The early afternoon sun was still shining brightly in the sky, but that didn't worry him as he landed on the island and got out his Ender chest.

"I'm here." He said in Galactic, hoping it would be enough to summon the other Watchers. He dug through the magical chest and pulled out his mask and cloak. When he looked up, two dark familiar figures were stood there. "I want to have fun." It may have sounded weird, but the Watchers understood what he meant. They always did. He put on his mask, and within a couple of minutes they were going through a portal.

This world is unimportant. Eight humans. Oリᒷ said.

Go crazy. T∴𝙹 said.

Xelqua didn't hesitate to let his hand be engulfed in fire. He flapped his large wings and soared into the sky, gliding around for a few minutes until he found a small collection of buildings. He landed and took in the area; it looked like the world was near it's beginning.

There were six, basic houses with paths between, and what looked like a mine entrance. There was also some farmland and chests scattered around.

He recognised it. It was the same place the Watchers showed him before he ran away.

He saw a couple of people come out of the mine entrance, and immediately made himself invisible. He wanted to watch before doing anything, which he realised was kind of fitting considering the name of his species.

They went inside one of the houses and he heard some chests opening. He went over to the window and saw eight people, seemingly talking and chilling.

One of them stepped outside, and he followed since the rest weren't doing much. Then they went round the corner of another building and everything fit into place in his mind as he understood.

"Guys?" The human called, and Xelqua looked at his past self. He looked out of place; he was short compared to T∴𝙹 and Oリᒷ, his wings (although large, almost disproportionately so when in context with his frame) were smaller than the other two's and his cloak was slightly too large.

The seven other humans came running.

"What on Earth?" One asked, getting out a diamond sword.

These are humans, past Oリᒷ said in Galactic. The said people exchanged a glance and a couple of others pulled out swords while one equipped an iron chest-plate.

Xelqua watched them with interest as the others spoke. They were scared of them. He hadn't realised how much power Watchers held in simply their first impression before living a human life.

The past incarnates of himself and his owners fuzzed out of existence as they began to travel forwards in time.

And this is where I come in. He thought with a grin. He vaguely remembered what one of them had said to him that day, that humans hate Watchers (or, fear them and hate them as a result) and hate becomes anger and that becomes destruction. Was that where his true power lay? Was that why they'd said they were the better option, because he would only scare humans and wouldn't fit in with them as long as he was a Watcher? Were they right?

He was a Watcher now, and he'd stopped fitting in with the hermits as soon as he became one again. Would they fear him? Then hate him? Then destroy Hermitcraft?

Was destruction all he would cause? If so, were the Watchers the better option?

Then... would having fun here really be the answer? That would only give the hermits a reason to fear him. But, they had said they already hated Watchers - hate which derived from fear - so they would fear him anyway. So why not give them a reason? They didn't trust him anyway, they probably already expected this of him. So why not?

Watchers are allowed to have fun.

And so, have fun he would.

His motivations were mixed, but they were all set on one thing.

The humans were still distracted, talking. He lit a small fire on the corner of the nearest building, and it spread quickly, quicker than was humanly possible. But what was humanly possible wasn't something that limited him.

The humans turned around and immediately started yelling at each other for a water bucket.

He started a couple of other fires and stepped back to watch them run around, trying to save their base. The Watchers must've planned this, he thought, meaning they knew from the beginning he was going to run away and eventually come back to them. His past self might've been angry, but now he didn't really mind.

This was... right. They were helping him.

Over the next month, Xelqua only revealed himself once. The rest of the time, he simply Watched. He placed doubt into one or two minds, set up some deadly events here and there and made one person at random think there was someone to blame for the destruction of their starter base. From there, chaos ensued as they lost trust in each other and sooner or later there were two very clear sides.

The time he did reveal himself, was to one person and one person only. He did it to kill them. Permanently. That person was the only one left to pick aside in the brewing war, and, of course, when their body was found, it caused even more arguing.

The grass turned muddy on paths and to grey ashes where the fire had been. The nearby animals and plants died.

He conversed with the Watchers a few times, but for the most part they let him run loose.

When the month passed, the past Watchers and himself came back, and he left, trusting them to die without the need of any more nudging in the right direction.

The Watches delivered him back to Hermitcraft, and he was left alone on the island once again. It was night time, and the stars were brightly lighting up the sky.

He checked his communicator and was pleased to find it had only been four days since he left. To say it had been a month for him, that was quite good. Then he saw a private message that had been sent earlier that day.

<Xisuma> Grian, come to my base tomorrow morning please.

<Grian> okay

After replying, he layed back on the sand.

The name Grian felt slightly foreign to him, it was strange how quickly he got used to being called Xelqua again. Only a month away and he didn't feel any connection to his human life.

He wondered what had happened while he'd been away, and thought about his friends. Bdubs had built an entire mountain in only a week a short while ago, so who knew what the others would get up to in four days. But it didn't really bother him that he was missing out, he preferred being with the Watchers. He preferred being a Watcher.

They were right, it was fun. To anyone else - to humans - it would sound cruel and horrific, but somehow it didn't feel that way. He'd killed someone directly and permanently, but... well, so what? They were replaceable.

But, then again, it didn't quite sit right with him. He was powerful, but... he wasn't sure. He wasn't really sure about anything anymore. He put the thought to the side for the moment, instead wondering what he'd do the next day.

What was there to do after doing what he'd just done? Continuing to work on his base seemed too trivial, but he couldn't do anything Watcher related straight after doing another thing Watcher related because that would be too suspicious - if 'too suspicious' was even something still worth avoiding.

His mind wandered to the hermits. What would they think if they knew what he'd just done? What would Scar or Gem or Xisuma or Beef or anyone think of it? What would Mumbo think?

They'd hate him. They'd fear him. They'd be angry at him. That was a pretty simple answer. But they would already hate him so it didn't really matter.

Maybe he should just reveal himself and leave. Maybe he should just leave. Maybe he should go back to the Watchers. What was even keeping him in Hermitcraft? What made him come back?

Was he even Grian anymore? He didn't feel like it. He sat up and stumbled over to the edge of the tiny landmass to see his reflection in the ocean.

His skin was paler than he remembered, although that could've just been the light. He took off his mask and saw that his eyes did seem to be purple. He took off his gloves and saw how dark his fingertips were. They were darker than they'd ever been before he even ran away.

He looked at his reflection again, his eyes landing on the wings that towered over him from behind.

Wait.

He wasn't wearing his mask, but his wings... they were still materialised. He looked over his shoulder, and it was confirmed that they were in fact there - he wasn't sure what else he expected.

If they were there without his mask, did that mean that he would still be able to use magic without it? He put his hand in front of him, eyeing it suspiciously like a wrapped present that might be a prank, and tried summoning the magic and-

Yep. He still had his magic.

He extinguished the weaker than normal but still strong flame and looked forwards blankly.

Was he more than just half Watcher now? He didn't know whether it was good or bad. On one hand, his instincts were telling him that this was bad and he should get help and tell Xisuma and- and, on the other, this was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He tried to make his wings invisible (or more accurately just not there at all, since it would be useless for them to be unseen if they would still bang against walls in narrow corridors and doorways). They vanished and reappeared at his command, much to his relief. He could wear dark clothes and gloves, have purple eyes and disappear for days at a time but if he suddenly showed up with wings one day he wouldn't be able to get away with it any longer.

He leaned back on the sand again and let his mind contemplate for the rest of the night.