It was later in the day. Storm clouds had gathered on the stands of the sky's theatre above the jungle, lazily looming over the trees with the docile threat of rain. They had eyes to watch nature react to them, the sun attempting to squeeze through the crowd to take a peek. The wind had picked up significantly, howling wildly and rustling the thick foliage menacingly, warning the wildlife of the oncoming storm.

Stress had rushed Tommy inside the moment she noticed ocelots running for cover on the jungle as the clouds approached. It was then that Tommy noticed the base's exterior and he could only gawk at it. A giant skull. A giant, bleached skull with pink eyes that were the upstairs windows and a flower crown resting on the forehead. He remained open-mouthed as he was led inside, Dandelion right behind them.

So that was what the builders were capable on this server, huh. He would not -ever- express his surprise and awe with words. Nope. Just expressions.

Iskall had taken off with his elytra as the two of them walked in the base, promising to bring back some supplies when the storm cleared. New clothes for Tommy, a set of armor and an elytra so that they could take him to Xisuma.

Tommy had questioned why the admin couldn't just come to them and Stress admitted that she wanted to give him a small tour of the server, at least the Shopping District. Though, he didn't know if he would stay long enough to have any use for the tour -hell, would he even be allowed to stay?

Stress was adamant that Xisuma would be kind to him until they figured out how the blond had found his way on the server. After all, he had to leave at some point. Dream's SMP was where his real home was, where his friends were, where his family had come to help them all through the wars. He had to return, if only just so he could watch from a distance.

Then again, no one other than Dream would notice his absence. No one other than Ghostbur visited Logsted and he was so easy to lie to and impressionable that he might as well be no one. No one would look for him except for Dream and he would be looking at the wrong places until he realized where Tommy actually was -if he ever realized. Dream was stupid like that.

Hermitcraft might be a good place to rest for a bit -if he was allowed to stay and rest. Tubbo and the others could handle themselves, he had no doubt about that even though that small voice at the back of his head kept whispering that Tubbo was in danger, that he had to go back as soon as possible to help. He pushed the thought away, deeming it as just himself being too clingy and protective over his friend.

There was no way that Dream could use his absence to his advantage for some otherworldly plan -not when he had disappeared from the whole of SMP. What would he do? Say that Tommy went mountain-climbing without him? Actually, that sounded kind of bad, especially when it could imply something far worse than an innocent sport. There was nothing that bastard could do until he found Tommy, end of story.

Tommy did wonder what Dream would tell them if they found out that he had disappeared though. Oh, to watch the color fade from his face -or mask, whichever of the two. Preferably not the mask.

The ground floor of the base had two spaces at the sides, filled to the brim with chests. Labels hang with magenta lettering to indicate the contents of each chest, curved and lines full with certain care. It was the storage system that Tommy had successfully ignored when they headed out because seeing the outside had been more important.

Now he was mind blown at the fact that there were shulker boxes just laying around in a pile. Not just one but many and Tommy did not know whether he should have vocalized his surprise or not.

"How do you have so many?!", he ended up asking, arms open and fingers splayed, figure tense, regarding the boxes as if the mere air around them was sacred or cursed.

"Remember when I mentioned the shopping district?", Stress inquired and she barely caught the teen's awe-filled nod. "Another member of the server, Scar, sells them at one of his shops along with other types of chests. We'll take you there on the tour"

And the teen's eyes sparkled for the next couple of minutes as he looked over the shulker boxes. Stress said nothing at that, only wondered why the lad's eyes widened at the small chest-monster. There were about five boxes laying there, patiently waiting with a cup 'o tea in hand for their respective contents to be sorted. It was a normal amount to be out and about from one trip to an End City. Perhaps he had never been lucky enough for it. Perhaps he had been lazy to go after a second city. And maybe he did not have anyone else to go find some for him -after all,  each server had different people and personalities in it.

Stress shook her head to dismiss those thoughts. She decided to hide her amusement, smiling silently as she watched Tommy open each box within reach and riffle through the materials with childish curiosity. She had taken note of how young he was a few minutes after the boy had been put in clean clothes.

