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blinded golden - own traitor 11/?, 25.6k, ongoing. [FIRST] [PREV] [NEXT] [LAST] [tumblr upload]

scar shares his discoveries. reality sinks in. this fic is part of @multidimensionbb's wip purge event!!

[ogsoulless]

blinded golden - cursed path 11/?, 25.6k, ongoing. [FIRST] [PREV] [NEXT] [LAST] [ao3 upload]

Pearl would be the first to admit it: she was not happy to see Scar. He seemed to anticipate this, though, and moved quickly past her with little more than a muttered 'hello'.

Honestly, after the debacle of yesterday, she had to say Scar had guts for showing up so soon. Most of the revenants on the server were not pleased to hear him travelling around recruiting, when they had just heard their Reapers rattling around in their heads about a choice.

It was hardly a choice. Scott had gotten to Pearl's base immediately after his meeting with the Reaper of the Wild. She had stayed stonily silent. She couldn't fight for Grian, not after what he had done. But then, Scott had reassured her that he had refused and she started thinking.

Why would Grian make his move? There was a lot they didn't know, but Pearl had the benefit of remembering some things before she was taken and others to help her fill in the rest. The main thing was that helmet — she suspected that was the cause of everything. Scott had mentioned that Grian sounded like a Reaper, so maybe those were connected. Her gut told her they were, but she couldn't afford to make a false accusation and give away her hand. But that didn't explain anything, and she couldn't talk to her Reaper to check. If she ever got to meet her Reaper, she was going to find a way to beat it to death with a stick. If only she knew her Reaper. If only she were a real revenant, instead of some shifter who paraded as one.

A knock on the door interrupted her pondering. Pearl was tempted to yell at them to piss off, but BigB called through it before she could protest. "If you don't open the door, I'm going to magic you into doing it anyway!"

"You make weak ass threats there, B." Pearl opened the door anyway.

"I just wanted to check in and all. How are you holding up? Especially after the… announcements, and the meetings. You know. After the everything."

Everything that had happened here. On Final Life. The name sounded foreign, twisted, like someone had dunked her underwater and was talking above the surface.

"Hmm." Pearl tapped a rhythm on her thigh. "I don't know, just bothered by how Grian's acting. He did something to Martyn, back at spawn, and it looked like he made him use his revenance and…" she trailed off.

"And made him Listen." BigB finished. Pearl didn't trust her voice to answer, so she nodded instead.

"I never asked him about his Listening. I should've, so I could support him when he was getting used to it, but I was afraid that it would be too soon. And then, I got reaped."

Martyn had died while Listening to the corpses of Jimmy and Mumbo back in Last Life, so his Reaper thought it would be funny to give him a better version of it. It was cruel, and not necessary at all, but Reapers weren't known to hold your hand after you died. If they did, Pearl probably would've met her Reaper by now.

"He did also try to kill Tilly. It's fair enough you didn't want to talk to him. Trying to interact with all of that going on in your head wouldn't have been helpful for either of you." BigB placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's okay to feel guilty that you didn't do more."

"But then he won, and… I don't know, it felt like he had sorted it all out."

"Well, you won, and did that help your revenance at all? Fuck, did that help your trauma at all?"

Pearl perched carefully on her table, covering up her silence with motion. She sighed. "No, you're right."

"You and Martyn could relate, you know. You should've said something."

"But he has so many other people. You, Ren, Cleo, Grian… well." She paused. "Grian before this. But he doesn't need me. I don't think we've ever teamed up."

The change had been hard for Martyn. He had been offered a spot of Hermitcraft after his rebirth, but he declined because of the sheer noise. He took a break, staying in his home until he learnt to deal with it by filtering it out. Pearl just figured that she would clutter up his life, get in his way.

"Mhm, and you've never teamed up with Tango. Do you think Tango hates you?"

"I… would hope not?"

"That's what I thought." BigB smirked. "Look, Martyn's struggled with his Listening for ages, even before he got reaped. And Grian seemed to play on that. He knew that it's hard, and not only did he put Martyn in a situation where he can use it, he made him."

"Pretty shitty of him, huh," Pearl said.

"Yup. Martyn's spent all this time working to control it, and then that control is taken from him."

Martyn had described his Listening like a radio: it was all static in the background, until he adjusted and could focus on a specific channel. Before, it was like everything was play at once — Pearl would bet her entire cleaning business he'd gotten killer headaches.

"Look, I'm just saying that you shouldn't surprised if he does something like, I don't know try to kill Grian."

"That won't work," Pearl answered immediately. "We don't even know if Grian can be taken out of the series, and considering what we've heard about what he can do… he's more likely to get killed himself."

BigB nodded. "Yeah, which is why we have to watch him. The Reapers won't give a shit, considering they stay out of the series and let the Watchers do their thing." He rolled his eyes. "As long as we're around to use as their walking talking power vessels, then they're chill."

Reapers, as far as they could tell, were like a cousin of Watchers and Listeners, except the kind everybody wanted to fuck off to the other side of the world. Which they had — they all had their separate realms and actively despised the Watchers for exiling them. The one exception was Cleo's Reaper, the Reaper of Fate, who had interacted with them in Double Life.

Pearl pushed off the table. "Interesting how from what I've heard, Grian thinks that the Reapers are going to get rid of us. They act like they can, like they're not doing to die just like us." She began pacing. "Which makes me worried that they've found a way to."

Reapers were similar to Watchers in a technical sense, according to Grian and some research by Scott. The main difference was instead of feeding off emotion, they fed off the use of their powers. Because they couldn't technically do that in their realms, they evolved to channel that power. And so, revenants were reborn.

It was self fulfilling cycle, with the powers feeding the Reapers, which fed the powers, and so on. It was also why the Reapers needed them. Without revenants, their power would have nowhere to go, and they would have no food, and they would die.

So when Scott came to Pearl's base and said that they were trying to get rid of them, she'd laughed. The Reapers didn't have the balls to do that. And yet, they had. As much as she hated to admit it, revenants needed their Reapers just as much. The revenance is what kept their body alive.

Pearl hadn't met her Reaper, but she knew enough about them that if one wanted them gone, then it wouldn't stop after removing their powers. They would die in a much more gruesome way than magic withdrawal. Scar had been advertising wiping out their entire kind. People had said yes.

Anger burnt through her like a righteous flame. How dare they? These games had taken from her, again and again. She couldn't let her friends die. But they had fated themselves to that anyway.

"Hey, hey," BigB said, smoothing over her hair. The ears on top of her head folded back under his hands. "What's gotten you all worked up?"

She set her jaw, ignoring the bite of her growing canines into lip. "Nothing. We need to work out what Grian's planning, and why Scar's playing messenger boy."

BigB narrowed his eyes. Pearl was a pretty good liar, but BigB was so good at sniffing out her bluffs she wondered if his actual revenance was being a truth detector instead of persuasion.

Something in her expression must have made him relent, because he sighed and instead of pressing further he sighed okay. He pointed a finger at her. "But if you decide you want to talk about stuff, you better, okay? It doesn't have to me."

He paused, probably waiting to see if she would respond. When she stayed silent, he continued. "And if I hear that you're bottling things up again, I'm going to persuade you into publicly humiliating yourself. Okay?"

She huffed. "Okay, whatever, mate." BigB nodded and then left Pearl alone with her thoughts. Something was up with Grian. But Scar was the same old Scar — witty, persuasive, dealmaker, prone-to-death Scar. He had chosen this. He had chosen to kill them all. Pearl couldn't forgive him for that.

So, Pearl was not very happy to see Scar's scheming face. She, in fact, felt a lot like punching him right now. But the traitorous rat scurried past, knocking on Gem's door. She rolled her eyes as Gem actually let him in. Softie.

☆

Cleo knocked on Gem's cherry wood door, wincing as they yanked out a pink splinter. Gem really had to sand this down; that had been the third time she'd gotten a splinter from it this week. Gem cracked open the door, only enough to see her face. Cleo looked past her and raised an eyebrow at the shadow slotting itself in a nook. Scar was… quite the opposite of stealthy.

"Honestly, Gem, if you're going to harbour someone can they at least be good at hiding?"

The redhead sighed, letting the door open fully and glaring at Scar. "I told you, hide under the table. That," she gestured towards the decorative bamboo screen with her hands. "That is not under the table."

Scar shrugged, sliding out and waving cheerfully at Cleo.

Gem crossed her arms, leaning against the doorjamb. "How did you know he was here? Only Pearl saw him walk in."

Cleo shrugged. "I had a feeling."

Gem rolled her eyes. "No, you had a vision. Come in, then." She ushered them inside her cottage, closing the door behind her.

They settled around the cute table Gem had put against the wall. Cleo dragged over a barrel to sit on as Gem tapped her fingers against her chair.

"So, Scar. What brings you here?" Gem said.

"Well, you, obviously," Scar said, chuckling. He had skulk under his nails. Cleo shifted, getting their sword out and laying it across their lap under the table, out of sight of the others. It was better safe than sorry, and what made Cleo safe was ruthlessness. She couldn't afford to hesitate, especially not when the accusations against Grian kept piling up.

Scar took a deep breath, holding it as he mentally psyched himself up. Or at least, that's what Cleo thought he was doing. He could very well be performing a ritual for a Reaper to smite them on the spot.

"Don't tell Joel that I told you this, but yesterday he told me he was having trouble with using his revenance. I tried to use mine and… it was really, really hard. It felt like all the stores were gone. I felt… empty."

So he was psyching himself up, and there was no sign of Reaper summoning yet. But what he said… they were allowed free reign of their powers this season. And yet, he was acting like the dampeners were on.

Usually, when they competed, dampeners were activated around the arena to ensure no powers could be used and keep a level playing field. It was the same reason Grian, Jimmy and Skizz clipped their wings. On the second season, they had discovered that powers worked outside of the world border, but Grian turned a blind eye because he liked using the exploit as much as everyone else.

