy when it comes to those. No offence to your flying abilities.” He glanced at the wizard, who had a mock-offended look on his face. “It seemed like there was something uncomfortable on his back. He kept shifting his shoulder and moving around his sweater. He also made significantly less eye contact than usual. It's just weird, that's all.”

 

“Yeah, I agree.” Scar glanced back at where Grian disappeared in the sky. The soft afternoon breeze felt cool on his face. “I’m sure he’ll tell us when he’s ready. I guess we should just make sure he knows we’re there for him if he needs us.”

 

“Yeah.” The mustached man glanced back at the sky, worried.

 

—

 

“What was ‘P’ again?” Grian mumbled quietly, flipping quickly through the enchanting table book with a tint of purple magic. He stood a bit away from it, not touching it with his hands but only flicking a couple of fingers to change what he wanted. The large red jumper he had worn this morning was splayed on the floor, leaving him shirtless. His originally small purple wings had grown significantly in size, from about one palm to three. These wings made it very difficult to fly with an elytra and even just wear a sweater, but hopefully, he would eventually get enough magic back to hide those and use them with his elytra equipped but not used.

 

He discovered earlier today, thank the gods, not in front of Mumbo and Scar, that he finally got his weaker magic spells back. This was mostly by accident, and he almost scorched off a section of Professor Beak’s left wing. Luckily, the bird was unharmed, but he now stood further away than normal with a salty expression on his face. The bird occasionally whistled a disapproving sound at the hermit who sat a distance away from him.

 

The blonde hermit ignored the bird. Grian calculated that at the rate he was getting his magic, he would likely reach full power again in less than a week, which meant he was on a timer to get this spell ready. “C’mon, what was ‘P’ again?” he mumbled, throwing in a variety of different armour to find a ‘Protection’ enchantment. “There!” he exclaimed excitedly.

 

I!∷ᒍᒣᒷᔮᒣ╎ᒍリ. 

 

He wrote out the final spell on the book splayed beside him, just the protection spell for the server. He needed to keep the server safe before figuring anything else out. Besides, this was a simple spell that he could cast with the minimal magic he currently had. 

 

Grian lifted a wary hand, closed his eyes, and felt the magical motion in the air. Everything in these worlds was connected by End magic; his magic just so happened to be a dialect of this power, which made it easier for him to tap into this and funnel it into his own. The soft purple waves of magic floated gently, but mostly stale, around the hermit. The End magic on this server was significantly less compared to his previous world, a world he preferred not to think about.

 

“ C’mon, just a little bit more ,” the hermit thought, his brows furled together in concentration. The purple mist spun around him, slowly accelerating as his hands tightened, keeping the magic together. Grian muttered the spell, a poem of rhymes that flowed smoothly off his tongue. He spoke in a language he hadn’t used for about 2 years, so he was a little rusty, but the spell worked.

 

At least, Grian hoped it worked. 

 

He opened his eyes again, a bit disoriented from the blinding purple blast that illuminated from his raised hand, creating a shiny shield around the world. If Grian looked close enough, he could see the word ‘I!∷ᒍᒣᒷᔮᒣ╎ᒍリ’ flashing in the purpley blue sky.

 

He sighed, relieved. They were safe, at least, temporarily. The spell will prevent their entering and shield them from the aura of his magic returning.

 

Thank goodness he was the only one who could see End magic.

 

—

 

The tall hermit in a bee suit stood in his sci-fi base, watching from a distance as Keralis, also in a bee suit, flew toward him. XisumaVoid watched the hermit land, a shocked expression on his face, saying exuberantly, “Shashwamy! I was bored and came over to see what you were doing.”

 

Xisuma smiled, “Hey, Keralis, or I guess Beeralis.” They laughed. “I’m just afk-ing for my bee farm,” he motioned below him. “I need to restock my shop since honeycomb seems to be a favourite.”

 

Keralis grinned. “That sounds like fun.” He paused and asked quizzically, “Hey, was it you who gave me 10 diamonds for a Silk Touch book worth 3?”

 

“Yeah, it was,” Xisuma answered. “Keep the diamonds. I had fun messing with Iskall last time.”

 

“No, no. Please, take the diamonds back. I don't need them,” said the hermit in the matching bee suit, holding out 7 diamonds for Xisuma.

 

“No, actually, Keralis.” Xisuma said, laughing gently, “Keep the diamonds. I can always get-”

 

He cut himself off the moment he felt the disturbance. Keralis stood, confused, staring at his fellow bee friend who had stopped in the middle of his sentence. “Um, Shashwamy?”

 

“Something is wrong,” the admin said, frowning. “I need to figure this out. I’ll talk to you later, hm?”

 

“Yeah, alright, Xisuma,” Keralis replied with a concerned voice. He actually said Xisuma’s name (almost) right this time. “I hope the problem’s not too bad.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Keralis flew away from Xisuma, who had sat down and closed his eyes, feeling the End magic around him. He was sure this was the source of the disturbance, but besides him and the ender dragon, who else could channel this magic? The End magic, although still, was slightly more agitated than it normally was. It spun in circles around him and seemed to siphon away towards the sky. He opened his eyes again, brows furrowed, and let his gaze move up towards the blue afternoon sky.

 

Or, almost blue sky.

 

He noticed the difference immediately; the sky was no longer the beautiful, rich blue it normally was, but had a mild purple shine to it, as if the sky was enchanted. Hell, even the usually white clouds had a mild purple tint to them. Xisuma frowned. What the hell was happening?

 

But that was when he noticed it.

 

‘I!∷ᒍᒣᒷᔮᒣ╎ᒍリ,’ it read. “ Galactic,” Xisuma mused. “Now, who put a protection spell over the world?”

 

“And why?”

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

“C’mon,” Grian said with urgency in a hushed voice. “We gotta get out of here before they notice.”

 

The taller figure looked back, eyes filled with dread and concern. He answered back with a frown, “I feel like they already know.”

 

“No, they don’t. Not yet. Now hurry! Siphon out your magic into this,” Grian held up a large purple stone, “Before it’s too late. Please, you made it. You’ve got to use it!”

 

N̵̛̖o̴͔͘ẃ̵͍,̶̳̀ ̴̥͋ẁ̶͖h̷̓ͅė̶̼r̶̡͐ḛ̵͆ ̴͚͠d̵̻̀o̸̳͑ ̷̥̓y̷̨͠o̴̜͛u̴͈̎ ̴͕͆t̶͍̀h̷̲͊ḯ̵͓n̷͚̄k̶̼̀ ̷͙̒y̵̙̕o̵̫͠u̶͓͆'̵̻̾r̵̰͝e̴͙͗ ̶͈͊g̵͇͊ő̷͙i̸̜͋ṇ̷͒g̶̣͊?̵͙̈́

 

Fear forced Grian to seize up.

 

“Grian, run! I’ll hold them off,” his friend yelled. “Please, you gotta go.” He stood between the tall, smiling figure and the fearful Grian. His friend turned to face him, eyes filled with urgency and desperation, pleading him to leave, to run, like some coward.

 

Grian took a step towards his friend, saying, “But I can’t leave you behind-” Grian’s sentence was cut off before he could finish it. He was pushed away from his friend with a blast of purple magic and through a glowing purple portal that appeared behind him. N̵̩͆O̷̭̚!̷͓̓, the figure shouted, reaching out a spindly hand towards the disappearing Grian.

 

In the process of all this, he dropped the stone before entering the new world as he hit the coarse green grass beneath him. He watched his many wings disintegrate and the purple magic drain out of his chest, exactly where the blast hit, and into the portal that rapidly disappeared as quickly as it appeared. His friend’s winged shadow imprinted on the hallway floor, shaped like a raven, a trickster. It was there, then it was not. Grian tried desperately to channel his End magic again, to conjure up a temporary portal. Anything. But it was useless. He clawed hopelessly at the grass, ripping and uprooting chunks out of the ground. 

 

A wail of despair erupted from his mouth. A croak, ugly and distressed like a raven crying at the loss of a fellow bird friend.

 

This was hopeless. It was all hopeless.

 

—

 

“TAURTIS, NO!” Grian sat up in his bed, yelling. His hands were outstretched in front of him and channelled levitation magic. A random assortment of items was smashed against the opposite wall from him, leaving a loud crashing sound ringing in his head. Professor Beak squawked in surprise from the sound, leaping off his perch and taking to the air. He gave an annoyed look to Grian before landing on the perch again to sleep.

 

“It was just a dream,” Grian tried telling himself. “ It was just a nightmare. ”

 

But no, he knew the truth. The feeling was too familiar, the series of events too clear, everything too… known. This was not a bad dream or a horrible nightmare. Just like how he subconsciously knew the first dream was not just a nightmare but a warning, a message. This dream, however, was a memory. One, he thought he could get over the guilt for years ago, one he thought he could fix. He gingerly touched the scar on his chest. It was strange that being hit by a blast of the magic left him with the symbol rather than a burn mark, but he never questioned it much.

 

It was stupid to keep thinking they wouldn’t find him at this rate, he needs more precautions to keep his friends safe. He refuses to lose a friend, not again. A sense of gratitude rushed through him as he remembered the protection spell he had cast yesterday. It’s not perfect, but it’ll last for the time being until he gets enough magic to cast a better one. Grian fell backward onto his bed, heaving, taking immediate notice of how much larger his wings were. They were large enough to carry him in flight now; his magic seemed to be coming back quicker than he had anticipated. 

 

“ Unfortunate ,” he thought with a disapproving look. He had less time than expected, which meant he might have to start avoiding sleep to get these spells prepared. The stronger his magic became, the more dangerous he was to the safety of the server. The next spell, however, has got to be to hide these hideously large wings. He couldn’t raise any more suspicion, especially with Mumbo and Scar.

 

The hermit pushed himself off his bed and immediately used his magic to bring the notebook, quill, and enchanting table book towards him. He sat on the wooden floor, rereading his spell and rhyme to hide his wings in an attempt to forget the dream. Soft, warm light from the lantern was covered by his shadow, and the only light illuminating his book was the full moonlight and the low purple glow of his magic. He didn’t need more, though; this was still more light than was typically in The End. From the looks of it, it seemed to be around 4 am since the sun wasn’t even close to showing itself yet.

 

ᔮᒍリᔮᒷᖋ|:, Grian wrote, writing the final word in the rhyme. He reread it, double-checking for fluidity and rhymes. “ Perfect ,” he thought. Luckily, this time, he had enough magic to only require his own, rather than utilizing the surrounding End magic. 