At some point, Tommy turned, realizing that there had been no offended screaming as he recklessly rummaged through the boxes. Through his excitement, he had forgotten what he had just done normally resulted to a stab wound or an arrow to the shoulder. He gulped, turned his head with the expectancy of a previously kind woman, now turned into a monster of blazing fire spitting through a tremendous pair of fangs.

The first thing he noticed on her face was an endearing smile that stretched across her lips and he blinked. Once. Twice. Conflicted eyes scrunching into slits after the third blink.

Why he had not been harmed, he had no idea. He could not find anything sinister in Stress' smile; nothing that promised endless punishment and sadistic torment until he was sent to the fiery pits of the Nether. No matter how much he searched, the only thing he could find was genuinity. It felt out of place, uncomfortable on a stranger's face yet familiar all the same. It was confusing...

It reminded him of Phil.

"How are you so nice?", it was an impulsive question that would be left unanswered. Stress was surprised to hear it but atop all thankful for Iskall's return -otherwise she would have been stummering over her words, thinking of how to answer.

Φ

It took little time for the two to teach Tommy how to fly with the elytra after his confession of never having glode with one, let alone flown. He was a fast learner, a natural and flying was in his blood -quite literally but he would not tell the two that. He had been given a bundle of rockets and advised to fly in the middle with Iskall leading and Stress following behind him in case something happened -like a malfunction of the springs, the wings somehow bending from the wind; they did not tell him the dangers because they didn't need to guide a scared child through the clouds.

Apparently, they didn't want to risk him getting injured in the Nether and normally, he would have cussed them out for it. Tommy was a big man, he could handle an arrow from a skeleton and redirect a ghast's fire charge perfectly. Perhaps he would scream out of surprise but he could handle all that! He would have called them pussies for acting like scaredy cats when the Nether was one of the safest places there were (mob-wise).

One look at Stress' worried gaze though and he had to bite his tongue.

Later, he agreed to taking the long way to the shopping district. It was fun as well with Iskall and Stress sharing stories of their early days on the server. Stories of strong friendships and prank wars and other things that were foreign to the teen. The constant sound of their voices alongside the air whistling in his ears was nice company, even though he felt a little awkward. He was flying between two friends and he was just the strange kid from another server who had been stuck as the third wheel.

They reassured him plenty of times that he was welcome to their conversations by asking a question or stating facts that all of them could respond to. Tommy made a few childish remarks along the way, a bad word or two escaping every now and again and the two adults kindly asking him to not be so vulgar. He tried to respect their wishes -truly, he tried- but he couldn't help the habit. The words just slipped.

After a short amount of time of flying on the horizon, they landed on the main road of the shopping district. From above Tommy could see the scale of the buildings and when he was vertical to the world, feet planted firmly on the ground, all he could do was gasp in astonishment.

Looking around the black road with thin white lines and brick pavement, there were giant trees that loomed over them with diamonds growing on their branches. The leaves rustled with the quiet wind and the precious gems clinked against each other. Behind them was an entranced carved into a into a huge hill, the ambience of a sizeable Nether portal, loud and echoey, glowing its usual purple with dark swirls.

On the hill, the blond saw an extravagant building that screamed "authority", built of red bricks and sandstone, smooth pillars rising to hold a balcony high in detailed capitals. A clock sat above the balcony door, elegant hands caressing a canvas, ticking around a white space on black latin numerals. It was an hour or so in the afternoon. There was also a bell tower, small and barely visible from where the three of them stood, the edge of the small dome lined with dark gray tiles.

Nothing Tommy had seen before could compare to such beauty. Perhaps the palace of the Antarctic Empire could hold its own against the building on the hill but even that was a questionable claim.

While the palace had its height and bulk and great blue domes with awe-inspiring mosaics, the building atop the grassy hill had character and unmatched details at the base of the pillars. It was much smaller in scale, nowhere near the palace's grand, imposing demeanor but it looked lived-in. Each brick shone with the love and care the builder had put to shape it perfectly to fit in its place. Like a god had plucked the soul of a gentle giant and entrapped it in those four walls.

Stress announced that it was the Town Hall, where Scar, the mayor of the shopping district, regarded the hermits from his diamond throne.

Tommy found it fitting for the individual who owned a shop for shulker boxes to be a mayor. The guy must be loaded! And he found it hard to believe that there was a throne made of diamonds in the building. Then again, someone had to pay for the Town Hall.

