I Know What I've Become (Please, Don't Look)

by JustAnotherMutantKid

Summary:

Welsknight was restless. The fact that the dim early morning was completely silent didn’t help. He paced his room, shining armour making extremely annoying scraping sounds with each step and shift he made. It didn’t stop him from pacing, of course. It was annoying — Wels was a knight, imbued with discipline and orderliness. He could control every single part of himself, except this. When the beast in his brain stem started to writhe and gnash its teeth, he would fall to its whims eventually. This time, though, he was determined not to give in. The damn beast had to quiet down eventually. If he didn’t hand it exactly what it wanted, maybe his brain would rewire itself. Or the thing would just lie down and give in. That was what his superiors had always said — if you beat something enough, it eventually yields to you.

Notes:

Ok, here's this week's mcc fic! It's a lot of words, I'm not doing this many again next week lol.

Welsknight was restless. The fact that the dim early morning was completely silent didn’t help. He paced his room, shining armour making extremely annoying scraping sounds with each step and shift he made. It didn’t stop him from pacing, of course. It was annoying — Wels was a knight, imbued with discipline and orderliness. He could control every single part of himself, except this. When the beast in his brain stem started to writhe and gnash its teeth, he would fall to its whims eventually. This time, though, he was determined not to give in. The damn beast had to quiet down eventually. If he didn’t hand it exactly what it wanted, maybe his brain would rewire itself. Or the thing would just lie down and give in. That was what his superiors had always said — if you beat something enough, it eventually yields to you.

 

He huffed and pulled out his sword. He needed to do something. Something other than pacing his bedroom as he waited for something — anything — to happen, and free him from his misery. He trounced down to the arena, the beat-up dummy staring back at him with its misshapen, coal eyes. He pulled out his sword and forsook it for now, driving himself through some easy movements to warm up. Lunges, stretches — anything to keep his old bones from protesting within the first hour. When he felt decently ready he moved, attacking the dummy. He sank his sword into its chest, sliced at its neck, blocked imagined attacks. Distantly he considered how much more fun this would be with an actual opponent — something actually at his skill level, but he made no move to grab his comm. The damn thing was still in his bedroom anyways, and he wasn’t taking the time to go grab it. Eventually, he found a rhythm of blocks and attacks. He fell into it like it was a dance; the sword his partner, an extension of himself. 

 

It was easier than he expected to get lost in things, and by the time his muscles were protesting so badly that he actually had to stop, the weather had changed. There was rain pouring down outside. He could hear it on the roof, a calming, slightly random tapping. He left the training room, wiping the sweat out of his face as he moved to find water. He couldn’t remember where he’d left his water bottle, or any of the several cups he must’ve had out. Instead of looking he moved to the kitchen, filling up a new cup as a sacrifice. He took a long sip, draining half the thing at once before pausing to suck in a breath. He drained the rest of it, then refilled it and took one more small sip. Ok — there was something productive to start his mour — wait, was it even mourning anymore? He wandered back upstairs to check the time. Early afternoon. He grumbled something to himself — more out of habit than any annoyance at having spent so many hours training. Really, it was good not to let himself get rusty. Hels could show up at any time and demand a duel — or worse, just jump down from his rafters and try to murder him. 

 

He moved back to the kitchen, compiling a shopping list from the three incomplete lists he remembered making — one in his room, one in the kitchen, and one on his comm. If he’d made any others, well it wouldn’t really surprise him, but they were entirely lost to time. The list was long — he needed to do food shopping for… however long he could ignore the rest of the world for. Plus he had to grab some materials for building, and for the couple of redstone farms he’d need for the sake of his sanity… There were probably a couple other things too, but he decided not to waste his time trying to track down exactly what his past self had been thinking. Every attempt he’d made so far had proven useless — it was like trying to understand the actions of a toddler that had turned into a bear. Nearly impossible, and dangerously frustrating. 

 

He took a quick shower to wash off the sweat from training, and put on some normal dayclothes that didn’t make him appear like he’d lost all will to look slightly put together. With that he triple checked that he had diamonds and his list, and set off for the shopping district. He took off, opening his elytra in a practiced motion. Just for fun he let off a few too many rockets, just to feel the wind throw itself against his face like it was trying to phase through him. He landed hard, having almost overshot his first shop. He wandered inside, checking off items and slowly accumulating a full shulker. When he’d gotten everything he needed to buy from that shop he wandered out, visiting a few more stores than he needed, and buying a ton more supplies than he’d originally intended. He brushed it off — he had plenty of diamonds, he could brush off a few superfluous purchases. They made him feel a little less like he was about to turn into a giant creature in the middle of the shopping district, which was always a good thing. He took off again, trying to beat his speed on the way back. This time when he went to land he felt himself coming in too fast.

 

“Shit!” He flared his elyra, trying to change the angle that he was coming in at. It didn’t help much.

 

His right leg hit the ground first with a sickening crack. White-hot pain seared through him, and he screamed. He blinked, and suddenly he had tumbled to the ground. His arms had only avoided getting scraped up thanks to his armour. Still, there were a couple spots where the hard metal had scraped some of his skin off. He stumbled up on one leg, hesitating before trying to put his weight on the injured leg. He took a step forward and yelled, collapsing as the pain flared back up. The beast reared its head to yowl: DANGER.

 

“Ok — come on, Wels.” He mumbled. “You’re better than this, you’re not calling the Hermits cuz you broke your damn leg being reckless. They’ll lecture you again, and it’ll make you want to disappear.”

 

He steeled himself and stood again. Gritting his teeth he put some weight on his leg, managing a very weak step forward. He had to throw his good leg forward to catch himself when the limb inevitably gave out. 

 

“Not much longer.” He told himself. “Just into the kitchen and we’ll get a regen pot. Again…”

 

He managed to stumble his way into the house, collapsing once and needing to rest before continuing. He braced a hand on the wall once he could, trying to keep his weight off the broken bone as much as possible. He let out ragged breaths as he stumbled into the doorframe. His pantry was in sight — all he had to do was get there. He’d put the regen potions on the bottom shelf for a reason. He desperately drew his sword when he realised he couldn’t lean on the wall without having to cover extra ground. He tried another step, gasping in pain and driving his sword into the wood floors to press against it. STOP HURT, the beast hissed. When he had successfully shifted to his good leg he tugged at his sword. It didn’t budge.

 

“Oh, come on…”

 

Trying to pull it harder, he only managed to shoot pain up his leg. He tugged at it a couple more times before realising he didn’t have the strength to pull it back out. He groaned and stepped forward again. His knee nearly buckled, his right foot coming to support him just in time to keep him upright. He hobbled another few steps, and collapsed by the door. He had to push himself back slightly to swing the door open, but he started to catch his breath. The worst was over. He eyed the regen potion. Or… maybe not. He dragged himself another foot forwards, trying to brace his leg the best he could, and managed to swipe a regen pot from the shelf. He uncorked it and downed it without a second thought. 

 

The weird, shuddering sensation passed through his body, and then suddenly he felt his bones begin to shift. They moved, grinding back into place, and he screamed. Agony rolled through him, and he curled around himself, protecting his head as everything else faded out. After what felt like forever, the pain ebbed. He let his body slump against the doorframe for a moment. When he felt like he wouldn’t pass out upon standing he prodded his leg, and, when no pain rolled through it, hoisted himself to his feet. He wiped away the tears that had formed in his eyes and stumbled to the sink, draining the glass he’d put there earlier. For a moment, he just waited there. Then he moved, taking the shulker box from his inventory and thunking it on the counter. He slowly sorted through it, setting things in their assigned places. Cans next to the sink, perishables in the ice box, everything else in the pantry. Then he moved to non-food items, tossing them into the storage room with care at first, then less and less discretion as he got tired of doing this. When everything was in its place he collapsed on his worn couch, letting his head thunk against the headrest. He was so tired… Damn his leg for breaking and making him unproductive. He closed his eyes and rested. Time passed slowly around him, until a knock on the door awakened him from his stupor. He stood, rubbing his aching eyes. Pulling the door open revealed a grinning Hypno.

 

“Wels. We’re dropping a bunch of animals on Joel in twenty minutes. You’re in.”

 

“I’m in?” He asked.

 

“Yeah, cuz I put you in!” Hypno smirked. “I volunteered you to help us.”

 

“Oh — Alright, I guess.”

 

Hypno patted his shoulder. Wels felt the urge to stab his friend with his tail. He mentally face-palmed. He’d really thought that training session had calmed everything down — he hadn’t had any weird impulses while he’d been shopping. …ok wait, wanting to eat spider eyes probably wasn’t normal either. Nor was wanting to bound through the open field on four limbs. Ah — darn it, he’d thought he was doing better than that. The beast in his brain obviously wouldn’t go down easy at all, considering how long he’d been battling it.

 

“You alright, Wels?” Hypno asked.

 

“Oh — yeah, fine.”

 

“You sure? You look a little… upset.”

 

“No — No, I’m fine, Hyp, I promise. Just… one of those days. Brain’s a little… energetic, I guess. It’s annoying.”

 

“Ah — well here, we need you to help wrangle the animals onto leads. Maybe that’ll help tire your brain out.”

 

BITE, the beast yelled, locked onto Hypno. He huffed.

 

“If only it were that easy…”

 

He’d tried the whole ‘tire the brain out’ strategy before. It hadn’t worked. Wandering around, mapping the server and making notes of places where he could use specific battle strategies hadn’t been tiring enough, apparently. If anything, it made things worse. Made him want to tear out the throat of whatever Hermit had happened upon him. It made him want to lash out and subdue any moving thing with his venom. Made him want to growl and snarl and make anyone who came near him earn their right to proximity. It was annoying, and so, so different from who he was meant to be. Part of the reason why he was so set on breaking these instincts was just that — he wasn’t meant to lash out and kill just because his brain continued to scream at every shifting shadow. He was too dangerous to be reduced to something so… thoughtless. Something willing to inflict damage upon any of the people he cared about. How could he face them if he shifted and tore out their throats with his teeth? Would they ever look at him without fear in their eyes again? Would their image of him be tainted? Would they ever see him as anything more than a weapon again…? He glanced out of his thoughts, and saw Hypno sending him a few sideways looks.

 

Oh, great — now his weirdness was freaking out his friends. Ugh, good going Wels… He shook his head. 

 

“Here we are!” Hypno suddenly announced, gesturing at a patch of grass in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. “Joel’s base is right over there. Since he’s totally fine and normal, we’re dropping a bunch of totally fine dyed sheep on his head.”

 

Wels snorted before he could stop himself.

 

“Who came up with that?”

 

“Dunno.” Hypno shrugged. “I think someone might’ve put it into a smaller chat as an idea, and I just got recruited by whoever decided to try and pull it off. Xisuma’s over there with the happy ghast, and we managed to collect and breed up enough sheep for this over the past few days. We, uh, put them in a hole for stealth. No other reason…”

 

“Right… I totally believe you.” Wels said sarcastically.

 

“Glad to hear it. Now, we’ve got over 20 sheep to wrangle, so I hope you’re ready to get kicked.”

 

“Oh no — is this gonna be like the goats again?”

 

“...they’re mammals, Wels. They’re not exactly known to enjoy random people slipping leads around them.”

 

“Well still — I’d expect them to be better than the goats, at least.”

 

“...they’re animals, Wels. And we’re gonna drop them to their death!”

 

“Yeah, but they could at least behave as we pull them to their death.”

 

“...you’re so weird.” Hypno shook his head. “One of these days I’ll figure out why you’re like this.”

 

“That’s unlikely.”

 

Hypno started guiding him up the hill.

 

“Uh-huh — you’re not the most mysterious of the Hermits, mister.”

 

“Right — and you’ll totally learn something about me that makes all of my behaviour make sense.”

 

“Well — I did with Xb.” Hypno shrugged.

 

Wels shook his head, taking some leads from Hypno and jumping into the pit. He managed to slip one lead around a sheep pretty easily. It must’ve lulled him into a false sense of security, because the next one bit him — or, tried to. It bit his armour, which made a terrible metallic sound, before it baaed unhappily and trotted away. EAT SHEEP. BITE. MAKE BLEED. Wells grabbed a different sheep and tried to harness it. It was a hard task — Wels got headbutted, kicked, bit, even spat at, which caused him to let out an engaged shriek of:

 

“You’re not a llama!!”

 

He was, however, faring a lot better than Hypno. The poor man was in the same situation but without the protective armour — so when he got kicked, it actually hurt. In fact, when Wels squinted he swore he saw a bite mark that was bleeding a little. But after some time they managed to leash all of the sheep, and Hypno dug a staircase back to ground level. They pulled the sheep up it, wandering out to where Xisuma and Tango were waiting. 

 

“Wels, Hypno!” X called out, as Tango said:

 

“Hey Hypno, hey Wels!”

 

“Hi.” Wels said.

 

“We made it — and we didn’t kill any sheep.” Hypno said.

 

“Yay!” Tango said.

 

“Alright, we need to sort out the sheep.” X cut in, before anyone could pull the conversation off topic. “We’ll drop the pink ones first, so we need most of them in the first group. Then the second group should have all the colors.”

 

“So the pink ones are like a warning, then.” Tango said.

 

“Exactly!”

 

Wels fumbled with his leads, well aware that at least one sheep was winding around to his other side and wrapping its lead around him and Hypno. He was going to trip if he tried to move now… He did his best to rearrange his leads, but considering the sheer number of them and his slightly bulky gauntlets, he was having some trouble. He actually managed to get one loose, but it was hopelessly tangled in other cords. KILL LIFE END LIFE KILL SHEEP. He groaned, biting his lip.

