wc: 1525

tw: discussions of grief, mention of blood

Grian opened his eyes.

He was standing in the middle of what seemed to be a dark abyss, stars littering the expanse surrounding him no matter what direction he faced. Strangely enough, it felt like home.

"Hey."

Grian turned, not even jolting at the sudden sound. His eyes fell on Pearl, who smiled at him with only a hint of sadness. "Hi, Pearl," he breathed.

"Come on," Pearl said, holding out her hand.

Carefully, Grian placed his palm in hers, and-

A flash. Gold. Feathers. A smile, accompanied by a laugh. A hug. A kiss. A song.

The first time Grian had grown wings, they had hurt. They'd left him shivering and screaming on the floor of a dingy stone cell, painting the walls dark with his own blood. This time, it was thrilling.

They bloomed from his back, unfurling in bright, golden glory- not breaking the skin, no, just growing from it, beautiful and complete. Different, this time, as there was no hint of purple, no twinge of violet or blood, but just pure... light.

It felt amazing. It felt like everything Grian had ever dreamed of- Vast, open air; twisting, flying, laughing, his hand in someone else's and the sun shining warmly upon his skin. It was love, and joy, and freedom from a burden he'd carried his entire life.

Until it had ended.

...Wasn't that a thought. Grian hummed, brow furrowing as he considered this. Was he even upset? He'd never given much thought to afterlives and heaven and hell, never doing more than listening to folklore and reading mythos. A place with no bad felt too farfetched, yet... was he happy?

Grian was. Yes, he was, he decided as he flapped great golden feathers.

"I'm ready," Grian said without needing a prompt.

"Let's go," Pearl replied, lips curving to form a grin.

Pearl tugged, and they went.

~~~

Mumbo wandered the aftermath of the battle in shock.

The moment the comm had cut out, him and the others still at the base had shrugged on elytras and flown as fast as humanly possible. With the chaos that the attack had caused, civilians had flooded the streets, though none seemed to pay the speeding group much mind as they shot through the fog of the city. Mumbo's mind had been whirring, flicking through possibilities, but still holding out hope.

Hope that had vanished as soon as he'd dove in through the door, down the hall, and into the thick of a paused battle. It wasn't hard to find the cluster of Hermits, the contrasting brightness of their hair and skin and clothes stark against the gray backdrop of the capitol building. Mumbo is pushing through the crowd before he knows it, past soldiers with... horrified looks on their faces. That was not a good sign.

Iskall was there, one hand grasping Mumbo's shoulder but no words coming from his mouth, and as Mumbo came to his knees his heart sank, shattered, and disintegrated in his chest.

Grian looked peaceful.

Even though his chest did not move, even though there was a faint trickle of blood from his nose, the furrow in between his brows had finally smoothed and his muscles had finally went slack. He seemed like he's lost 10 years, and Mumbo nearly lost it right there when he realized how tense Grian was for so long, only to relax at his death.

There was a feral scream somewhere behind them, and Mumbo didn't flinch. The Hermits did not move, gathered around Grian's body, even as the battle finally resumed with renewed vigor.

~~~

They won.

Xeluph was dead. The Listeners had surged forth with fire in their veins, fueled by the... the... the death of the one man who had been a beacon of hope while...

Xayla shook her head, opening her eyes to watch as the final Elder signed the documents with a shaky hand. When the Listeners cheered, pumping fists in the air, Xayla did not join in.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and Xayla jumped, turning to see Joel. His jaw was clenched.

"It'll be okay," he said quietly.

Xayla nodded, slipping her hand into the pocket of her cloak. Her fingers bumped against something cold, and she frowned.

"Something wrong?" Joel asked, brow furrowed in concern. Xayla shook her head, extracting her hand to find...

A tiny stick. She frowned again. "I have n- Gods!" She cut off with a yell as the stick snapped to full length, magnifying into... the Staff. Ah.

"Is that...?" Joel's voice asked, voice strangled.

"I guess it is," Xayla replied, voice faint with wonder. "I- I don't-" She rotated it in her hand, feeling its thrumming magic. It felt right.