He couldn't help but imagine someone like Schlatt, the late tyrant of Manburg, sitting atop a throne of overworked citizens. A person with curved horns protruding from either side of their head, irises filled with hot-red malice and a wry, envious smile, palms open and holding the world as if they owned it. A person with the people hanging by their hand whilst they held a bottle of whiskey in the other.

Tommy shook his head, dismissing any other thoughts as he was led up the stairs on the hillside. He had to remember every so often that he no longer walked the land of the Dream SMP; that he walked in a new place with friendlier people, whose reputation probably did not do them justice -judging by Stress and Iskall's kind nature. Hell, Schlatt was dead and gone, under slabs of stone in his own grave. All memories of the tyrant should have been buried deep in his skull, not left at the surface.

They stood in the tall archway that was the entrance of the Town Hall before he could count all of the steps. The interior was even more impressive.

The throne, the mega centerpiece, made of blocks of blue diamonds, glimmered and sparkled, shining with the bouncy, stray rays of the afternoon sun. It gave the room a surreal glow of orange, that made the checkered tile floor look like a mirror. There were various paintings depicting faraway lands of mystery framed on the tall, orange walls. An open balcony that led to the rooms upstairs was lined with wooden railings that were painted white, overlooking the main room that the throne seemed to solely occupy.

There were so many more little details to look at, like the various potted plants but Tommy's eyes were glued to the diamond throne and the End rods that stuck out of the structure. Small gems of many shapes hang off the rods with fish line to give them a floating effect. The teen could only gawk at all the sparkles.

His first instinct was to steal part of it. Maybe he could find a pickaxe and hack a piece off for himself. No one would notice, surely! And in the event that he was kicked out and returned to Dream, he would have enough armor and sufficient funds for another revolution.

"Stress! Iskall! Hello!", a voice called with child-like fondness.

Tommy, startled, turned his head, body falling in a defensive stance until he could see the perpetrator. His hands subconsciously reached to his hip for the handle of a sword that was no longer there and as his fingers clutched around nothing, he tensed in panic for two seconds before remembering that he was in no danger. He followed the others' gaze to the overlooking balcony as they bid their greetings to the individual looking down at them from behind the railing.

It was a man with hair as dark as the void and shiny -not from grease but something otherworldly-, eyes of the same hue and luminance that were cartoonishly big on his small face. He wore a light blue jumper that was horrendously tucked in black slacks that curled above laced dress shoes. A small, silver chain hanging off a belt loop and sinking in the corresponding pocket. He seemed to be short and as the man descended to their level from the staircase, the point was proven true. Tommy was at least a head taller than him. Is that Scar?

"Oh, is this him?", the tone was careful, curious and calculated yet carefree all the same. It was such a weird mixture that Tommy felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach -the awkward sort. Stress nodded.

The blond would have been surprised that the man knew of his existence on the server had he not seen Iskall text the whole server about him on their way to the shopping district.

"This is Tommy. Tommy, meet BdoubleO!", she introduced them, walking out of the way for the two to shake hands. Oh, not Scar then.

"Please, call me Bdubs!", the ravenette responded with a disturbingly big smile before taking a better look at the teen and his eyes widened. "Woah, you're a giant!"

Tommy had to resist the urge to make a "that's what she said!" joke. He was not sure if he would be able to look Stress and Iskall in the eye if he did. And honestly, he did not want to get kicked in the groin or yeeted off the hill by angry hermits. Instead, he let himself indulge in the short man's excitement with a laugh.

"You're just short!"
"Hey! I am a perfectly good height, you know!"

Bdubs waved a finger in Tommy's direction with an offended expression, lips pouty and face creased with feigned anger. Tommy feared that he would be picked up and thrown off the side of a cliff for a second, an action reminiscent of how Tubbo would do that at times when they would chase each other through the fields and tussle in the grass despite his shorter stature. The dismissive chuckles from the other two made him feel like he had not just made an enemy out of the man, though. He felt like he was invited into an inside joke.

"Is X here yet?", Iskall asked and Bdubs shook his head.

"No, it's just Scar and I doing paperwork"
"Paperwork?"
"Okay, we were discussing his plans for Aqua Town, you got me!