 

“Here.” Tango said, taking one of his leads and slowly undoing the knots to remove it from the group. 

 

He passed it to Xisuma, and thus began the very slow process of Tango fixing the mess he and Hypno had made. After a long amount of time, they were ready to climb onto the ghast. Wels was no longer holding the leads, due to concerns about his ability to grip them and keep the sheep floating as they waited. Now he was to sit at the back of the ghast, and tell everyone when to drop the sheep. He hoisted himself onto the back of the ghast. Tango and Hypno took their positions, and Xisuma made sure everyone was secure before starting the climb into the sky. Time passed slowly, the ghast drifting towards Joel’s base. One of his hands gripped the saddle unconsciously, his other hand trembling. This was stupid — he wasn’t afraid of heights. What was this?

 

“Almost in position?” Tango asked a minute later.

 

“Nearly there! Keep ahold of your sheep!” X said. After a few moments he announced: “We’ve made it! Wels: I pass things over to you, my friend.”

 

“Got it!” Wels said, uncurling his hand from the saddle.

 

Creeping forwards had his heart pounding. He took in a deep breath as he came as close to the empty sky as he was willing to go. He peered over the edge, looking for Joel. The sheer distance from the ground made his head spin. DANGER DANGER DANGER. He found his body stumbling back without his volition, Tango and X doing their best to steady him. Stupid beast. 

 

“Oh dear — are you alright, Wels?” X asked.

 

“Fine, fine.” He waved them off. “Got a little dizzy from the height, I guess. I’m good.” He crept up to look over the edge again. This time he saw Joel tending to his garden. “He’s in the garden — back up a little.” He guided X back until they were in position, making sure Joel was stationary. “And — now!” Tango dropped his sheep. Wels watched them plummet to their doom. As they hit the ground he saw Joel jerk, glancing around. “The next one!” He said, before Joel had time to spot them. 

 

The colorful sheep splatted around him, and Joel finally saw them, pointing up at their blurry forms and throwing his head back — probably shouting something. 

 

“Heading down!” Xisuma said, and they slowly began to float down to the garden. 

 

When they were there Tango and Hypno slid off the ghast. X stayed seated to make sure their ride didn’t wander off. Wels just sat there, some part of his brain absolutely rioting at the idea of getting off the very thing that’d kept him from free-falling down to his death. Joel was already talking to the others - -It was obvious he was working to keep up both his aloof persona, along with his new ‘everything is fine’ one, but there was a note to his voice that sounded mildly impressed. Wels wasn’t listening to what he was saying though — he was more focused on what had happened while they were in the air. He’d lost it. He’d completely lost it — and he bet he’d tipped the other Hermits off to the fact that something was happening with him. The noose was tightening itself around his throat, tied by his own hand. The more he thought about it, the more panic began to rise within him, threatening to fill his lungs and drown him. 

 

He took in a few deep breaths, but the air never seemed to reach his lungs. He gasped, lungs aching, and something touched his arm. BITE BITE BITE — he hadn’t realised he’d moved until he came back to himself, jaw unhinged and halfway through closing the gap between himself and Hypno to bite the sleeve of his jacket. Wels froze like a deer in the headlights, four sets of bright lights staring back at him. He snapped back up into a normal position and slid down off the ghast.

 

“Uh — sorry about that, I think I’ve got to go—”

 

“Wels!” He heard someone call, but he didn’t bother paying any attention as he raced up the hill, not convinced he was safe even when the feeling of eyes on his back faded. He ran until his home came into sight, throwing the door open and slamming it shut behind him.

 

Great — he’d almost let the beast take over, which would’ve rendered all of his effort useless. And, not only that, but he’d let the Hermits see. They looked at him like he was a monster… and the worst part was, they weren’t wrong. He was acting like a monster. He needed to get this under control. Scrambling upstairs he pulled out a notebook, beginning to list the monster’s weaknesses. First — heights. He’d found that one out today. Then loud noises, large open flames… hm, what else? The feeling of a blade against his skin. Of someone hiding in his blindspot. Of not knowing what was going on, and if he was safe. He could exploit those. Bully the beast back into hiding, and finally be free of it.

 

With a plan set he started off, snagging some food to eat on the way. The hardest part of this first plan was finding a place where the Hermits wouldn’t notice him. He really didn’t want to have to explain this to them. They’d ask too many questions, and if word got around to the ones who’d witnessed his slip-up earlier, it would paint a pretty ugly picture for them. He eventually found a secluded mountain, high enough to be dangerous, but low enough where he wouldn’t have to worry about the cold. He touched down there, a cliff standing in front of him. He slowly approached it, keeping his eyes on the stone and looking no lower. Eventually he’d perched right on the edge of the cliff, sitting cross legged. Steeling his will, he looked over the edge.

 

DANGER DANGER DANGER. Immediately the world around him started to spin. He found himself teetering, unsure how much of it was actual movement and how much was just him. He rubbed his shoulders before planting his palms against the ground for extra stability. His eyes stayed locked on the ground below. GO BACK GO BACK GO BACK, he felt the beast begin to bellow, clawing at his control. He forced it back, which only made it more desperate. STOP FALL GO BACK STOP DANGER. He remained sitting there. No matter how long he stayed, the world never, for even a split second, grew still again. He took in a shaking breath, feeling his body start to tremble. It — Well, maybe it was pretty cold out here after all. He blinked slowly and tried to take in a deep breath. His torso plunged a few inches towards the cliff instead. DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER — He screamed, starting to scramble back. Then he stopped himself.

 

No. Come on, Wels, you’re better than this. He forced his way back into the same position. This was how he won the battle. This was how he could fight the war, and subdue the beast. He just had to not back down. His hands curled slightly, trying to find purchase on the flat stone. He forced them to flatten again. No backing down. He’d make the damn thing yield if it was the last thing he ever did. He kept staring, the night around him slowly growing dimmer. He blinked a few times, the world slowly brightening as the sun lit up the sky. He didn’t see any of it, too focused on the ground below. Eventually he looked up, the sky a bright blue. The sun was high above him. He blinked. The world around him was still swimming, but maybe for a different reason now. He’d been out here too long. He stumbled upright, listing towards the cliff before letting out a pathetic scream and stumbling back, collapsing against the stone. It took him a moment to right himself and start off for home. He fastened his elytra with shaking fingers and took off, setting off as few rockets as possible on the way back. He told himself it was because he wanted to not draw any attention as he went home, but he knew he was lying.

 

When he landed in front of the castle it was with trembling legs. He barely made it through the threshold of his house before he collapsed onto his knees. He felt his face and found it wet. …all of that, and it hadn’t even worked. The beast was still here, still prowling around and yelling at him. He wanted to yell back, to tell it that he wouldn’t have to do this if it wasn’t here. He refused — he doubted it would understand him if he tried. And if any of the Hermits happened to come by, that’d be another concerning action to add to his list of transgressions. He stumbled his way up the stairs instead, struggling to stay upright and grabbing the handrails to steady himself. He didn’t bother changing into his pajamas when he finally made it to his room, instead collapsing into bed and pulling a blanket over himself. Thanks to his blackout curtains the room was nice and dark, and he fell asleep quickly.

 

He didn’t wake until late into the night, stumbling through the dark rooms on auto pilot. He found something to eat, only really coming back to himself in the middle of his meal. His eyes caught on the black skies outside. …that worked. New plan — the heights obviously hadn’t caused the beast enough distress. But maybe mobs would. Wels disappeared into his storage system, finding a decent number of fenceposts, and storing pretty much everything he had in his inventory. He stepped outside with only the fences, a back-up sword, and some food. Everything else was put away, so that if he died he wouldn’t need to immediately rush back out and pick up his stuff. He took off in a random direction, the sound of rockets firing too loud in his ears. He flew quickly, being careful to make it outside of the normal tromping grounds of the Hermits before touching down. He could already see mobs around him, so he quickly set up fences in a three-block radius. He wanted a smaller radius, but he also needed to keep the creepers away. Finally he added something to keep spiders from climbing up over the fence and killing him. He had to fight off a zombie before he could close the fences, but after a moment he stood in a field surrounded by mobs, completely safe. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, and waited for the mobs to come closer. He could hear the growls and rattling breaths from them as he crept closer, shambling forms lit in the silhouette of the moon. He shivered when he heard a zombie groaning behind him, shaking his head and running his hand through his hair.

 

This was fine. This was fine, he was in complete control. He backed away from the ones in front of him, and heard a growl from directly behind him. Immediately the hair on the back of his neck raised, goosebumps shocking across his skin. He could feel his heart pounding as the beast screamed, telling him to fight or flee. He did neither. Time ticked on, and he found himself slowly wandering the fenced in area, trying to keep as far from the mobs as possible, and failing miserably. He held his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes. Growls came from all around him, and he could see an enderman’s glowing eyes off in the distance, the only thing visible in the darkness. It took everything he had not to turn and run. He forced himself to stay still — when had running ever solved anything, anyways? It was several hours in, as he waited to see the sun begin to light up the horizon and burn the mobs away, when something changed.

 

From somewhere behind him, he heard an all too familiar rattle. He tried to scramble away, but it wasn’t enough. An arrow pierced the back of his head, pain wracking through him for a single second before he respawned in his bed. With newly battered pride, and some aching from the respawn, he forced himself up. It was almost daytime, and dying in that matter again would only notify the Hermits that something was up. Probably best not to leave that idea behind. He read through his book for a moment before finding a new plan. He strolled down to the arena, finding a training dummy with positionable limbs. He tied a sword to one of them with leftover bandages, dragging it over towards the wall. He tapped his gauntlet against the blade to check its stability, before deciding to put it to use. Slowly, he raised the dummy’s arm until the blade was level with his throat. It took him a minute of gathering courage before he stepped forward and let the sharp edge come to rest close to his throat. 

 

He could feel the cold metal pressing down on the thin hairs on his neck, occasionally brushing his skin but not breaking it. He found a frightened sound trying to tear itself from his throat, and forced it back down. Not now, even if nobody could see him. That was still too pathetic to be doing even in the company of himself. He took in a shuddering breath, trying to force himself not to move lest he get cut. His heart was racing, some part of him screaming that this was DANGER DANGER DANGER, and another, smaller part protesting how he’d come to this course of action, instead of asking someone for advice on the beast. The Hermits were mostly non-humans, as far as he was aware. They would give him answers if he explained why he needed to know about their non-human side. 

 

But it was another, stronger part of himself that insisted on doing this in secrecy. On keeping the truth about what he was from everyone but the one who already knew. It wasn’t like he could’ve kept this from Hels anyways. But the Hermits? He didn’t think they’d ever questioned his humanity, and that was how he wanted things to stay. None of them turned into feral beasts — even Ren, a werewolf, maintained most of his mind when he switched forms. But not Wels. Never Wels. The beast was too determined to ruin his life to listen to him. It screamed about wanting to be known, wanting to be set free and allowed to run and snarl and fight. Wels knew better than to give in. Nobody would love him if he knew what he was. The knights taught him that. They’d tried to make him more boy than beast, and he hoped to everything that they’d succeeded. (They hadn’t. He knew they hadn’t.) 

 

Sweat beaded down his face, and he resisted the urge to wipe it away. He swallowed, his mouth dry and his pupils blown. His breathing started to grow faster as he became hyper-aware of the steel blade against his throat. He didn’t like this. It was necessary, but he still didn't enjoy it. …why was he doing this? Was defeating the beast really important enough to put himself through this — no, no come on Wels. Don’t lose your nerve. You almost bit Hypno. You almost bit Hypno. You can’t go on like this. He sucked in a shaky breath, imagining what it would feel like if the dummy’s hand fell and the blade plunged into his throat. The spill of crimson blood against the dirty floor. The sound of his body thudding against the dummy, and disappearing against the floor. It wouldn’t hurt for long, but he was still terrified. And — what if a Hermit walked in it? What if they saw him doing this? How would he explain it? 

 

Would they assume him to be suicidal, and put him on a watch? Would he have to weigh his short term freedom in not being looked after 24-7, against what would happen if he told them the truth? Would telling the truth be worth it, in some twisted way? He felt a small huff of breath leave him. Just don’t get caught. He couldn’t get caught. One day this would be over, and he wouldn’t have to carry the secret anymore. He could be just like anyone else, a person, even if he still couldn’t consider himself a human. He must've lost focus, because all of a sudden there was a sharp sting against his throat. Warm blood began to slowly drip down towards his shirt collar.

 

He winced — he must’ve moved too much. Shit, that was another thing to keep hidden. He didn’t want to have to waste a potion on stupid things like this. A small skin-colored bandage would probably do it — most of the time the Hermits didn’t notice those, as long as they were small. He could get away with hiding it. He pulled his throat back a little, just to be safe. His hair was still standing straight up, his heart still racing and his breathing not having calmed even a little. Really, it was worse now. The adrenaline fueled by the cut was only making his thoughts more erratic — now stuck on the idea of him turning into the monster after getting startled by the Hermits, and outing his secret that way. He fought the urge to struggle against bonds that weren’t there. He stood there for hours on end, waiting for something to happen — for the beast to suddenly just lay down and go quiet. It never happened. His internal dialogue was overflowing with exclamations of DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER, and it was giving him a headache. He didn’t realise he was getting tired until the room started to sway. Even then, he barely noticed it. 