 

And before he knew it, the spell was cast. He spread his wings forward, glancing at them. It was half transparent with a faint glow, similar to the protection spell, with the word ‘ᔮᒍリᔮᒷᖋ|:’ imprinted on the surface. Grian smiled, satisfied with his work. 

 

He should rework the protection spell, double, triple, quadruple check there were no holes in what he wrote, and conceal not only his wings, but also his magic. He must keep them away from Hermitcraft. Humming to himself, he reread the first protection spell rhyme, his back leaning against the frame of his bed and his legs crossed in front of him. He had the quill hovering above the notebook, gesturing towards the page as he read and edited things.

 

“Grian?” A familiar voice said, echoing in the wooden hobbit hole. Grian froze up, dropping the quill onto the floor with a soft click. 

 

Mumbo stepped over the rubble at the end of the hallway. “ Oops ,” Grian thought, noting that he had forgotten to clean that up. Mumbo seemed to have walked through the message tunnel that connects the two bases. He glanced at the broken wood pieces and books that lay splayed across the floor in front of him, concerned and confused. His gaze quickly turned to Grian, who sat shirtless beside his bed, surrounded by a pile of books, with a surprised expression on his face.

 

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry!” Mumbo quickly turned away from Grian. Despite only getting a small glance at him, he did notice a small scar on the hermit's chest; it looked like Morse code and a portal meshed together to make a symbol. “I was just worried because I heard that loud crash from my base through the tunnel. I thought maybe you got hurt or something, so I came to check.”

 

Grian laughed awkwardly. “No, I’m all good,” he said. “It’s fine, Mumbo, we’re friends. You can look.”

 

Mumbo slowly lowered his arms from his face, gazing warily at Grian. They stood there in a cumbersome silence.

 

…

 

“Do you need help cleaning this up?” Mumbo asked slowly, gesturing to the large pile of debris that lay beside him. Grian opened his mouth to decline, but Mumbo held up a hand and said, “You’re going to say no. I’m helping you clean this up.”

 

Before Grian could protest, Mumbo leaned down to pick pieces of larger rubble and place them in his inventory. The shorter hermit sighed and helped his mustachioed friend clean the debris, throwing it into a nearby chest. As they picked up the last object from the floor, Mumbo asked, “How did all this end up here anyway?”

 

Grian shrugged. “For fun.”

 

Mumbo grabbed the hermit by his shoulders, turning the temporarily disoriented hermit towards him. “Actually, though, Grian.” He had a serious expression on his face. “A second of fun shouldn’t give you that much inhuman strength to throw all of that stuff at the wall at once. If you need to talk to someone, I’m here.”

 

Grian shrugged his concerned friend's hands off his shoulder, a little worried he might accidentally feel the two very large wings growing off his back, even though the spell should prevent that. “Mumbo. I’m fine.”

 

“As one of your closest friends, I disagree,” he said sternly. “You’ve been acting differently for the past few days, as if something heavy is weighing on you. There’s this look on your face when you think no one is watching, a sad, mournful, almost guilty look. You know you don’t have to face it alone.” He stuttered, attempting to joke, “Even if it’s just some, oh, I don’t know, some annoying pesky bird. Or maybe it’s another difficult front door stealing endeavour of yours, you got caught or something. I’m here.”

 

Grian stopped short, deeply considering the option of sharing these troubles with Mumbo. “ But it’s dangerous ,” he reminded himself. “ The things they might do to him if I accidentally tell him too much information.” He thought of the past with a subtle shudder. “ I can’t risk putting my friends in danger’s way, not like this. I’ll tell them if I’m sure I can’t fix this by myself. ”

 

“Mumbo,” he said with a laugh, trying to release the tension. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

 

“Grian-”

 

“Mumbo! I’m being serious.”

 

“...”

 

“Okay,” Mumbo finally said, his brow slightly furrowed. “Just know I’m here, okay? I’ll listen to anything you want to share, even if you think it's trivial.”

 

“Yes, Mumbo, I know. Same goes to you from me,” Grian said with a slight smile. 

 

Mumbo smiled back, a bit wary, pulling his friend in for a hug. Grian flinched slightly but realized the spell was working fine and hugged back. It was weird, feeling the warmth of Mumbo’s arm in his wings, but he knew he would get used to it.

 

“See you around then?” Mumbo stated, pulling away from the hug. 

 

“Yeah,” Grian replied. “See you around, Mumbo.”

 

And this was why, Grian reminded himself, he had to protect his friends at all costs.

 

—

 

Mumbo walked down the tunnel, following the echoing wooden tunnel and rail tracks that led him back to his base. He worried for Grian; it seemed like he was hiding something from Mumbo, but the redstoner wasn’t sure what the builder was hiding. He shook his head. 

 

As he kept pondering the interaction he just had, Mumbo was reminded of how much he disliked long, echoing hallways. It always felt so lonely, so… unwelcoming. “ I hope that isn’t symbolic of me and Grian’s relationship.” He thought jokingly to himself. But a part of him couldn’t help but feel as if it might be true at this moment.

 

Grian felt so far away, like a faraway twinkling star in the night sky, he used to make wishes on when he was younger.

 

—

 

Xisuma woke up, a sense of disruption filling his gut. It happened again. He quickly threw himself off his bed and ran outside. The moon still shone brightly in the sky, and there was no semblance of sunlight anywhere, indicating that it was around 5 am. He could see that the protection spell was still looming around the world and that the End magic in the air was untouched. This means that something or someone could do more than just channel the magic, but manipulate and curate it. 

 

His expression changed, troubled. It can’t be the Ender Dragon, since she was dead… which means- 

 

A realization hit him. 

 

Xisuma was filled with rage, quickly equipping his elytra and zooming off into the sky. He couldn’t have a Watcher appear on Hermitcraft; he’s been making sure of it. So, how did the Watcher get in here?

 

And how will he get rid of it?

 

—

 

Grian sat in his hobbit hole, silent. Mumbo had just left through the tunnel again, leaving the troubled hermit alone. He was still contemplating his choice of retaining the information. “ Maybe it might’ve been better to tell him. He knows something is wrong. Keeping this to myself will push him away, but I guess he will be safe.” Grian sighed, pushing his hands into his hair and tilting his head back to face the roof. “ I guess all of them will be safe.”  

 

He thought of his friends on the Evolution SMP: Netty, Big B, Jimmy… Taurtis. All of them lost because of his wrongdoings. He told them too much information about the Watchers, because he was careless. If they weren’t permanently dead, they were put somewhere Grian could never find. Just like before, they will destroy HermitCraft the moment they realize Grian is here. They will first toy with his friends, causing conflicts and wars, then kill them, relocate them, or do whatever is necessary to convince Grian to stay. He couldn’t let that happen again. 

 

The Watchers and their ways are cruel and unusual; they don’t understand humans as much as they think they do. Undermining them, calling them ‘subordinate’ and ’unworthy’ to even be in the presence of a Watcher. Yet, they think humans need the Watchers and require their magic to be happy and satisfied in life.

 

Considering this, Grian never quite understood why they chose him and Taurtis to join the Watchers.

 

The hermit was deeply ingrained in thought, completely missing the very loud thud of Xisuma hitting the ground right in front of his door. The admin held up a hand and knocked curtly on the jungle wood, causing Grian to quickly snap out of his thoughts and redirect his attention to the door. “ Another interaction? ” He thought with a frown.

 

Grian opened the door, only to meet a dissatisfied, angry, and mildly confused Xisuma on the other side. He stood facing away from the moonlight, causing it to cast an ominous white outline around his bee-like figure. The only light to illuminate his face and help indicate any emotion was the low light from the small flames in Grian’s lanterns. These circumstances made Grian feel a bit fearful, especially considering it was Xisuma standing in front of him. “Um. Hi, X,” Grian said with uncertainty. “Can I help you?”

 

“Yes, actually,” Xisuma replied, frowning slightly. “Can you explain to me why there's a protection spell around the world,” he gestured behind him, “a concealing spell on your wings,” he pointed at Grian, “and why you're a Watcher?”

 

“...”

 

“ Oh fuck. ”

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

”I- How- Uh-“ Grian stammered. “What?”

 

Xisuma repeated the question, a bit exasperated. “Why are you a Watcher? How did you come into Hermitcraft despite all my barriers? Why are you casting spells around the world?” He paused, contemplating. “Why you?”

 

Grian frowned. He fiddled with his chest, subconsciously rubbing the marking. The hermit looked down, avoiding eye contact with the bee-suited hermit standing in front of him. His gaze was like bee stings piercing Grian’s scalp, leaving an uncomfortable prickling feeling. ” How did Xisuma know? Why can he see End magic? I- I don’t understand- I can’t lie. He already knows.”

 

“I… I don’t know, Xisuma.” Grian looked up slowly. “I don’t know why they chose me. I never knew why.”

 

He spoke quietly, basically a whisper. “But I can’t let them find me…” He paused. “I can’t let them find you guys.”

 

Xisuma frowned, his brows furrowed in thought. He took his bee helmet off, revealing his shocking purple eyes and glittery purple speckles in the vague shapes of constellations. The periwinkle gaze landed on Grian’s blue-ish purple eyes, one pair with consideration and empathy, the other with anxiety and uncertainty. 

 

“So you aren’t here to spread your Watcher propaganda and to assert your authority over the server?” The bee man asked.

 

“No!?” Grian exclaimed vehemently. “Of course not! I’m nothing like them. You’re the Admin and a great one at that. I would only start wars and conflict for non-serious reasons… or if you were a terrible leader…” He gave Xisuma a comedic look, raising an eyebrow. 

 

Xisuma laughed gently, relieved. This sounded like Grian, albeit tired and on edge. He asked, less seriously, “So how did you get through my security measures? I was so sure my spells would prevent your kind,” Grian flinched, “from getting into this server.”

 

Grian took a moment to consider it, ignoring Xisuma’s comment, before asking, “Well, how does the spell work?”

 

Xisuma explained with a bit of pride, “By detecting the End magic amount in the individual, the spell would forcefully make them channel the magic in them, therefore using their magic to prevent entry. However, I can allow certain individuals in since it will detect my magic specifically and let it pass. I can tell the difference between Listeners and Watchers based on how wild and uncontrolled their magic and desires are; less controlled magic would be Listener magic, but they have less desire and corruption, whilst Watchers would be vice versa-“

 

“Wait.” Grian cut him off. “What do you mean by ‘Listeners’?”

 

“You don’t know what a Listener is??”