Right on cue another man appeared, dressed in the most ridiculous suit Tommy had ever laid eyes upon. Striped, cuffed trousers of black and orange fell to the ankles over nice shoes. A royal violet swallow-tail coat with a water lily pin on the breast pocket covered a clean, white dress shirt whilst a teal sash crossed the man's chest with a big "MAYOR" written on it with fancy calligraphic letters. A bright red papillon sat comfortably under the folded collars of his shirt and a golden-framed monocle rested on his right eye.

It was a very diverse style, that much was for sure and for some reason it fit the man well. Who taught him fashion? Those were no clothes to wear in public, surely not. Tommy wanted to laugh so badly but he held himself back.

This must be Scar, Tommy thought as he analyzed the man with folded arms. He watched the mayor try and tame brown hairs of a miserable bedhead.

"Hey guys!", the man called as he clumsily came down the stairs from the balcony, almost tripping and falling down the last three steps. Thankfully, he found his balance. "Is this Tommy?", Tommy nodded, training everyone's attention to him.

"And you are Scar?"
"Yep, that's me!"

And Scar extended a hand, which Tommy slowly took and the man covered his hand with the other, bowing slightly as they shook hands. It took the teen by surprise. Bows were a show of respect, directed to a king or an emperor -anyone of higher power. A stranger was no prince. So, why did the man bow to him? And he did not hide his confusion; he let his brows knit together and his eyes to crinkle.

Stress muttered something about him being a little distrustful when Scar returned the same expression. His eyes sparkled with understanding and nodded, a small, sideways grin appearing on his face. There was the picture of Schlatt in the place of the mayor for a second, the men matching malicious smirks. Tommy blinked and he found the man in the ridiculous outfit and teal sash standing in front of him instead of the goat-man.

Get yourself together!, he scolded himself for not adjusting faster than he was.

"Well, Tommy", Scar said with confidence in his voice, as if the two of them were old friends, "I would like to welcome you to Hermitcraft!"

"Now, hold up for a second there, Scar"

The sound of elytra wings cutting through the air was unmistakable and after the long flight, Tommy has gotten used to the sound to not flinch at first. He wondered who it could have been and when they all turned around around, it was revealed that it was another hermit. The clinking of armor was clear as the individual walked up the steps. Soon, the yellow armored suit and stripped helmet with antennae protruding at the front. Is that a bee outfit?

By the tone of voice, Tommy assumed it was a man. The hermits went to greet him, they shook hands and patted each other on the shoulder. Tommy gulped as the other's gaze was glued on his own through the tinted glass of the helmet. It was the administrator of the server and Tommy did not need to eavesdrop on the others to be certain of his conclusion; the solemn aura that followed the man was reassurance enough.

He gulped.

Xisuma walked forward as he undid the straps of his elytra to put it away, leather combat boots clanking against the sandstone floor with iron heels. There was a buzz and two pairs of translucent, chitin wings raised from behind the man's back, stretching out, shaking off water droplets, pollen and dust before settling back down. The admin went to speak, raising his arms to his chest in a professional manner but Tommy, ever the faster one, beat him to it.

"Are you a bee hybrid?"

Of course the guy was a bee hybrid, it was clear as day! Tommy was desperate to extend his visit to the server with that one: trying to hold off the very serious conversation that would surely lead to him getting kicked off. He let out a nervous chuckle when the other nodded slowly as the question had caught him off-guard.

Stress, having noticed the teen's rising anxiety from the way he rubbed at the back of his neck, rushed to his side with no hesitation. Her hand found its way to his shoulder; a comforting feeling. The action would have felt normal had the person in front of them not been the admin. Tommy had gotten used to the administrators meaning trouble and harm thanks to Dream and he was afraid that there would be violence due to the woman's action. He thought that Xisuma would lash out with words filled with betrayal, like he had done when Eret had revealed themself as L'Manburg's traitor.

Tommy instinctively moved in front of Stress, just a step, subconsciously putting himself between the admin and the one of two kind people he had met during the day. If it was anyone who should receive harsh words, Tommy told himself it was him. He could see red light framing Xisuma's form. He could practically hear the upcoming violent buzzing of wings, the whooshing of an axe.