 

He only registered it when a sudden flood of motion sent him pitching forward. He managed to twist his neck out of the way, forcing his carotid artery into a safer position, but in doing that he had no time to do much else. The blade sliced a long cut across his throat, and it burned as blood began seeping out. He hit the ground, immediately clamping a hand against the cut, trying to put pressure on it. Blood dripped onto the arena floor as he headed for the kitchen. He stumbled as he got to the pantry, tracking red blood over the nice floors. …he really hoped he wouldn't have to replace those again. That’d been a pain the last time. He opened the pantry door and dropped to the ground, tugging out a regen potion and uncorking it with one hand. He poured it down his throat, feeling the sting of the cut again as it began to close. Within a few minutes, it was like he’d never been injured. He staggered back to his feet.

 

Ok, so — blade to his neck was a bad idea. Really, if he hadn’t been so tired, he still thought it might’ve gone wrong. The bandages he’d used to tie the sword up were a little more worn than what was probably safe. He sighed and tromped up to his room, cleaning himself off before changing into non-bloodied clothes and collapsing into bed. When he awoke, he had no clue what time it was. He promptly rolled over and went back to sleep, before finally getting up the next time his eyes flickered open. He rubbed at them and went downstairs, sleepwalking his way through eating and doing his normal morning routine. When that was done he finally picked up the notebook again, crossing off the mobs idea. He read through it again: the next one was bonfires. The Hermits had had an actual bonfire exactly once. After that disastrous party, they’d vowed never to have one at a social gathering again. 

 

He, however, was not banned from doing it solo. Only Xisuma, Cub, and Scar were. He wandered down to his storage system to find some fuel and flint-and-steel, along with some torches since he didn’t want to repeat the mobs mistake. He triple checked everything before stepping outside and launching into the air. However, he was quickly met with a problem. It was still light outside. The sun was still up, which meant the bonfire wouldn’t have the effect he wanted it to. He hummed to himself, shuffling through his inventory, before coming to an idea. Slowly but surely, he made a very particularly shaped cobblestone box. He lit it up at first, before crafting some fences and stepping inside. Ok — the shape of the box would ensure only zombies spawned. Good. Now he could do this for real — inside a 1-block radius instead of a 3-block one to keep back creepers. He sat back against the fences for a moment, before taking out the main source of lighting. 

 

The room plunged into darkness, and he just sat there, waiting. After a moment, the tell-tale groans filled the room. They seemed to lock in on him immediately, coming closer — though he could only tell from the shambling footsteps. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, forcing himself to stay still. After a minute, he heard a sound from behind him. The hair on his body raised again, and he started gasping for air. More and more crept closer, surrounding him on every side. He shuddered and grasped at his sword for comfort, before slowly letting go. The zombies around him moved restlessly, shifting amongst themselves and occasionally stumbling into each other with dull thumps. After a moment, one stilled behind him. He didn’t move, glancing off to his side, and felt cold breath against his neck. DANGER DANGER DANGER DANGER—

 

He shivered and bit down a pathetic sound. His eyelid twitched. Once it started, it didn’t stop. He stayed there for a couple hours before the groans started to get louder. He frowned, not having heard that before. Then, something cold touched his arm. He screamed, shoving it off, and more cold hands began to swipe at him, trying and failing to grab onto him. This was no longer a safe way to torment the beast — he had to get out of here. His heart echoed in his ears as he frantically dug into the ground and blocked off the entrance, making his way outside. He pulled himself up onto the grass, relishing the warm sunlight on his skin. Slowly, the feeling of frozen zombie fingers began to fade. He took in a deep breath, centering himself. Ok — so the mob thing had been a bad idea from the start. It wasn’t too surprising, in retrospect — he couldn’t entirely control that. Not like he could control everything at the edge of a cliff, or a meter back from a bonfire. He closed his eyes for a moment, before his body suddenly jerked. He frowned, then lifted himself up. Sunset looked to be in about an hour. He could go back to his base, gather some more materials just in case, and then try out a new direction. Gosh, he really was going all across the server, these days. But it was worth it — he couldn’t let himself be seen.

 

The flight back to his base was fairly boring. He flew slightly shakily, dipping up and down as he did his best to keep control. It… wasn’t working very well. He rubbed at his eyes and landed carefully in front of his front door. He slid inside, shuffling through chests for things that might be useful, before grabbing a bite to eat and heading back outside. He closed his eyes for a moment, picking a random direction to set off to. That direction brought him to a desert, which was perfect because he didn’t see anything that he could actually set on fire. Afterall, he actually had to worry about that right now since the server had firetick on. He ran a hand through his hair before starting to stack the firewood. When that was done he laboured over the flint and steel, eventually making a strong spark and forcing it into kindling. The kindling caught, and he placed it within the wood. 

 

Slowly, he watched the whole structure light up. He took a couple steps back before sitting down. As the sun began to set, the bonfire grew brighter and brighter. Eventually it became so bright that it began to hurt his eyes, but still, he stared at it. The crackling of the flames slowly became the only thing he could see, the dancing orange and yellows warping all the way across his vision. He started to breathe heavily again, shaking and wrapping his arms around himself. DANGER BAD FIRE BAD DANGER DANGER DANGER — He blinked, and found a tear rolling down his face. MAKE STOP STOP HURT STOP HURT. He rocked back and forth, clutching himself. It was so close it was going to burn him, the towns people were going to scorch him alive at the stake or in his home, he was going to be hurt he was going to die— His thoughts spiraled down that road for a while, the tears rolling down his cheeks unnoticed. Something grabbed his hand and he shouted, scrambling away but somehow not giving into the urge to try and bite the offending arm.

 

“...Wels?” The voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He shook his head, trying to clear whatever was making his vision so blurry. The thing didn’t try to grab him again, instead speaking in a soft tone. “We’re ok, I’m here. I’m safe, remember?”

 

Wels’ eyes trailed back to the bonfire, remembering the screams of the other shifter when they’d been burned at the stake. That was his fate for daring to step into the village, knowing what he was. That was his fate for being something this evil. That was his fate for not being able to control himself. They were going to kill him, they were going to KILL HIM, THEY KILL HIM. Someone stepped between him and the fire, blocking his line of sight to it. They were still talking.

 

“Is it the fire? I… remember you looking a little off when we had that group one a few seasons ago. I thought you were just overwhelmed by the chaos, but…” They trailed off, then hesitantly tugged on his sleeve.  “Come on — let’s go home.” Wels didn’t respond. “Wels — don’t you want to go home, and curl up on the couch with that blanket you stole from me?”

 

Wels’ sluggish brain finally connected the dots.

 

“...Hypno?”

 

“Hey man. Think it’s about time to head home — what do you say?”

 

“I don’t…”

 

“Come on.” Hypno helped hoist him to his feet, and he reluctantly followed him down a path. After a moment, they stopped. “Ok — think you can manage elytra?”

 

“Be fine.” Wels shrugged, entirely unconvincingly.

 

“Uh-huh. Alright — I’ll take your word on that. Let me lead — I doubt you know the way from here, anyways.”

 

The last statement was phrased like something Hypno expected him to fight. He didn’t. He no longer had any clue where in the server he was — just that it was across the bases, somewhere isolated and out of the way. Though — it couldn’t have been out of the way enough, if Hypno had found him. Hypno watched him for a moment, before turning and taking off into the sky. Wels reluctantly followed, not wanting to cause the Hermits to send out a manhunt to ensure he was ok. They landed at his base a few moments later, Hypno leading him inside and watching him carefully, like he thought Wels might collapse. He was ushered to the couch, tugging a soft yellow blanket over his shoulders. His head felt foggy. He could barely feel his arms — it was like they were wrapped in a sort of blanket, fuzzy and hard to think through. He wasn’t even sure where they were in relation to his body — if he wanted to know, he’d have to look. He didn’t care enough about that to actually move, though, so he sat slumped in his ignorance. Hypno returned a moment later with some hot chocolate. He mumbled his thanks on autopilot, cupping it between his hands and taking a careful sip. The flavor and warmth on his tongue seemed to wake him back up a little, forcing his arms mostly back into place. Mostly. He drank it in silence, feeling Hypno’s eyes on the side of his head, but not having the energy to look over, lest it start a conversation. However, there was only so long he could stall. Eventually he set the empty cup down on an end table.

 

“Wels…” Hypno started. “I was trying to leave you alone so you could sort things out, but I can’t ignore it anymore. You’ve been weird for months, but it seemed to get worse when you… when we dropped those sheep on Joel. What’s going on?”

 

“I — it’s nothing.”

 

“No it’s not! You’ve been jumpy for months now — jumpier than usual, and it’s scaring me! And then I find you staring into a random bonfire like you’re not sure if you’re afraid of it, or going to throw yourself into it—”

 

“I was not going to throw myself into it!” He paused. “And I wasn’t afraid of it either!”

 

“Uh-huh, right, and that’s how blown pupils and terrified gasping, clutching your arms and rocking back and forth reads to me.”

 

“I’m fine, Hypno! Leave me alone!”

 

“No! I’m not just going to sit by and watch you get worse. I…” He trailed off. “I want you to trust me, Wels. I want you to feel like you can lean on me, because I think you’re going to break if things keep going like this.”

 

“I — I do trust you, Hypno. Just — not with this.”

 

“You see how those two statements don’t align, right? I get that you want to keep your secrets, but nobody can handle everything alone.”

 

“Hypno, I— I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work. This is something I have to figure out on my own.”

 

“Oh, just like when you started falling into comas? That was obviously not something you could handle on your own.”

 

“Oh — like you cared! You fucking left me!”

 

Hypno blinked, shrinking back.

 

“Wels, I — we — we didn’t know…”

 

“And nobody ever thought to check my base?”

 

“We did! It was just… by the time we got around to it, it was covered in dust. We thought you left.”

 

Wels shook his head.

 

“I woke up alone. I woke up alone, to everything on fire and invaders everywhere. And then I just got whisked to the new server, and everyone expected me to be fine. I thought you left me. I thought you did it on purpose! I thought I did something wrong—” His voice broke.

 

“No… no, Wels, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve never done anything that would make us abandon you, and you never will.”

 

A bitter laugh forced its way up his throat.

 

“Yeah, right.”

 

“No, Wels, I’m serious! We would never just leave you somewhere, especially not like that. We’re your friends, we care about you, we want you to trust us—”

 

“I do. But I’ll never trust anyone with this. I’m not letting myself get thrown out just because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”

 

“That won’t happen. I won’t let it.” Wels didn’t answer. “I won’t let them toss you away. I promise. Please believe me.”

 

“...I don’t think I can.”

 

“Ok…” Hypno’s comm buzzed, and he moved to check it. “Shit — I’m supposed to be with Xb right now—”

 

“Go.”

 

Hypno looked up, frowning.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

He forced a smile onto his face.

 

“Yeah. Go have fun. That conversation wasn’t going anywhere anyways.”

 

Hypno stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly.

 

“I — Ok. I’m not going to make you talk if you don’t want to. Just — Call me if you need anything.”

 

“I will.” He lied, and Hypno nodded, disappearing from the room. He sat there for a minute before dropping back against the cushions. “Good going, Wels.” He mumbled to himself. “Now you’ve got him worried.”

 

He didn’t even have the energy to update the notebook — instead he wandered around the castle, sometimes trying to work on things and sometimes just stumbling around, before eventually finding his way into bed. He closed his eyes, pulling the blankets over himself, and sank into a deep sleep. The first thing he did in the morning was cross off the bonfire idea. The list was getting woefully short — the isolation idea was pretty much the only thing left. Hm — maybe he could combine that with the ‘loud and unpredictable noises’ idea at the end of the list, and make a Hell that wouldn’t affect him, and would let him live like normal while still torturing the creature. Wels didn’t think that would be too hard to pull off. Despite what some of the newer Hermits seemed to think, Wels was pretty decent with redstone. Setting up the proper timers didn’t take long. Courtesy of Etho’s hopper clock design, he was able to set up contraptions to ring bells around his base. He considered a more distressing noise, but quickly decided against it. Even if the plan was to stay away from the other Hermits, he needed a noise that could be explained away easily. Using one of the numbered discs would probably be a little too weird for him to avoid talking about in a conversation.

 

When the devices were set, he began to clear his schedule. Turning down the occasional invites to Hermit events, and setting himself as too busy for attending the Hermit meetings like he normally did. After a while, even the people who consistently messaged him had fallen silent. In order to sell this, he threw himself into detailing the castle. He worked indoors at first, but after a couple weeks found that he was running out of things to do there. Outside was easier — he started making detailing carvings on the outside of the base, and things started to slow down. Finally, there was work that would actually explain why he wasn’t showing up for events. After three weeks on his own, he found himself increasingly stressed. He was working on carving out the handrails going up to his base, when a loud CLANG echoed up from below. He jumped, the blade slipping from his hands and cutting open his palm. He cursed, digging through his inventory for something to heal it. He took a swig of a regen potion, thankful that the cut wasn’t deep enough to force him to find a full potion inside. 

 

He was running kind of low on them, but didn’t have the focus to actually go gather more materials to brew more. The wound slowly closed, and he dropped his head against the handrail. He could feel his heart pounding, sending shocks of motion through his chest and up into his throat. He needed to calm down. He needed to — He stood, intending to head to the living room and lay down. He didn’t get there — his ears started to ring before he could even take a step, and his eyes rolled back into his head. He woke up on the ground, blinking and staring up at the sky. Ugh — ok, something was wrong. Couldn’t be the potions — he’d been trying to conserve them for at least the past week. His sleep wasn’t great, but he’d never known exhaustion to just take him out like that.