Joel's eyes crinkled into a smile. "After we appoint you Leader, you're invited to my wedding."

~~~

"X?"

Xisuma didn't reply, hunched with his elbows on his knees where he sat on the bed. There was a dip in the mattress as Keralis sat, touching their shoulders gently.

"You know that he wouldn't want you to do this," Keralis said gently, voice soothing. Xisuma took his helmet into his lap, running his thumbs over the purple visor.

"I was going to die," X said after a long moment, voice cracking. "He did it to save me."

Keralis made a small noise. "He did it to stop Xeluph." X looked up at him with a bewildered expression. "I mean, yes, to save you, of course, but..." Keralis took a deep breath. "It ended that war, hm? It was for more than you, it was for everyone." He leaned heavier on X, one arm wrapping around X's shoulders. "Not your fault."

X took a shuddering breath, nodding. "You're right. You're always right."

Keralis gave him a crooked smile, and X could see the grief in his expression and the exhaustion in his eye bags. "Not always. But we need to get back to Hermitcraft, hm? Pick up where we left off." He stood, taking X's hand. "We understand, X."

"Thank you, friend," X said softly. Keralis gave a little tug on his hand, smiling.

"Of course." He turned towards the door. "Let's go."

~~~

If you asked Grian to describe what... Heaven? looked like, he wouldn't be able to describe it to you. Wherever he was, it just... was, and Grian would be there. He did not sleep, he did not eat. Grian became the Sun.

The Sun.

Apparently, the position had been taken by his own mother once. When Grian had come to this place, it had already been vacated.

Pearl was there- the Moon. Grian smiled to himself at that thought. It suited her well. There were others too, though he had yet to meet them. He did have jobs to do- Grian didn't really know what it was, exactly, but he did do something, and he did it well. It was... indescribable, he supposed.

Sometimes he would go fly.

The wind would tousle his hair as he twirled and soared, reaching to touch the clouds and skimming across water. What water, and what clouds, he wouldn't be able to tell you. Maybe it was all something he conjured himself, but whatever it was, it was beautiful and it was exhilerating.

On those days, Pearl would grin and tell him that there had been excellent weather down in the Overworld. Grian would smile back and shake out his wings, saying, "It's always raining somewhere."

Grian thought about the Hermits. Every day, he sat at... a table, of some kind. It was beginning to form more clearly now, and he suspected that it changed according to his wishes- sometimes it was clean, and white; sometimes it was wooden and chipped and covered with blueprints; sometimes it was glass with layers and layers of shelves. Either way, he would sit and think about them. A pencil would find itself in his hand, and a beautiful, perfect sketch of a base that would never be built would appear on paper.

"Pearl, you're the goddess of the Moon," Grian said one day. She was tending to a garden, wearing overalls over a plaid shirt and very dirty rubber gloves. He glanced down at himself, finding that he was wearing his own set of casual clothes- red, of course.

"That I am," Pearl agreed. "What, you just realize?"

Grian laughed. He did a lot of that these days. "Do you have control over dreams?"

"I do maintain them, yes," Pearl replied, snipping a dead rose off of the bush. Grian's mind flitted to Scar. He hadn't seen much of Scar's fae magic, but he suspected that the man could probably nurse it to life. "Why're you asking?"

"Do you think I could visit someone? Or multiple someones?" When she turned to look at him, he put on his best puppy eyes. "Please? Just this once! I'll take you flying!"

Pearl broke into a grin. "Okay, just once. Use it wisely." She shrugged, turning back to the roses. "It's not like it's particularly risky to see someone in a dream. They're dreams for a reason."

"My thought exactly," Grian replied, chest blossoming with warmth. One last memory to make.

i just want them to be happy but the author parasites..... they tell me to make them HURT

i think this may be the second to last chapter. i'm a little terrified to see whats to come? but i'm also so, so glad that i got to get my funky little scenarios onto a google doc and onto a platform :)

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the concept of being a god is really strange to me. i considered making it a lot more normal sounding, but grian doing deskwork for the sun is just?? dunno??? i like to think of it as much more abstract and nonsensical. hence why pearl is just clipping roses.

thank you so much for reading! have a good day or night, wherever you are :)

-Ete