"You weren't lying," Grian muttered in Galactic to the Watchers, whether they were listening or not. The island was starting to become his safe place, his magic place, but not quite his place. It was shared by the Watchers, and Pearl, since he assumed this was the portal she'd seen. Unfortunately, his safe places never seemed to last and this one was no exception.

He put on his mask and destroyed the bedrock and the last trace of the portal, before taking it off and putting it back in his Ender chest. Portals were a dangerous thing to leave lying around, and he didn't want to risk the hermits trying to use it. If they came back here to look at it, they'd find nothing.

Doing it in daylight - at noon - was dangerous. But leaving it until dark was more dangerous.

* * *

Usually, the feeling of wind running through Grian's hair was enough to calm him. It normally made him feel free, like he was able to go anywhere and everywhere. Using an elytra made this untrue, of course, but it still felt like he could do anything. As the blond hermit flew back to his base with an Ender chest in hand, however, he felt nothing like this. He could bite into a sweet, spongey cake but couldn't enjoy it because the pillars of the world were falling down around him as the universe came to an end.

He found himself nearing his base and was about to prepare to land when he saw a figure outside his door, their armour reflecting the sunlight. Pearl.

A slightly bitter taste of dread entered his mouth and he bit the inside of his lip. Maybe it wasn't too late to change his path and avoid- no, she'd definitely seen him already; her head was clearly tilted towards him. She waved. It was definitely too late.

Anxiety and anticipation pooled in the bottom of his stomach. He didn't want to face her, he didn't want to find out that she knew everything about him, he didn't want her to feel sorry for him or to hate him or to be scared of him. But he didn't have a choice.

Gliding down to land just in front of her, he silently decided to make the interaction as quick as possible.

"Hi," he said. Pearl returned the greeting and asked if they could speak, inside. Her expression was like a book in a four year old's handwriting; the ink vaguely resembled letters but it was difficult to put all of them together to make words, and even more difficult to make sentences.

"Grian, I know that you already knew who the Watchers are." Pearl said, nearly straight away after the door to his starter base closed. He'd been expecting those words, but he'd still hoped they wouldn't come. He nodded, not sure how else to respond. "We'll defeat them though, no matter what it takes, don't worry."

"Okay," Grian said, trying his best to sound reassured. The other hermit obviously didn't know as much as she thought, and it was probably best left that way. Pearl smiled at him and left after that.

* * *

The blond stared at himself in the ocean. He'd found another small island with exactly two trees on about twice as far away from the continent as the first one, and this was his first night there. His reflection looked back at him with masked eyes, a familiarly foreign representation if himself.

With a mask covering his eyes, fingers going purple at the edges and enormous wings dwarfing him from behind, fitting between two perfectly sized holes in a dark black cloak draped over his body, he looked menacing. He looked nothing like the happy, optimistic, playful, energetic, human Grian. He looked like Xelqua, the Watcher.

His hand came aflame with magic.

He looked powerful, like someone that could kill people by simply wanting them dead. Simply a passing thought of dislike could hold the power of years of hatred.

His wings spread out behind him, before he closed them slightly, before opening them fully again. He experimented with different positions, eventually settling on having them half way between open and closed, curving towards the mirror of the sea slightly to make them seem even bigger and more imposing than they already were.

He looked like an angel or demon. He looked magical. He looked strong, stronger than all of humanity combined. His cloak and dark colour scheme - minus the red jumper, which didn't quite fit - made him look mysterious, threatening, foreboding, thunderous, ominous, perhaps even deadly.

Was it bad if he liked that? If he enjoyed the thought of being feared?

He splashed the water with his wing, making his image shatter. Of course it was a bad thing. He stepped away and leaned against one of the trees, staring at his still flaming hand.

He hated the Watchers, but maybe he was beginning to understand them.

When the sun rose, Grian was planning on keeping his mask on and staying, but his communicator vibrated.

<MumboJumbo> Grian, youre minecart shop thing is out of stock

He could just ignore it, of course, but then at what point would ignoring things become suspicious? He placed his things in his Ender chest, wishing the cold would stop getting worse, and picked up his gloves. He tried to shake some sand off of them, since they'd been left on the sandy part of the island, and noted as he did so that his fingertips were getting darker. They were dark purple and the gradient only lightened to a normal skin tone just after his top knuckle.

He took off, but remembered how long it would take for him to get back. Was it really worth it?