"You want me to try use my power," Gem realised. Scar nodded.

"Look, if you don't want to that's cool! I just- I don't think anyone else would do this for me. Etho banned me from his property, Lizzie secretly hates me, Pearl visibly hates me…" Scar trailed off.

"Alright, Scar. I got you." Her forehead creased as Gem concentrated. Cleo waited to hear her voice fill her mind. Nothing came, their thoughts the only thing in the otherwise silence.

Gem laughed, but Cleo could hear the strain in it. "I'm sure it's just a fluke. I mean, I am newly reaped..." Her voice tilted up at the end, betraying her unaffected facade.

Scar shook his head. "I think it's some form of dampener, except instead of pushing your power further down, it sucks it out."

"You can't prove that," Gem protested. "It's just me. It's just you. It's just Joel. It's just a fluke. You don't have enough evidence, Scar." She sounded resigned, like even she didn't believe herself.

"Well, luckily for us, a Revenant of Fate is also in this room," Scar said. His face had 'smug' written all over it, like he had just said checkmate. Cleo froze. It wasn't completely unlike Scar to throw someone under the bus, but usually it was himself.

"Ugh," groaned Gem. "Honestly, why can't anyone talk about me that dramatically? Is it because my Reaper's name is longer? That feels unfair."

Scar shrugged. "Revenant of the Perceived doesn't sound as cool as Revenant of Fate. Unlucky, Gem."

"You should know that I don't control my powers, Scar," Cleo said. It was one of the first questions she answered. No, they couldn't control fate, they couldn't control their visions, they couldn't control the future.

"But you can make supernaturally inclined predictions." Scar set his elbows on the table, folding his hands into a pyramid. Cleo had to give it to him, he usually didn't think that far forward in his plans.

Cleo certainly didn't pick when she had prophecies, especially long range ones, but if they thought about an event, she could guess the outcome and be right to some extent. Of course, destiny loved to be tricky — they learnt that the hard way. Their pride never fully recovered from the time they guessed they would get a dog and instead was swarmed by angry, rabid dogs. Etho still reminded them of her screams as she sprinted through the server.

Without a word, Gem pulled a compass from her pocket and set it spinning across the table.

"Face down," blurted Cleo. Sure enough, it rolled off the edge and onto the floor. It wobbled, then toppled forward, the dial meeting the floor. They frowned.

"What's wrong? You got it right!" Scar exclaimed, like he was surprised, like he hadn't seen her make a million predictions much more important than that.

"Yes, I did." They ran a finger down her sword. "But it was so vague. I should've been able to say that it would fall on the floor, or that it would wobble four times, or that you can see the chip on the back now."

Gem got up from the table and scooped up the compass. "Oh, there is! I've never noticed that before."

Cleo shrugged. They had gotten very observant since being reaped. The smallest difference could reveal if they had seen this before in a vision, and it was useful to see if their base had been trapped or tampered with.

"So, your powers work, but not as well as they should." Scar plucked the compass from Gem's hands and started flipping it in his hands. Cleo nodded. "What did it feel like, trying to use them?"

"Usually, it feels like there's these threads of energy running inside my ribs. To use my powers, I just have to reach for them and grab it. And, just then…" she paused. "It felt like half of them were dead."

"We do have a problem! I was right!" Scar pumped his hands.

Gem scoffed good-naturedly. "I feel like this shouldn't be something you celebrate about. Besides, we have bigger problems. I think we all agree that we would like to keep our powers and our lives, so we need to find the dampener and get rid of it."

"Maybe, we can ask one of our friends?" Scar suggested. "We should ask Etho! Etho knows things! But… he doesn't want me on his property. It was a horrible day, Gem."

Cleo brandished their sword. "Absolutely not."

Scar pushed aside the point of her sword. "Why? Strength in numbers, or something!"

"Because we don't know who's working for Grian. And it looks very bad for Grian at the moment, so I have every right to be suspicious of him. Which means I also have every right to be suspicious of you, Scar."

Scar didn't respond for a few long moments, the silence settling over them.

"I forgot about that."

Cleo barked a harsh laugh. "How could you? Everyone knows that you spent the entire day roaming around, asking people if they would fight for Grian and that Reaper of his. Asking for them to make a choice. And what does this great, new Reaper want? What does it think of us?" She jabbed a finger at the table. "It thinks we're a waste of space, of resources, of powers."

"Hey, maybe-" Gem interjected.

"No. He needs to hear it." A ruthless Cleo was safe. Cruelty was safe. They tried to ignore how Scar had curled in on himself. The compass stilled in his palms. "If you thought that revenants were a blight, you would get rid of them. And considering we rely on our revenance to keep living, the easiest way to get rid of them would be getting rid of our revenance. Guess what's happening, Scar? Say it."

Tiny predictions clamoured in their head. She could barely hear Scar's response over it. "Our revenance is being… removed."

"Yeah. It doesn't look great for Grian now, does it?"

Gem stood up. "That's enough, Cleo. Get out." Cleo opened their mouth. She didn't know what she was going to say, but they wanted to argue. It felt good to fight. It felt like she could finally say what she meant without having to check over their shoulder. It felt like being a massive bitch to her friends. "No. I don't want to hear it. Out."

Cleo paused, then nodded stiffly once. She closed the door as calmly as she could and tried to tune out Gem frantically apologising to Scar. They hadn't lied when she said that spreading this information about was a bad idea, but Scar had been right as well. They needed to ask around. And while Etho was a good pick, there was someone else they had in mind.

Consumed in their train of thought as they meandered down the path that curved around the lava pool, Cleo didn't realise there was someone else there until she slammed into them. Larry bleated from his platform as they swallowed the apology that bubbled to their lips.

"Oh, oh no- Cleo, mate, are you okay?" Pearl asked, grabbing their shoulders to steady them. She looked around, where Pearl had been standing slightly off the path.

"Were you eavesdropping?"

Pearl had the decency to look a little ashamed. "Maybe."

"Mhm," Cleo hummed. "Whatever. You're coming with me." She started towards the entrance gate out of their base without seeing if Pearl would follow.

"What-" Pearl jogged to keep up, like they guessed she would, boots rhythmically thudding against the dirt. "Where are we going?"

Cleo adjusted the flower crown in their hair. "We're going to pay Martyn and Scott a visit."

[ogsoulless]

blinded golden - own traitor 10/?, 22.3k, ongoing. [FIRST] [PREV] [NEXT] [LAST] [ao3 upload]

Grian had based in a valley, surrounded on the north and west with cragged mountains and a river to the east. In the middle, there was a fort, built of deepslate and cobblestone. It was highly defensible and extremely out of character for Grian, considering that they had barely made it through a week with the new rules. Normally, he'd still be roaming the server living out of a bed and sleeping in a field. This screamed paranoid. But, the landscape gave him an advantage, so clearly Grian would do anything to make them play by his rules.

So, Scar was quite surprised when Grian told him to meet him at spawn instead of his base after he made his rounds. The task was simple: he went around to all of the revenants on the server, ask if their Reaper had spoken to them, then pitch joining the Reaper of the Strayed. At least, it was simple on paper. Scar hadn't been anticipating the sheer amount of hostility he faced: from death threats by Ren to a ban from Etho and Mumbo's property to Lizzie forcefully ushering him out the door.

He didn't get it. What had Grian done? What had he gotten himself into that Scar didn't know about, that was obviously so bad that everyone hated him. Scar didn't want to be the villain again. Sure, he won the last time it happened, but the loneliness got to you. Hopefully the S Team would take him back.

"Well hello there, Grian!" He called. He bounded across the plains leading towards the spawn circle, joy carrying him towards the man. Hopefully, Grian wouldn't be able to see the caution and guilt that weighed him down.

"Did you complete your task?" Grian had the most curious of eyes. Normally, they were jet black, like the void, except without the little speckles that lit Martyn's when he used his revenance. A true void. But now, they were purple. It wasn't quite Watcher purple. It almost felt more sinister. Then again, he could be extremely wrong. It wouldn't have been the first time the reflection of Grian's glasses had played tricks with his eyes.

"Yes, of course!" He gasped, placing a palm over him chest in mock offence. "I can't believe you would think that lowly of me."

Grian didn't acknowledge his attempt at a joke. "How many agreed?"

"Oh." Scar felt so stupid for the twinge of disappointment he felt. How stupid, to get attached to someone like Grian, cutthroat, killer Grian, who murdered him on their first ever day. "Oh, yeah. Six, including us."

"Names, fool," he ordered. Scar's stomach hurt. His heart hurt. He was so stupid.

"Uh, us, obviously, Lizzie, Martyn, Impulse, Etho," Scar listed, ticking them off on his fingers.

"Seven, now. The canary, as you call him, could be convinced. Regardless, seven is not good enough. We require at least nine for it to be even."

"I don't know who would say yes though! I don't even know what I'm convincing them to get into!"

"I do not care." I do not care about you. "Find more revenants."

He nodded, staring at the floor. "O-of course," he stuttered, stumbling over the syllables. His tongue felt limp in his mouth, dry as a desert. Like the desert they'd shared. He was really, really stupid. He mumbled some form of excuse and left before he did something dumb like crying. Not that Grian cared.

Scar trudged away from the circle of spawn, kicking his feet through the long grass. He could go recruit tomorrow. He just wanted to go back to his base and sleep. He hoped that his friends weren't too mad at him.

A new farm had appeared in the S Team's valley. It looked like wheat and potatoes. They really had to start an apple farm for the late game. He made a mental note to go see if they had oak saplings; they probably would, considering that Joel's cottage was surrounded by oak fence posts.

He dropped from the lip of the cliff overlooking their base into a pool of water they had set up, frowning at his now-soggy socks. Scar shuffled towards his house, closest to the west wall, cringing at the squelching of his shoes. Ugh.

Scott slammed open Joel's door, looking at Scar. He did not like the grim expression on his face.