"Hello, my name is XisumaVoid, though I am sure you've already been told that", his voice was smooth like butter with the softest tinge of accent in it, contrasting harshly with the evil image Tommy had in mind. All the red disappeared from his vision and a feeling of guilt found its way in him for a second.

"Yeah, Stress told me", Tommy cringed inwardly, the woman's name rolling awkwardly off his tongue. "I'm Tommy", Xisuma nodded.

"It's very nice to meet you, Tommy. If you don't mind, I would like to ask you how you managed to get on Hermitcraft. Stress and Iskall have told me about the condition they found you in", the admin's tone had become slightly hesitant, almost looking considerate of the teen's feelings.

Tommy urged him on -ignoring the change of tone- with a "yeah", despite his want to drag out the conversation.

"Can you remember anything from before? Like the server you were in, any bizarre phenomena?"

The blonde hesitated for a second, wondering just how much he could entrust to the group before him. Bdubs, Scar and Iskall, who had been silently chatting, had turned their attention to the two of them. The hand on his shoulder tightened its grip ever so slightly, just enough to remind him that he had someone by his side, and Stress moved to be in his line of sight. Her presence reminded him that he could trust those people.

"I remember colors in the sky, an aurora I think and then there was this otherworldly fuckin-", he cut himself off at the warning glare Iskall sent him, "-this otherworldly portal!"

The admin did not show if he minded the slip of Tommy's tongue. Instead, the wings on his back buzzed lowly with something akin to anxiety and deep interest. Xisuma sighed.

"I'm afraid you encountered a rift during an update on your server", at the confused noises he received, Xisuma continued, antennae flicking, "A rift is a very rare glitch during server updates and there are few reported cases of it happening so no one knows what causes it. Formally, it is known as the 'server barrier rip' and basically, it breaks the server barrier and that portal you encountered must have been that 'break' ", he explained calmly.

There was a minute of silence as everyone tried to process the information and then Xisuma described how the servers are placed in a grid. He told all of them to imagine a hallway with doors and that each door represented a server.

"I will have to file a report to the Main Hub about this in case your server's admin hasn't yet", Xisuma said with a small sigh.

Tommy gulped. What did that mean? That Dream was supposed to know all about the glitch? What if Dream found out that the door next to the SMP was Hermitcraft's? What would happen then? Stress had let go of him but still lingered at his side and he couldn't bare to imagine the bastard swinging a sword at her and the others. There was the sudden feeling to protect the people he had just met from Dream's wrath that he did not know how it appeared in only a few hours of meeting them.

Bee wings fluttered when the admin realized something. "Which server are you from actually? I need to put it in the report so your admin can be notified about your whereabouts"

Tommy clenched his fists at the question and bit his lip. Then, there were fingers covering his hand, squeezing reassuringly and with a turn of his head, he saw Stress smiling at him encouragingly. Perhaps... they could work something out because XisumaVoid was not Dream. Maybe the man in the yellow suit would listen to him and if he didn't, Iskall and Stress could back him up. Will they though?

With his hope raised high, higher than he had let it go in the past few months, he replied.

"I'm from the Dream SMP"

Xisuma nodded like nothing was wrong with his origin. Then again, Dream had made sure to eliminate any rumors concerning the SMP with unknown means. He had made it look like a peaceful server with friendly duels and no life-threatening wars. Nope, no deaths at all.

Iskall seemed to tense at the revelation, however.

"Alright, I can notify the server admin and escort you back if you'd like", Xisuma said and Tommy shook his head frantically at the mention of returning back.

He did not want to return, at least not for a small while. For Prime's sake, he deserved a vacation! A week or two would do his mind good.

"Please don't!", the words were quick and shaken, "I- I don't want to go back yet, please"

Silence and worried eyes met him for a beat.

"Alright", the admin responded, putting out a gloved hand, "You can stay but I have to notify them"

And the two shook hands.

Φ

Rain was a bad omen on a sunny day. Water droplets beat the world below in a paralyzing rhythm. The soil was soft and slowly turning into sticky mud, the grass raising blades an shields to the Aether in a praising manner. Relentless wind whistled through the faraway forest, scaring away wildlife and pushing foxes in their burrows. The thwarted, green tent finally collapsed after days of torture by the elements.

