Grian stared at the forever going desert in front of him. His sleeves were rolled up and there was sand in his shoes.

His ancient communicator was out of battery – again – and his elytras were broken. The temperature had been really high the whole day and he was tired, making his magic unstable. Plus, he could barely breath and his ribs were screaming.

The sand was hot and felt unpleasant every time his skin touched it. He had also accidentally cut his hand and gotten sand in the wound.

"Fuck it.." he groaned and pulled out his other communicator, which had been buzzing the whole time.

¬Chet¬

Xelqua
(20.03) Send help, I'm stuck on a desert!

Chet
I'm not surprised. (20.03)
I'll come see what I can do. (20.03)

     It took Chet ten minutes to find Grian. The strawberry blonde was spamming him the whole time, asking if he would be there soon.

"Be glad that I didn't turn around and leave you here," Chet scoffed, rolling his eyes as he finally landed next to Grian.

"Well thank you, CrEmOrN WiLloW," Grian mocked, sitting up from the pile of shulker boxes that he had sunk into.

"Don't call me that," Chet frowned, a bit confused. Grian's grin widened.

"Ooh, you don't even remember if that's your actual name!" the strawberry blonde exclaimed.

"But it is, isn't it?" Chet tilted his head. "At least I think so.." he mumbled, furrowing his brows.

"Do you even remember what your birth name is?" he asked, raising a brow at Grian.

"Ar– Grian Xelqua Charles," Grian sang, grinning widely.

The members of The Council went by their middle names and always preferred those, unless they were trying to hide their Council member identity. Therefore using their first names was not acceptable in the public and many had even forgotten what they had been originally called. It was a really good joke in The Council, randomly calling someone by their first name and watching them get confused over not recognising it.

"What do you want me to do? Carry you to your base?" Chet raised a browbone, examining the messy man before him.

"Do you have a pair of elytras I could borrow? I can fly there by myself," Grian answered, tipping his head.

Chet sighed softly. "Pick up your stuff. You're clearly tired and even injured. I won't let you fly by yourself," he informed.

"You can't just decide that. I can fly perfectly," Grian protested, collecting his shulker boxes from the ground.

"Well, I could always just leave you here alone," the blonde answer with a shrug. Grian stopped and glared at him, trying to wonder if he would actually do that – yes, he would, was the answer he came to.

"Alright then, do as you please!" the strawberry blonde sighed dramatically, falling towards him. Chet had a rush towards him so he wouldn't hit the floor, sighing.

"Careful, we don't want you getting hurt," the blonde warned, positioning Grian in his arms. It happened naturally. It was disturbing how naturally it happened, knowing the reason behind it. All of The Council's members had gotten used to carrying each other into safety from the fingertips of Death.

"I trust you," Grian hummed as the two of them got up from the ground, soon to be flying towards the night surrounding them.

"And therefore if you had actually hit the ground, you would have blamed me for it," Chet pointed out, rolling his eyes behind the mask. Being a Watcher, Grian could perfectly read his hidden face.

Watchers wore masks all the time, which made half of their faces unreadable. (Removing a mask would be impossible. The only way to get rid of it – temporarily – was with hiding magic, but it still didn't get rid of it, only made it invisible for everyone else. If one tried to remove the mask, it was possible, but also painful. The masks have melted together into the skin of their owners. Tearing it out would result the skin of their face getting ruined.) Other Watchers were able to read each other from underneath the masks, but no one else was able to do that. It's as if Watchers were able to see through the masks.

"As if I would do something like that!" Grian exclaimed, pretending to be hurt by his brother's words.

"Well, tell me" – Grian slowly turned to look at him, face painting with horror – "Why shouldn't I drop you now?" Chet finished, grin spreading on his face.

Grian gripped him tighter, now fearing for his life. "You wouldn't dare.." he gasped, looking down. They were high up in the air.

"Then behave. I'm saving your ass out here, even though I have multiple reports waiting back at home," Chet hummed.