We can make the journey go faster. Oリᒷ's voice said, in Galactic. Grian nodded, not really sure why they were offering help. Didn't they want him away from his friends? It was a bit unusual for them to be using telepathy as well, they'd only used it a few times in the days before Hermitcraft. Everything was unusual, and he supposed that since everything in his life seemed to have muddled itself like a puzzle, he could never guarantee that pieces that looked wrong together weren't incorrect.

And so, what should've been a one and a half hour flight was in fact only five minutes. Magic was useful like that, it made seemingly unchangeable elements of life much more flexible. Magic was fire that could melt an ice cube.

"Hey Mumbo," he said as he landed by the evermoving chest. "What needs restocking?" He asked, kind of rhetorically though since he opened the chest and saw the diamonds where enchanted books should've been. He didn't realise they were still selling at the rate they were.

"Grian?" In his few seconds of being there he hadn't noticed the way the redstoner was looking at him.

"What?" Mumbo looked a little shocked and put off, and maybe a bit annoyed at him. Had he done something wrong?

"Haven't you slept?" He asked. Grian remembered the way he probably looked; somehow, it was easy to forget how tired his body was when his mind was being recharged by magic.

"Oh, er, not last night, I was busy." He said.

"What about the night before? You didn't exactly look well-slept yesterday at the meeting, either." Mumbo said.

"I was busy." Grian repeated, slightly more nervous. Had Mumbo not called him here to restock?

"Grian." There was the voice of worry. It was meant to make him feel cared about, but instead it made him feel guilty. "You haven't been the same lately."

"Did you need me to restock something or did you bring me here to criticise me?" Grian asked, his words coming out much calmer than he'd expected. The words themselves were angry, but their tone was like the one the Watchers used - bordering between slightly irritated and also slightly amused by the little human's actions.

"I wasn't-" Mumbo started, but stopped when Grian met eyes with him. The redstoner sighed. "I need two mending books." Grian nodded.

"Give me a minute." He said before quickly flying over to the unnatural cliff and going down to his villager trader hall. A minute later, he was back and handed the aforementioned books to Mumbo.

"Why are you wearing gloves?" He asked, but Grian ignored him.

* * *

After the interaction, Grian had gone straight back to the island. He was beginning to spend more time away from his base and with his magic than anywhere else. Maybe it was for the best, maybe that way people wouldn't notice if he had to leave Hermitcraft permanently. Maybe they'd get used to his absence.

He was sitting cross legged with his cloak wrapped around him like a blanket - the hood down. He'd left his mask off, because although no one knew where he was, it was still daytime and not impossible that someone would find him.

He fiddled with his new dark grey gloves that he'd materialised to replace the blue winter ones, in the hope they'd seem more like part of his outfit than something to hide himself with.

He lay back on the sand with a contemplative sigh and closed his eyes, letting his needy body get the rest it needed.

"Why do we do what we do?" Xelqua asked, although his voice was loud and his anger was more obvious than a neon pink glowing animal hiding against a plain grey background.

You'll understand when you're older, Oリᒷ replied, their voice patronising, as always.

"Why don't you just tell me?!" Xelqua yelled back, his voice echoing against the obsidian walls. "You won't tell me anything! Not even your names!" He'd simply had to number them - One and Two (Oリᒷ and T∴𝙹 in Galactic) - to distinguish between them in his mind.

Our names don't concern you, T∴𝙹 said.

"Don't they?! Am I fucking unworthy? Like the little humans you always insist are so stupid? What am I to you? A pet?! A trophy you can show off to all your friends?!" He shouted, his wings twitching and sometimes flapping with frustration.

Xelqua, calm down. Oリᒷ said, but he continued, not listening.

"Do you see yourselves as gods? Infinitely holier than any other life-form, so important that no one can even see your face? Is that why we wear masks? Are the humans just there to entertain you?!"

You'll understand one day, you need to trust us until then. Oリᒷ said, their tone staying calm and all-knowing.

"When?! When will I understand why you treat living things the way you do? I've been with you for years now! Do I even want to understand? Will I turn out like you?! Because being like you is the last thing I want! You fucking bastards!" The Watchers looked at him, slight amusement visible in their expression. "I hate you." He said, before leaving the room and then the structure and finally the island.

His wings cut through the thin air and he felt the Watchers behind him realise what he was doing.

And they got angry.

Never in a million years would he have thought he'd ever be capable of getting a reaction out of them, but now he had it was less satisfying than he'd imagined. They were screaming after him, yelling, like an Enderman but it was filled with so much rage... there was no way to describe it. It was just complete and utter rage, expressed in it's purest form.

And it wasn't satisfying or fulfilling; it was absolutely terrifying.

Xelqua kept flying, there was no going back now.