 

…unless it was the sleep thing. Unless he was about to go to bed one night, and wake up a season later. No — no, it couldn’t be. He’d never passed out like that when he was struggling with the sleeping problem. He’d always managed to stumble most of the way to bed before he was dragged under. So, then, what was it? Not food — he’d been eating just enough to stay functional. But then, what was left? What could be causing this? He shook his head and wandered into the living room. That was a question for later, when he didn’t still feel so close to passing out again. He rubbed at his eyes and laid down on the couch, unconsciousness stealing him away. The next time he awoke, the first thing he did was check the date. 

 

When he registered that it was still the same, and he hadn’t lost any time, he slowly stood up again. He probably needed to eat. And then not work, not any more today. He’d rather not go out to work on the roof and pass out up there. He’d take it easy until whatever this was went away. He scrounged together an easy meal — fistfulls of sandwich toppings, because he didn’t have anywhere near the energy to actually put them together. He then shambled up to take a bath, before collapsing into bed. He awoke to a loud noise, shocking upright as his heart pounded. He immediately stood, starting for his armour, and everything went hazy. When he blinked awake, he noticed how hard his heart was pounding. Grogiggly, he checked his comm. He had a little bit of health information stored in there. 

 

It was supposed to warn him about if he was going to slip into another comma, but for now he just wanted to check something else. The moment he tried checking his data, a red banner warned him that his heart rate had caused him to pass out twice in the past 24 hours. He groaned. His heat rate? That was what was causing this? Jeez — that was ridiculous. He shook his head, slowly moving back to bed. Stupid heart… ugh, he was going to have to do something about this. But maybe not until morning — he was exhausted. When morning came, he dutifully ignored his realisation from when he’d woken up earlier. He was not going to change anything because his stupid heart couldn’t be trusted to keep beating properly. He wasn’t going to do anything differently, eventually things had to get better.

 

But they didn’t. They didn’t get better. Wels’ fainting problem grew more and more frequent, only exacerbated by the fact that he started to have trouble falling asleep. Whenever he started to drift off, he would just be startled awake by the sound of a bell, loud and reverberating within his skull. He only lasted a little over a week of this before he gave up and decided to dismantle the machines. The one unfortunate consequence of his decision to build them without prior planning, however, was the fact that he didn't exactly remember where all of them were. Meaning he didn’t find all of the machines the first time he went to tear them all down. Or the second. Or the third. He’d actually lost count of however many he’d found tucked away underground, or in little hidey-holes. Things weren’t going so well — he was at his wits end. He’d at least cleared his most-frequented spaces, but it felt like every time he went to a strange little corner of the castle, he found another one. He decided it was time to get some fresh air. And, also, he really needed groceries. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could spend eating stale bread before he decided to tear something apart. 

 

He flew to the shopping district, strolling around and taking a look at random things for about an hour before going to buy food. He was about halfway through his purchase when he heard a bell ring. His shoulders, which had been relaxed for the first time in weeks, shot up again, and he reacted without thinking. He only realised he’d done something when he tasted the blood. …there was a Hermit’s arm trapped in his fangs. He’d shapeshifted, and bit a Hermit’s arm! Oh — he’d really done it now. He painstakingly released the Hermit, not getting a chance to see who it was, because they immediately turned and sprinted away. A moment later, a group of three Hermits charged into the shop. He backed up as they pulled out their swords, desperately willing his body to become human again. It refused. He let out a panicked growl as they came closer, boxing him in. He snarled as they came too close. They could stab him. They were going to stab him.

 

“You’re not Welsknight.” One of the Hermits snapped. “What did you do with him?”

 

Wels tried to answer, to say that he was himself, to beg them for mercy. To plead and say that whatever they chose to do with him was fine, so long as they didn’t hurt him. All that came out of his mouth was a snarl.

 

“You chose the wrong server to mess with.” Another warned lowly. 

 

Wels tried to look at their face, to see which one of them was threatening him. All he could see was a pale blur. No eyes, no mouth, not even any hair. Just a blur. He kept staring, trying to recognise the faces of his friends. One of them saw an opportunity, cutting into his side. He yowled and managed to dodge the worst of the attack. Blood dripped down his fur. He heard them whisper to one another, probably correctly guessing that he was no ordinary mob — mobs didn’t bleed. But he did. In their confusion, Wels sprinted through them. Caught off guard, they didn’t manage to do more than shout as Wels jumped over their shoulders and raced out the doors. His paws skidded across the pavement as he tried to remember how to run in this form. He hadn’t let himself be anything other than human recently, and now he was paying for it. He heard the Hermits coming after him, but knew that even as inefficient as he was right now, they wouldn’t be able to keep up. He bolted across the shopping district, unaware of where he was going. 

 

Distantly, he registered he was heading further into Hermit territory. He wasn’t even going to his base — he was heading the worst possible direction. He considered turning around when he heard rockets shoot off behind him. He snarled and tried to run faster. Suddenly he heard a whoosh of air behind him, ears swiveling back to capture more sound. The rushing of air grew closer, and he threw himself to the side. A Hermit rushed past on a decorated elytra, the point of a spear slicing through where he’d just been. He kept his ears pointed back, and continued forwards. A few more attacks came, disorganised and destined to fail. Thanks to his enhanced hearing, he somehow managed to keep from getting hurt. The shopping district passed in a blur, and he entered Mumbo’s base. He only realised that when he stepped into the wheat, feeling it part as he launched himself through the field. He tried to keep himself low, which helped when the next Hermit came to try and run him through. 

 

They passed just to his left, barely missing him and darting back up into the sky with a curse. But all too soon, the wheat fields came to an end. He was faced with endless plains. He growled, and threw himself to the side. He could see a forest off to his right, and angled towards it. Going through any more bases would be dangerous, and he knew only a vast ocean would greet him at the edge of Decked Out 3. He went into the trees, hearing the Hermits behind him shout. There were three quick attacks, one after another, and he dodged by darting around more trees. After that, the Hermits let up. A minute later, Wels found out why. It started with one light, off in the distance. Then it grew, and as he got closer he saw why. The forest was on fire. They’d set the damn forest on fire. The flames danced in his eyes. DANGER DANGER DANGER. He let out a weak snarl, tearing up the grass as he turned around at full speed and started for the edge of the forest. 

 

He needed to get out of here — the plains were better than burning. Anything was better than burning. His lungs burned as he raced, trying to outrun the flames. He was just as worried about the smoke. One mouthful of that and he’d be done for. He kept running, hearing another Hermit move in for the kill. He scrambled out of the way, turning further into the Hermit’s territory. He couldn’t remember whose this was, now. He thought he’d have to pass through Impulse’s base, and maybe Gem’s, along with one more person. He’d have to run through Decked Out as well, but fortunately the game wasn’t far enough in development for it to be dangerous. At least — he hoped it wasn’t. Maybe once he got across the server, he could be safe. He kept running, after a while reaching a densely wooded forest. He hoped that this was the edge of Decked Out — if he was within Tango’s borders, or at least close, they wouldn’t dare burn things. He wasn’t any more important than the work the game-maker had already put into this place. 

 

Above him, he heard annoyed shouts. A few Hermits swooped in after them, but Wels managed to lose them in the trees. After a while, he considered slowing down. He hadn’t heard anyone in a while — maybe they’d given up? Of course, as if the universe was punishing him for thinking that, he was quickly contradicted. Behind him, he heard the rhythmic beating of hooves against the grass. Horses. Of course they’d follow on horses. He clenched his jaw. He didn't know if he could outrun a horse. He’d never bothered to try. But this time — he wouldn’t give in, or lie down and let them take him. He’d keep running until he couldn’t. He’d promised himself as much. He couldn’t take being captured again. Especially not by the Hermits. It took a little longer for the horses to catch up to him. Wels must’ve been pretty fast, because he swore he’d crossed a decent chunk of the land already. He heard the sound of a horse coming up on him, and the familiar yet unplaceable calls of what he assumed to be a Hermit. He tried to go faster, wracking his brain for a plan to somehow escape. He didn’t have one. He hadn’t had one this entire time. He hadn't been expected to need to run for his life — he’d just wanted food, and a short break from his base. That was all.

 

The thundering of hooves grew closer, and Wels kept his ears pinned back. They were on his left side. He slowly began to move more towards the right, the Hermit letting out a low curse when they were forced to match his odd angle. He kept moving, but eventually learned they were too fast to keep this up for long. He had to throw himself to the side when a Hermit charged, spear lowered to pierce through his fur. He snarled at them as they continued along by his side, moving in closer. They came to close, swiping out and managing to cut him. He changed direction as pain shocked through his shoulder, focused on running away from them. The tactic didn’t work — more horses appeared, circling him. He growled at them and tried to keep moving. This time, it was the land that betrayed him. He burst forwards, and saw the ground suddenly fail to meet the horizon. Instead, a deep blue hue met his eyes. The ocean. He’d forgotten what lay beyond Tango’s land — there was nothing merciful here for him. Just a cliff, and the people who were supposed to be his friends. They slowed, and he snarled at them again as they backed him further and further towards the cliff. A couple of them exchanged words — nothing that made sense to his ears, but was still noticeably full of venom. He backed up further as one of them slid off their horse and broke the circle to approach him. 

 

In their hands was a netherite spear, gleaming with enchantments. He let them get almost within spear’s reach before backing up again. He didn't look behind him, didn’t expect it when one of his paws met the edge of the cliff. The little bit of rock he was standing on crumpled, and he slipped backwards. For a moment, he managed to catch himself with his front paws, digging his claws into the damp soil. Then, in one swift motion, it gave way. He screamed and fell, plunging into the cold sea. The salt water burned against his wounds as he frantically tried to claw his way back to the surface. His head broke the water and he gasped, paddling to keep afloat. …could he float as a manticore? He didn’t know — he could barely do it as a human, so he kind of doubted it. He was stuck in the ocean — the entire shore was made of cliffs, the waves pummeling against them. He couldn’t go that way. What choice did he have but to try and cross the sea, or drown?

 

He desperately grabbed for his inventory, hoping he still had access to it. Where his hotbar should lie, he found nothing. He cursed internally, looking around for something to grab onto to help him float. There was nothing. Just miles of uncaring sea. He kept paddling, leaving the cliffs behind. The Hermits seemed content to leave him alone now that he was no longer on their land. At least — they seemed content for now. That would probably change when they realised he survived. …if he survived. Which he would — he had to. He had to, so he would. He blinked his eyes closed as saltwater tried to fling itself into his eyes, snapping at it with his teeth before catching up to how foolish that reaction was. He treaded water for what must’ve been hours, the sky growing progressively darker. He soon found out why. The wind let out a dramatic howl as rain started to pour down. 

 

The waves began to grow, what was once just an annoying amount of jostling now starting to make him struggle to swim. He gasped as a wave crashed over him, pushing him overwater and turning him over. Which way was up, where was he — he suddenly figured it out, shooting back up to the surface only to be met by another wave. He barely had time to grab a breath, let alone try and duck under it. It dropped down on him, knocking him under. He slammed into something, most of the air knocked from his lungs. His head hit a moment later, sending everything blinking into a haze. For a moment, he floated there, unaware of what was happening. Then consciousness slammed into him like a brick wall, and he scrambled for what he hoped was the surface. He kicked and flailed his way up again, pulling in a gasp. The next wave hit him head on, not crashing on him but instead sweeping through him like he wasn’t there. He was spun around again, still struggling with the haze that had fallen over him when he’d hit his head. He struggled, trying to right himself. He couldn’t. His movements slowly lost energy, his vision dimming. It all went dark.

 

He awoke not in bed, but on something hard. He immediately rolled onto his side and began to cough up water, struggling to pull air back into his lungs. He choked and coughed until he finally cleared out enough water to pull in a full breath. Then he promptly struggled upright, and continued trying to clear out the fluid. He stopped coughing after a while, the adrenaline having faded, leaving him with nothing but exhaustion. You’d think passing out while almost drowning would recover at least a little energy… He slumped back down, his head thumping against the ground. He rested again. He awoke already moving, stumbling over the rocky beach as if his body knew what to do while his mind was still grasping onto straws. Floundering across the beach, he found himself overlooking a beautiful forest. …there had to be something to eat in there. His wounds ached — he needed to heal, or at least start to try. He tromped forwards, aware that his footsteps might scare off any potential prey. He didn’t care. He didn’t have the energy to. 

 

In a slightly foolish rush of panic, he tried to shift back to his human form. It didn’t work. Just his luck… He kept moving, looking around. He didn’t see any animals, but did manage to find a stream. He hoped it was freshwater… He approached it cautiously, taking a small slip. It wasn’t salty, so he drank more, staying there until he’d had his fill. He kept moving when he was done, keeping the location of the stream in his mind. After a while, he heard a far-away bleat. A sheep. PREY. His body responded without him, screaming after it. He blinked, and suddenly he had his teeth buried in its throat. It was already limp. He mentally gagged. He was really this desperate, wasn’t he? He tore into the carcass and ripped out a strip of raw meat. To his disgust, it tasted good. Great, actually. He kept ripping off more and more pieces, any thought of preserving something completely gone. When he’d eaten it all, he gnawed on the bones, trying to do something about the hunger that still raged inside him. Slowly, it eased, and he left the body where it lay. He trounced off further into the forest, a part of him suddenly excited about the idea of exploring now that his basic needs were met. He bolted across the grass, panting and jumping around. He hadn’t run like this… ever. It felt great! Something hit the ground behind him, and he jumped. DANGER. He turned back, and found nothing but quiet forest. Hmm… must’ve just been a stick or something.