"Good, you're here," he said, smoothing back his teal hair. "Quick, come in."

Scar sighed, dragging himself towards the cottage. Scott stood by the door, waiting for him to enter before closing the door behind them. Scar flinched at the click of the lock.

"They're down there already," Scott said. Scar didn't reply, instead hauling open one of the 'decorative' spruce trapdoors that lined the floor. He crawled underneath it, dropping into the cavern below. A second splash told him Scott had landed as well.

Inside the basement, Skizz and Joel sat around a heavy spruce table in a chamber, furnished with dark oak panelling and smooth stone. Scott dragged out a chair and sat next to Skizz, motioning for Scar to take his seat.

"Well, Scar, you've got some explaining to do."

So, the time had come. Maybe he could beg Grian for a room in his base. Or he could build a new one! It was no big deal. It wasn't like he had spent two days straight this week shoring up the paths between their houses and planting food.

"Hey, man, we're not going to kick you out," Skizz reassured. Scar sighed in relief, then went red. What sort of teammate assumes that he'll get kicked out? The kind of teammate who's working for the biggest bad on the server, his brain supplied. What had Grian done?

"Uh, what do you want to know?"

Skizz and Scott glanced at each other, but Joel answered immediately. "Why are you working for Grian? You know, you could just break the alliance. We would protect you."

Scar shook his head. "I can't. My… my Reaper said that if I didn't side with the Strayed then it would Void me." His voice trailed off, and he was afraid that someone would ask him to repeat it. The words tasted like acid on his tongue. But clearly, it was loud enough for them to hear. Scott gasped, clasping his hand over his mouth.

Skizz cocked his head. "What does that mean?"

Joel answered, eyes boring holes into the table. It sounded dead, emotionless, like he was reading a paragraph out of a dusty textbook. "He'll lose all of his senses. It's like a sort of Limbo. It's highly unusual; Reapers usually won't interfere with their revenants. He would go mad. Evidence… past cases suggests its permanent."

Scar's hands shook. "It's… not a viable possibility, for me or for Martyn. And… no one's even told me what he's done! What has Grian done?"

"Did you not see what he did to Martyn at spawn?" Skizz exclaimed, incredulous. "That's not right, buddy."

"But— but that's just how Grian is," he protested. "You know, blaming him for being a Watcher is out of taste, and he needs friends!"

Scott looked so incredibly sad. "Scar, you don't have to defend him. It's okay to say you didn't want this."

Why didn't they get it? Grian needed friends. He need allies. He needed power. He needed Scar. That dark little voice cackled but you need him more. He brushed it away like a stray cobweb. "He needs more revenants. Scott, Joel, please?"

"No," Joel said immediately. "He messed up Lizzie. You messed up Lizzie!"

"What do you mean? What? I haven't done anything to Lizzie!"

A light mist hung in the air, a sign of Joel's growing agitation. "You put that skulk on her!" He jabbed a finger towards Scar, the Joel's hair growing wetter as the water gathered around his head.

"I didn't!" He protested. What had he done? Revenance with skulk was rare, but it couldn't have been him. Right?

"Stand down, Joel." Scott said. Joel bristled. "He genuinely doesn't know. Look, if you don't trust him, we can get Gem to verify. But we can't afford to not trust him. He's our team. You should know better."

The water evaporated, but humidity clung to the basement and Joel's anger shone like a second skin. Scar coughed into the crook of his elbow, trying to fill the tense silence.

"Can-" Scar cringed at how much he sounded like a kicked puppy. He cleared his throat. "Can someone tell me what I did?"

"You seriously don't remember?" Scott asked.

"Just lay off, Scott," Skizz said, throwing his hands up. It was exasperated, but lacked any of the usual affection. "It's okay, Scar, I didn't remember either. Scott explained to me when we took Lizzie in after she got here. I have to say, you did do a number on her. Um, her cheek was pretty badly bruised. It… almost looked like a handprint. And that's not even mentioning how Cleo lost her hand, but that's not your fault-"

"Cleo lost their hand?" If he had done that, and didn't even remember doing it, Scar would never forgiven himself. He would probably lay down at their feet and beg to be killed for penance or something along that line that further cemented his reputation as hopelessly devoted.

"Yeah, but Grian did it," Scott answered. "It's not your fault. But if you ever-"

"I can't leave, Scott. He needs me." I need him more.

Scott nodded, resigned. "Look, I won't stop you from making your choices, and we won't kick you out. We won't go with you, though."

"This is the best deal you're going to get," Joel warned. Scar nodded.

"Thanks for… explaining, I guess. And not kicking me out."

Skizz vaulted over the table, knocking over a flowerpot, and wrapped Scar in a warm, feathery hug. "Aw, Scar, we would never kick you out, buddy!"

Scott nodded in agreement, elbowing Joel to join in as discreetly as he could.

Joel coughed. "Right. Sorry I got angry, lad. It wasn't cool."

Scar rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks." The basement descended into awkward silence. After a beat, Skizz announced he would go upstairs to go find Impulse. Scott followed, wanting to make some cake, leaving Joel and Scar under the cottage.

"What actually happened with Lizzie? They said that she was beaten up, but I don't think I did that."

"You didn't." Joel affirmed. "But you knocked her out with your skulk. And, I'm pretty sure you did the same to Xisuma. It's blurry for me, so I think you should ask Lizzie yourself." Scar, thinking that was the end of it, turned towards the bubble elevator out. Joel called after him.

"Wait, Scar, could you do something for me?"

"Oh yeah, sure. What's up?"

"It's just, my revenance has been feeling a bit weaker. Like I can pull less molecules apart at a time. And… it's draining. It takes so much more energy. I used to be able to make a wave in two seconds. Now I can barely make a splash." Joel wrung his hands. Now that he mentioned it, he did look a little pale. "Look, I would ask someone else because I know that using your powers after finding out about… this is rough, but Skizz is just an angel and Scott can't really shift without Pearl, so…" He trailed off.

"It's fine." Scar said merrily, even though the thought of using his powers after he had hurt with them made him want to rip his hair out. "Um, are you cool if I use it on you? Or, we could get a mob or something." Scar offered.

"No, do it on me."

Scar breathed out an okay and rolled his sleeves up, gently placing his hands on Joel's forearms. He reached inside him, into that echo chamber in his heart, trailing his fingers along the well. He fished up his power, letting it course through him. He strained, focusing, bringing it to channel through his fingers.

Painstakingly, skulk veins spread from his hands. The lanterns swung more than they would in the wind, swimming through the air. He felt lightheaded, like he was floating.

"Wh- Joel," he gasped. "Let me- go."

Joel cursed as Scar swayed, his knees trembling. He grabbed elbows, lowering him to the ground.

"Come on, don't pass out on me." Joel whispered, his gruff voice laced with panic. Fear flashed through Scar as he shoved his friend away, his momentum pushing him in the opposite direction to fall flat on his ass. He curled into a ball, cowering in a corner.

"Please don't kill me." He couldn't tell if that was sweat from trying to use his power or tears on his lips. Maybe it was both. Joel held his hands up in surrender, showing his palms were empty. Or was it Joel? His vision was dimming, shadows creeping in the corners. Was this what X had felt like, skulk spreading up his neck?

It didn't matter if the figure didn't have a weapon. Fire flowed from Lizzie's fingers. Pearl and Scott could tear him apart. Etho could disappear. Joel could drown him on dry land with a thought. To be honest, Skizz could probably beat him to death if he tried hard enough. The Life series was dangerous. Scar took risks that he shouldn't, and paid the price often enough. And now, there was a figure looming over him in the swirling lantern light, he was going to die. Why couldn't he move?

"Scar. Scar. I'm not going to kill you. We're allies. Friends, remember?" Joel — it had to be Joel, no one else had that distinct emerald streak in their hair — slumped down on the wall next to him. He didn't comment when Scar moved just the tiniest bit away. "I know that things have been rough for you. My memory's spotty at best, but I remember Grian taking me with Etho and waking up here. I haven't asked Etho if he knows yet. He- I'm scared that he does. It… it got ugly." Joel wet his lips. "I can't imagine what it's like to wake up with nothing, to just assume that it's fine, and then your friend, your business partner, your whatever you and Grian are is the reason that everyone else is hurting. And now, this server is sucking away our magic. I don't know if it's related, but… I wouldn't put it past him."

Scar hummed in acknowledgement. "My Reaper didn't give me a choice. It just… told me pick the Strayed or die. Voiding is probably worse than dying, though." He let out a breathy laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "But it told me that working for the Strayed is the only way to keep our powers. So, if I don't then I lose everything. That's why I wanted you guys to work with him so bad. I want you all to be safe."

"I appreciate the sentiment mate, but… if Grian is really trying to get rid of our powers, then if we all side with him then there will be no one to fight. And I doubt that he'll just let it lie if that happens. There are going to be casualties either way, and allying with him will give you only a minor advantage. This is not the time to be divided, Scar. I know that there would be no danger if you just left, which we can't do, but… be safe, okay?" Joel's mouth was set in a thin line. It sounded horribly like a farewell.

Scar's paranoia had passed, but his weakness and nausea had not. He pondered why his powers had been so strained as he wobbled his way to the bubble elevator, letting the bubbles propel him up. Joel disappeared into the depths of his house without saying anything else.

He finally collapsed on his bed, examining his fingernails under the torchlight. The barest trace of skulk coated the tips of his fingers in navy webs. He hadn't even wanted to possess Joel. He'd simply wanted to spread the skulk. And the resistance… it wasn't like his body was disobeying. It was more like his revenance had nothing to give, like the well had gone dry.

Scar needed to find out what was causing this. Maybe he could visit some of his servermates and ask if they were also having trouble. Maybe he could deduce a common factor. But, he could do that tomorrow. His body screamed for rest, after the strain, and panic, and sadness of today. He would beat this. Scar would become powerful again, and he would never hurt his friends again.