-----

     Grian made his way through the darkness. Chet had left him to the edge of the area where all the buildings were and now he had to walk back to his base.

He avoided looking into the water next to him. He knew that he wouldn't see himself, but instead someone else. He didn't want that. He wanted to forget about it.

"Why would you fear me?" her voice echoed through the darkness. Grian froze, quickly looking around. But he didn't see anyone.

And then he saw her.

Her hair was long, strawberry blonde. Her eyes were purple, glowing nicely. Her skin was scarred. The empty look in her eyes told of the wars she had been through. She was just a teenager, yet she had seen war. She had been to hell and back. Torture and rape were nothing new to her.

In his eyes she looked so beautiful, yet wrong. Her smile was cold, having lost the meaning of kindness. A pang of jealous travelled through him. She was what he could never be.

"There's nothing wrong with me, now is there?" She tipped her head. Her voice was raspy, vocal cords having been torn by all the screaming.

He couldn't answer. His breath was hitched. She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to be alive.

The shadows embraced her. Corruption dripped down her face. This was no longer her own form. She was no longer a human, but instead a creature of corruption. (And it was his fault.)

"You have no reason to hate me, or do you?" The blaming was obvious. She blamed him for this corrupted prison she could never escape from.

"You're supposed to be dead.." he whispered, guilty so heavy it was unbearable. "I killed you!" he cried out, eyes wide with horror.

"But you also brought me back to life. You corrupted me. You will never escape me, you know. No matter how much you run, the past will always catch up." Her cold hand rested on his shoulder. He looked up.

He was looking into a mirror, and she was staring back at him with a broken grin on her face. Blood dripped down her face.

The mirror was made from corruption. She had made it by herself. He stumbled back. She did the same thing on the other side of the corruption. He screamed, she mimicked his actions as he bolted away from the mirror, leaving her behind.

-----

     The door slammed shut behind him. He collapsed on the wooden floor of his starter base. He couldn't get her face off of his mind. She was like a plague he couldn't get rid off.

With a shaky breath he slowly got up and headed towards his bed, only to froze at the knock behind him.

"Grian?" a familiar voice of a Hermit called out.

"Fuck.." Grian mumbled to himself, trying to fix the horrified look off of his face with a cheerful smile that he was too used to faking. He rushed to the door, pulling it open.

"Hey Tango! What're you doing here in the middle of the night?" he asked, tipping his head with curiosity in his eyes. "Do you need something?"

"Is everything alright?" Tango asked, furrowing his brows. "I heard a scream and saw you running," he said.

"Oh, I'm just a bit tired from all the mining and got scared by a zombie," the strawberry blonde was quick to explain with a lie.

"Are you sure it was just a zombie? You sounded kinda terrified," Tango frowned, seeming a bit concerned.

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting it and got scared really bad being tired and all as well," Grian went on with his lie, trying not to peer into the darkness behind his friend. He was afraid that he would see her again if he looked for too long.

"If you say so," Tango hesitatedly nodded. "Be careful out there. Dying of course isn't permanent, but it's never fun either way," he added, looking around for any mobs trying to sneak up on them.

"I will," Grian hummed. "You too."

-----

     Grian stepped outside of his house when the first sun rays cut through the darkness of the night. The air was still a bit cold and foggy. He pulled his hands inside the sleeves of his red sweater. As a Watcher he was naturally used to the cold air since the End was a cold place, but he hadn't been born there, so it only applied when he wasn't hiding his Watcher nature.

What caught his attention immediately was a singular flower in his flowerbed. It had once been a red rose, but now it was withering away with corruption.

The strawberry blonde felt his stomach drop. His breathing became shaky as he reached towards the flower, only to pull his hand immediately back.

He watched it for a few seconds before managing to assure himself that everything was alright: she wasn't there.

"What's got you so jumpy?" a familiar voice asked from inside his head. (No, Grian did not jump forwards with a scream. You saw wrong.)