 

“…no?”

 

The bee man stood by the doorway, shocked. Silence was long and unwieldy. The shorter hermit nervously fluffed his mostly invisible wings a bit. The moon still ominously casts a rim light around Xisuma. 

 

Grian shuffled on his feet awkwardly and asked, gesturing into the door, “Why don’t you come in and take a seat? Since this seems to be such a big, complex topic.”

 

Xisuma nodded, still silent, and walked through the door. He made his way towards where the sprawled notebooks were, curiously peering at Grian’s founding father-esque writing. Messy and bulbous, but strangely elegant. Most of the writing was in Galactic and oddly poetic, Xisuma didn’t know the builder had so much prowess with words. Many of the pages were filled with rhyming lines that sounded like spells, which mildly confused Xisuma.

 

Grian asked again, “So, what are Listeners? Is that why you could see my spells?” He subconsciously flexes his wings, showing the shimmery purple feathers underneath the sheen of the spell. 

 

Xisuma looked up from the books and asked again. “You really don’t know who the Listeners are?”

 

Grian shook his head. Xisuma sighed, placing his helmet on the bed. “Listeners are just less pretentious, less egotistical, less corrupt Watchers.”

 

There was a pause. Grian pointed out, “That’s a very vague statement.”

 

“Well, if it helps, they are very similar to Watchers and both channel End magic; however, Watchers mainly empower their magic through endermen meat and Listeners through chorus fruit, which manifests magic differently. The endermen meat makes the magic easier to control, as opposed to chorus fruit, which is wilder, stronger, and harder to control. Although, since our magic is still End magic, it allows both of us to travel between servers and dimensions with ease and control aspects of a server that regular players can’t.” Xisuma paused. “Consuming endermen meat makes Watchers more susceptible to corruption and evil, pushing them to pursue their harmful desires.” He gave Grian a slightly concerned look.

 

Grian didn’t notice Xisuma’s look and mused, “So that’s why they wanted me to eat that mysterious purple meat.”

 

“Yes, exactly,” Xisuma said, relieved. “Now, Grian, please explain to me why you put a protection spell over the world and a concealing spell on your wings. That’s why I’m here.”

 

The shorter hermit pushed his hair back nervously. “I– uh…” Xisuma raised an eyebrow. Grian slightly evaded the question by saying, “X, you don’t want them here as much as I don’t want them here. Why don’t we help each other keep them out? We both might know things about the Watchers that the other doesn’t.”

 

“And why hide the wings?”

 

Grian gave him a look. “Well, look at how you reacted, how do you think the other hermits will react to this?”

 

“...fair point.”

 

“Please don’t tell the other hermits. Not yet. You don’t understand the risks that come with that if the Watchers do make their way in.”

 

Xisuma considered it for a moment. He was torn between trusting his friend and not trusting a Watcher. He had already purposefully exempted information from Grian about Listeners as a precaution. Although it seems Grian has a complicated past with them and doesn't want them in Hermitcraft as much as he does. 

 

He had to trust his friend, even if he didn’t fully understand what was happening yet. 

 

“I promise I won’t tell them until you’re ready, Grian. I’ll make sure you’re safe as long as you’re still a hermit. We can help each other with the spells.”

 

The hermit smiled softly, glad this didn’t lead to some bigger fight or, even worse, banishment. Perhaps there’s one person he can trust and share this burden with; this Listener seems well-versed enough to protect himself. The sun had just begun to rise, casting long warm shadows across his wooden floor. He could hear the soft whistling wind rattle his windows and the gentle sound of lapping water against the shore. (Although it was a bit strange, Grian notes, that he could hear it from inside the hobbit hole.) Professor Beak could be seen in the back, yawning and stretching his blue-feathered wings. Grian took a mental screenshot of this moment, as if subconsciously preparing himself for the worst, just in case the Watchers do find him and–

 

Xisuma clapped his hands together, breaking Grian’s train of thought. “Well, let’s get to work then! Unless you had any big plans today.”

 

Grian shook his head, “Nahh, let’s do it.”

 

—

 

Yellowish rocks floated gracefully above the pitch-dark void. He could see the tall, slender figures of the endermen wandering around these islands and the winding purple stems of the chorus fruit branches. Most notably, however, was the majestic and grand palace that lay in front of him. All the windows were purple, and any form of lighting came from a glowing purple flame or end rods. Above the towering, elegant arch was a familiar symbol, one that looked like a portal mixed with Morse code. 

 

His gaze fell to the entrance of this palace, and his stomach dropped. A tall figure with a robe stood ominously in the center of this entrance. He couldn’t see the figure's face; it was too dark underneath the hood to discern anything. He stood petrified as the figure strided slowly towards him.

 

F̶o̶l̷l̸o̶w̴ ̶m̶e̵.̴

 

He had no choice but to follow. 

 

The beautiful, but eerily quiet corridors of the palace made him feel on edge, as if something was watching him. At all times. He shuddered. He hated long, quiet, echoing hallways just like these.

 

Soft light shone streaks of purple through the windows, casting a long, elegant square-like shape on the ground. Huge majestic chandeliers hung from the ceilings, and tall intricate pillars shaped the hallways with grace. The longer he walked, the more he began to appreciate the architecture of the building. It reminded him of a certain builder, who had a similar finesse in this elegant yet slightly rustic style… He chuckled to himself sadly, remembering–

 

The figure stopped.

 

They turned, revealing a face he wished he had never seen. A smile too wide. Too big. Too… happy. One, two, three, four, five… too many eyes. Glowing purple eyes. Every single pupil. Watching.

 

Y̸o̷u̷'̸v̸e̵ ̴t̷o̶l̸d̴ ̷m̶e̷ ̶e̸v̴e̵r̶y̷t̶h̷i̶n̵g̵ ̶I̵ ̷n̴e̴e̷d̸ ̵t̵o̵ ̸k̷n̶o̶w̶.̷

 

Pause.

 

T̶h̴a̷n̵k̵ ̸y̶o̶u̶,̴ ̵M̷u̵m̴b̶o̴ ̴J̶u̷m̴b̸o̷.̶

Notes:

yeehaw 🤠

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Notes:

Finally posted Chapter 5, probably should've done this a long time ago. :,)

I've been wanting to write more Joe and Cleo moments, so we have that now. I'm trying my best to include as many Hermits as possible and not mischaracterize them, but something tells me it might be deviating from that a bit. Nonetheless, hope you guys enjoy!

“Hey, Joe!” ZombieCleo shouts while landing in front of him. Joe turned, a smile on his face as he waved his arm to the half-zombie, half-woman figure in front of him. They stood in front of JoeHills’ base, a half-finished winery that he was currently working on, still clutching blocks in his hands. He wore a blue hoodie with a t-shirt underneath that had an @ symbol on it. Pale skin contrasted with his dark, fluffy brown hair that rustled gently in the wind. His rectangular glasses sat upon his nose, reflecting the sunlight. 

 

“Howdy, Cleo.” He beamed.

 

“I found something cool just east of my base. I don’t think a hermit built it.” Cleo said excitedly.

 

“Will me going decrease my 6 million armour stand debt?” Joe asked hopefully.

 

Cleo laughed. “You’re a funny guy! No.” She paused. “Mm, well, maybe.”

 

“I’ll take a maybe,” Joe said with a smile. “C’mon then, let’s go!”

 

The pair flew past Cleo’s rainbow, the one that Joe eventually completely built and let him gain around 7 million armour stands in credit. (He’s still quite proud of himself for achieving that.) And continued onward into the forest beyond Cleo’s base until they reached a tall, dark tower made from obsidian, stone bricks, and… bedrock?

 

“Oh, you sure a hermit didn’t build it?” Joe asked sarcastically, pointing at the bedrock in the tower.

 

“Oh my god, Joe. Yeah, of course, how could I forget that bedrock is the most easy to obtain item in Minecraft?!” She shot back with a laugh.

 

They walked up to the tower, its long shadow cast over them, leaving the area cooler than under the sun. Joe took notice of the intricate designs of the tower, the wider base and the thinner top. Stone bricks lined the base with their designs, while the obsidian glinted from behind it, the shiny black rock stretched its way up the tower and covered most of the top half. Interspersed within the obsidian was crying obsidian, its soft, purple glowing cracks gently illuminated the shadows from the stone details. Joe didn’t notice the crying obsidian from afar because of how similar it looked to regular obsidian. He gasped. Crying obsidian wasn’t supposed to be added until the next update, in 1.16; the server was still in 1.15. “Cleo- Crying obsidian…”

 

Cleo didn’t hear him.

 

He stepped towards the tower, reaching out a hand to touch the rough, gritty surface of the bedrock and hard, smooth surface of the obsidian, and finally, the etched cracks of the crying obsidian. “Oh, it’s real bedrock and crying obsidian, for sure,” Joe said, before turning around to look for Cleo.

 

Cleo stood further away from the tower, beyond its shadow. She stood on a small hill just high enough to view the tower in its entirety. Her neck craned to look at the top of the tower, her hand covered her eyes from the sun that was rising behind the tower. Long orange hair flowed in the wind, and small flowers in her hair contrasted with her bright hair. The light shone brightly on her green face, illuminating her squinting eyes. Joe changed his view from Cleo to the tower. The sunlight cast a glowing rim around the tower, making it almost look ethereal. She called to Joe, “I think there’s writing on the tower, Joe. It looks like the enchanting table language squiggles. Galactic, that’s what it’s called.”

 

“What does it say?”

 

Cleo’s gaze slowly came down. She was silent for a second before asking, “Do I look like I know how to read that? Oh, yeah. Let me just quickly pull out my Galactic skills I just so conveniently have in my back pocket.”

 

“I don’t know, Cleo. Maybe the scientific method helps you deduce a language you never learned. It’s all witchcraft and voodoo.”

 

Cleo laughed, jumping down the small hill. “Did you just call science witchcraft and voodoo?” 

 

“No, I would never,” Joe said with a smile.

 

The pair laughed, but as it slowly dispersed, Joe pointed out the crying obsidian. “There’s crying obsidian on the build, we aren’t even in 1.16 yet.”

 

“Oh, I didn’t even notice that. That’s super weird.” Cleo said, frowning and quickly changing her tone, realizing a potential precedent to this situation. She stepped closer to the unnatural pillar.

 

She inspected the tower again, but more closely, walking around its perimeter to the back… which was unfinished?

 

“I only know one person who doesn’t finish the back of builds,” Cleo stated, turning towards Joe.