[ogsoulless]

blinded golden - sworn inferno 9/?, 19.5k, ongoing. [FIRST] [PREV] [NEXT] [LAST] [ao3 upload]

Lizzie jerked back to her body, jaw audibly snapping shut as she swiped at the pink strands of hair in her eyes. She tried to calm her racing heart, kindling her hands and staring into the golden flames they made. Lizzie never escaped the childlike wonder that filled her every time she thought about the fact that she could make fire, even if now, she used her fire to kill. But then again, her power came from death. It made sense that she would return to it.

She heard someone clear their throat, and she whipped around, hands raised. Lizzie launched towards the noise, forearms engulfed in raging fire fuelled by her fear, as an instinctive need for survival made her body move without her realising. Hands grabbed her wrists, pinning them to her chest and away from their body.

"Woah, easy there," Jimmy exclaimed.

"What are you doing here?" She struggled, trying to free herself from the hold. "Tell Scar to let go." Her voice caught on the end of the sentence, turning more into a snarl than words.

"Not my fault that you attacked me!" Scar defended, but his grip loosened.

She snatched her hands away. "Well, what else are you meant to do when you come back from a disturbing vision and hear someone in your room, clearing their throat like a cheap B movie villain?"

Jimmy shrugged. "She's right, to be honest."

"Hey!" Scar poked him in the chest. "I thought we were friends." Jimmy hummed noncommittally, shrugging.

Scar huffed. "Well, Lizzie, I am sure that a wonderful person like yourself would be interested in hearing out the terms of my deal!"

"What deal?" She crossed her arms, sitting on the bed. "Does it pay well?"

"Well, you profit by keeping both of your lives."

"I didn't realise you came here to throw your weight around and offer cheap scams, Scar." She raised an eyebrow. "I'd hate for you to find out what happens to scammers."

She took out her axe, resting it across her lap, the diamond blade sparkled in the lantern light. It was new, a gift from Skizz after he had found three veins and didn't know what to do with his surplus of diamonds. She had been walking by, on her way to the river for fish, when the angel called out and placed five diamonds in her hands. Strange. He was a strange man, but then again, generosity is a virtue. Scar swallowed, tracking the movement with his eyes.

"Why on earth would you ever say that?" He adjusted his waistcoat. It reminded her of a strutting peacock. "I just want to talk about the amazing deal that your Reaper would have offered you."

She narrowed her eyes. "Why do you know what my Reaper has told me? Destruction doesn't like the Reaper of Void."

"That's true! But some things surpass even the most… strained of relationships, like a new business partner in the trade."

Realisation dawned on her like an unwelcome guest. Her hands lit with blue flames, and she blew out an agitated breath to put them out. Lizzie didn't want to burn Jimmy, or his house. And Scar… even though he deserved it, he would be more useful alive. As well as that, well, a soft part of her also didn't want to kill him, especially not unprovoked and this early in the game. But, even if she couldn't follow through, she didn't have the luxury of appearing soft. That was why she'd brought her axe out: to make an example, to prove she was a threat and a real contender.

As the death games went on, it was clear there were certain skills one needed to stay alive. But of course, not everyone had the same skills they excelled in. That would make all of the games the same, and they couldn't want that. The main three were trapping, combat and social. Trapping was useful if you couldn't get combat kills that easily. Combat was flashy, what made Joel, Martyn and Pearl the public problems. But social was what kept you alive longer than blowing shit up and stabbing all your problems. Alone, you didn't have resources or manpower or backup. Joel was an example of that. No one doubted that he could win based on PvP alone, but his wolves couldn't compensate for his lack of team, in the end.

It was established that Lizzie was not that much of a problem. Sure, she made friends easily enough and she was passable at traps, but her stupidity often got her killed early.

But they had powers this season. Lizzie could have a chance, assuming she survived whatever was happening with the Reapers.

She swallowed, her mouth going dry. She was always a little dehydrated at the best of times — the heat of her blood often meant that water evaporated before it went everywhere it needed to, so Lizzie needed to drink more than usual — but Scar's words unnerved her.

"This new… business partner. Do you mean," she paused. It was childish to think that saying it could summon it, but names had power. Reapers were enigmas, and it would be foolish to be confident that there was something they couldn't do. "Do you mean the Reaper of the Strayed?"

"So you've heard about it already! That saves me from so much work," sighed Scar.

"It absolutely does not," Lizzie interrupted, jabbing a finger in his face. It sparked and landed on his nose. Scar winced, moving her hand aside.

"Ow! You can't do that to a businessman!"

Lizzie shrugged. She hadn't meant to burn him, but she didn't exactly have much control over when fire bubbled to the surface. "Sorry, I- look, Scar, I just want to know what's happening. What does it want? Why do I have to make a choice?"

Scar, for all of his relentless joy and eagerness to bargain, looked so tired. His eyebags were the colour of bruised plum, and his mouth twisted downwards. Skulk speckled along his forearms. Lizzie ran her hand over the handle of her axe, the smooth wood sliding beneath the calluses on her palm. She wished that she could take it up and feel its comforting heft in her hands. But she needed answers, and Scar had those, so she couldn't scare him away just yet.

He nodded, and suddenly the cheerful dealmaker returned. "Well, you had to choose between allegiance with the Reaper of the Strayed, and well, no allegiance with the Reaper of the Strayed. And I take it you chose the Strayed."

"I didn't really choose anything. My Reaper didn't give me much room for argument."

"Well, the outcome is the same."

"What does it want, then?" Lizzie asked, bringing up her first question.

"I don't know, Reapers won't tell me anymore than they tell you." Scar smoothed a hand over his hair as skulk veins wound further down his arm.

"I get the distinct feeling you're lying, Scar." Scar would know things. He helped Grian to bring her here. He stood by as Grian slapped her. He ambushed her and knocked her out. Lizzie couldn't afford to let her guard down.

"Okay, you caught me," Scar said, holding his hands up in surrender. "But I'm not meant to tell people outside of the alliance."

"What do you mean? You just said that I made my choice."

"I wasn't talking about you."

Lizzie and Scar swung their heads around to Jimmy. The avian snapped to attention, wings fluttering. "I… I'm not a revenant, though." A daffodil coloured feather floated to the floor.

"No," Scar agreed. "But you can talk to them. And we can't afford that kind of liability. How about, you just wait outside, and we can all stay friends?"

Lizzie didn't want to lose Jimmy. Her only ally, who had somehow convinced Martyn to look after her while she was asleep. She didn't want him hurt, but she had to admit it was safer to have two in a fight rather than one.

"He stays." Scar frowned at her demand, opening his mouth to object, but she continued before he could get the chance. "He stays in the room. You can swear him to secrecy or whatever, but Jimmy is going to stand here and hold you to what you tell us. Otherwise the deal is off, and I ignore my Reaper and you lose me as a part of the squad."

Scar straightened his waistcoat again and sighed. She realised that it had an S in deep green — the colour of his eyes — embroidered over his heart. He obviously wasn't happy with these terms; it put him at a disadvantage, both with using the information as leverage and if it came to a fight, he had higher chances of losing. Lizzie was afraid that he didn't need her, though. She had no real intentions of fighting for the Strayed, unless her Reaper put her in a real tough spot, but Scar didn't know that. He needed to buy her bluff. She needed answers.

"Fine." He conceded.

Jimmy settled on the bed next to her. An innate feeling of home settled between her ribs. Glimpses of open ocean and fish flashed behind her eyes.

Scar pointed at the both of them. "You tell anyone any of this without me telling you to, you won't like the way that ends, okay?" They both nodded.

"Grian told me that the Reaper plans to change how revenance works. Something about the connection between revenant and Reaper? I don't know."

Lizzie narrowed her eyes. That was not what her Reaper had implied when she had spoken to it. It said that the Strayed saw them as a waste of abilities. She remained silent. If Scar was lying, it was either that he didn't want them to actually know, or Grian was keeping him in the dark.

She was more inclined to the second option. People are easier to manipulate when they don't realise that they are playing a large role in destroying their entire community. Lizzie didn't know what the consequences of removing their powers, but she doubted it was good. Their lives depended on their powers through the connection between their rebirth and revenance.

"If it's just changing the nature of revenance, why does it have to be secret? I'm sure they would be interested," Jimmy pointed out.

"They might not be that accepting, Jim." Scar tapped on his knee, a rhythm only he could hear. "It's easier this way."

"What do we have to do?" Lizzie asked.

"Nothing at the moment. I just need to go around asking everyone, then I'm sure Grian will update us."

"Okay, this might be a weird question, but how does Grian talk to the other Reaper? I thought you could only have one Reaper," Jimmy said.

"Oh!" Scar began confidently, like the answer was obvious, before trailing off. "I actually haven't really thought about that. Maybe I'll ask him."

"Fabulous!" Lizzie announced, tucking away her axe and standing up. "If that's everything, then you best get started on everyone else. It's a big server, you know."

"Oh, you betcha," laughed Scar, seeming oblivious to how she shepherded him out the door. They waved merrily from Jimmy's porch, a breeze ruffling their hair. As soon as Scar disappeared from sight, her smile dropped and she turned on Jimmy.

"Scar was lying. I don't know if it was on purpose, or he genuinely doesn't know, but that is definitely not what's happening and I'm more inclined to believe my Reaper over him."

Jimmy nodded. "Let's go inside," he said. He checked over his shoulder twice before shutting the door.

"Right then! What did your Reaper tell you?" He asked.

Lizzie hesitated. She shouldn't have — she could tell Jimmy anything, and she trusted him enough to not spill anything important straight away. A voice asked if he would even get it. She silenced it immediately, shame bubbling up within her. Even if Jimmy wasn't a revenant, he worked hard to understand them, and treating him like he was lesser was unfair.