 

His mood had been soured, and he slowly kept forwards. This wasn’t fun. It wasn’t meant to be fun. This was survival. He craned his head back to look towards the sky. No Hermits. At least, not yet. He needed to find some place to hide. He looked around, eventually finding a cave. It was a large, hollowed-out cavern with a giant opening. Basically just a scar driven into the landscape. No, it wouldn’t do. He kept moving. Several hours later, as it began to get dark, Wels found something. A cave that was only a little bigger than him. It looked shallow, but turned and opened up into a small area towards the back. The second part of the cave wasn’t visible. Good — this would work. If he couldn’t dig himself into the ground — which would be impossible with these paws — then he’d find somewhere natural to hide. He padded inside, flopping down on the ground. Luckily, the sheep he’d eaten earlier seemed to be enough to at least get him through the day. He buried his head in his paws, and slept.

 

The next morning came with little fanfare. He stretched and stepped outside, heading back to the stream to drink. He wasn’t hungry quite yet, so he spent some time wandering, hoping to find something useful. He didn’t, and his mood eventually shifted. He was hungry again. He wandered, looking for something to eat. After a while, he came upon a pig. It noticed him and immediately tried to run. He launched himself after it, quickly able to pounce upon it and sever its throat with his claws. This time he was filled with far less disgust as he ate it, just happy to have a good meal. He was beginning to worry he wouldn’t find anything. He gnawed on a bone for a minute, before realising that he was actually enjoying doing so, and spitting it out to continue moving. 

 

He continued exploring for most of the rest of the day, until his injury began to complain. He scuttled back to his little cave, lying down. After a few hours, he drifted off. The next day he went to return to the stream, when he noticed something. A fresh footprint in the dirt closer to the water. He stopped, swiveling his ears around, and eventually noticed something. Voices. Too far to be distinct. Too close to be safe. He turned and walked silently in the other direction, careful not to snap any sticks beneath his feet. That was proving more difficult with 4 feet instead of 2, but he was managing. After he got far enough away he started running, hoping that the Hermits wouldn’t notice him. They didn’t seem to, and the landscape around him slowly shifted.

 

The terrain started to get steeper, and found him hauling himself up large rocks. When he finally decided to look up, he saw a giant mountain in front of him. He covered his eyes with his paws. He was going around that. Definitely going around that. He kept moving, doing his best to keep steady on the tall boulders. Occasionally he’d lose purchase on the rocks, and would struggle to stay on them, clawing deep gouges into the faces. He slowly figured out how to balance better though, using his tail to try and counterbalance. It was working well — apparently manticores were meant to have good balance. Slowly he grew more daring, jumping from rock to rock. After a while, the rocks lost their appeal. He focused on a small section of plains in front of him, followed by a birch forest. He slowly made his way down to the plains before taking off, dashing across it. He made it to the treeline in maybe an hour, seeking solace under the shade of the branches. He slowed down, aware that, in his current state, trying to run through here would just send him barreling headfirst into a tree. 

 

He wandered until he realised it was starting to get dark. Then he searched around, eventually finding a usable cave near a lake. He drank greedily, for once glad he was a manticore, because it meant he didn’t have to worry about getting sick from the still water. When he was full he returned to the cave, finding himself not particularly hungry. He laid down and slept. He woke ravenous, standing and stalking outside to look for something to eat. His tail, now that he’d stopped from hiding it between his legs or sticking it straight out behind him, lashed angrily behind him. He eventually found another sheep, pouncing on it. This time his tail sped out without him, stinging it. He could see the venom start to impact it as its fighting began to slow, and eventually stopped. He stared down at it for a second, unsure of if it was dead or not, before cleaving its head from its body. 

 

The blood pooled around him as he ate, sticking to the bottoms of his paws to match where it had clumped into his fur. He finished eating and growled in agitation, returning to the lake. He plunged his paws into it one at a time, slowly scrubbing it off. His face was more difficult — the blood there was dried in giant clumps, so tightly bound to his fur that he began pulling some out as he tried to get it off. He growled and, in a moment of frustration, launched himself into the lake. Completely submerged he pawed at the mess, slowly managing to work it out of his fur. He emerged dripping wet, his fur weighed down by the water. He tried to shake it off. The water, for the most part, stuck to him. He groaned internally and began running, the wind slowly starting to help dry him. This… well it wasn’t a miserable existence, but… he missed home. 

 

The days passed in a slow rhythm, after that. Wels would stay in one spot for a day or two, then get up and move. Stop, hunt, move. Stop, hunt, move. That’s all he did. The world around him seemed to slowly dim as he came to terms with his arrangement. There was no going back. He couldn’t even convince his body to turn human again — how could he ever try going home? Even if the Hermits might kill him on sight if he was human, he couldn’t be one anyways. This was his existence, and coming to terms with that was suffocating. He found himself, one day, awaking in the cave unable to convince himself to stand. It was then that the footsteps tentatively entered stepped inside.

 

“Welsknight?” A voice called. For a moment, he thought he’d lost it. That he was hearing his own voice call out from the entrance of the cave. Then, the scowling knight came into view. His dark armour glimmered, even in the shadow of the cave. His eyes raked up and down Wels’ body. “You look like shit.” Wels just gave him an annoyed yowl. “...why are you doing that?” He paused, his eyes suddenly widening. “Holy shit — you’re stuck. You’re stuck out of your human form. Well… that explains pretty much everything. Except why the Hermits seem to be trying to kill you.” He stepped forwards, coming within arm’s reach. Wels growled. “Oh — you’re not going to hurt me.” He shook his head. Wels bared his teeth, and Hels pulled out a sword, raising its point above his forehead. Wels just looked at it, unmoving, and after a moment the other sighed, dropping it back to his side and returning it to its sheath. “You’re exhausted — there’s no fight left in you.” Wels closed his eyes, and Hels stepped closer. He eventually settled down against Wels’ side, his armour digging into Wels. He couldn’t find it in him to be mad. “Great — you’re a pack animal with a pack that wants to kill you. …I don’t even know how to fix this. Hey — why’s that my job, anyways? To fix your mess?” Wels didn’t respond. “...yeah, you’re right. Nobody else is going to do it.” Hels stayed there for a while before eventually groaning to his feet. 

 

He left. Then, surprisingly, he returned. He tugged on one of Wels’ fangs, urging him to his feet. Wels growled at him, annoyed, but he let himself settle closer to the center of the cave. Hels clamoured around to his side, slowly pouring some water over the healing gash that cut through his fur. Wels barely shifted, allowing him to work. Some sort of bandage was plastered over his injuries, and Hels headed back to the mouth of the cave, giving him a second look before leaving. Some time later, a loud clatter came from outside. Wels opened his eyes just in time to watch a red-maned manticore drag the body of a cow inside. It was dropped down in front of him. Wels didn’t move, and the other manticore nudged it closer to him. He turned away. The other drew closer, hefting him to his feet with growl. Wels slowly leaned down and started eating, having most of the cow before lying back down again. The other ate the rest of the carcass before dragging it back outside. He returned then, laying down atWels’ side, pressed up against him. Had they been human, had this been any other situation, Wels would’ve left. Would’ve refused to sleep at his enemy’s side. Here, though, with ‘friends’ that had become his real enemies, he rested his head on Hels. It was warm next to him, warmer than he’d been in a while. He went to sleep. 

 

Shockingly, Hels didn’t leave him when the sun rose to paint the sky. He hunted for Wels, pulled him to water, dragged him to safe areas when the Hermits came too close to catching them. He rarely left Wels’ side when he wasn’t doing something important — most of his time was spent either taking care of, or laying with Wels, keeping him company. It was a distinct parallel to how, a year or two after the destruction of season 8, Hels had shown up on the server completely despondent. And Wels, though he hated him, knew the heartbreak and loss written in his movements (or lack-there-of). So he stayed. Brought Hels food, kept him alive. Just like Hels was doing for him now. Today marked the longest the two’d been apart since Hels found him. 2 days — a part of Wels wasn’t expecting him to come back.

 

That was why, when he awoke to the sound of boots clanking against the stone of the cave, his body tensed. However as they drew closer he could barely make out the metallic clanking of medieval-style armour. Just Hels. God, how fucked was this that he was happiest to see Hels, compared to the other Hermits? Or… maybe just ‘the Hermits.’ He burrowed back under his arms. It took a minute for the footsteps to reach him.

 

“Still sulking?” Hels said as he entered the room. He’d apparently expected Wels to bounce back sometime into the week. That was about how long it’d taken Hels to do it himself. “Can’t say I’m surprised.” He dropped back to sit up against Wels, the points of his armour digging into him uncomfortably. “So — bad news. The hermits are definitely still hunting you, and they’re not going to stop. They’ve decided to use this as the perfect time to test out possible security plans, in case of a breach.” Wels huffed and buried his face further into his arms. “Yeah, I know. But hey, you're their best strategist, so they’re kinda running the marathon footless here. So — I’ll keep dragging you places where they aren’t likely to look, and maybe try and see if Ex’ll come smuggle me some information.” Wels looked up. “No, they aren’t here.” Hels waved him off. Wels disappeared back under his arms. “You only like me for my drama…” Wels blinked up at him, as if asking ‘what else is there?’ Hels just laughed. “Ok, that was rude. Anyways — we’ve gotta jump ship soon. They’ll come sweep the area within the next day. So — up you get.”

 

Wels did not, in fact, get up.

 

“Wels. Don’t test me.” Wels sprawled further across the cave. “Come on — we’ve gotta get going! They could be here in an hour! I don’t know where they’ll check first!” Wels didn’t move. Hels groaned. “Fine — be that way! But if we get caught, it’s on your head.”

 

Wels didn’t move. After a while, Hels moved from where he’d been leaning against the wall. 

 

“Time to go. For real, this time.” Hels sighed when Wels made no attempt to stand. “Gods — if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a death wish.” He tugged on Wels’ tail; Wels had to fight to not sting him. Paralytic venom would really put a damper on their escape attempts. Sluggishly, he made his way to his feet. Hels walked with him out of the cave, before shifting back into his non-human form. The two walked. Running might be a better idea, but Wels didn’t have the energy for it, and Hels seemed to sense that. They kept an even pace — one that the Hermits hopefully wouldn’t outmatch. He wandered along, letting Hels guide him. Unlike most days, Hels wasn’t talking about something to try and distract him. Most of Hels’ stories weren’t great — they were just about people he stabbed, and how he stabbed them — but they were better than silence. Still, silence felt harmonious with the fact that the Hermits were hunting him. …the Hermits were hunting him. Gosh, he didn't have much time left, did he? They were going to find him. Even with Hels, he couldn’t outrun them for long. And a part of him was tired — was asking himself how bad it could possibly be if he just let them kill him. Maybe it would be better than this. He did his best not to think about that, and kept walking. 

 

They spent the next few days in a tiring rhythm. Wake before sunrise, and move to a different location. Hunt, eat, and find some place to hide. Then sleep, and do it all again the next day. Wels was over it, at this point. He was completely exhausted — even just walking seemed to sap the little strength he had. Hels was stuck making up for his weakness. Bringing him food on the days he couldn’t hunt (which was pretty much every day). Forcing him up to start walking again in the morning. Wels didn’t know why he was doing this. Sure they’d started to become sort of friendly in the past couple years, but not enough to explain everything Hels was doing. He didn’t know how to repay him. He didn’t even have it in him to chase that thought. He just followed Hels around, only looking forward to when they arrived at their new location, and he could lay down and rest again. 

 

Currently, they were passing through an old forest. The tree trunks were wide, towering over him even in his current form. The fallen leaves crunched beneath his paws. He knew making noise was a problem, but he couldn’t bring himself to try and be any quieter. Hels, leading him from a few steps ahead, was completely silent as he walked. Every few minutes he looked back, less like he was watching for an attack, and more like he was checking that the sound that followed him was still Wels. It was after they’d been walking for at least a couple hours that he heard it. The sound of a horn from his left, bellowing through the landscape. Then another, from his right. One from behind. And another. And another. Completely surrounding them. He looked around, body tense and ready to fight. Hels dropped back a few steps to stand closer to him. The horns continued to call out, a warning of what was to come. 

 

In less than a minute, the Hermits had closed in. Ten blurry faces, surrounding them with weapons drawn. Hels tensed, circling him the best he could. 

 

“Helsknight!” One of them called. “We should’ve known you were in on this.”

 

Hels just snarled at them. Wels could see the slight confusion in his posture, visible in the way he was cringing back from the Hermits just slightly.

 

“Surrender now.” A different person called. Just like the day they’d chased him, Wels couldn’t find anything recognisable in their voice or stance. It was all blurry.

 

One of the Hermits broke their ranks, just like they’d done on the cliff. Hels was on them immediately, biting into their armour and drawing a scream from their throat. They slashed out at Hels, his blood spilling onto the forest floor. A couple more Hermits broke into the circle. It closed before either of them had time to react. In another moment, two more people were on Hels, spears poised to cut into him. Wels wouldn’t let it happen. He pounced on the closest one, biting their hands and ripping the spear from their grasp. He bit through it, and it snapped in half. The person blinked up at him, drawing a sword. Wels lashed out with his tail. They weren’t expecting that; his stinger buried itself in a chink in their armour. They stared at him as the venom took effect. He watched them drop to a knee, then collapse to the ground. Unconscious. Good. 