 

“It’s Bdubs, right?” Joe asked sarcastically, grinning.

 

“Oh, yeah. Obviously.” Cleo began. “No, I’m-“

 

“Cleo.” Joe cut her off. “There’s a chest and a sign in there.” He pointed inside the tower, which had a small opening from the unfinished back. Cleo’s gaze followed his finger, and she gasped silently at the sign. 

 

The Watchers gift you with the most valuable gift of all. Knowledge.

 

“What do they mean by knowledge?” Cleo asked, stepping bashfully toward the chest. “What are Watchers?”

 

“Maybe they teach us about the scientific method.” Joe joked, nervousness reaching his voice. Cleo didn’t laugh. He paused. “I’m not the only one who thinks this is weird, right?”

 

“No, no. No, you’re not. This is a server filled with weird hermits, but this… this doesn’t seem like a joke any of them would pull off. Except maybe Grian, or Etho?”

 

They were silent for a bit, still staring at the unopened chest. 

 

“I feel watched, Joe,” Cleo said slowly.

 

“Me too,” Joe replied.

 

They were silent again. It was a long silence. It felt like minutes, maybe even hours. Until Joe broke the silence, asking, “Should I… open the chest?”

 

“Yeah,” Cleo responded, “Yeah. Could you open it?”

 

The tall, lanky-ish man stepped into the tower, almost completely encompassed by darkness except for the small end rod light source in the corner. He reached a tentative hand and rested it on the wooden chest. Slowly lifting the lid and peeking inside…

 

“Oh,” Joe exclaimed.

 

“What?” Cleo asked, curious and concerned. 

 

“There’s a stack of diamonds,” Joe said, pulling out the diamonds, showing them to Cleo. “You better share some,” Cleo muttered. “Or you’ll owe me more armour stands.”

 

“Oh no! Not even more debt!” Joe said with mock horror. He diverted his attention back to the chest. “And…” He stopped.

 

“And?”

 

“This.” 

 

Joe held up a smooth white mask, which was rectangular with two short protrusions from the bottom. In the middle of the mask was a purple portal-like shape… as if it was combined with Morse code. 

 

“And the strangest part,” Joe continued, “Is this.”

 

He turned the mask around, showing the inside of the mask. It was the same pearly white as the outside, just made of softer and more form-fitting material. But right in the corner of the mask was a small purple letter.

 

G.

 

“Gee, I wonder who this belongs to,” Cleo said, looking up at Joe. “No pun intended.”

 

“Wait, Cleo. There’s also a note.” Joe picked up the small piece of paper. There was elegant, tall, cursive writing on the white sheet.

 

“What?” She paused. “What does it say?”

 

“He is not what you think he is.”

 

“That’s not ominous at all!” Cleo remarked sarcastically, stepping forward to peer at it over Joe’s shoulder. Her gaze quickly fell on the mask in Joe’s other hand, and she gingerly caressed its smooth white surface. “What happens if you wear it? It looks like it’s meant to be worn.”

 

The taller hermit held up the mask to his face, he could smell a sweet lavender aroma emitting from it. “Let’s find out… take it off me if anything bad happens.” Then the mask was on.

 

He felt lightheaded for a split second, as if his skull was about to crack open and spill its contents on the ground. It was as if too much knowledge entered his brain all at once, overwhelming his senses. Then it was gone, and he felt… free. His vision had a light purple tint to it, and he could see everything more clearly. Tiny subscripts floated around certain objects, and a subconscious Joe previously didn’t have whispered knowledge in his ear. The hermit held out a hand, only to see that his own body was a black void. Joe turned to face Cleo, who had a mildly concerned look on her face. 

 

“Joe?” She asked tentatively, quietly.

 

“Cleo, I feel so FREE!” Joe replied, holding up both his hands in the air and feeling the aura of the air around him. It felt like he was stirring water with his hands, cold and flowy. “I want to wear this forever.”

 

“Joe. You shouldn’t.” Cleo stated, a bit louder.

 

“This is amazing, I can see EVERYTHING, hear EVERYTHING. I feel like a GOD.” He continued, ignoring the zombie hermit standing next to him.

 

Why, hello there, JoeHills.

 

“Who are you?” Joe asked aloud.

 

“I’m Cleo, you know me,” Cleo replied, confused. “You said my name earlier.”

 

Ignore her and listen to me. You don’t need anyone in your life; you have all this power.

 

“Power…” Joe murmured.

 

“What are you talking about?” Cleo demanded, taking a step toward the other hermit. He backed away from Cleo, holding up a slightly glowing hand, threateningly. The zombie hermit’s eyes lit up in realization. With a swift movement, she bounded toward Joe and ripped the mask off his face. Its smooth surface was searing hot, causing her to immediately drop it when she touched it. A small red burn mark was left scorching on her palm, and the pain came in a few moments later. Cleo quickly turned to look at Joe. “Joe?”

 

“Cleo. The mask. I don’t think we should put it on. I heard them.”

 

“Who’s them?”

 

“... I’m not sure.”

 

—

 

Mumbo jolted awake in a cold sweat. What just happened? How did they know my name? He pushed his short black hair away from his face, combing his mustache as a habit to relieve stress. He moved quickly off his bed, ignoring the pile of zombies in minecarts who groaned exceptionally loudly.

 

The redstoner slowly put on his suit, pondering the dream (nightmare?) he just had. His gaze turned toward his circular window, and warm morning light beamed through the clear material, casting a circular light on his wooden floor. 

 

He considered telling someone about his dream. It felt too… real to just be another nightly movie, except he was the director with little control over the actors. Mumbo chuckled to himself. His first thought was Grian. The final bit of the dream, the scariest bit, seemed to be triggered by the palace reminding him of the builder. 

 

I’ll sound like an idiot trying to explain that to someone. He thought with a frown. They might think I’m crazy.

 

Best to keep it to myself unless it gets worse. 

 

He paused for a moment. What if that was a sign? A sign for what he should do with his life? Mumbo sighed, fidgeting with the fabric of his PJ’s. To be honest, Mumbo never really knew what he wanted to do with himself. Everything he did felt futile, as if there was no purpose, that he had no impact in the world… or on his friends. Especially to Grian, his best friend, the friend he has the most fun with, the friend who was there through the thick and the thin. He smiled slightly. Perhaps he should know about the dream. 

 

No, I’ll sound like some fangirl. Besides, he’s always helping me. God, I feel useless sometimes. 

 

He thought of what happened just a couple of hours ago… then quickly shook it off. The mustached man turned his gaze outside the window, staring into the warm morning sunlight. He noted the gentle sway of the forest leaves, as if dancing gracefully to a Michael Bublé song. A soft smile blossomed on his face; he loved Michael Bublé. It looked gorgeous outside, and Mumbo had decided it would be a great idea to go flying. 

 

He wanted to forget the dream anyways…

 

—

 

Grian laughed, saying with a smile, “X, this is genius! I would never have thought of trying to mix a trickster spell and a concealing spell.”

 

Xisuma beamed proudly. “Thank you, G. You would be surprised how working with Listener magic forces you to work with the magic rather than control it.”

 

The pair sat in Grian’s base with a bunch of paper, books, and quills sprawled across the floor. Xisuma held a feathered pen in his hand, subconsciously stroking his face thoughtfully. Grian used his magic, floating paper, notebooks, and regular books around him as he surveyed his previous notes. Strong ebbing magic flowed through his blood, pulsing against his skin, threatening to break out. He felt the electric tingle of the powerful magic at the tips of his fingers. Grian considered it for a moment, reminiscing about his past with the Watchers before he left. 

 

“Hey, X,” Grian asked slowly. 

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Do you ever-“ Grian started.

 

The magic had a sudden, strong pulse that pushed against his usual constraints to maintain control, forcing his fingers to move. It was oddly more powerful than usual. Grian frowned at this revelation, stopping what he said before. 

 

He opened his mouth to say something else until his magic suddenly spasmed again, causing him to fling the books and papers across the room. Xisuma ducked to avoid getting hit by a rapidly moving chunk of paper. It hit the wall with a loud thud behind the bee hermit, who looked up slightly dazed at the shocked red sweatered hermit.

 

“What was that for!?” Xisuma asked, before stopping, noticing Grian’s expression. “Oh.”

 

“Why is my magic so uncontrollable?” Grian inquired, giving Xisuma a hopeful, pleading look. “Could it be…“ His look pierced into Xisuma’s purple eyes.

 

“Listener magic.” He finished Grian’s thought. “Maybe. When I first tried to control it, it was pretty similar to this. Do your hands feel tingly? Do you feel it is more chaotic than usual?”

 

Grian closed his eyes, trying to feel the flow of the magic in him. A cool flow of end magic circulated through his body, starting from his head, to his arms, to his legs, and finally up his spine back to the head. It didn’t feel much different than before, except that it had a bigger flow. It was rapid and coarse, as if a river suddenly broke the dam miles above and the water just began to rush down. But it wasn’t uncontrollable. “No, the magic type feels the same. There’s just… more than I’m used to.”

 

“That’s weird.” Xisuma frowned. “I thought Watcher magic didn’t grow, but stayed at the amount that was given.” 

 

“Me too.”

 

“…”

 

“Peculiar.”

 

Grian wouldn’t find out till later that his chest scar had a low, purple glow to it.

 

—

 

Rendog stood up from his bed, stretching his arms toward the sky and yawning. It was a good day to be working on his Star Wars-themed build. The hermit walked out of his front door. Or just a hole now, Ren noted. ” These darn doors keep going missing. Someone keeps taking them.” Ren thought with an annoyed but impressed look. 

 

His foot landed on the soft red sand, sinking slightly into the warm surface. Blue eyes gazed up towards his volcanic creation; the silhouette of his next build stood ominous and tall in the distance. He couldn’t help but feel excitement just looking at it. The hermit equips his elytra, taking a leap and gliding into the sky, flying toward his project.

 

“There she is, in all of her glory.” Ren thought to himself, satisfied with his work in progress. He did laps around its pyramidal perimeter before realizing the strange obsidian symbol just beside his build. “Well, that’s a strange practical joke,” Ren said to no one.

 

Soft thuds on the black lava rock indicated the hermit’s landing. He took tentative steps toward the symbol, cocking his head in curiosity. Right on the side of his build was a glowing nether portal. Ren frowned. 

 

The hermit lifted his shaded glasses from his nose, propping them just above his forehead. He glanced around, double-checking no one was around to watch this. Shade-E-E’s has been up to a lot of mischief lately, and Ren would rather die than get tricked again. (He had already deep cleaned his base 5 times, but he still somehow found glass shards in the storage system.) He took a cautious step towards the portal. “Who the heck would just put a nether portal on my build?”