"It said that… the Reaper of the Strayed believed that we weren't worthy of the Reaper's powers, and that we're a waste of them. Which is literally not true! One of the first things my Reaper said after I was reaped was that they needed revenants, because otherwise they overflow with power and sort of… self destruct."

"What does a Reaper dying look like?" Jimmy asked quietly. He peered out a window, looking out to the night sky beyond. Dusk trailed its hazy fingers over the mountains in the distance. Lizzie thought she saw a tower burning in the distance. Smoke turned the moon an ominous red.

"I've heard it looks like a supernova."

He opened his mouth, then closed it, exhaling through his nose. She guessed that he was going to ask what a revenant dying looked like. Lizzie had wondered that too, once, but forced herself to stop considering that as a possibility. Revenants couldn't die to old age, but they could die to everything else that their abilities couldn't prevent. Fire obviously did nothing, and things like poison had a lower chance of killing Lizzie, because her immune system would burn it before it hurt her, but if there was enough then… well, everything had its limits.

"Anyway, my Reaper says that the Strayed is right, that they won't die if they get rid of their revenants. But it bargained to keep me alive if I joined the Strayed, so maybe it isn't sure. I think the Strayed is going to try… take the powers back, or something. Or… eliminate them." Lizzie didn't want to think about the possibility of Grian going on a murder spree in a Reaper's name.

"So… what are we going to do?"

"I'm going to fight for the Strayed."

"What?" Jimmy gasped. "You can't! You just said that it might go out and kill a bunch of revenants! A bunch of our friends!"

"I'm not going to actually kill anyone." She rolled her eyes. "I'll just… go with them, act like I'm all in, and then tell people what's going on. And hopefully, get them out."

"But how will we leave? The only way out is death, and that's too risky." Jimmy pushed off the wall, wearing into the floorboards.

"I don't know, there has to be something. Grian is smart, but he can't catch everything. Annoying that the one guy who has the best knowledge of this place might be an evil Reaper fanatic, huh," Lizzie said drily.

"Yeah," Jimmy agreed. He stared into the middle distance dramatically. Lizzie snorted. "Hey! What are you laughing at!"

"You're brooding," she cackled, dancing over and poking him in the chest.

Jimmy barked a laugh. "Am not!"

"Are too!" She crowed. "My little Jimmy is brooding, he's glowering, my!"

"That's it! None of that! I'll have none of that!" Jimmy yelled, launching himself at Lizzie, arms reached out. She shrieked, sliding around a crafting bench, putting it between them. They continued chasing each other around the work stations. Tears pricked at Lizzie's eye as her cheeks ached from her grin.

The doorknob rattled as someone shook it. They froze in their tracks, slipping into fighting stances almost instantly. Lizzie lit a hand with vibrant blue flames, the kind that would sear flesh off bones, as she inched towards the door. The person outside gave up on the knob being unlocked, and settled for knocking on the door so hard it rattled. She saw Jimmy pull out a diamond sword, gleaming with enchantments, from the corner of her eye. Lizzie motioned with her head towards the door, and they crept towards it together.

She held up her unlit hand, counting down with her fingers from three. After one, she unlocked the bolt and swung open the door in a smooth movement. Her other hand lit, twin fires extending towards the intruder. Jimmy stepped out behind her, sword poised to swing.

Grian stood on Jimmy's dusty, ramshackle porch, framed by wings and midnight sky. His glasses reflected Lizzie's fire as his cheeks turned red, blood brought forward by the heat. Jimmy relaxed, chuckling.

"G! What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to make a deal," he said.

Jimmy moved aside, motioning Grian to come inside. "Of course, of course."

Lizzie moved to block the entrance, hands still raised. Jimmy still thought Grian was harmless. She wasn't going to let her guard down that easy. She wondered if the burn she left was still there.

"What are you doing?" Jimmy hissed at her, smiling awkwardly at Grian. "Move!"

She shook her head. "He can say it from out there." Lizzie shooed at Grian, forcing him to step back.

The shorter avian shrugged. "That is fine. I heard that you already agreed to align with the Strayed," he said, glancing over at her. His focus settled on Jimmy. "I know that you are not reaped. I know that you wish to be. I could… facilitate that."

Jimmy shook his head. Lizzie sighed, relieved. Good. It was too easy, and some Reaper wasn't just going to pick him. It didn't work like that.

"I realise it seems… too simple. But the Strayed, you see, has no chosen. You are a blank canvas. You could be the first," Grian offered, arms spreading wide.

Lizzie waited for Jimmy's immediate refusal. But to her horror, he waited. His hesitation was sign of the deal working. She couldn't afford that. Sure, Grian could be completely normal, and nothing was happening and she was just paranoid, but you didn't get it far in the games without trusting your gut. Lizzie wasn't sure about Grian, so he was a threat until proven otherwise. She took another step forward, her flames heightening.

"I think we've heard enough. Get out." She made her face impassive. God, Jimmy was going to hate her for this. But the distinct possibility of no allies, no team, a failure on the social side had to be worth it. Jimmy couldn't become a revenant. Not like this. He would have to die, and Lizzie got the feeling that this Strayed wouldn't make it easy.

Grian left easily enough, but Jimmy cried out, calling after him. "Wait! Come back!" When he didn't turn around, he rounded on Lizzie. Anger burned in his brown eyes, flames dangerous enough to rival her own. "Why'd you do that? Honestly, I don't know what your problem is! What's your problem? Go on, say it! Is it because he's a Watcher? Because he made this place? God, I thought we were past that! I thought you were friends!"

"We were- are! We are! But I can't trust him right now, not until he proves he can be trusted."

"He's done nothing, Lizzie."

"That's not true. He slapped me. He knocked me out. He brought me here."

"God, I can't believe you still think that." Jimmy ran a hand through his sandy hair. "We came here by choice. You could've said no. You clearly didn't. You can't just peg this on him because you regret it!"

"I was kidnapped, Jimmy. You just don't remember."

"Yeah, and you don't remember how to be a decent fucking person. Oh wait, are you even a person? Or are you just another dead person walking?"

Something feral bubbled up inside her, baring its horrible teeth. "I'm alive the same way you are!" She snapped. Her gut twisted. Was she though? She was killed in a forest fire, one of revenge that should've made sure she never came back. Cleo succeeded. Lizzie had died. But she bottled up the flames of the Fairy Fort in her blood. Of course, Lizzie had forgiven Cleo. But, she had come back different. Maybe she shouldn't have survived that day.

"Yeah, your heart keeps magic in it and pumps fire around. Seems pretty normal to me, Lizzie." God, he was relentless.

Tears pricked at her eyes. "I just- why do you want to be a revenant so bad? It's not worth it."

His face twisted into something ugly. "Jeez. Why do I want it so bad? Why do I want a level playing field? Why do I want to be powerful? Why do I want it to be fair? Great question, Lizzie. How about you go screw yourself and your goddamn Reaper." With that, he swept out the door and slammed it behind him. He stomped away, probably after Grian.

Her mouth hung open before she caught herself and snapped her jaw shut so quickly it felt like her teeth rattled. Weariness settled in her bones, weighing them down like lead. Her knees gave out suddenly, like the ocean had swept them away. She settled on the dusty porch, curling into a tight ball, and finally cried.

[ogsoulless]

blinded golden - chosen radiant 7/?, 14.6k, ongoing. [FIRST] [PREV] [NEXT] [LAST] [ao3 upload]

"Hello, Life members." Grian's voice boomed and echoed through the open field of Spawn. "As you know, we are here to discuss the death game that is your temporary home." Joel frowned. Grian was so stiff, and it was like he was projecting his voice, but not like how BigB did— BigB's voice shimmered and drew you in through soft promises and perfect lies; Grian's forced you to look at him and pay attention. And, the fact that he brought up the fact that the games weren't forever was very unlike him.

No one on the series acknowledged that they would go home one way or another while it was in play. And even then, once they returned to Hermitcraft or wherever, they always discussed it like it was a holiday or something rather than what it really was: an arena where the only way out is death. Of course, it wasn't permanent; revenance served as evidence of that. But it still hurt, the murder and betrayal and starvation and mind games. And it was still them, the murderers and betrayers and victims and torturers. It was a hard thing to think about. Joel didn't consider himself a bad person, but he'd also never won.

Winning was different. It was different to have fought and slaughtered your way to the top. He knew that Scar still woke up screaming from across the mountain, and that Pearl referred to herself in Double Life exclusively as Scarlet Pearl, 5am Pearl or simply her, and that Lizzie spent two weeks camping in Scott's house to make sure he was eating. Winning left a horrible toll, but they all needed it so bad. It was the only way he could sate that vicious thing inside of him and ignore it. A dark voice inside him whispered it was the only for him to be himself.

"I have left out a usually crucial detail: the twist, the curve-ball, the turn of events." Grian continued, his face blank, eyes purple, shoulders back, wings tucked. "And you have all been… remarkably tame without it. But that will change." Joel shifted on his feet, clothes rustling around the circle. He spied Gem laying a hand on the hilt of her diamond sword and Martyn leaning over and mumbling something to Impulse. Someone's hands across the circle glinted with the glass of potion bottles being brought out and tucked away. Etho shuffled to his left, the silent tension even getting to the usually stoic man.

"This series is called Final Life. You will have two lives and no way of gaining them back once lost." Grian said. Joel wondered how those who started with two lives in Last Life were feeling. He wondered if the flashing numbers were flicking through their minds, because they were for him and he had gotten five. "The thing that sets this season apart is you will have free use of your revenance within the arena. Reapers can be accessed. There is no barrier between you and your full, albeit limited, potential as a revenant."

It felt like the entire server had taken in a breath everyone was afraid to let out.

"What?" Ren breathed, and that unspoken vigil of silence was broken. The server grew louder at horrible rate, the beginnings of a migraine throbbing in his temple to the time of his heart and the pounding in his ears.

"This can't be real!" Protested Martyn, horror clawing at his throat and turning it scratchy. "You can't make me do that. You can't make me hear them. I can't— I can't listen. Not like this."