 

He launched himself at the other Hermit, who was poised to impale Hels. He knocked them to the ground, trying to bite them. They blocked him with their spear, his jaws forced open. He tried to bite it in half, and found that this one was reinforced. His tail lashed out, trying to sting them, and another Hermit broke ranks, jumping onto his tail. They managed to hold him back from stinging the spear-holder. He growled, trying to shake them off. He almost managed it when another Hermit grabbed onto his tail, fighting for control. He struggled, but they were too strong, managing to pin his tail to the ground. More Hermits came to his side, pinning his limbs. Wels snarled, trying to bite them, but the spear lodged between his teeth made it impossible. He glanced over, finding Hels mostly-forgotten. He managed to tug his head to the side, signaling for Hels to run. He snarled at Wels, tail lashing. Wels shook his head, and Hels hesitated. Wels growled lowly, warning him, and he stayed for a single second longer before darting off into the trees. 

 

The couple Hermits who had been fighting him shouted after his fleeing form, before seeming to decide that he wasn't worth the effort. They came to help pin Wels down, one of them helping free the Hermit trapped below him. He’d lost. He knew he’d lost — the battle had been won the moment they got control of his teeth and tail. He tried to lift his claws, the Hermits around him shouting as he managed to lift himself a couple inches before they forced him back down. Another came around to his front, where two people were fighting for control of his head, forcing him back with the spear that he couldn’t seem to dislodge. He growled as they grabbed the top of his head and pushed him down. His head hit the dirt with a thump, and he tried to stand to no avail. 

 

Suddenly there were rockets from above, and people landed behind him. A few joined those holding down his tail. Together they forced it to curl up. Leather bindings appeared, pressed against the plates of his tail. He snarled, bucking up and trying to knock them off him. They forced him back down anyway, binding his stinger to the base of his tail. With his tail immobilized, more people moved to stand around him, grabbing onto his head. Someone dislodged the spear, and more people forced his mouth shut. A band of leather was forced over his jaws, keeping him from opening his mouth. More came, surrounding the first band and making sure it couldn’t be removed. One last piece was secured with a sickening ‘click,’ and the people around his head relaxed. A muzzle. They’d muzzled him. Slowly, the group stepped away, surrounding him from more of a distance. He hefted himself onto his feet, and the people stiffened. All of them pointed their weapons at him. In a last desperate attempt he threw himself at the nearest person, trying to get past them. One of the others stabbed him in the leg before he got close. He yowled in pain, shrinking back. After a moment someone broke ranks, pointing a spear at him.

 

“Walk.” They commanded. He didn’t move. “I said walk!” They stabbed him in the side and he hissed, pain lighting up the wound. It didn’t feel deep — it’d clot on its own. Hopefully. 

 

He hesitantly started forwards, the circle of Hermits moving with him. Their steps were cautious and calculated. He understood — he’d be wary too, if he had to escort a monster like this. He spaced out as they walked, ambling behind the lead Hermits. By the time they reached the ocean, it was dark. He was slightly glad when he was forced into a boat, trying not to think about his last experience with the sea. He was able to sit down, resting his exhausted limbs. He set his head on his front legs and let himself zone out. He snapped back to reality when the boat jerked to a stop, lifting his head to see trees in front of him. Tango’s base. He remembered coming through here — they must be at a beach somewhere along the shoreline he hadn’t seen, far from where he’d fallen when he was running from the Hermits. Someone nudged him into the side, and he reluctantly got to his feet. 

 

He spaced out for most of the walk, not noticing when it started to get dark and the Hermits began glancing around nervously. When they came to a stop Wels didn’t notice, continuing on until he almost bumped into the person in front of him. They drew their weapon, and he shrunk back, not wanting to get stabbed again. They gave him an odd look before hitting a button. A square of blocks in front of him drew back, and he was brought into a room. There was a blast of air, and more doors opened. Wels was herded further into the structure, slowly brought further and further down into the depths. Eventually they reached the bottom, and turned down a long hallway. Wels was directed to an open cell, and he hesitated for a moment before complying. The door was locked behind him, and he laid down, watching idly as the Hermits left. He was alone for hours, laying down and letting himself slide in and out of reality. That was one good part of his exhaustion — if he didn’t want to deal with something, he could just drift. It wasn’t hard. 

 

He was forced out of his stupor when something splatted on the ground behind him. He turned around and saw two pieces of raw steak on the floor, and a Hermit staring at him. There were more behind him, some standing with weapons menacingly, while others just watched. 

 

“You gonna kill us if we come in here?” Someone asked.

 

He watched, then slowly shook his head.

 

“God, that’s uncanny…” Someone whispered as the door was unlocked.

 

He was slowly approached, someone grabbing the clasp behind his head. He froze, and the leather bands were carefully removed.

 

“You bite anyone, or even try, and that thing’s going back on.”

 

Wels backed into the corner, snarling at them.

 

“Yeah-yeah.” Someone else grumbled. “You’re so scary, Mr. Trapped Manticore.”

 

They swiftly left the cell, one of the blurry faces re-locking the cell door. As they left, Wels considered whether he could’ve successfully ran or not. Only a few had weapons out, but that didn’t tell him everything. There could’ve been more at the end of the hall, blocking off any escape. Maybe it would’ve been best to try, but… he couldn’t stomach the idea of failing and being muzzled again. He stayed down, and resolved not to run unless he was absolutely sure he had a way out. …logically, he knew there was a reason he didn’t want to try. A reason beyond the bad memories he had of muzzles. He didn’t want to face it. Instead, he looked around the cell, noticing a trough of water in the other back corner. He shambled over to drink, before devouring the meat. There wasn’t enough of it to satiate him, but he wouldn’t complain. He was just glad he was being fed.

 

For the next few days, Wels was largely left alone. Twice a day meat was thrown into his cell, but other than that it was quiet. He spent most of his time in that blissful state between consciousness and unconsciousness, pretending that he was safe at home. Occasionally he’d have to get up and stretch, but he avoided it. Sometimes when he did that, a pang of panic would hit him, and he wouldn’t be able to lie back down. He’d end up pacing the cell until his legs ached so bad, he couldn’t convince himself of the merits of staying upright. He was being weak, and he knew it, but all intentions of being something else had dissolved. He didn’t mind being weak anymore. Nobody was going to be any more disgusted with him than they already were, so why bother keeping up the front? It was as he was considering this that a group of Hermits came to stand outside the cell. He lifted his head. He hadn’t seen this many people since they’d taken off his muzzle. 

 

“We know what you did.” One of the people said. “You need to tell us how to reverse it. We’re not leaving until we know how to get him back.” He blinked at them.

 

“Don’t play innocent!” Someone else raged. “We know you had something to do with this. So, we’re going to give you one chance to help us. Shift back to a human form, and tell us exactly what you did.”

 

Wels vaguely tried to shift, with no real intention of doing so. Nothing even started to happen. He was still blocked. He stared at them, as if hoping they’d read that information in his eyes. They didn’t seem to. Someone threw something into the cell. It shattered on the floor, spraying him with a mist. Potions. Really, they were going to poison him? He felt the exhaustion hit him immediately. If he wasn’t already laying down, he would’ve crumpled to the dusty ground. His head dipped, smacking against the concrete. The Hermits tromped inside when they were sure he was incapacitated. They grabbed him by the legs, hefting him across the cell. He came to rest in front of the trough, blinking slowly in confusion. One of the Hermits came to stand beside his head. They pointed a sword down at his throat.

 

“Do you really think we can’t put two and two together? Our friend disappears, and then you show up! You — what did you even do to us?! We can’t remember his name!” The human cried.

 

Wels barely registered their voice, something in his mind going fuzzy. He blinked at them, and they stood straighter.

 

“Fine.” Said another voice. “We’ll just apply pressure. Force you to shift, because we know you can — there are no full-blooded manticores left. And then we’ll make you tell us where he is!”

 

They hauled Wels up by the scruff of his neck. Slowly, they moved him so his head was hanging over the trough. He managed a bare growl. It didn’t scare them.

 

“One more chance — turn human, and tell us where you’re keeping him.”

 

He didn’t know what they were talking about. What were they going to do, drown him for something he didn’t know anything about? Rage sharpened the Hermits’ postures, and they dunked his head beneath the water. Cold. That was the first thing he registered — it was cold. He immediately panicked, the experience of nearly drowning before all-too clear in his mind. He tried to thrash, but the potion had sapped what was left of his energy. He barely managed to lift his tail. It thudded down a moment later. His lungs started to burn, and he forced himself not to breathe. The sensation got more frantic, his vision dimming at the edges. The world started to grey around him. Just as he thought he might pass out, he was hauled back up, immediately gasping for breath. 

 

“Where is he!” Someone demanded. 

 

He just growled weakly. For his transgression he was immediately forced back underwater. He didn’t even have time to draw in a full breath, immediately feeling his lungs burn. He struggled, tail flopping a little. His vision dimmed faster this time, his body expelling the useless air from his lungs. Bubbles filled the little he could see as he struggled to stay conscious. He stopped trying to move, focused on not letting everything go dark. He was pulled back up again and shaken roughly. He barely felt it. Someone said something, but it was drowned out by the ringing in his ears. He got a little longer to breathe this time — he figured the Hermits could tell he was barely clinging to consciousness. When he’d mostly caught his breath, they dropped him back into the trough. He held his breath, his lungs starting to burn after a minute. He held his breath, waiting for them to pull him back up as his vision started to fade. But as the shadows started to close in, nothing changed. He thrashed weakly, trying to get them to pull him back up. His ears rang as the world started to turn to static. Everything went dark.

 

He awoke as he hit the floor, gulping in a big breath of air. He immediately realised there was water in his lungs, and coughed, trying to force it out. His attempts were weak, shallow. A little water managed to spill out, only for him to choke on it. Someone groaned and pushed him onto his side. He curled around himself the best he could, coughing weakly. A little of the water spilled out of his mouth as he forced his lungs to spasm. After a while he managed to get most of it out and went still, bringing in deep breaths as he tried to calm himself. Someone grabbed his chin and was waved off.

 

“...again tomorrow.” He barely heard as the group started to filter out.

 

He was soon left alone, and he was glad for it. As the potion slowly wore off he curled around himself, hiding his face. He was so tired… he drifted, eventually falling asleep. The next day was more of the same. This time, he was nearly-drowned for hours before the group gave up, and that was only because Wels had managed to move. He tried to sweep someone’s legs out from under them, only managing to smack them with his tail. Still, they jumped, shouting at the others. The humans fled from the room, leaving Wels, bone-tired, to lay on the floor, his face still dripping water. A little while later, he heard sounds from behind the wall. He didn’t lift his head, watching lazily as things scraped against each other on the other side. A moment later, a block of stone disappeared. He blinked when he saw Hels on the other side. Hels dug his way into the room, coming to Wels’ side.

 

“Come on, we’ve gotta go!” He hissed. Wels just looked at him. “Wha — don’t look at me like that! I don’t know when the Hermits are gonna come back, so move your ass into the tunnel!” He didn’t move. “...seriously? That tunnel took ages to build! Do you really wanna stay here?” Wels closed his eyes, letting his head loll a bit. “Ok — what the fuck, Wels? You’ve just given up? Really?!” Hels stared at him. “...why’s your face wet?” Wels glanced over at the trough, shuddering. “...you’re kidding. Ok — we’re getting you out of here.” Hels shifted into his beastly form and picked Wels up by the scruff on his neck. He started dragging him towards the tunnel. Wels pawed at him, and he stopped, letting him go to shift back to a human form. “What, you wanna stay here and get tortured some more?” Wels blinked at him, letting his exhaustion show through his posture. He was tired. He was tired of running… “You’re — oh my gods. Fine — Stay here, see if I care!” He turned back, glaring but still hesitating. After a few moments too long, he turned and returned to the tunnel. The stone was replaced, sealing away any last hope of escape. Wels was unbothered. A life on the run was no more a life than this was. And here, he at least wasn’t expected to do anything.

 

Time dragged on in a painful rhythm. He’d wake up, someone would feed him, he’d stare at the trough until thirst eventually forced him to get up and drink down as much water as he could manage, before going to lay in the middle of the cell. Hermits would come. They’d interrogate him, getting increasingly agitated as Wels continued to not give them answers. By now, it seemed they were starting to give up on the waterboarding method. They pulled him up just before he blacked out, someone shoving him back to the ground.

 

“We’re done for today.” They said. “I’m not sure how much longer I can do this before I just decide to let it drown.”

 

“Well… why don’t we just drown it, then?” Someone asked. “Up the stakes — maybe that’ll make it talk.”

 

“No — we don’t know where its respawn point is.” The first voice said. “We don’t want to lose it. And we can’t ask X to tether its respawn — both because we probably can’t find its code very easily, and because X has been unreachable for… however many weeks now.”

 

The second voice groaned, saying something else, and they filtered out of the cell. Wels laid there, too tired to move. He let the hours pass around him. After a while, though, he realised that nobody had come by to feed him. He frowned. Usually, he’d get food a few hours after being interrogated. But he was sure it was late into the night now, and no one had come by. He tensed. …had they finally decided he wasn’t worth the effort? Were they leaving him here to starve? He shuddered, standing and clawing weakly at the floor. It wasn’t long before he got tired again, and ceased his futile attempts at… well, it wasn’t even an escape attempt, was it? After what must’ve been hours, he heard footsteps hurrying down the stairs. He didn’t lift his head. At least, not until the distinctive green armour came into view. …Xisuma? What was he doing here? X looked over and saw him, gasping and sprinting for the cell. He grabbed the door, fiddling with the lock before looking around. After a few moments he sighed and typed something into his comm. The door disappeared, and he stepped inside. He hesitated a few steps back from Wels.