 

He was about to step into it when he stopped. The particles. The particles weren’t the normal nether portal particles, no. They were the same symbol etched on the ground in front of the portal. Ren could feel his discomfort rising the closer he was to the glowing purple swirls. It was welcoming… too welcoming. The portal enticed him to feed into his desires, good and bad. To find that stupid door thief and bring them to justice, to rise against Xisuma, to start a war… 

 

Ren shook his head, stepping away quickly from the portal. He had a troubled expression on his face. “This is some strange phenomenon… I'd better tell Xisuma about this. I don’t think a player built this.”

 

“The HermitCraft server gets weirder every day.”

 

—

 

“This server gets weirder every day!” Scar said with joy. The wizard stepped back to look at his creation. Bridges dangled gracefully between trees, tall dome buildings filled the edges of the clearing, and a tall bubbling fountain shot streams of water to the sky. He took a deep breath in, he could smell the crisp grass and the fresh jungle air. He sighed. “It’s not often you see a giant snail,” he gestured towards it, “guarding a beautiful, magical village hidden within the jungle. Ahh, this is the best kind of magical strangeness.”

 

He pushed his blue pointed hat out of his face, sunlight shining into his emerald eyes and revealing hints of gold around his pupils. Strong hands sat on his hips, and he continued to marvel at the beauty of his part of the jungle. Warm beams of light shone onto the village as smaller dots of luminance filtered through the leaves and scattered their radiance across the grassy ground. A low purple light covered the ground and contrasted with the light blue sky…

 

Wait. 

 

Scar turned around, confused, looking for the source of the low purple glow. Was it the creeper farm he made with Grian? “Hold on. Isn’t that crystal supposed to be green?”

 

Yes. That crystal was originally green. But now, it was a deep purple colour, the colour one would see when looking into the eyes of an enderman. The threatening, discomforting purple that screeches incomprehensible sounds in your ear when you see it for too long. Scar shuddered at the thought of it. 

 

“Why is the crystal purple now? And why is there… enchanting table hieroglyphics around it??”

Notes:

ALSO, thank you so much for the kudos, comments, bookmarks, and even hits. I didn't expect my silly fic to get as much attention as it did! I'm so excited to release more cause I have some i d e a s for the plot :)

💃💃💃

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Notes:

Uploaded: 2:48 am (I have a great sleep schedule)

(I totally don't have plans tomorrow morning)

Xisuma left the hobbit hole at dusk, the sun set in the west, painting the sky with its pink, blue, and purple streaks. Grian waved his farewell to the bee hermit, grinning. He stood outside his front door, warm light from within the hobbit hole casting long shadows on his small wheat fields. “Thank you, X! See you again tomorrow?”

 

“Yep! See ya, G.”

 

Xisuma turned and flew quickly towards the lake, but before he could turn towards his base, a very fast, slightly clumsy, blue figure hit him. The two plunged into the lake, creating a loud splash. Xisuma surfaced, dazed. A concerned wizard was in front of him, his hat and beard drooping from all the water. 

 

“Hey, Xisuma!” Scar said enthusiastically, attempting to mask his concerned look. “I uh,” he stopped.

 

Xisuma raised an eyebrow. “Why did you pummel me into water? There’s gotta be a good reason for you to do this.”

 

Scar started, “Well-“ Inside, he was panicking, “I mean. Xisuma. Have you turned slightly to your left and seen the very purple and very glowy gemstone that wasn’t purple this morning?”

 

He was interrupted by the arrival of a distressed and confused Cleo and Joe. They landed on the shore when they saw the bee and the wizard paddling in the water towards the edge of the water. “Hey, X!” Joe started. “Have you seen Grian?”

 

“Yes, I saw Grian just a couple of seconds ago. Why do you need him?” He turned to the wizard. “Why did you almost drown me? You know bees can’t swim.”

 

Scar laughed as Cleo and Joe exchanged glances, and they pulled out the strange white mask. Cleo showed it to Xisuma, whose eyebrows furrowed the moment he recognized it. “Well, Joe and I found this just east of my base in a strange tower. It had crying obsidian and bedrock on it and galactic writing on the sides. But this mask, X. It has Grian’s initials on it.” She pointed at the small engraved ‘G’.

 

Joe continued, “We found this note, too.” He pushed the small piece of paper into Xisuma’s hand. Xisuma read it slowly. “He is not what you think he is. Well, that’s… worrisome.”

 

Scar added vehemently, “Xisuma. Have you not seen the creeper farm that Grian and I made? The gem is purple now, and it makes me feel weird.” He shuddered. 

 

The hermits watched their Admin expectantly, hoping for a clear answer. Xisuma opened his mouth and was about to speak when he was interrupted again. 

 

“Xisuma! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Ren said as he hit the ground hard. His limbs were sprawled across the ground from his hurried entrance. The hermit stood up and brushed himself off. “Oh, also, hey guys. Sorry to interrupt your intimate moment, but I just saw the strangest thing on the side of my base. I genuinely don’t think a hermit built it, and it had weird symbols floating off of it…” 

 

Cleo asked, raising the mask. “Did it look like this?”

 

“Yes!” Ren replied, jumping back. “Where did you get that from?” He paused, asking suspiciously. “Did you build that portal?”

 

“A portal? Of course not.” Cleo and Joe said simultaneously.

 

Xisuma stopped them by raising a hand. They fell to silence and directed their attention to the Admin. “That’s interesting. Why don’t you show me all of this?”

 

—

 

Just as Xisuma left, another sudden influx of magic started to flow again. Grian twinged his hands together, attempting to control the wild and overpowering flow of the power. This was more magic than he ever had, and Watcher magic is given at a set amount unless another Watcher gives them more. Purple wings flared with each unsuspecting ebb, causing cold tingling down his spine and fingertips. “Why is this happening right now?”

 

The hermit stepped away from the door he had just closed, listening to the rockets as Xisuma flew off. Grian sat down on the floor, gripping his hair. He needed to control the magic. He HAD to control the magic. Who knows what will happen if he doesn’t? With magic this powerful, the Watchers will have no problem finding him now, even with the protection spell. The cold wooden floor underneath him creaked as he sat down on it. Arms wrapped around himself in an attempt to feel comfort. 

 

He knew if he looked at the mirror again, blinking purple eyes and his halo would reappear. A purple haze has covered his eyesight again, and with each blink, different perspectives from Scar or Xisuma flash across his vision. Through his peripheral, he could see the soft glow of his wings, ebbing a low purple lighy against his wooden floor. Luckily, he had used magic to conceal the physical aspects of his Watcher form. 

 

Everything felt so overwhelming. He could hear the soft lapping of the water against the shore, the rustling of the leaves that blew in the wind, and the splash of an Xisuma who had just landed in the water. Grian perked up a bit. Was it Scar who just hit him? Voices from far away, yet strangely clear, echoed in his head. Every enunciated vowel and sound from Scar and Xisuma’s mouth, every small splatter of water droplets hitting its rippling surface, every new hermit who landed around Xisuma.

 

They were talking about Grian.

 

Grian froze. “Has my strengthened magic spread across the world? Have I accidentally created a portal to the next update all by myself?” He thought about earlier, the sudden magic he had channelled. Perhaps something happened then, too, maybe he did more than just throw books at Xisuma. And he indeed did do more than just throw books at Xisuma . 

 

“Why don’t you show me all of this?” Xisuma asked.

 

The dirty blonde hermit shook his head. The other hermits can’t find out about this. No, correction, they can’t step into the portal. One Watcher creating one portal all by himself… this goes against Watcher law. He sat up, ignoring the pain in his head from the overwhelming senses. The door swung open quickly, revealing a swift-moving hermit who began to fly without an elytra towards Ren’s base.

 

—

 

Strong wind currents pushed underneath Mumbo’s elytra, lifting him as he caressed the wispy clouds above him. He flew around his work-in-progress base, admiring his masterpiece. Cool moonlight reflected off the iron of his wrench-like structures, casting light onto the jungle floor. Mumbo just added a heart to the base that requires feeding; he thought of Grumbot. Prideful warmth resonated in his chest as he glided around the base, taking mental notes on what he wanted to change.

 

As he flew around the base, he couldn’t help but keep thinking about his dream last night, about his conversation with Grian. A troubled expression grew on his face, his eyebrows scrunched together. Maybe he should take one more flight before he goes to bed. He’s been enjoying these solitary flights recently. The hermit turned mid-air, flying in a completely random direction and reaching his hands up to touch the clouds above him. He glanced briefly toward Grian’s base. He had begun working on the villager trading post at the front of the hobbit hole. It was unfinished however, as dirt and rails were placed haphazardly around the place, likely as an attempt to herd those pesky things. 

 

That was when he saw him.

 

Well, he first saw Xisuma, Cleo, Joe, Scar, and Ren gliding below him, followed by Grian, without an elytra, flying towards Ren’s base. The mustachioed hermit stared in disbelief. How was Grian flying without an elytra? He shook his head; it must’ve been a strange visual glitch. Well, it wasn’t a ‘strange visual glitch’. He will find out, soon enough, what it all means. Oh, yes, he will.

 

While pausing in his flight, he considered for a moment before turning to follow Grian out of curiosity. Perhaps he should tell Grian about the dream he had and apologize for what happened earlier, even if it was strange and weird. Besides, Grian was also a strange individual (and Mumbo’s best friend), and Mumbo was dying to find out why he had no elytra.

 

—

 

Wind rushed past Grian’s ear as he glided quickly towards Ren’s base, trailing behind the group of hermits in front of him. He wasn’t sure if he should approach them first or test the waters with the portal. Grian shook his head, tufts of blondish hair tussled in the wind and long flight feathers rustled from the speed. Thoughts and concerns rang in his head like echoes in a long, desolate hallway. He knew they shouldn’t know about The Watchers; he couldn’t afford to lose them too… but it’s so difficult to keep it from them, especially with his magic coming back more than before. 

 

He sighed. It would be so much easier to just run like last time, leave everyone behind and protect them from The Watchers. He was selfish for staying. He knew he was. But he couldn’t afford to lose more friends, Xisuma, Scar… Mumbo. No. He had to stay, selfishly, for them. Grian wasn’t sure he could handle losing more of them, all at once. Oh, Yehoshua. Nothing lasts forever. Grian perked up. “ Who the hell are you?” 