Scar looked like he was about to collapse. As Scott tapped him on the shoulder, trying to check in, he flinched backwards and almost fell off the pedestal, teetering on the edge before regaining his balance.

"I can, in fact, make you do that, Martyn Littlewood." Grian smirked, all teeth, stretched like it didn't fit on his face. The avian flicked his hand and Martyn froze, his gaze locked to Grian's. Joel didn't know if it was because he was afraid to look away or he literally couldn't. Joel didn't want to think about the second reason.

"Hey!" Bdubs yelled from his pedestal, causing Grian's gaze to snap to his. Martyn crumpled to the ground, tucking into a ball and clamping his hands over his ears. Impulse crouched down, murmuring to him.

"Listen, bird guy, that's not cool! Besides, how do we even know that you're telling the truth? What if this is a trick? Are you trying to take away our powers or something if we use them?" Bdubs said.

Grian went very, very still. His mouth twisted, eyes narrowing. "Did you know about the twist, Bdubs?"

Bdubs held his hands up in surrender."No! I just want to know if it's legit. You can't blame me for being suspicious when the gimmick has been introduced this late, and you just took out Martyn. You don't look too great right now, G."

"I can prove it. Lizzie used her revenance earlier, yesterday."

"P-pardon?" She smoothed her hands over her dress. "I don't know what you mean."

"I think you know exactly what I mean. I don't appreciate lies, Elizabeth."

Grian's constant use of full names was getting concerning. He sounded so detached. He hadn't even treated them with this much professionalism in his time at the Permit Office. What the hell?

Lizzie gulped. "I, uh, woke up and was quite hungry. So I found some raw salmon, but didn't have a furnace. I cooked it. With my hands. With my powers, yeah." Her shoulders curled in on themselves like she had just admitted to treason and was expecting to be called to the execution block already.

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Jimmy. His brows furrowed, scowling.

"I don't know? I don't—" Lizzie smoothed over the pleats of her skirt again. "I had bigger issues, okay? Like the skulk."

"Skulk?" Tango's hair flickered, giving away his agitation despite his stony facade. "There's no deep dark on this map."

"No, there isn't," Joel said. Cold realisation set in his veins. His hair went damp as mist flurried around him, condensation dripping down his face. "But Scar is on this map."

The circle went silent, the calm before the storm.

"Do not say that about my buddy!" Skizz yelled.

"It's true, though. Scar has skulk powers. There's nothing inherently bad about that statement," Etho said.

"Yeah, but you're making it out like— like he's a problem, like he's a threat!"

"Come on, Skizz. We're all threats here," Gem said. "You should know better than that."

"She's right." Scar's murmur cut through the raucous noise of the argument. They turned towards him. "I am a threat. I'm a victor, and I had to be confined after Double Life ended. But isn't the point of these games to get it all out? We have a right to be dangerous."

"Yeah, that's true. But Grian," Jimmy said. "What about us non-revs?"

Oh. While there were a lot less non revenants compared to revenants, there were still there and valid parts of the group. It had never mattered, with their powers suppressed and the gimmick being something they all shared. Except for now. Why were they even here? This was unfair to them. Joel felt unfair, for the way he was, even though he didn't choose it.

"Non-revenants receive an extra life. Imagine it is simply Third Life again."

"That's not enough!" Jimmy scowled. "They have magic and we don't. You're setting us up to get out first."

"And would that be so bad? An early release, freedom at last. Perhaps the pain of this world is not meant for you. The fact you maintain your mortality despite all of your numerous deaths says that enough. Besides, you get to keep your wings."

"Whatever, Grian." Jimmy burned with a sort of dark anger, but looked like a little boy sulking. It was no secret that Jimmy had wanted to be reborn. The emotional significance of the death often played a large part in reaping. Jimmy had been the canary four times, back to back. And yet, he was never chosen. It didn't matter too much outside, but in the death games, where bitterness was amplified tenfold, jealousy made its mark whenever someone mentioned it. Joel got the feeling Jimmy would not last this game.

"You have heard the rules. May you never step foot in the arena again after this. We begin." Grian folded his arms, spreading his wings and letting the wind lift him away.

☆

Lizzie sat shivering on the floor in the dim light of Jimmy's spare bedroom. It wasn't cold; she couldn't get cold anymore. But the memory of Grian's words at spawn today sent chills up her spine. How had he known? She hadn't told anyone about cooking the salmon.

And yet, it felt like his peculiar violet eyes had looked through her. She had never experienced Grian in his true Watcher form, but this didn't feel like that. Then again, there was only so much she could theorise about. What she did know is that soon, the grace period would end and the games would really begin.

A buzzing took up residence in the base of her spine, her shoulders twitching subconsciously. So, her Reaper wanted to talk.

"Lizzie!" Jimmy called from the other end of the house. "Scar wants to talk!

She tried to respond wait, but what came out instead was a cut off "W—". Her eyes burned, Jimmy's bedroom covered in spots of white. She pressed the heel of her palms into her eyes, trying to block out the blinding static, but instead of being surrounded in blissful dark, Lizzie's mind only registered pure, painful flashes of light.

"Wait, wait," she said, opening her eyes to her blumming Reaper. "What—"

It cocked its head, if you could even call it that. The Reaper of Destruction was a menacing creature of metallic blades and sharp angles, shining outwards in brilliant rays of light without a source to reflect from. It was also annoyingly punctual.

Destruction didn't place much importance on the mortal time, even less so than other Reaper's, resulting in her never being able to tell when it would summon her after sending its signal. Another thing that set it apart from the other Reapers was how it perceived itself. Most will order their revenants around, viewing themselves as interdimensional deities. But her Reaper was a tool, a bullet, a blade, it once told her.

WHAT COULD YOU BE WAITING FOR, REVENANT?

"Don't worry about it," she answered. "You're surprisingly on time. What do you want?"

THE TIME HAS COME FOR YOUR CHOICE, REVENANT. THERE COMES A NEW REAPER, YOUNG AND FULL OF POWER. IT IS FAR FROM WHAT WE KNEW. BUT, IT SEES YOUR KIND AS A BLIGHT, A WASTE OF OUR ABILITIES.

Lizzie's stomach dropped. "But… without us, without a vessel to put your energy into, won't you guys self destruct from the overflow?"

PERHAPS. BUT I CANNOT BE SO CERTAIN.

"What do you mean 'you can't be certain'? That's one of the first things you told me!" Lizzie huffed.

OUR WORLD HAS CHANGED, AS HAS YOURS. THE TIME MAY HAVE COME FOR THE HIERARCHY TO BE OVERTHROWN.

"You're just saying that because you hate Joel's Reaper's guts."

THE REVENANT OF THE PULL IS RASH, IMPATIENT. IT KNOWS NOT WHEN TO WAIT. CEASE INTERROGATING ME. THIS NEW REAPER HAS PROMISED US THE SAFETY OF OUR CHOSEN IF WE STAND BEHIND IT. YOU MUST DO THIS.

"Well, that's not much of a choice now, is it? I have to fight behind that Reaper? And you won't even tell me its name. I know nothing about it, and you just want me to sit down like a good dog?"

YOUR WATCHER STANDS WITH IT, THOUGH NOT QUITE BY WILL. THOSE WITHIN YOUR ARENA MAY NOT STAND AGAINST IT. YOU MUST STAND BY THE YOUNG REAPER DESPITE IT.

"Why, though? Can't I be neutral?"

NEUTRALITY DOES NOT EXIST IN WAR. THIS REAPER WILL NOT STAND BY AND WAIT FOR TREASON. IT IS VICIOUS. IT IS DIFFERENT.

"Just spit it out already. I'm sick of 'the young Reaper' this, 'new Reaper' that. It must have a name, right? All of you do."

STRAYED. Her Reaper towered over her and Lizzie felt impossibly cold, even in her Reaper's realm where the concept of temperature didn't even exist. THE REAPER OF THE STRAYED.

[ogsoulless]

blinded golden - dawn whispers 6/?, 12.5k, ongoing. [FIRST] [PREV] [NEXT] [LAST] [ao3 upload]

Someone violently shook Lizzie awake.

"Goddamn it, I should just leave, what am I doing-" they hissed above her. They continued complaining under their breath as she cracked open her eyes, brushing strands of hair out of her face.

"Ugh, finally," groaned Martyn. "Look, Grian's having a big server meeting tomorrow at noon and I had to look after you until you were up." He huffed. "Whatever. I'll go get Jimmy." He moved to leave, turning the doorknob.

"Wait- uh, Martyn!" Lizzie called, eyebrows furrowing as she looked around. Martyn stopped and turned back to face her, raising an eyebrow. "What's going on? Where am I?" She asked. Lizzie winced as her voice scratched at her throat. She'd kill for a bottle of water right now. He rolled his eyes, already moving back to the door.

"Jimmy can explain, mate. You're not my problem anymore." Martyn sailed of the room, ignoring her protests. Lizzie sighed as the door clicked shut behind him, rubbing her eyes.

"Impossible, really," she complained to the still air around her. The room was small and basic, cobblestone walls, a birch plank floor and a trapdoor window. Dark spots swam across her eyes as she stood from her cot. She blindly put out her hands and steadied herself on a stack of barrels by the bed. Her hunger made itself known, stomach growling like the wolf that had bitten Jimmy's thigh after he accidentally punched it. Lizzie began rifling through chests, fishing out two pieces of raw salmon and a hunk of stale bread.

Clenching the fish in her fist, she concentrated on the sensation of bubbling heat within her skin. Straining, sweat dripped down her forehead and a single flickering flame lit on her index finger, before spreading down her hand and leeching into the fish. She clenched tighter, pressure building between her eyes as the salmon's flesh crackled and popped. Lizzie let go and gasped, wiping a grimy sleeve across her forehead and scarfing down the cooked fish, absentmindedly pushing the bones into a corner.