 

“...Wels?” He asked slowly.

 

Wels lifted his head a little. X frowned, coming over to set an armoured hand on his fur. He busied himself with his comm for a moment, before looking up, taking in Wels’ appearance, his brows creased in clear distress. 

 

“Oh dear me, what did I — What happened?” He inhaled sharply. “Alright — don’t be alarmed. I’m going to get you out of here.”

 

Wels blinked. X didn’t seem to notice, typing a command. The world warped around him and Wels closed his eyes. Eventually things evened out, but he still felt the room spinning around him. He opened his eyes, recognising the interior of X’s base after a long moment. X bent over and tried to lift him, failing miserably. After one more attempt he sighed, sitting back on a couch behind Wels. 

 

“Ok, let’s take a look at — Oh dear gods! How the Hell did this happen?!” Wels lifted his head, blinking at him. X gave him an obviously fake smile. “Don’t worry about it, Wels. Your code’s just a bit mangled — I’ll fix it. I already patched the rest of this…” He went back to typing, muttering to himself under his breath. It sounded like stream-of-consciousness — half of it seemed to be details about whatever he was working on, and the other half was just angry grumbling. After a while Xisuma hit a button aggressively, and Wels felt something change. The haze of exhaustion that’d been chasing him for at least a month suddenly lifted. He found it in him to stretch, marveling at how much less effort it seemed to take. He yawned, letting his head thump against the carpet. His tail began to swish lazily, and X looked up with a quiet:

 

“Oh!” He stood, coming to kneel by Wels’ tail. “Sorry — I completely forgot!” He pulled something from his inventory, and the bindings started to loosen. Wels held his tail completely still until it was freed, stretching out the tense muscles. He started to lash out at Xisuma, before pulling his tail back. Not a threat. Xisuma was not a threat (for some reason). They sat there for a moment, Wels happily swishing his tail back and forth as X just watched.

 

“Alright — Wels, I hate to ask anything of you, but can you turn human for me?” Wels turned to glare at him. It wasn’t going to work. Shouldn’t X, of all people, know it won’t work? “...please? I really need to see if you can, and what the code does if you try.”

 

Wels rolled his eyes, and tried to shift. To his surprise, nothing blocked him. He shrank, sitting upright and staring down at his two legs. …they suddenly felt two too few.

 

“There we go!” X exclaimed. “So it did work! Fair warning, I didn’t get to everything. And, well, some of your code will need to heal over time too.” 

 

Wait, there was actually a code problem?

 

“...oh.” His voice was raspy, his mouth completely dry.

 

X frowned.

 

“Here, let me—” He stood, disappearing for a moment. He returned with a glass of water. 

 

“...thanks.” Wels took it, staring for a moment. 

 

…it was just a glass of water. It was just a glass of water, not the DANGER he seemed to think it was. He sniffed it, just to be sure it was ok, before taking a small sip. It was cold and crisp. He quickly downed the whole thing. X vanished again, returning with a pitcher. He set it on the coffee table, sliding the whole thing closer to the couch. Wels leaned forwards to pour himself another glass. His hands trembled, the water within the pitcher sloshing around. X carefully took it from him, pouring it without spilling a drop. Wels picked the glass up again, taking a few more sips before setting it back down. Xisuma was no longer watching him, having returned to the code. It took a while before he looked up.

 

“Ok — that should be the last of what I can fix. The rest will heal with time. Do you, uhm, do you mind if I run some quick tests?”

 

“...on me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He did. He really did mind.

 

“No, I — I’ll be ok.” He said.

 

“Thanks.” X nodded.

 

He typed some more, and a weird sensation shuddered through Wels. It was sort of similar to getting goosebumps, except it was everywhere. After a couple minutes, it passed. X pursed his lips at whatever result he got.

 

“All things considered… it's alright.” He said. “That’s probably the best outcome we could expect.” He unsealed his helmet and put it aside, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I may need to run tests on you occasionally, just to make sure everything heals ok. If it does, I give you… three months, tops, before you’re back to normal!”

 

X sounded chipper, but Wels was less sure.

 

“What… happened?”

 

X’s face immediately fell.

 

“I… it’s complicated. I’m not entirely sure what triggered it. I have a few hunches, but…” He trailed off for a moment before shaking his head. “There was a glitch. It affected the Hermits first — they started to forget about you. They probably stopped inviting you to things, or stopping by to say hello. They didn’t realise it — not at first. Until they saw you in the shopping district. Then their code tried to desperately put the pieces together and figure out why they couldn’t remember you. They knew you existed, on some level, but the glitch forced them to not recognise you. To them, you were some sort of intruder. It… didn’t help that you’d transformed into a manticore and couldn’t turn back, when we didn’t know you were anything but human. 

 

It wouldn’t have changed anything, but it might’ve gone a little better if things had happened differently. Anyways — the glitch, trying to maintain its control of your code, helped to trap you in your manticore form. And, I suspect that a part of you, as terrified as you must’ve been, saw that form as safer. The combination of those things made it impossible for you to turn back into a human. The Hermits didn’t even consider that the person they’d forgotten might’ve been a shape-shifter, so they, affected by the glitch, pinned your disappearance on you. They thought that you might have answers, so they went looking for you. I… don’t know what happened, between the time you were seen in the shopping district and when I found you. But nothing the Hermits did was of their own volition.” He paused, one of his hands moving to lay overtop his comm. “...they’ve already come out of it. Two people have already messaged telling me that their memory’s fuzzy. They can’t remember what happened when things were glitched.”

 

“They don’t… remember?”

 

“No.” X shook his head. “One of them started having memory flashes. He told me he really hopes they’re not real. I… believe the bug made it so they were more aggressive to you than they should’ve been.”

 

“They don’t remember…” Wels mumbled. “So they didn’t mean it?”

 

“I doubt it.” X’s face soured. “I highly, highly doubt it.”

 

Wels stilled. His breathing picked up. Had they really not meant it? Did they… not hate him? They were supposed to hate him. Even without the bug, they were supposed to hate him! He’d lied for years, not even by omission — he’d told them outright that he was human. He’d planned to take that secret to his grave. But then… there was Xisuma, sitting next to him. He’d seen Wels in his other form, and he hadn’t seemed to care. How? How was it possible? It shouldn’t be, it shouldn’t—

 

“...Wels?”

 

He scrubbed at his eyes.

 

“I don’t get it. I don’t — I don’t get it.” He rounded on Xisuma, eyes wide. “Why don’t you hate me?!”

 

X reeled back in shock.

 

“H-Hate you? Why would I hate you?!”

 

“I lied! I lied about everything! About what I am, why I had to leave the knights—”

 

X chuckled softly.

 

“So did many of the Hermits. Really — I think Joe treated his introduction to us as a creative writing assignment. He told us he was fae!”

 

“But I — I’m different. Xisuma you have to know that I’m different! I have this beast inside me, I can’t control it! I tried, and I failed. I bit someone in the shopping district, just because they startled me!”

 

“I decapitated Joe once.” X shrugged. “We’re Hermits — murder’s part of the fun.”

 

“But—”

 

“Wels. You have to be serious — nobody here is going to be mad at you for being a manticore. Even — even if you have non-human instincts, so do most of us! Why act like you’re different?”

 

“I — I’m dangerous.” Wels said, clasping his hands together with the hope that that would make the trembling less noticeable. “I’m made for killing—”

 

“Like I said — murder’s part of the fun. Pick a different explanation.”

 

“I — I can’t be trusted.”

 

“Please — you’ve helped run our physical security pretty much since you’ve got here. If you were untrustworthy, we would’ve found out pretty quickly. Try again.”

 

“I — X, I don’t know! I don’t know, ok! Ever since I can remember, I’ve been a dangerous monster if I couldn’t keep myself hidden. I never learned how to be anything other than human — I was either human, or I was a threat. That’s all there was!”

 

X frowned.

 

“I — I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you—”

 

“X, I — I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. Ok, there was a glitch, sure, but how am I supposed to face the Hermits? How—” His voice broke. “What am I supposed to do?” X hesitated, tapping a button on his comm. His armour vanished, and he slowly moved to hug Wels. Wels leaned into it, resting his forehead against X’s shoulder. “I’m so tired. I’m so tired…”

 

“It’s alright. Wels, I — I don’t exactly know what to say, but I promise you it’s going to be alright.”

 

Water dripped down his face, and Wels flinched. Cold, it was cold—

 

“Easy. You’re alright.” X murmured.

 

“Don’t let them— Don’t let them—” Wels begged.

 

“No one’s gonna hurt you.”

 

Wels trembled, more tears rolling down his face. They only made things worse.

 

“I’m gonna drown.” He mumbled. “I’m gonna drown, I can’t breathe— X I can’t—”

 

He moved, clawing at his face. Get the water off, keep it out of his lungs, get the water off— X tried to grab at his hands, and Wels screamed.

 

“No! No, not you too! Not — Not again, please! I — I don’t know what you’re talking about, I promise I don’t—”

 

X shifted, letting go of his hands while still keeping his arms wrapped around Wels. Suddenly, exhaustion hit Wels like a truck. He collapsed against Xisuma, his head filled with fog.

 

“Sorry.” X whispered, holding him carefully. “Sorry, I didn’t know — Wels, I don’t know how to help you… I’m so sorry.”

 

Wels, too out of it to process his words, just closed his eyes. He drifted. When he awoke, it was to warmth. To one arm snaked around him, and to slightly frantic mumbling.

 

“Still nothing.” The voice said. “Why’s there still nothing? It has to have had a cause—” Wels shifted, and the voice cut off. “...Wels? Are you awake?” He managed a quiet hum. X sighed. “Mostly, then. It’s been a couple of hours. I’ll give you some time.”

 

Wels continued to drift for another several minutes, more tethered to reality than he usually was when he did this. After a while, he opened his eyes, shifting more upright. He was still lying in X’s arms, and a full set of panels were open in front of Xisuma.

 

“...how do you feel?” He asked, biting his lip.

 

“Alright. ‘Little groggy.” Wels said.

 

“Hm. That sounds about right…” He rubbed his eyes. “Do you remember what happened?”

 

He thought back. All he could remember was suddenly feeling cold, and panicking thinking that he was about to be shoved underwater again. And then the panic vanished.

 

“I… thought I was gonna—” He shook his head. “Cold. I guess I don’t do too well with cold.”

 

X’s brows furrowed.

 

“Cold? But—” He paused. “Oh. Tears. That makes sense.”

 

“...I was crying?”

 

X nodded.

 

“Yeah. And then you just — freaked out. You were afraid of me, I — I didn’t know what to do. I… knocked you out with the code.”

 

Wels winced, shifted.

 

“Might’ve… been a decent idea.”

 

X blinked.

 

“Really? Because the moment you passed out, I thought it was pretty clear I’d messed it up.”

 

Wels shrugged.

 

“I — don’t know what happened, but I know that if I panic, bad things can happen. I’ve hurt people…”

 

X narrowed his eyes.

 

“Actually hurt people, or ran off on that ‘I am a terrible danger’ shtick you were doing earlier?”

 

“Stab wounds.”

 

“Ah — got it. That’s — not how I’d prefer to handle you, but… if necessary, I guess I’ll keep it in mind.”

 

“Probably best that you do.”

 

Wels shifted, pulling himself out of Xisuma’s arms. He swore X made an aborted grab at him as he went.

 

“Do you… have anything to eat?” Wels asked hesitantly. “I don’t want to be rude—”

 

“Oh, right — of course you’re hungry! I should’ve offered you something before now. Silly me…” X stood, nodding for him to follow. They entered a kitchen, X rustling around in the cabinets. Eventually, he pulled out fixings for a sandwich. He asked Wels what he wanted, quickly making them food. They sat down at the table as Wels devoured his food.

 

“So… the Hermits are ok, right?” Wels asked after a few minutes.

 

“Oh, they’re fine.” X waved him off. “I was able to untangle the glitch from their code incredibly easily. It was yours that was messy. Yes — they might not remember things very well, but they’ll be fine.”

 

Wels nodded. 

 

“I’m glad. …I don’t remember it very well either.”

 

X frowned.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I just — I slept a lot. And when I wasn’t sleeping, a lot of the time I was just laying down. I was exhausted constantly — it blurred out a lot of my memories. There are things I know happened, but I don’t actually… know how they happened.”

 

“Well… I can say for sure that some of it was the glitch. It targeted you — the exhaustion was part of its attack. As for the memories… I can’t say for sure that was supposed to happen. It's — you caught a pretty rare glitch. I’ve only heard about it from a single case study, I’ve never actually seen it. And I — like I said, I don’t know exactly what set it off.”

 

“...shouldn’t the case study help?”

 

X winced.

 

“Yes, but…”

 

“Well what was the case study then?”

 

X looked away, refusing to meet his eyes.

 

“It’s — It’s probably nothing. It probably triggered some other way, there’s no way…”

 

“Suma? What was it?”

 

“I, Wels you don’t—”

 

“X. Now you’re making me worried.”