The walls of Logstedshire still stood tall and proud despite the harsher weather, the storage barrels in the cobblestone building damp and more flexible than they should have been but not damp enough to damage the contents. A lone figure was there, standing with a bowed head; a figure of yellow and gray and tears of lapis. A bandana, red as a healthy apple, was clutched in a hand that wasn't there.

A single lie flitted through the air burdening the open field.

"Tommy just went on a small mining expedition", Dream had told him when he had asked about the boy's whereabouts, "He will be back soon"

He had said it like it had been a promise to himself.

It had been three days since the blond had disappeared. Just three days of rain and stubborn tear streaks at the thought of a lost friend. How many days could a mining trip last?

The ghost knew that he had been lied to. The evidence of the lie was being wrinkled in his shaky fingers as he made his way North, keeping the blue from staining the red. Tommy would tie that bandana around his neck before even thinking of getting up for the day... To have left it behind, something bad must have had happened and even ghosts had intuition. He knew that something bad had happened but he did not know what and how.

Soon, the snow of the tundra had encircled him but the chil passed through him. He had no bones for it to seep in and if he did, they were invisible. The white blanket underneath him was stained with patches of blue tears that had cascaded and fallen off his frozen cheeks. There was the smell of smoke -a burning hearth- wafting through the air and then the sight of two smokestacks on medieval houses. Crows had perched on the branches of spruce trees cawing and stalking him with beady, curious eyes as he hovered over the ground.

There was a man looking at him from the stable occupied by a lone stallion in diamond armor. Hair of dahlia pink, eyes and cape of ruby red, a crown crafted for a king. It was Technoblade, the legendary Blood God, feared by many, and Ghostbur did not waste a second rushing to him.

"Hello, Ghostbur", the pinkette greeted in his usual monotone tone but upon seeing the tears on the ghost's face, his eyes narrowed in worry, "What's up?"

"Tommy is missing!", the ghost cried, a new batch of tears spilling out of his puffy eyes, shoulders quacking. He held out the ragged fabric in his shaking hands and Technoblade took his wrists into his hands to steady them.

A figure with wings as black as the void fell from the sky as Techno was about to ask the ghost questions and they both turned to look. It was Phil, the adoptive father of three; the father still mourning for the loss of one: the reincarnation of Wilbur's happiness and childhood that stood before him. The very son he had put a sword through at his crazed pleas and hurt-filled eyes after Manburg had been blown to bits; an action of mercy and arrogance only understood by Phil and Phil alone. He had only hoped that it would help his son rest; to not have to continue living with despair and broken hope in a world he saw white and black with no gray in between.

Phil held his tears for Technoblade's sake as he approached the two, sunkissed hair flowing in the comely wind alongside an emerald earing, striped green and white bucket atop his head. He put on a smile, raising a hand to pat them on the shoulder but before he could, the ghost collapsed on him with chilling arms thrown over his shoulders and around his neck.

"Dream has done something to Tommy!", he cried into the man's green robes and after a moment of shock, Phil put his hands on the ghost's shoulders, holding him at a distance but still close. Technoblade took a step closer, a hand twitching for the handle of the familiar netherite axe on his back at the mention of the admin.

"What do you mean, Ghostbur?", Phil asked, lips forming into a frown.
"Tommy is gone! I have looked everywhere and he is nowhere! Tubbo doesn't know, Ranboo doesn't know and Dream had told me that he would be back on the first day but he isn't back! I haven't seen Dream since to ask either and I don't know what to do!"

And then Phil took note of the red bandana in the ghost's hands. His youngest's bandana. A dark shadow seemed to befall his expression.

"How long has he been gone, Ghostbur?", Technoblade asked, inching closer to put a comforting hand on the other's nape.

"For about three days", was the choked reply.

Ghostbur was put to sleep on the couch soon after with reassurances that they would all look together for Tommy. Technoblade and Phil whispered in the kitchen of Technoblade's house, softly enough to not disturb the ghost.

"He has been gone for three days and so has Dream", Phil repeated the ghost's news.

"There was an aurora on the sky three days ago", Techno reminded and the other's face twisted into one of horror. "Do you think?.."

"...Tommy fell in a rift..."