"Holy shit Xavier!" Grian hissed under his breath, laying a hand on his chest. He had almost forgotten about the demon since he had gone off to hiding inside their shared mind for a while.

"Tell me: what's got you so jumpy?" the demon inquired again, probably tilting his head.

"Nothing, don't worry about it.." Grian mumbled, heading towards the Entity. He had to go see what he needed to restock.

"Scar's out of his base now. I wouldn't recommend speaking out loud, unless you want to look mad in his eyes," the demon was quick to inform.

Grian stopped and turned around, just in time as Scar called out his name. The brunette rushed towards him, smiling.

"Good morning Grian!" he greeted cheerfully. "Do you have the time to talk about our villager project?" the brunette asked, tilting his head.

"Morning Scar. Yeah, sure, what you got in your mind?" Grian hummed, resting a hand on his hip – right by his sword. (Some old habits never die. They will haunt him all the way to the grave, which might not be for such a long time.)

"Do you have any ideas for the building style, because I was thinking..." Scar began to explain his plan. Grian listened closely, all his previous worries falling into oblivion.

-----

     The Main Leader stared at the paper in front of him, brows knitted together. The hands on the clock on the wall were way past striking midnight. The whole room was dark, sunlight no longer shining through the window. There was something wrong with the electronics and the lights were all out. The only light he had was a candle.

There was a careful knock on the door before it was slammed open. Dexter was left a bit dumbfounded by the slammed door, turning to look to his left where Edita returned back to her seat.

"Don't waste your time knocking on your brother's door," she told him, sitting down on her desk.

-----

     The Main Admin Edita, the sixth in command of The Council, the right side of The Main Leader Alden. Her desk was in the office outside of Alden's, on the right side of the door. On the left side was The Main Watcher Kasen, the seventh in command, the left side of Alden.

Then there were The Main Admin Mao and The Main Watcher Sherenidy, the second and third in command, the right and left hand of The Main Leader.

The difference between the sides and hands was simple: the hands had their own important tasks and almost full command over everyone else. They played a huge role in each meeting and were highly trusted by the Main Leader. The sides however, they didn't have their own tasks, but instead are to help the Main Leader with his tasks.

But who are the fourth and fifth in command then? The Main Admin Upton and The Main Watcher Xelqua, the students of Mao and Sherenidy. They're being trained to replace their mentors when their time comes.

-----

     "That was not necessary," Alden sighed, glancing towards the blonde woman, who just shrugged carelessly. "Come on in," he told Dexter, who stepped in.

The Main Leader immediately noticed the lack of the dark blue cloak the Lead Watcher was supposed to be wearing. His white, buttoned up shirt was another problem that violated The Council's dress code.

"Where's your cloak?" Alden asked, raising a brow.

"I honestly don't know," Dexter answered with a shrug, not caring less about breaking the dress code. He was used to it by now. "But I have some news about the electricity," he continued, turning more serious.

"I couldn't find where it has been–"

"DON'T BURN THE FUCKING PAPERS!"

"ᒷ↸╎ℸ ̣ ᔑ, since you could so nicely open the door, could you please be so kind to also close it as well?" The tired Main Leader sighed, staring outside where Edita had stopped, hands a few centimetres away from Kasen, a candle almost burning a pile of papers between them.

"Right, right," the blonde hummed and slammed the door close before continuing to shout at her brother.

"What were you saying?" Alden turned back to the brunette.

"I looked everywhere, but couldn't find where the power has been cut off from. It's really strange," he explained, crossing his arms, staining oil from his hands on his white shirt.

"I will send others to help you look. It would be nice to get the lights back on soon," Alden spoke, furrowing his brows. He had a bad feeling about this and from Dexter's nervous expression he could tell that he wasn't the only one.

Had something managed to slip inside the private Main HQ to cause damage? He really hoped not, but the situation was slowly starting to prove him otherwise.

Words: 2452

[26.1.2022]

Ooh, that was actually longer than I expected! I was about to apologise for a short chapter, but apparently I don't have to :D