She collapsed on the bed, weariness seeping into her bones. She wanted to sleep for approximately seventy years. That was much harder than it should've been — Lizzie could cook a cow alive in two seconds with a wave of her hand. But searing that fish had been agonising. Curious. Lizzie ripped into the loaf of bread with her teeth as the door slammed against the wall.

She made a quiet oomph as Jimmy launched himself at her, landing squarely on her stomach and getting yellow feathers everywhere.

"Lizzie!" Jimmy cried, looking up at her with teary eyes. "Gosh, you're awake! I was so worried," he exclaimed, wrapping her in a tight hug of sharp ribs digging into her side and itchy feathers in her face. He sobbed as she patted his back in what she hoped was a soothing manner.

"Jimmy. I uh- what is going on?"

"Oh! Right," he sat up and scrubbed a hand across his eyes. "How much do you remember?"

"Not much. Uh, Scott talked to me? Oh! And Skizz." She took another bite of her bread. "Before that… I was at my house. Is Joel here?"

Jimmy nodded, settling on the bed next to her. She broke part of the bread off and passed it to him.

"Xisuma showed up. He wanted to talk to me, I think? And Scar… Scar knocked him out. Scar knocked me out," she recalled.

Jimmy tapped her cheek lightly with a soft finger. "I was wondering what this was from." Lizzie winced as sharp pain rippled through her face, digging her nails into the meat of her palm to distract herself from the it.

She laid palm on her cheek. "No, Scar used his revenance. These are from Scar." Lizzie rolled up her sleeves to reveal the trails of skulk that wrapped around her arms. She began scraping it off with her nails. If this was another life series, then she couldn't let Scar have the edge of already being able to control her. But, if this was a life series, he shouldn't be able to use his revenance at all. How did she cook that fish? Lizzie winced as her nail dug into her arm, a small trickle of steaming blood oozing out.

"Hey." Jimmy pulled her hands away, covering up the cut with his own as she folded them in her lap. "We'll get a scrubbing brush or something for the skulk. It's useless here, Scar can't get you, okay?" Once she nodded, he took back his hands, blowing on the burnt fingertips. "Anyway, if the skulk is from Scar, then, um, who slapped you?"

Her yard, Xisuma, Scar, purple eyes. "Grian," she spat. "It's okay, though. I made him pay." Memories of bloodied blisters and peeling red skin bubbled to the forefront of her mind.

"What? Grian? Are you sure?" Jimmy asked, disbelief in his voice. "You know, Lizzie, there are these gangs who will, like, impersonate people to get closer to the victim-"

"No, Jimmy, it was Grian. I'm sure," she insisted.

"O-okay then. Uh, rest up for now, okay? I'll go see if I can find Joel and a strength potion or two. You need to be up and at 'em by tomorrow morning."

"I know, the announcement."

"Right. Great, uh, I'll crack on, then," Jimmy said, standing to leave. "Do you, um, want anything?" Lizzie shook her head. He mouthed okay, his voice seeming to strangle in his throat. Jimmy hurried out the door.

So Jimmy didn't believe her, meaning Grian was acting somewhat normal and those who were taken by him were ignoring it. Or, she was the only one he took for some reason. Lizzie continued scraping skulk off her arm, pausing to check on her communicator as it started buzzing repeatedly.

Pearlescentmoon whispers to you: lizzie look out the window

She moved to the trapdoor, lighting one hand and pushing open the window the other. Pearl waved up at her from the ground. Jimmy had based in a flower forest, and she could see towers — other bases — in the distance.

"Gimme a boost?" Pearl called, a hand shading her eyes from the glaring midday sun. A breeze swept Pearl's cape out behind her. Lizzie shook her hand, snuffing out the flame, before bracing as Pearl sprinted and jumped for the sill, hands finding purchase. Lizzie grabbed underneath her armpits and hauled her up. Pearl tumbled through the window, landing on the birch planks with a heavy oof.

"So. What brings you here, Pearl?"

"I wanted to chat about how you got here," she replied, perching on the windowsill.

Lizzie laughed. "You're just going to tell me that I'm wrong."

"Mmm, I don't know. Grian world hopped you, right? And you remember everything. But nobody believes you." Pearl smiled. Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Tell me about how he got you."

"They showed up at my house, and world hopped me," Lizzie said.

"They?"

"Grian, and Scar."

Pearl straightened. "Scar? He… he was the first to disappear, with Mumbo. Why would he help with this? He was involved with this from the start, though. It could make sense."

"He might not have chosen to do this. Scar wouldn't choose to hurt us," she pointed out. "He was so reluctant when he knocked out X."

"Xisuma was there?" Pearl exclaimed. "What- okay, let's go back to my base. Does anyone know you're here?"

"Uh, Jimmy, because it's his house-"

Pearl snorted. "No shit."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "And Martyn. Apparently he was babysitting me while I was out."

Pearl nodded. "That's fine. Let's go." She placed an ender pearl in Lizzie's palm and slid out the window sill. Lizzie followed her, landing in a crouch and launching herself into a sprint at Pearl's heels.

Pearl's base was a circle of four huts around a lava pool, each hut built with a different type of wood. Gem sat on a rock outside one of the shacks — cherry blossom, presumably hers — sharpening a diamond sword with rhythmic swipes of a whetstone.

"What's with the goat?" Lizzie asked, gesturing at the obsidian platform suspended above the pool of lava. The goat bleated, staring forlornly at her from its pen.

"Don't worry about Larry, he loves it up there," Pearl said, moving towards a squat house with dark oak walls.

Gem nodded as they passed her. "Cleo's in there. B's out, talking to Scar for negotiations or something. Careful though, they had a vision this morning and it doesn't sound good."

Lizzie gave a timid wave in farewell to Gem as Pearl strode onwards, opening the door to the hut next to Gem's. Cleo sat on the edge of her bed, running her right hand over her left arm. They shifted in the dim light from the windows and Lizzie saw the glaring absence of Cleo's left hand.

"Hi, Lizzie."

"She remembers, Cleo," Pearl leaned on the wall by the door. "Apparently, Scar was there with her. When she was taken."

Cleo hummed. "I figured she would remember. I doubt you would bring her here otherwise." Her gaze slid over to Lizzie. "Tell me what you know."

"I already did this!" Lizzie protested. Pearl glared in warning, mouthing just do it. "Ugh, okay. They showed up at my house, started arguing and telling me to go with them, I got slapped, Scar knocked X out, and then I wake up to Martyn bloody shaking me awake." She pointed at her cheek. "I can't believe Grian slapped me."

As she said Grian, Cleo froze in their rubbing motion and gripped her arm. If they were alive, their knuckles might have turned white.

"Did Gr– I mean, did he do that to you?" Lizzie asked in horror. In the Life Series, death was brutal but quick. There was joy in the hunt, but not torture. It was unnecessary — you didn't gain anything from drawing it out. Lizzie felt like she was suspended in a state of disbelief, waiting for Cleo's answer. They nodded.

"So you were the only one Xisuma found. Are you sure he's not dead?"

"Scar ordered him to sleep. I don't think Scar has it in him to kill him. This new Reaper though…" Cold spiked up Lizzie's fingers. "It might."

"What Reaper?" Pearl interrupted.

"Grian?" Lizzie said, confused. "I thought you knew. You are a revenant, right?"

"Yeah? I just… how do you know?"

"Grian had these rather strange purple eyes. And he sounded like a Reaper. Like, when he talks, it's like his voice is too loud for him." Lizzie cocked her head in confusion. "Have you not heard a Reaper talk? My Reaper's pretty chatty, to be fair."

Pearl stared at the floor, opening her mouth like she wanted to say something before Cleo cut in.

"Oh, maybe we shouldn't–"

"No, Cleo." Pearl took a deep, steadying breath. "I haven't actually met my Reaper. I got reaped at the end of Double Life. When Scott, uh, died. My understanding is that we were still connected so the revenance travelled through the soulmate bond, I guess. But because I technically wasn't the one that died, I won't ever meet my Reaper."

"Oh," breathed Lizzie. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't–" Guilt wormed its way between her ribs and choked her sternum with an unforgiving grip. Her Reaper, the Reaper of Destruction, bullet and blade and flame by her hand, was such a inherent part of her now that she couldn't imagine going back to before, before she was reaped, before that fateful day in the Fairy Fort. When Lizzie was reborn with a forest fire in her veins, the Reaper had bonded to her. And Pearl didn't have that.

"It's fine," dismissed Pearl. "I'm going to… farm the cows." She left, the door swinging behind her.

Lizzie turned to face Cleo. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know, I didn't–" Desperation turned her voice pathetic and whiny. She cringed at herself.

"She chose to share that. I'm not going to be mad about it when we have other things to focus on, like working out why Scar was with Grian. I reckon it's time we go have a chat with him."

☆

The S Team was nestled in a valley, recognisable for Joel's gorgeous cottage and everyone else's dirt huts. Morning sun beat down relentlessly on Cleo's shoulders. While getting sensation back in her skin after being reaped had its benefits, feeling like she was being cooked alive was not one of them. Sweat glistened on Skizz's neck as he hauled deepslate from a mine entrance to a large pile in the east end of the valley.

"Skizz!" Cleo called. He looked up, confused, scanning the top of the hills surrounding the valley before his eyes land on them. He waved, bouncing on the balls of his feet and taking off into the air. Skizz glided to meet them, playfully beating his wings and sending a gust of wind to hit her and Lizzie in the face.

"I didn't realise you didn't clip your wings this time. Did you forget? I'm sure Jimmy has something somewhere," Cleo offered.

"No, Clebert, I'm good. G told us we could have wings out this game! Man, I'm so excited to see what the gimmick is. The mystery really builds up the suspense. I'm hyped!" He sighed. "Good to see you up and at 'em, Miss Shadowlady. How ya feeling? You looked pretty poorly when I last saw you."

