Grian awoke with twitching hands, maybe not literally but they still itched to do something, to build.

No, he thought, he wouldn't fall to the urges. But as he tried to restrain the urge it just grew more and more, until a searing pain spread over his chest.

Letting out a breathless gasp, the dirty blonde quickly pulled up his sweater to see what had happened. And there, right across his chest, was a deep cut. It went from the top of the left side to the bottom of the right side.

Eyes wide, Grian immediately tried to pull out potions. Only to not find any. Looking through the creative inventory he found absolutely no potions whatsoever!

Admitting defeat, he settled for wrapping the wound with a piece of wool.

This day was already shit, and he'd only been awake for less than ten minutes. Wonderful.

Thankfully whatever being that was out there pitied him, and didn't give him more of those urges that had started this. Giving him time to recover and think.

He had so many questions, but so few answers, and it was so infuriating! Grian decided that the best thing to do was to write down any and all questions he had, and he could have a second book to write down all the answers. Yeah, that was a good idea, Joe would be proud.

Pulling out two books and quills he started scribbling down questions.

What was this place? Why was it constantly night? How did he get here? Why was the moon red? Why were there no stars? Why does he have a strong urge to build? How was he hurt while in creative mode? Why was he in creative mode in the first place?

Feeling that these were all the questions he had at the moment, he closed the book and opened the other one. So what did he know?

Well he thinks he knows why he was hurt, he fought back. He ignored the urge and he got hurt, so ignoring the urge would only turn him into a walking cut.

He quickly wrote that down, and closed the book and also put that away. And as he sat there he basked in the freedom of not having the urge to build, it was a nice change from yesterday.

But just a few minutes later it was back, and Grian let out a deep sigh. Here we go again.

He didn't pull out wool this time, but stone of all kinds. Except full cobble blocks it seems.

Moving away from the other builds he started placing blocks down, creating a medium sized frame. He then proceeded to add little things to each corner. Then he started raising the walls. Mixing and matching gray blocks all the way around, he had a feeling he knew what he was building but he couldn't be sure just yet.

The build started to take shape, walls and towers forming a medium sized castle. Lastly a flag was added, red of course.

Stepping back he expected a voice to pop up, but nothing came. Why was it silent now? It hadn't been before so why now? It was extremely unsettling, and as the silence stretched the feeling only worsened.

And the urge was gone again, what was going on? Was this some sort of test? To see what he would do? But why do it on the second "day" he was here? This made no sense!

Deciding that thinking about it would only complicate everything more, he settled for thinking of a way to escape. How would he do it? Everything he had tried failed and there weren't all that many options left, so how would he do it?

Giving up on trying to find a way out, for now at least, he opened the creative inventory. Maybe he should build something while he was still able to choose for himself? Yeah, that sounded nice.

But what should he build? A house? Nah, to usual. Maybe something he doesn't do all that often? Like... a bird in a cage!

Grian didn't know why he decided to build that, but he felt like it fit.

Taking out the necessary blocks he got to building, reveling in the feeling of being able to build whatever he himself wanted.

God, he had missed the calm feeling of building by instinct. By his own instinct.

Once he was finished, he stepped back to observe it, and in his opinion it looked perfect. Not to small, yet still not to big, just perfect.

But when he looked closer he spotted a dark oak sign in front of the cage. Stepping closer he saw the red text written on it:

"Projecting much, little bird?"

The message sent chills down his back, how had it gotten there? Who wrote it? And why was there only that written down? Why nothing else?

Sighing, Grian trudged back to the bed. He felt more drained than normal, was that because the moon was always out? Was it because of something else? He didn't know, nor did he care.

Laying down in the bed, he pulled out a locket from under his sweater. Opening the locket, he let a lone tear slip out of his eye.

"I'll get back to you," he whispered, "I promise my loves, I promise."

Another one! But unfortunately it's short, and that may be the case for most of Grian's parts since there won't be anything happening there for awhile. That's all for now! And I hope to see you in the next chapter!