 

Silence.

 

“ Who are you?” Grian asked again, firmly.

 

You know exactly who I am, Xelqua. Or should I say, Grian? You’ve changed yourself a lot. You’re trying to get as far away from me as possible, hmm? Remember what I did for you.

 

“AUGHHH! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Grian screamed in frustration, quietly enough for the hermits in front to not hear but loud enough to let go of his steam. He tried to shake the voice away. You can never get rid of me. Not again .

 

“Why the frustration? Are the villagers being annoying again? I saw you were having some troubles with that.”

 

Grian turned to the familiar sound in surprise. Flying right beside him was Mumbo, his tie flapping in the wind. Now that Mumbo was right in front of him, he could hear every rustle of his clothing, the sound of the wind as it pushed against his elytra, and even the slow beating of his heart. It was strange that Grian had not heard anything prior. Mumbo had his round and familiar smile beaming on his face, masking his concern. He said earnestly, “If you need help with them, I can help you! Although no promises the job will get done efficiently. I’m pretty terrible with villagers, too.”

 

“Oh, hi, Mumbo. You startled me.” Grian replied cautiously.

 

“You don’t sound very enthused,” Mumbo pointed out jokingly. “I get it, most people aren’t typically enthused when they see me. I can practically hear them whining in their heads.”

 

Grian laughed. It felt like he hadn’t talked to Mumbo in a meaningful or enjoyable way in a while. Mumbo felt so far away. As if a small, twinkling star, millions of light-years away from the cold, desolate, and lonely palace with resonant, long hallways. The one he remembered staring at from his window during those frigid nights. 

 

“Yeah, how did you know! Was my complaining so loud you could hear it through our mutual brain cell?” Grian piped back.

 

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, you weren’t subtle at all. Threw in a couple of swear words too? I see how it is.” Mumbo replied with a smile. 

 

Grian smiled back. He glanced forward and noted how close they were to Ren’s base now. How was he supposed to shake Mumbo off and check on the portal? “Why did you jump scare me?”

 

Mumbo paused. “Well, I noticed you don’t have an elytra on but are still flying. I got curious, so I came closer to look, but then you screamed. So at first, it was because I wanted to know if it was a visual glitch, then I wanted to know why you screamed.”

 

“Oh. That’s super weird. I do have an elytra on. It’s probably just some visual glitch.” Grian lied quickly. “I was screaming because- Oh, wait. They’re landing.” Before Mumbo could say anything else, Grian dived towards Xisuma and the rest of the hermits. Scar had landed, as per usual, on his bum rather than his feet. Ren was leading the confused, chattering hermits towards his newly built work-in-progress mega base.

 

Grian landed gracefully, re-equiping his elytra the moment he touched ground. The hermit crouched behind cactus and grass, listening to them talk in the distance. Mumbo had landed beside Grian. He whispered, “Are you spying on them?” He glanced at them, then back at Grian. “Why?”

 

“Yes, now shush.” Grian hushed. There was no way he could shake Mumbo off unless he was sneaky about it. If anyone on this server had to NOT know about The Watchers, it was Mumbo. He couldn’t imagine the things they would do to him… That’s not to say we already have plans for him. 

 

“What?!”

 

Silence again. 

 

“ God damn it.” He redirected his attention to Rendog. “Well, X, this weird portal thing just appeared on my base, and I don’t feel like it’s a normal thing to occur… which is why I brought it to your attention.” His small, faraway figure gestured to the purple glowing object beside him. Grian shifted slightly, catching the portal in his vision. That wasn’t a portal to the new update. No, that was a portal to the End, not just any End. The End. Capital T. Capital E.

 

He froze up in fear. Mumbo noticed his sudden change and reached out a cautious hand in comfort, but stopped as Grian leaned forward. 

 

“Maybe, one of us should set our spawn and go through the portal? Find out what’s on the other side?” Joe suggested while placing down a blue bed and a chest next to the portal. “Worst comes to worst, we can just kill ourselves and come back if it’s super dangerous.”

 

“Good idea,” Cleo remarked. 

 

Joe turned, beaming. “That might be the first time you agreed with me and DIDN’T say something sarcastic and snarky!”

 

“Oh, shut up!” Cleo laughed, gently punching him on the shoulder.

 

“I would love to go first, my wizardry will prove useful in an adventure like this,” Scar said excitedly. 

 

Xisuma shook his head. “No, I should go first. If this portal is what I think it is, it will be safer for me to go through than for you. As the Admin, I cannot risk your life for this.”

 

“Good choice, X,” Grian muttered. “But I really shouldn’t be letting anyone through that portal.”

 

A flash of memories came back for a moment. The Upper Deity holding out a hand. A crown. No, a diadem. Beautiful. Silver. Purple. His eyes stare back. They stare and see. They suddenly don’t. Eyes. So many eyes. So. Much. Pain. So. Much. Darkness.

 

Grian shook off the fragmented memory as quickly as it came. Now was not the time for this. It never seems to be the time for anything, Yehoshua. He took a step forward, opening his mouth to yell at the group of hermits beyond him. Mumbo watched in curiosity as his friend leaped out from behind the totally very concealing cactus, revealing himself to the dim torchlight.

 

“X! Don’t step through,” Grian yelled. 

 

Xisuma turned, a bit surprised. “ Was he following us? Is it not The End through this portal? Is there something Grian didn’t tell me?” He asked suspiciously, “Why?” 

 

Through his bee helmet, Grian could feel his skeptical purple eyes peering into his soul. Despite bonding in the past two days, Xisuma was still suspicious of Grian. The red-sweatered hermit felt an uncomfortable prickling feeling travel up his spine, as if a spider was crawling up his back.

 

“Um. Well…” He glanced at Cleo, Joe, Scar, and Ren, who all looked expectantly at Grian.

 

“Cause there’s a trap through the portal. A very dangerous trap that will kill you and you’ll lose all your stuff.” Mumbo added quickly, jumping into the torchlight. “Trust me, I fell for it earlier and don’t want you guys falling for it too.”

 

Xisuma eyed the mustachioed man, confused but dubious. Grian turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow, before facing the other hermits again. Mumbo seemed nervous; he fidgeted with his thumbs and shifted around on his feet. The bee hermit sighed. “ Again, I promised him it’s his choice when to tell the others.” Xisuma said slowly, “Thank you, Mumbo. I guess we won’t be going through.”

 

Ren asked, surprised, “What?! You can’t just ignore everything I told you, X. Everything they told you? Grian is hiding something, and you know it.” The blue-eyed man with sunglasses glanced at Grian, sighed, adding, “But I guess it’s his choice whether he tells us or not. I’m curious, though.” He paused, narrowing his eyes at Mumbo. “Also, Mumbo’s excuse is pretty bad.”

 

Mumbo replied, defeated. “Hey, at least I tried.”

 

Cleo and Joe nodded in agreement to Ren, Cleo more dubiously. She added firmly, “Although I agree with Ren here that it’s Grian’s secret, this whole thing is affecting the entire server. And with how Xisuma AND Grian are reacting, it doesn’t seem safe. I think it’s selfish and overprotective to keep this information from us. We are willing to fight. We will fight for HermitCraft and its members if we need to.” 

 

Joe stayed silent, contemplating. Scar kept trying to mouth things to Mumbo.

 

Grian didn’t know what to say. He turned to Mumbo with an apologetic expression on his face. The mustached man broke eye contact with his friend and finally met Scar’s. Was this what was holding him down? A secret so big only Xisuma knew about it? He covered for Grian, but they seem to know more than he does. A pang of hurt. Does he trust them more than himself?

 

Mumbo said, a bit of hurt leaking through. “Grian- I know it’s your secret and not mine. And as much as I want to know what is happening, I can’t and won’t force you… But I am curious and want to know what is wrong. I want to help, but I don’t know how.”

 

Grian was silent. He held his wings close to him and studied the ground intently to avoid eye contact, subconsciously scratching his chest. They stood in awkward silence for a while, anticipation from the other hermits rose, threatening to spill over. Grian could feel every eye on him, each uneven breath from the hermits, some heartbeats speeding up, some slowing down. Every shift of movement from the others rang loudly in his ears, the rustling of their clothing, the friction between elytra and cloth.

 

“ What do I do? What do I say? Should I tell them?” Finally, he looked up, meeting Xisuma’s eyes first but quickly darting around to the others, and lastly, Mumbo and Scar. “Mumbo can’t know. He shouldn’t know. I can’t ask him to leave, it’s a breach of trust- but does that matter if he’s safe?” His thoughts paused for a second, considerate. “ I should tell them, including Mumbo. Cleo is right, it’s selfish of me not to tell them. Xisuma is the admin, sure, but there is no hierarchy here. This isn’t The End.”

 

He sighed, finally breaking the tension. “Cleo is right, you’re all right. I can’t keep you safe if you have no means to protect yourselves either. I’m– uh.” He paused. “I’m a Watcher,” he finished with a strain to his voice. It sounded even worse when it was said out loud. Technically, he was a Watcher; he always has been a Watcher. He has their powers, their magic, he understands their culture, their language, but calling himself a Watcher just felt… wrong. It felt like calling yourself a name you weren’t. Remember, Yehoshua. You are a Watcher and always will be a Watcher. Grian winced but ignored the voice.

 

Silence, mostly from confusion. Xisuma was stone-faced; he already knew his information. Cleo glanced at Joe, who didn’t return it and instead, cocked his head at Grian curiously. Mumbo and Scar exchanged glances again. The silence was broken by Scar, who said slowly, considerately, as if the term felt familiar. “What… is a Watcher?” 

 

Cleo interjected, “Someone who watches, probably.” She turned to Grian, a slight grin curved on her face. “Is this just a confession that you have hidden cameras installed in our bases?”

 

Grian laughed dryly. “No, a Watcher is a deity I interacted with a bunch during my time in the EvoSMP. They mostly created portals to help with server updates, but they also toy with the players, building towers to honour themselves or to test the players. It’s a novelty to them.”

 

Ren cranked his head to look at the portal next to his base. He pointed at the portal and asked, “So this should be a portal to the next update?”

 

Grian didn’t say anything; he glanced at Xisuma expectantly. Xisuma sighed. “No, this is a portal to The End. Not The End with the Ender Dragon we’ve beaten multiple times. This is the original End, the one where those entities reside. It’s their home.”

 

Joe finally said something after staying quiet for so long. “Is this why that tower had crying obsidian on it? They built it as a reminder to us of the importance of Watchers for server updates?” He glanced at the mask Cleo held in her hands and then at Grian. “But also as a… warning about you.”

