And Then There Were None.

by gem_stonezzz

Summary:

What happened at the end of Third Life? Because Grian sure did win, but he sure didn’t have a good experience. So what would have ever crossed his mind there in that cactus ring?

Notes:

heyyy guys !!! just an important thing: REREAD THE TAGS. there is SUICIDE in there for a reason. also enjoy! i worked really really really hard on this through an art block and finally my writing block slapped me but my art juice came back :)

One more life to take. One more. His own.

 

The desert was quiet for once. There was nothing, no sound, no movement. One moment of stillness in the world. The wind brushed against his wings, between strands of hair that had fallen down by his eyes — the eyes that were wide open, staring down at Scar.

 

But Scar wasn’t staring back.

 

His emerald eyes were now dull and colourless. Their animated joy that usually brought a subtle hint of whimsy to Grian’s life was now missing, and there was nothing he could do to replace it. 

 

Grian’s knuckles were bloody, and he knew why. He knew he had to, but also knew he didn’t want to. And still, there they were, together for the last time, in the centre of a ring of cacti.

 

Scar was dead, and Grian knew that.

 

It was hard to process for that still, silent moment. Grian had his fist prepared to strike, even after all this time. But the second he realised what he’d done, it dropped. Grian grabbed his shoulders, and began to shake them.

 

“Scar? You’re okay, please… move. Wake up.”

 

His voice shook with a sliver of hope that Scar was okay, even though he knew that he wasn’t. Tears began to form, but did not spill. Not yet. Grian jumped back in disgust at what he’d just done. He stood, and turned away. He couldn’t bear the sight of what he’d done, the atrocities he’d committed. The more he conceptualised this, the more he felt like he would throw up, or fall over, or lose his mind. Grian’s arms came to his sides as he hunched over, embracing himself as if it would undo what was done. 

 

The tears trickled out of the corners of his eyes. “I… I don’t feel good. Scar, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.” His fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt as his eyes shut tight. “I just wanted to- I didn’t want to. I never wanted this. Scar, you have to know that. This death game. I was punished, I didn’t want this game.”

 

And then, there was a magenta light. Something watching him, something he couldn’t see. “You know, these words are falling on deaf ears,” it whispered to him. It spoke using many voices at once, but they all gave the same condescending tone. They all told him the same thing.

 

It took too many seconds for Grian to respond, but eventually he found his voice. He didn’t say much at all, he didn’t have to. All that came out of his mouth was a broken, raspy whisper. “Leave me alone.”

 

“He’s dead, Xelqua. You won,” it spoke again, this time, with the voice of a gleeful smile.

 

“Don’t call me that.” Grian gasped, trying desperately not to shake or falter, trying to stay strong enough that it wouldn’t see his weakness. Defiance took over as he began to speak, his voice crescendoing to a shout. “You wanted to watch them die, and you got your disgusting wish. And if you think that is right, then I will never choose to be one of you.”

 

“You think you can choose?” It explained, the voices hissing in unison. “You chose the day you left Evolution, and you cannot go back on it. Unless you want your… friends to die, like they were supposed to.”

 

Grian shuddered at the mention of his deal. All the way back then. They’d approached him when he was separated from the rest, and gave him a deal. They would kill everyone who had ever been on Evolution, or, Grian would become one of them — an immortal being with unimaginable power. Of course, he couldn’t watch his friends die. He couldn’t imagine the thought of being the cause of their ends, so he chose to feed on their negativity instead, and become a Watcher.

 

“I don’t understand why it couldn’t have been my life for theirs. Not my mortality.” He tried to remain stoic, but his tears betrayed him, and he began to sob.

 

“Oh, cease this ugly, foolish emotion,” the Watchers scolded. “We will present you two options, of which you may choose. Firstly, you may choose to return to us and watch. Your punishment can be over if you choose to leave, and let the players do what they’re supposed to.”

 

“Not a chance,” Grian spat back immediately, not giving a chance for hesitation as his eyebrows dropped furiously. He stood up straight, eyes falling to Scar behind him. “I’m not standing by and letting this happen. I refuse to watch.”

 

Of all the years Grian had spent with the Watchers, he never could have imagined they would laugh. Not until he heard the laughter, sick and twisted and maniacal. “This is such delicious irony! A Watcher who refuses to watch. What an entertainer you are.” It echoed. Not just one, but every voice echoed. He could feel more eyes fall on him, and the voices almost doubled in intensity and volume. “You took three lives, need we remind you, and enjoyed the horror on the faces of their friends. If we’re not causing them pain, it’s you, Xelqua.”

 

“Do not call me that. That isn’t my name. It’s Grian.”

 

“It is Xelqua.” The Watchers laughed at his desperation, more voices joining by the second.

 

“You said there were two options,” Grian remarked, “what is the second?”

 

“I suppose we can tell you if you are so intent on defying us.” The eyes closed. The voices stopped mid-sentence. “Your second option is to be stuck in the eternal loop with them. You will not get out, unless you choose the first option.”

 

“Then that is what I choose. I refuse to ever be a Watcher again, do you hear me?”

 

“We weren’t made to listen.” The eyes faded from around him, and the magenta light was gone.

 

Grian turned around completely, facing Scar. The one person who had been by his side through hell and back. There was a sigh drawn from his lungs, and then he turned back around, now facing the edge of the cliff that he and Scar ended their mountain. His eyes tore over the edge of the sand, across their cactus border, until his eyes reached the tombstone of Scar’s llama. Pushing his way past cacti — and getting a few needles stuck in his wings in the process — Grian walked to stand by the grave, touching it and dipping his head in sorrow.

 

Then a thought came to his mind.

 

A horrid thought.

 

A beautiful thought.

 

With a few more steps to the edge, Grian was able to estimate about a hundred feet to the bottom. That would be precisely enough to do what he had planned.

 

He took one last survey of the land behind him. His eyes roamed the house that he and Scar had made into a home, then they fell to the ring of cacti in front of it. And still laying in the centre of it was Scar, unmoving and lifeless. There were splatters of blood in the sand around him, from both him and Grian.

 

“It’s been amazing, Scar,” he whispered, a smile creeping onto his face. “Goodbye.”

 

And with a final turn, Grian stepped off the cliff.

 

On his way down, Grian didn’t spread his wings to save himself. He reflected on the days he’d spent in the desert, from the moment he’d accidentally blown Scar up, all the way until the present. He remembered how they’d started a war with Dogwarts, and how Scar had offered flowers in peace when he turned red. But above all, Grian remembered how he had never felt alone in that desert. For the first time that he could genuinely recall, someone actually cared, or it seemed like it. And he cared too. Something within him changed when Scar gave him those lilacs and poppies. 

 

Then his body hit the sand, and still, he was not afraid.

 

For Grian had died knowing what truly mattered.