Cleo pinned Lizzie with an accusatory stare. "You didn't tell me that Skizz found you."

"Well, I didn't know Skizz found me!" She shot back.

They sighed, stepping up to the angel who was watching, bewildered, and jabbed a finger in his face. "You better spill everything you know right now, or else." She rested a green hand on the hilt of her sword, showing that else would mean for him. Namely, death by her blade.

Skizz made an audible gulp. A cold satisfaction settled in Cleo's veins. One of her favourite things about the death games was how much she could throw her weight around, how much she could keep pushing until something snapped. One of the worst things about the death games was how quickly that side of her surfaced. On Hermitcraft, she made figurines and laughed with her friends. On the Life Series, she was death reincarnate a hundred times over.

"Uh, look, maybe if I could just speak to Scar real quick-"

"No. No talking to your team. You can tell us what you saw, or I can kill you."

"Okay!" Skizz yelped, hands flying up in surrender. "No Scar? That's cool. But, surely at least Scott, I mean, the guy wouldn't hurt a fly—"

"Scott's a winner," Lizzie pointed out. "So is Scar. And Joel has been a good contender almost every time. Why do you want to talk to them?"

Skizz sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Man, if I knew I was going to be threatened today I wouldn't have left the mines." Cleo glared at him. He's stalling, she thought. Buying time.

"Uh, I wasn't meant to tell anyone this but, Lizzie, when we found you, Scott was there with me. Etho was hiding us." Cleo fought the urge to scream in frustration. More people finding Lizzie meant more people knowing, which meant more loose threads that could tell Grian something vital and fuck everything up.

What they had established was that you weren't meant to remember being taken. You didn't remember agreeing to a new game, but you assume it's okay. Skizz wouldn't be so excited about seeing Grian's announcement if he knew what he did to him. Lizzie's memories were what made her valuable to Cleo, because she meant that they could get closer to working what the hell was going on.

Her vision this morning didn't help the sense of impending doom. Her Reaper hadn't summoned her back into its realm, thankfully. It instead showed them a cracked stone pedestal and flashes of purple. It was infuriatingly vague, but they should've known better than to expect a fully-fledged prophecy again.

Yelling echoed from the cliffs of the valley. Lizzie flinched away at the noise as they peered over the edge, pulling their bow from across their back. Scar's eyes widened as he saw the arrow pointing at him, putting his arms up in surrender, opening his hands to show they were empty.

"Don't shoot me, Cleo!" He panicked. "I just wanted to tell Skizz that we should go see Grian's thing at spawn now. I didn't know we had visitors."

She jerked her head at him, putting away her bow and pulling out her sword in a smooth motion. "Get up here." A ruthless Cleo was a safe Cleo. A ruthless Cleo had no room for guilt or memories of her friend, not while he was a threat.

"Oh!" Scar exclaimed once he had joined them at the top of the cobblestone stairs from the bottom of the valley. "Lizzie." His mouth flattened into a line, his eyes unreadable. He grinned. "How are you? How d'ya feel about the base? Has anyone told you the name yet? We're the S Team, because we have Scar, Skizz, Scott and Smallishbeans!"

Lizzie laughed haltingly. "That's so… original. Why haven't you asked Jimmy to join?"

"Oh, he's next on our list. We were going to ask, but Timmy hasn't been… about. He's been quite busy." Scar replied.

"I wonder, with what?" Cleo asked, feigning obliviousness. She obviously knew Lizzie had been at Jimmy's, but others shouldn't, unless they were part of her frustrating, ever growing list of liabilities.

"Oh, you know how he is, always caught up in something," chuckled Scar fondly. They narrowed their eyes. Scar definitely knew something. "How about we get going? We can chat on the way!"

"Great idea, dude! Off we go." Skizz added, striding down the path. Lizzie glanced at Cleo. They nodded once. Cleo didn't trust Scar in the slightest, but at least if they got attacked, Lizzie would have a fighting chance with them here. The four set down the dirt path to spawn.

[ogsoulless]

blinded golden - daydreamt ashes 5/?, 9.5k, ongoing. [FIRST] [PREV] [NEXT] [LAST] [ao3 upload]

Xisuma felt like his head had been used to demolish a brick wall, his temple throbbing in time with the heartbeat in his ears. He peeled open his eyes, only for them to be assaulted by the blinding fluorescent of end rods, quickly closing them again. Nausea bubbled in his stomach as he shifted, his migraine tripling in pain.

"Oh jeez, alright," he groaned. Someone gasped next to him, and the back of a hand laid over his forehead.

"No fever, good, good," they hummed. "'ere, love, drink this." The bitter taste of potions spread across his tongue as X blinked to some form of wakefulness.

"Good to see you up and at 'em, X. Found you in a pretty bad state," she chirped, but the shadows under her eyes gave away her optimistic charade. "I'm sorry about your helmet being gone— it was easier to treat you with it off, and it's all cracked and whatnot from the skulk." Stress plucked his empty potion bottle from his hands. "What were you doing? I hope Cub hasn't been messing around with that stuff on animals again."

"How… where did you find me?" X croaked. Stress signalled for him to stop speaking, and produced a bottle of water. While he was drinking, she answered, "Oh, the shopping district. The Wolves of Wool Street, actually. It was strange, considering it's quite a ways from spawn." Once he had finished the bottle, she took it from his hands and tucked it away with the other one.

"I didn't realise you went out. What were you doing?" Stress inquired.

Xisuma opened his mouth to answer, then closed it. What was he doing? There were no off world events. Maybe it was Cub.

"I don't know. Maybe we should talk to Cub?"

Stress shrugged."Sure, I'll call him in. Rest up for now, yeah?" He nodded, pulling up the blanket. She got up and closed the door behind her, blanketing him in twilight. He rolled onto his side, wincing as a hard shape dug into his hip.

"What—" he muttered, pulling it out of his pocket. A journal, neatly bound with leather and twine. He flipped it open, squinting at it in the dim light. Spiralling handwriting filled the page, and he placed it as Scott's, despite never seeing any of his writing before. And, it was a research journal about Reapers and revenants, powers and abilities, history and lore. A letter fell out halfway through, signed from Scott. At least now, he could confirm that the journal was Scott's. But why would he have it? Where had he been?

☆

Lizzie's cheek stung with the force of Grian's hand. Shock kept her pinned in place as Scar approached Xisuma. X stepped between her and Grian, hands held up between them. As if she needed protecting— she could burn the flesh from Grian's bones with a touch. At least, she used to be able to. This new Grian, this changed Grian, was one she'd never fought before. Lizzie was no stranger to betrayal, but only in the games— she had always been secure in the knowledge that they were friends despite it all.

And, Grian was a blumming Reaper, or something close to it. It had all gone horribly wrong.

"Sleep," Scar had hissed, splaying his palm flat against the back of Xisuma's neck, and skulk bubbled up the back of his suit, searching for skin. Glass fractured, then shattered, forming a semi circle in front of Xisuma, before he proceeded to fall to his knees, and sleep.

"What have you done? Oh my gosh, what are you doing? What's going on?" Lizzie spat, feeling her blood heat beneath her skin. Her fingertips lit with flames, sparks flitting from one to the next.

"Time to go, Revenant," Grian ordered. Scar stood up, lifting Xisuma with him. Lizzie didn't miss how he cradled his head and whispered something over and over. She didn't move.

"Where are you taking me? Where is Joel? What in the bloody blazes are you?" Lizzie asked, holding up her hands to attack.

"You already know what I am. Mortals made our names, and I do not abide by your laws," Grian (the Reaper?) said. Flames swallowed her palms, trailing to her elbows. "You should have known better, than to think a mere Revenant of Destruction could stand a chance." It laughed, moving forward. God, her reaper would be so pissed if it heard that.

Grian's arm moved forward and clasped around her elbow. She bent his arm away in a twist, ducking out underneath. Grian didn't move, or make a sound, yet his arm blistered and bubbled in the shape of her palm. A handprint for a handprint, she thought, bitter and victorious. Her fingers rekindled.

Suddenly, a pair of hands landed on each of her shoulders, trapping some of her hair with it uncomfortably. Scar held her in place as the cold slime of skulk veins spread down her arms. She thrashed, ripping a of chunk of flesh from Scar's wrist with her teeth, but Grian seized her wrists and pinned them to her sides, stopping her from burning the bastard.

The world fell away, and she saw the void and new worlds flickering beneath her as the oxygen was ripped from her lungs and her flames flickered out.

When she awoke, she was on a very hard mattress. Awareness brought her the observation that rather than a bed, she was lying on a thin blanket on top of a flat rock. God, her back was going to hate her for that. She moved to sit up, before two sets of hands pushed her back down.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," Scott warned. Lizzie blinked, the torch above her swimming.

"You're fluffier than usual," she giggled, batting at the shadowy ears that sat in his hair. He leaned away from her hand, snorting.

"Yeah, and you're stupider than usual."

"Hey! That's not very nice, man," Skizz chided.

Lizzie squinted at the angel. "When did you get here? Also, where is here?"

"A life series, we think," answered Scott. "I can explain, but I don't know much and it's probably a good idea to save it for when you don't have a massive headache."

The torch's light seems to grow warmer, soaking into her bones. Ever since she had been reaped, warmth hadn't been an issue with the nature of her revenance. Lizzie missed being warm.

"I think… that's a good idea," she said. "I think, it would be so fabulous to sleep. And be warm. Warm and sleep." Skizz chuckled as her sentences slurred together into one and she lay back down. Scott mentioned something about moving her to the base to Skizz, but she paid it no mind. It was irrelevant; she was warm, and let unconsciousness take her.

[ogsoulless]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

blinded golden - home adrift 4/?, 8.3k, ongoing. [FIRST] [PREV] [NEXT] [LAST] [tumblr upload]

xisuma begins his hunt and keeps his promises. this fic is part of @multidimensionbb's wip purge event!!