 

“A warning?” Grian asked, bewildered and vehement. “I am not a danger to this server. Well, not directly.”

 

“He is not what you think he is.”

 

Grian didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to respond. “ He is not what you think he is? What does that mean? What am I not? Why would they tell them that?” Scar asked, not waiting for an answer to the previous statement, “What about that purple crystal? Was that also you?”

 

“Yeah- I guess so,” Grian stated, but Xisuma stopped him. “Yes, it was. I felt the Watcher magic from the crystal.” He looked at Grian. “You’re channelling more magic than you had previously. Now that you mention it, I can feel it happening.”

 

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Grian muttered. He realized Mumbo hadn’t said anything in a while and quickly peered toward him. Mumbo stood, confused and troubled. He opened his mouth but closed it. “ That’s weird. I wonder what he’s thinking about. ” Grian thought, his brows furrowing together.

 

Cleo asked, “Do we tell the rest of the server? I feel like they have to know about this, Grian. They’ll find out eventually from the mysterious towers and cryptic letters.”

 

“You’re right. I should tell them.” He glanced at Xisuma, who nodded. “Next meeting we have, G. It’s all yours.”

 

Grian nodded back.

 

A pause.

 

“Soooo… no going through mysterious portal?” Scar asked pensively.

 

The hermits all turned their gaze towards the wizard. “Sorry, Scar, but no,” Xisuma answered.

 

—

 

Mumbo realized he hadn’t said anything until landing gracefully in front of his hobbit hole. How did he not know about Grian’s past at all? The Watchers seemed like an important aspect of his life, and what he said was minimal. Mumbo wasn’t sure he knew what the Watchers even were. All he knew were mysterious portals, cryptic letters, and big, strange towers. He saw all of these himself. Grian and X both tried to explain what they were and why the Watchers did it, but Mumbo couldn’t entirely wrap his head around it. It was a little hard to believe and understand that a deity in another dimension has control over entire Minecraft worlds, including the magic around them. That said deity he has never met or interacted with knowingly should hypothetically keep an entire server running and active.

 

He was glad Grian finally told him what was happening, well, kind of. Mumbo planned to talk to Grian about it later; maybe he’ll finally tell him about the dream he had, like he originally planned to. He almost mentioned it during the conversation at Ren’s base, but a small, nagging voice in his head urged against it. That Mumbo would be a terrible friend for bringing up something trivial like this during one of his friends' possibly worst moments. He frowned. Again, thinking about the conversation in Grian’s base.

 

Gods, he had never been that awkward before in his life. Actually, maybe that one time he bought terracotta from Lookie Lookie at my Cookie and had the worst brain fart ever. Correction, he had never been that awkward around Grian before in his life. Hell, even when they first met, they kicked it off immediately. Perhaps he should’ve asked more, there seems to be something missing from the pieces Grian told him today. Something extremely important that he had purposefully left out. Knowing Grian, he probably thought it would make things better; but it usually did the contrary. If only Mumbo had asked Grian earlier, been more assertive in how he asked him the first time. Ugh, and now he couldn’t even tell him about the dream.

 

It was probably not that important, right?

 

—

 

A tall, hooded figure walked across the long, echoing hallways towards the throne room. When they entered the room, pushing its majestic doors open, they were greeted by a spiderweb of visions, dimensions, etc, in the form of floating, purple orbs. They reached out a long, spindly hand, and an orb floats toward their fingertips.

 

They smile slightly, watching the mustachioed figure in the globe. He sits on his bed, deep in thought. Light from the outside filtered into the room, casting a glint on their elegant silver diadem. It glimmered in the light and held the figure's head high, as if it were attached to a string on the ceiling. The light shines on the figures' smooth, human skin; a man-like form but… not a man or a woman. Purple freckles in the shapes of constellations glimmered on their cheek, and purple eyes, so dark they were almost black, watched in amusement.

 

“Oh, Mumbo. We have important plans for you.” They held up another hand, guiding another sphere into their hand. They gazed into it, watching the blonde Watcher frolic through his wheat fields. All those beautiful accents of purple, what a shame he tries to hide them so much. They know Mumbo will appreciate the purple more; in fact, the purple will look amazing on the redstoner. Red and purple never went well together, Mumbo’s black, however… The figure widened their smile to an unnaturally large and toothy one, looking at Grian again. As they turn their head, the human face changes to a black void, and purple eyes fill it with an unsettling glow. It was as if this one deity had two different personalities.

 

“I̶m̷p̶o̶r̴t̸a̷n̵t̸ ̴p̵l̸a̵n̶s̴,̴ ̵i̵n̶d̸e̵e̴d̵.̶”

Notes:

school starts soon scared emoji. I hope I can write more and post more and find time between my classes and homework. :)

Hope y'all enjoy this chapter! Definitely not my favourite but I gotta progress the plot. AND THANK YOU FOR THE COMMENTS AND KUDOS. LOVE YOU <3

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Notes:

Finally posted it! I like this chapter and I hope you guys like it too :)

Scar sat in his magical library, books whizzing past him as he flipped through cover after cover, table of contents after table of contents. A small beam of light shone onto a pillar in the middle of the cozy wooden library, his hands caressing each new book that passed by. Faintly glowing blue magic held up each levitating book, paper, and quill as Scar took notes on every book he thought might have what he was looking for.

 

“No, nope, no… definitely no.” He muttered to himself. “An extended guide on magical creatures from all folktales? Hmm, maybe. Sounds interesting.”

 

The wizard swore he had read about these ‘Watchers’ before, in a book somewhere in his vast library. His library was well-organized, and he knew every book in this place by heart, yet he still couldn’t find that darn thing. “I swear I’ve seen a book about the Watchers before. Now, where the hell has it gone?”

 

His intense focus had caused him to miss Mumbo’s entrance into the room, leaving a soft clicking noise as he closed the door behind him. The redstoner took slow strides into the library’s vast space, his footsteps echoing with each step he took. Quiet, echoing places usually felt unwelcoming, but lately, Mumbo had grown a slight liking for them. Despite their resonance, the solitude it brought made Mumbo feel at ease. Typically, he disliked being alone for too long, but recently, it just felt right.

 

”Scar?” Mumbo asked softly, trying not to scare the focused hermit.

 

“Oh my gosh!” Scar exclaimed with a jump. His gaze flickered to the redstoner. Mumbo’s attempt didn’t work. “Hi, Mumbo. Welcome to my library. Why did you come here? Still thinking about what happened yesterday?”

 

Mumbo replied, “Hey, Scar, this library is beautiful! But yeah, I was thinking about yesterday and wanted to talk to someone about it. You just seemed like the best choice–“

 

“Not Grian?” Scar interjected, turning back to his books and quietly flipping through pages again. 

 

Mumbo stayed silent for a bit. “Yeah… I don’t know. I should’ve gone to talk to him first, but I’m scared, I guess?”

 

“Why are you scared?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Silence.

 

Mumbo changed the subject to avoid the awkward stillness. “What are you doing? You seem focused.”

 

“I’m trying to learn more about the Watchers. I swear I’ve heard about them somewhere in my books. It should be in the history section, but I just can’t find it.” Scar shook his head, glancing at his growing stack of books beside him. The wizard stopped for a moment, a realization dawning on him. He turned to Mumbo with a hopeful expression, crouching slightly. “Hey, Mumbo… Do you wanna help me look for information about the Watchers?”

 

“Sure, Scar.” Mumbo laughed gently, trying to relieve the unnatural tension he felt. Why was he acting differently today? He wasn’t usually this stiff and formal around Scar. Something changed, but Mumbo wasn’t sure what it was. Oh, Mumbo. Change is inevitable. Nothing lasts forever. He continued, “Is that the stack I need to look through?” A finger pointed to the tall column of books that towered meters above the above-average height of the redstoner. 

 

“Yep!” Scar replied enthusiastically. “Get flipping.”

 

—

 

Mumbo groaned loudly, standing up limply and galumphing his way to Scar, who sat with droopy eyes and his head resting on a hand. “Scar, I’ve looked through every book you gave me, and I found absolutely nothing about them. Are you even sure you saw it the first time?”

 

“I swear I did, Mumbo! Why else would I go through all this work?” Scar replied, slightly offended. He paused. “You already got through all of them?” Scar peered past Mumbo with an amused expression. A tall stack of books towered behind the lanky man. “Wow, Mumbo. You’re the best flipper I know!”

 

“Thanks, Scar. I’m known for my outstanding flipping abilities.” Mumbo dramatically flared his arms out in an overly accentuated bow. However, his legs buckled, and he crashed loudly into a large stack of books beside him, still unread. Heavy piles of paper and leather toppled onto Mumbo, becoming buried underneath all the knowledge. It was suffocatingly uncomfortable. He waved his free arm around pathetically, calling for Scar, who fell back in a wheezing laugh. “HAHAHA! Mumbo! I- That- Are you okay?” He barely breathed out.

 

“NO, SCAR! HELP ME.” Mumbo bellowed, a laugh threatening to spill through his cry. The wizard, through his uncontrollable chuckles, lifted the books off Mumbo in a magical blue mist. They fell with a loud thud beside Mumbo, who stood up slowly and brushed himself off. 

 

“Usually I’m the clumsy one, toppling over precarious book towers and stubbing pinky toes.” Scar said with a grin, “This is a great change of pace.”

 

The redstoner gave him a look, holding back his laugh. “I’m glad my pain makes you happy.”

 

“No, no. I don’t mean it that way, Mumbo. I’m just saying I’m happy--“ 

 

“So you ARE happy about my pain.” He exclaimed dramatically, pointing at the wizard.

 

“No–“ Scar started with a giggle, defeated, but then paused. His gaze looked behind Mumbo, Scar’s green eyes glimmering with realization, he continued, “Wait. Mumbo… I think we found it.” The wizard pointed behind Mumbo, who turned to follow the finger. 

 

“EvoSMP Lore for Dummies.”

 

“Oh my god. Our incompetence might just be the reason we found that, Mumbo!”

 

Mumbo replied with a grin, “As DocM77 will say, ‘Your incompetence might just be your greatest power.’” 

 

—

 

“The future?” They mused, softly and considerately stroking their chin. “You will be of great use to us, Mumbo Jumbo.” The figure paused, contemplating their thoughts for a moment. 