 

“It was — the subject of the glitch decided that she was dangerous. Too dangerous to be around, unless she cut ties with a whole part of herself. But she failed. She failed about separating the pieces of herself, because how could the story have ended any other way? And the code, warped by how much she truly believed she was a danger, twisted itself to align with her thoughts. It thought that if she really believed there was a danger, to the point of… doing whatever it was she did to make herself ‘safe,’ then she needed to be dealt with. It twisted her friends’ memories. Told them that she wasn’t really her. Told the ones that didn’t really know her that they’d just imagined her. That she was an intruder. They captured her. The admin — because of their increased protection to bugs like this, since they so closely resemble viruses — was confused. They realised that their players weren’t acting right. They investigated, and found out about what I just told you. But — it was too late. The code had poisoned her. The players, warped by the glitch, hurt her so badly that that, coupled with what the code was doing… it killed her. Permanently."

 

Wels felt the hair on his skin raise. ‘Permanently.’ She’d died for good because the code saw a threat where there… must not have been one. Even Wels wasn’t willfully ignorant enough to try and call her a threat, to blame her for her own death. But then — wasn’t that exactly his story? Wasn’t that, minus the death, exactly what had happened to him? Xisuma must’ve seen something on his face, because his expression soured.

 

“Wels, you — that wasn’t how it started for you, right? Please — tell me it was different. Tell me I was wrong?” Wels met his eyes hesitantly. X covered his own eyes, shaking his head. “No, no — I don’t believe it. Somebody — someone would’ve noticed. This bug festers for decades, it—” X shuddered. 

 

“X… I’m sorry.”

 

X started to shake.

 

“Shit — there were signs. There were signs in the code for years. I — I wrote them off as a quirk of your code, but really I—” He made eye contact with Wels again. “This is all my fault—”

 

“No!” The bolt of anger startled them both. “It’s not. It’s not your fault. It’s—”

 

“If you say it’s yours, I swear to the gods—” X started, and Wels trailed off.

 

“...we can call it the code’s fault. I can’t say it was me because you’ll be upset. You can’t say it was you because I’ll be upset.”

 

X nodded slowly, understanding where he was going with this.

 

“It was the code’s fault, then. And we can never say anything different, because then we can both try to squabble for the blame again.”

 

Wels nodded, slightly annoyed that he couldn’t call it his fault, but still pleased with this outcome. They sat in silence for a few moments. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. After a moment, X broke the silence. 

 

“So… feel up to entertaining a very self-indulgent request?” He asked hesitantly.

 

“Uh — sure?”

 

“I want to see your other form. I… I’ve never met a manticore before. It’s fascinating. And — I didn’t have a lot of time to look, when I was trying to fix your code.”

 

Wels grinned. That… was a new one for him. He was far more used to the usual screaming-and-running response to seeing him. He stood, just to be sure he didn’t crush the chair he was sitting on, and shifted, his front paws hitting the floor with a low thump. X took a few cautious steps forwards. He very slowly put a hand on Wels’ fur.

 

“Oh, you’re soft!” Wels chuffed at him. “Oh, right. No human-style vocal cords. Hm  — I wonder what shape yours are. Do you roar?” Wels glared at him. He’d tried once; the sound that he’d made was pitiful. “...I’ll take that as a no.” 

 

X continued to circle him, ooh-ing and ah-ing over Wels. He was especially intrigued by Wels’ tail. Wels couldn’t wait to tell him that some manticores apparently have wings. When he was done nerding out, Wels shifted back. X took a small step back, as if finally coming back to himself. For a moment, he seemed almost embarrassed.

 

“...did you know some manticores have wings?” Wels asked, testing the waters.

 

X’s face lit up.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yep! I’ve never met one, but in the textbooks some of the pictures showed manticores with wings. Most of them can fly, but nobody knows how.”

 

“...huh. That’s fascinating!” Wels grinned. “I might do some research — I’ll let you know if I find anything.” X paused. “Anyways — would you like to play some Castles and Spires? I know we haven’t played in a while, but—”

 

“...that would be great, actually.”

 

The two quickly fell into old habits, Wels hiding a gleeful grin as he made his moves, while X, forever the student, stared haplessly at the board. While he had been the one to introduce the game to Wels, Wels, with his profound strategy knowledge, had taken to it like a cormorant to fish-filled water. Once he’d gotten a handle on the game, he hadn’t lost a single round. In fact, X had been planning to take him to a yearly Castles and Spires tournament, just to let him ‘battle people at his own skill level, for once.’ They’d never gone… Bigger problems had distracted the two, and Wels? Wels had never brought it up afterwards. By now, it was really just a forgotten dream. He doubted X even remembered having the idea.

 

The game had ended later into the night, and the two had returned to the living room. Wels, after some prodding, had shifted back into his non-human form, sprawling across the carpet and stretching out. They had gone mostly quiet, X humming as he took another quick scroll through the code. With how quiet it was, it was no surprise they heard when the door was thrown open.

 

“Xisumavoid, put your hands above your head!” A voice shouted.

 

Wels went still. Oh no. Oh no, he knew that voice. The interlopper stepped into the living room, and Wels’ worst fears were confirmed.

 

“Helsknight—” X’s voice was tight. 

 

He glanced over at Wels. Hels followed his gaze to where Wels was lying sprawled across the carpet, his belly exposed.

 

“The fuck’d you do, drug him?!” Hels snarled. 

 

“I — No, I—” X sputtered. Hels lifted his sword, pointing it at X’s throat. “That’s not — really necessary?”

 

Hels’ eyes darkened.

 

“Oh, you sure about that?” He chuckled. Wels got up, wandering over to lightly headbut Hels in the leg. He hoped his message of ‘stop it’ was understandable. Hels faltered, looking down at him. “...what’re you doing?” Wels headbutted him again, harder this time. Hels’ brows creased. His sword faltered. Wels got tired of being unable to communicate. He took a step back and shifted back onto two legs.

 

“Leave him alone, Hels.” He said. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

 

Hels’ jaw hit the metaphorical floor. His eyes swung wildly back between X and Wels.

 

“What — you — You can turn human again?”

 

“X fixed something.” Wels shrugged. Hels just stared at him. “Hey — don’t ask me. I understand code just as well as I understand modern potions.”

 

“Wels had a bug.” X cut in.

 

“And you… got the Hermits to release him from their little underground jail?”

 

“Nah, he anti-kidnapped me.” Wels said, shifting to lean against the side of the couch.

 

Hels rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 

“Ok, so do I have to rescue you, or what?”

 

“No, I’m good.” Wels said. “...thanks though. I really thought you’d just given up on me.”

 

Hels shrugged.

 

“Figured I couldn’t leave you to be tortured for too long.”

 

“I’m sorry — tortured?!” X’s voice was shrill.

 

Hels winced.

 

“...sorry Wels. Figured he already knew.”

 

Wels just sighed.

 

“Didn’t know how to tell him…”

 

X whirled around to face him.

 

“You’re saying it’s true?”

 

“...the Hermits wanted information. I mean — they thought I was involved in my own kidnapping. Do you think I wouldn’t consider torture if someone took you?”

 

“Ugh, gods — I’m not staying if you two are going to get all sappy.” Hels grumbled. He suddenly looked up. “...actually I’m probably overstaying my welcome anyways—”

 

“You’re not, you can stay.” X cut in. His gaze raked over Hels. “There’s food in the kitchen if you want some.”

 

Hels frowned. He glanced over at Wels, who just gave him a half-shrug. After a moment he sighed.

 

“Ya know what — sure. My month can’t get any weirder…” He wandered off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving Wels and X to ponder why he knew where that was.

 

“So… torture?” X asked.

 

Wels winced.

 

“I — I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to risk you getting mad at the Hermits—”

 

“I won’t. It wasn’t any of your faults.” Wels gave him a sideways look. “And it wasn’t mine… it was the code’s.” He forced the words out despite obviously not believing them. “...you don’t have to tell me. I won’t force you to.”

 

They stood in awkward silence for a while.

 

“...drowning.” Wels admitted. “They’d decided on drowning. They’d hold my head underwater until they thought I’d had enough. …I passed out more often than not, towards the end there.”

 

X’s eyes softened.

 

“Wels, I’m so sorry. I should’ve—”

 

“No.”

 

X sighed.

 

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”

 

Wels shrugged half-heartedly.

 

“Had worse.”

 

“...have you?”

 

“Yeah. Just… not in years.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Ok — that’s the last time you get to say you're sorry.”

 

X opened his mouth, likely to apologize again. He swiftly shut it.

 

“So the tears…”

 

“I guess they made me remember being there. Just — really vividly. …the water was always cold.”

 

X bit his lip.

 

“I won’t let anyone do that to you again.”

 

Wels blinked. He hadn’t expected that answer, out of everything X could’ve said.

 

“X, I really don’t think you can—”

 

X grit his teeth.

 

“It won’t happen again.”

 

“...ok. If you say so.”

 

He yawned. The rage drained from X’s face.

 

“You look exhausted.”

 

“Just a bit tired.” Wels said.

 

“Come on.”

 

X led him to a bedroom, digging around in a drawer to find extra clothes. Wels wandered into the connected bathroom, pulling off the clothes he’d been wearing. One good thing about shape shifting — whatever form you’re not using doesn’t get dirty. He put on the new clothes, stepping back into the bedroom and climbing into bed. He shuddered. The sheets felt almost colder than the room itself.

 

“Cold—” He whispered, not really thinking about it.

 

A moment later, a body sank down on the mattress. X wrapped his arms around Wels.

 

“...is this helping?”

 

“Yeah. It’s helping a lot.” Wels murmured.

 

X slowly laid down, Wels curled into his warmth. Even with the bug now fixed, he felt completely exhausted. He drifted off quickly.

 

Time passed slowly, some periods of time greying out in his memory. Wels had now been with Xisuma for a while. He had his good days, where he bantered with X and got into trouble. And then he had his bad days, where he’d find somewhere to curl up and refuse to move unless someone physically made him. Today was a bad day. He’d woken up and immediately went to find somewhere to hide. Today, that had turned out to be a tucked-away corner in X’s library. He’d been laying there for hours when he heard the floorboards outside the room creak. He peered out from his spot, watching something poke through the open door. It padded inside, and Wels just stared. Standing in the library’s entrance was a random manticore. But it wasn’t just any strange manticore — this one was neon green. He continued to watch it as it slowly approached him. 

 

When it came close it chuffed happily, poking at his neck with its nose. Wels growled, and it backed off. However a moment later, it tried again. This time he didn’t bother. The manticore tried to nudge him to his feet. He didn’t move. Unperturbed, the other picked him up by the scruff on the back of his neck. He whined at it, and it just kept moving. Eventually, when he was matching pace and no longer trying to head back to the library, it let him go, trotting ahead happily. He watched as it led him outside. He just stared at it. What were they doing here? It watched him for a moment, before flopping down in a patch of grass. Wels stood, hesitating, before mimicking the action. After a moment, he realised why they were here. The sun was shining above them, slowly warming their fur. 

 

Wels closed his eyes, stretching out. Yeah… this felt good. How had he gone this many years without ever coming outside and laying in the sun? He let his thoughts idle, content to take in this sheer bliss. He must’ve laid there for hours before he was content, standing up slowly and stretching out his back legs. The green manticore, though it wasn’t looking at him and had no reason to know he’d stood, did the same. It turned around, looking at him for a moment, before dashing over to poke him with its nose. Immediately, it dashed off. After a moment, Wels’ brain sharpened. He sprinted off after it. He started to gain on it, and it glanced backwards, yelping. Wels chuffed, running just a bit faster. The feeling of his feet pounding against the ground as air filled his lungs was exhilarating. Even more so when the manticore in front of him made it to the edge of a forest and started weaving between the trees. 

 

Wels followed, challenging himself to follow their movements almost exactly. His tail swung out, balancing him perfectly. He no longer had any idea how he’d run without it. They reached a clearing, and he could see the green manticore begin to tire. Wels grinned. He was going to win. But… not if he let them return to the forest. They seemed to be better at making tight turns than he was. He sped up, feeling as the rhythm of his feet against the ground reached its crescendo. He started gaining on them quickly, eying the edge of the treeline. When he had a good angle he pounced, launching himself forwards. He slammed into the other, and they tumbled to the ground. Wels landed on top of him. The green one just stared. Wels chuffed, getting off them and helping nudge them upright. The green one poked him in the side again, and started going back the way they came. Wels started ahead, tail still whipping back and forth from exhilaration.

 

“That was fun.” Someone said, and Wels jumped. 

 

When he looked over, Joe was walking along by his side. Wels noticed the green hair tie pulling his hair back, and finally put the pieces together. Right… Joe was a shapeshifter. That made sense.

 

 “...you didn’t know it was me, did you?” Joe asked, his eyes dancing with mirth. Wels shook his head. “Ah. Well, such is the curse of the shapeshifter! Born to always be unrecognisable.” Wels just gave him a look. No matter what, Joe was never unrecognisable. At least not if you knew what you were looking for. Which, apparently, Wels didn’t. “Ok, fair… I guess a green-furred manticore isn’t exactly subtle.” Wels chuffed, and Joe laughed along with him. “Yeah, fair point. Just — don’t tell Cleo I didn’t quite realise how garish that form was, ok?”

 

Wels shook his head noncommittally, and Joe just grinned. After a few more minutes, they were back outside of X’s base. Joe hummed.

 

“Wanna take a breather?”

 

Wels nodded before immediately flopping into the grass. Judging by the dull thump from his left, he figured Joe had done the same. He closed his eyes, soaking in the warmth. After a moment, Wels exhaled heavily. It had gotten easier to think, but he still didn’t feel normal. Still, he figured that was alright. He was warm, he was safe, and he had… a weird Joe-manticore with him, so he wasn’t alone. It was going to be ok.

Notes:

Yay angst (and hurt/comfort too I guess).

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of M's Hermitcraft 11 Fics