The stars were just beginning to emerge in the darkening sky, uncountable millions of tiny white pinpricks of light amongst the inky blue-blackness. In the amicable silence that fell between the two werewolves – one born, one Turned – Martyn thought about the vastness of the universe.
“Do you ever think,” he whispered after a while, “about how… I don’t know… like, taunting this feels?”
“Hm?” Out of the corner of his eye, Martyn saw Ren turn his head to look at him, but he kept staring straight upwards.
“Like, obviously there are loads of other worlds out there. Hell, everyone in this game is from another world, we all usually live on other worlds, and…” Martyn paused, trying to wrangle the words he wanted that would describe his thoughts. “I dunno, it just feels kind of like a cruel joke that we’re still allowed to see them while being trapped in this blasted death game.”
Ren didn’t respond for a few minutes. Martyn couldn’t tell if he was considering what Martyn had said, or just not wanting to tell his Hand that he was being stupid.
“Forget it,” he muttered.
“No, dude, it’s…” Ren sighed lightly. “I get what you’re saying.” Martyn could hear Ren’s head turn towards him. “I mean, yeah we’re stuck here, but you’ve gotta remember that there will eventually be an end to this, y’know? Like, we’re not gonna be here forever.”
“I suppose.”
“Ok, what if we think of it like this,” Ren continued: “how much worse would it feel if there were no stars?”
Martyn turned to look at him, but now Ren’s focus was back on the sky.
“Maybe one of those specks of light that we can see is Hermitcraft, or MCC, or anywhere else that people in this game call home. Maybe it’s better to have that hope, that reminder, that home is still out there and waiting for us to get back.”
“Yeah.” Martyn’s gaze returned to the sky. To the stars that were the worlds that people called home. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
Snippet from chapter 4 of The Full Moon, the Axe and the Altar that I have given myself so much brainrot over :]