“̴O̶ra̸cl̸e̷… I̵t̷’̴s̶ ̶p̴e̶rfe̶c̵t̶.̴”̵

 

—

 

Grian was in his mansion's storage system. He had finished this a while ago and finally moved into the area. A large spread of paper, string, and bullet-point notes was pinned on his wooden wall. He stood, his hidden wings spread out comfortably, in front of the chaotic mess. His hands were over his mouth in deep contemplation. Professor Beak squawked curiously, landing on the hermit's shoulder and tilting his head to look at Grian’s masterpiece. “Paper,” he chirped.

 

“Yes, Professor Beak. Paper.” Grian said with a small smile, amused. His expression quickly dropped when he looked at his plan again. “ This isn’t good enough.” A ripping sound was indicative of a sticky note being torn off the wall, crumpling, and thrown haphazardly over Grian’s shoulder. “ I need to word it better. Reveal these wings better. Explain everything better.” He sighed loudly, annoyed. Even though he didn’t understand half the things that were happening anymore, his magic seemed to have grown significantly from a few days ago. He had single-handedly created a portal to The End and funnelled enough magic into a gemstone that it changed colours. All in less than a few seconds. None of this made sense. He never had this much power the first time around, or this type of magic. Why did he have so much now?

 

Grian sighed again. It felt like days since he’s had an enjoyable experience with his friends. Grian was starting to miss messing around with Mumbo and Scar, or literally any other hermit.

 

He stepped back, and rustling sounds from his large pile of discarded paper filled the silent room as he walked into it. The hermit glanced at the blue parrot on his shoulder, complaining. “Ughh, Professor Beak. Nothing I try is the right way to go about this. I make a good plan, and I keep finding holes in the plan. It needs to be perfect. Who knows what will happen if it isn’t?”

 

“That doesn’t sound like the HermitCraft way,” a voice joked.

 

Grian turned, surprised. Zedaph crouched a bit away from the pondering hermit, close to the entrance of his base. “Here’s some planning advice from one hermit to another.” Zedaph slowly moved closer to Grian, taking his sweet time to finally reach the shorter hermit. The silence as he crept towards Grian built suspense to his response. He leaned in and whispered, “You don’t.”

 

Grian laughed, “Hi, Zed. Whatcha doing here?” Quickly trying to hide his planning, pinning a large cloth to the walls and covering his work. He tensed up a bit, worried.

 

“Well, I’m here to talk about a certain missing door of mine,” he started slowly. His purple eyes met Grian’s, now dark purple ones. Zedaph resumes, “I’ve heard that somebody,” he coughs, “you,” he continued normally, “have been taking doors from hermits. Don’t you find it a bit suspicious that the moment you give me my base back, I’m missing all my doors?”

 

The red-sweatered hermit relaxed. “What? Don’t be crazy. What missing doors?” He said with a pleasant and innocent expression. “Must’ve been the man in the chicken costume.”

 

Zedaph raised an eyebrow and continued with a chuckle, “Oh yes! The man in the chicken costume. Obviously. It’s not like you have an egg shrine and way too many chicken eggs underneath your base or anything.”

 

Grian paused. He asked in a hushed voice, “How did you find that? Don’t you dare tell anyone about it.”

 

“I won’t! Unless you forsake me… Besides, I lived in your mess for a week, Grian. I’ve seen things.”

 

Silence, followed by laughter.

 

Grian asked, through a waning laugh. “Is that all you wanted from me? A door I didn’t take?”

 

Zedaph shook his head, crestfallen. “No, but I guess I’m not getting that back? I made a door that’s less stealable, but I’m assuming that’s gonna be gone in a few days.”

 

“You know it,” Grian beamed. “I mean.” He changed up quickly, saying mysteriously. “Maybe…”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure.” Zedaph said with a laugh. “Why are you collecting them, anyway? For the door god?”

 

Grian turned away from Zedaph, he said with a strangely cheerful voice, “Nah… same reason I’m collecting the eggs.”

 

The blond hermit paused. His purple eyes darted around the base as if seeking Grian’s menagerie of eggs or doors. Eyes scanning Grian as well, ensuring the short hermit didn’t have some on him. When his gaze finally met Grian’s, he asked slowly with a worried tone, “Why are you collecting the eggs?”

 

“To throw them at my enemies, of course!” Grian responded with a toothy grin, and he gave Zedaph a slightly threatening look.

 

“Oh… Oh .” Zedaph paused. “Maybe I should get going before you throw one at me…”

 

He turned to leave, but before he did, he added. “But actually, I’m mostly here because I’ve heard some stuff from Ren, Joe, and Cleo. I’m making sure you know the server still cares about you, even if you’ve kept some secret spooky stuff hidden from us.” He paused. “Also, your eyes are so purple they’re black. Maybe that’s helpful for you, too. Oh, and,” he pointed at Grian’s chest, “there’s a purple glow there.”

 

Before Grian could comprehend what was just told to him, Zedaph left with a fading “bye-bye!” accompanied by the sharp rocket sound, echoing in the large space.

 

When it finally hit him, he peeled back his sweater to see the Watcher tattoo/scar on his chest glowing dimly with a purple light. The same place that Taurtis hit with his blast the last time he saw him. The same place that seemed to light up every time he used excess magic. His eyes were ‘so purple they’re black’... It reminded him of them.

 

The most powerful Watcher. Diadem and Watcher 1, they called them. The Watcher with the most magic. The original Watcher. So powerful that they had to be split into two. Two, but still one.

 

He never had this much magic, especially to single-handedly create permanent portals or funnel so much magic into a gemstone that it changed colours. Not well, anyway. His power only extended as far as watching in others’ POV’s, lending a guiding hand as they stumble through a hypothetical trail of darkness (aka be the voice in their head), simple End spells that any creature who channels the magic can conjure, or create a temporary portal long enough to travel between dimensions. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t properly manipulate the magic in this world the way he had, not in relation with the Watchers. Only the trickster can. 

 

Only Raven can.

 

“Oh, fuck,” he whispered. “Taurtis.”

 

—

 

He remembers that day like it was yesterday. The look on Yehoshua’s face as he disappeared into the portal that closed on his distressed face–a face of betrayal, of worry. But Raven knew it was for the best, despite his position right now. He sighed breathlessly. Of course, his trickery and his knowledge led him to this current predicament. He knew Grian’s brazen defiance would cause his downfall; he was too obvious about them, unlike Raven. The Trickster. He was born for this.

 

Sometimes he didn’t understand why he became the Raven and not Grian. His friend was so much more devious and defiant that he deserved the status of Raven more than he did. He was no trickster; if anything, he deserved to be Yehoshua. Perhaps the universe knew Grian would be too much with all that power. Perhaps the balance would be restored properly if he were the Trickster instead. Being the Trickster, you begin to know things even Diadem has trouble comprehending. He shook his head in strain. God, it was hard to move in all these chains. His attention swiftly moved out of his head and back to reality. 

 

Diadem stood in front of him, face blank, as always; being the original Watcher makes them devoid of most emotion. They turned, face too white to be normal, eyes too dark to be natural. “You messed up, Raven.”

 

“Did I? I can’t recall what I did.” Raven replied, face stern.

 

“There is a reason why Yehoshua was this hard to find for years. He alone, with barely any magic, can’t hide in one server for this long, even with an insipid Listener in the midst.” Diadem turned, their crown reflecting in the low light from the end rods that lit up the dim room. Their face was angry, one of the few emotions they could feel. “Only a Trickster could hide him for that long. You did something. I know you did.”

 

Diadem faced away from him, salty, muttering, “And as the Trickster, it makes it hard for me to read your mind, and now with your spell on Yehoshua, I can no longer read his mind easily either.” The figure continued pacing the room, muttering angrily to themselves. They needed a replacement for Trickster. 

 

Raven closed his eyes, ignoring the echoing footsteps and soft swears coming from the only other ‘living’ creature in his vicinity. He could feel his magic draining away. Diadem seems to plan to replace him with someone else. “Must be someone important.” Raven thought to himself. 

 

The magic wasn’t given to Diadem, though. He expected it to be sent to Diadem, yet it isn’t. Perhaps it's going to their recruit, but that doesn’t seem right. Raven thought about that day again, the worried and panicked look on Grian’s face. His purple eyes faded back to his natural blue, magic draining out of where his blast hit him. The magic went to Raven; it was the best way to stop Diadem from giving Grian back his power…

 

Oh shit, so that’s where it went.

 

—

 

“Mumbo, everything in this book I already know about Watchers,” Scar sighed. “There must be more.” The book closed in an echoing ‘thump’, the purple book resting on the wooden table. Dust within its paper restraints sprayed everywhere in a glittery display, and it almost made Scar sneeze.

 

“Well, they like the colour purple?” Mumbo added helpfully, gesturing toward the book they just read, which was almost completely purple. He swore he was blind to that colour now after looking at it for so long. “If that wasn’t apparent enough to you.”

 

The wizard gave the redstoner a look and said, “I know THAT. Besides, purple is a gross colour; it reminds me of mycelium.” He shuddered. “They should consider adding some green into their lives.”

 

“Ah, yes, cause with their pompous attitudes, they would obviously listen to you.” Mumbo jokes. “Besides, Mycelium isn’t THAT bad.”

 

“Hey now, Mumbo Jumbo-neo. With your mayoral campaign and your not-so-subtle connections to the mycelium and grass war, I feel as though you have a biased opinion.”

 

“Mycelium will grow on you, I know it.”

 

Scar shook his head fearfully, whispering. “No… maybe like a tumour. I would rather eat my shoe than touch mycelium. Unless it’s life or death for me and my friends, I will not touch that filth.” He emphasized filth, disgust leaking through his voice.

 

Mumbo shrugged with a laugh. Scar said, “I need a break. Come on, Mumbo. Let’s go!”

 

He stepped away from the candlelit table and towards the door. As the mustachioed redstoner turned to begin walking with Scar out of the whimsical space, his gaze flickered back to the book. Mumbo took notice of the Watcher symbol on the cover of the book, and he was hit with an overwhelming and out-of-body feeling. His body convulsed, heated, as if suddenly thrown into a scalding hot inferno while travelling at unparalleled speeds.

 

Scar turned quickly, surprised by the flash of purple light… but he saw nothing.

 

Just a black mark on the floor, etching deep grooves into his vintage wooden floors, a Watcher symbol.

 

“Oh… fuck.”

Notes:

UH OH!!!! MUMBO IS GONE?? WHATEVER WILL THEY DO???

My next few chapter posts will likely be slower since I'm starting University soon and getting used to the new environment. Don't worry though, I WILL finish this fic.