(Alternate Ao3 Link)

It was the first week of the new server and everyone was scrambling to get as much loot from the newly opened end as possible.

Minute’s team never really intended to fight the dragon themselves. They were well aware of how much of a death sentence that could be. No, Instead they waited until the time they had guessed the dragon would be near dead before entering. They had secretly spent all their spare time collecting pearls and anything else that would help them get Elytra and fast.

Minute and his team had been the first to enter the end gateway and they would be the last to return from one.

That said, Minute had gotten.. distracted from the task at hand, for lack of a better word. Zam’s bickering with Leo had made focusing near impossible as they kept trying to drag it into whatever silly thing they were arguing about.

It wasn’t paying attention to where in The End it was, to how far out it was travelling, autopilot long having taken over its actions for Minute.

It startled back to awareness as a black pillar interspersed with looping purple lines peeked out of the horizon on the lone island right in front of its flight path. It felt a sheet of ice down its back, bringing back buried memories it thought it had gotten rid of.

Minute looked up at the outpost through the small holes in its never-ending tears. It could feel how its blood dried unpleasantly against where its lower scales had been plucked from skin, replaced with the runes marking it a traitor.

The claws in its back, their owners shoving it forward, made its insides scream in agony. It forced itself to remain silent. Minute wouldn’t give the bastards an ounce of victory, not even as they dragged it to its deathbed.

He was hyper aware of the way the cold of the void flowed over his regrown scales, barely slipping underneath his linen shirt and jacket to meet them. He felt the barest hint of magical fire from where the air met the harsh reminder of his sins on his back.

He couldn’t— Fuck—

Minute instinctively ran a hand through his hair, the movement destabilised his flight for a brief second before he corrected it. He scanned rapidly for a closer island then… there to land.

The lack of anything but void only confirmed what Minute feared; He had gone too far.

“Minute?” Clown interrupts his spiralling, his voice crackling as his comm’s connection wavers, “Is everything alright? You stopped responding?”

“Yeah, It’s— It’s nothing.” He lies. Minute continued his futile search, keeping ever aware of his inability to slow down without also losing the height he would need to go anywhere else.

Zam’s soft voice broke through his thoughts, a gentle tone coating it as she pushed, “Are you sure, Min?”

“My— My com’s breaking up.” a half-lie but it continued regardless, “I got too far out, but i’m—”

It’s heart seized at the reminder. It let out a shaky breath before forcing itself to continue, “I’ll be fine. I’m heading back now.”

“Min—” Leo started, and curse the Farlander for the knowing tone coating his voice.

Luckily Leo was cut off from calling out it's obvious bluff by Clown, “Alright. We trust you, Minute. Come back safe.”

Minute could hear Zam’s hum her agreement in time with his words.

He nodded, not that they could see, before he deafened. He needed to focus, the fire on his back moving in unsettling waves the closer he got to the looming outpost.

Minute circled in the air, an attempt to slow his flight as much as he could without losing any more air than he had too. Try as he might he really couldn’t see any other option, the pillar he last last jumped from was barely viewable in the void’s embrace, way too far for him to double back to now.

Minute forced himself to take a deep breath, steeling his nerves. He angled his body down to meet the island not but a few feet past him.

Classical Enderian had never been Minute’s strong suit in school, but the chants that surrounded where it was being held down were certainly not kind words.

The elders drew deep runes with their claws, drawing pools of blood from right where its scales meet soft unprotected skin. The magic burned hotter than anything Minute had ever felt in the cold wasteland. It dug deep and mixed with the rushing blood, making an unholy sacrifice for the void’s hungry maw below it.

It could barely think, its mind as blankly white as the agony coursing through its bones. It knew the punishment for fueling rebellion would be harsh, had heard the tales used to scare kids from acting out, but it never would have expected something as hellish as this.

Minute shaked the memories off as he stumbled a landing. He would die out here, half his team’s loot lost to time, if he let himself slip into the past.

And as if on cue, Minute felt his back burst open in pain, something crawling out of his scars and spreading like a fire outwards. His whole body felt like it was trying to eat itself alive, a living coldness settling deep in his veins, choking out any sensation that wasn’t fire and pain. It felt like weakness pots and the void and something far more ugly that Minute hadn’t felt since the day he was banished.

Minute pushed back against the shakes that had started ratcheting his whole body. He forced himself to still just enough to place a crafting table.

They couldn’t afford to lose this loot. He might not be able to get it back but— but someone could; Leo, maybe, if they were lucky and no one was here to shoot him on sight for a decades old grudge none of his team was a part of.

He used what little wood he had left to quickly craft shulker boxes, shoving whatever he could inside with no mind to what exactly they were.

Minute got lucky, the last dredges of energy he had to fight the hell of his punishment had left at the same time he closed that last shulker.

He let himself finally collapse fully to the ground, an involuntary sob wracking out of him as it made the pain flare further. Minute gasped through his failing lungs. He tried his hardest to not pass out immediately. He couldn’t… His thoughts felt sluggish with the rest of his body.

It glanced down to find its comm. It was startled to find its skin was full of holes. They were small spotted things that were slowly growing at spiralling around its limbs.

…The void was eating him.

Or no, not the void. The orange glow in the wounds could only have one origin point.

Minute forced itself to take a deep breath around its growing panic. Magic infused deaths, especially ones from something as ancient as what the Elders had possessed, where hell. At best Minute would be out for a week, possibly much longer if the other members couldn’t pull its code together by force.

He tried to look around desperately for something, anything, that would keep him with his team. It couldn’t— It didn’t have the safety to die. Not here, not when his time needed him.

But try as he did, his eyes only found the shulkers he left next to the looming tower. The crumbling obsidian he spotted was his only shred of hope. That was good. It meant this outpost (and hopefully the whole cluster) was uninhabited. Leo would be safe.

Wait, Leo. Minute’s brain startled against the fog of pain, and huh… when had that set in? He shook it off. He still needed to give his teammates his coords. They needed to retrieve as much as they could. If not now then later, after they get a steady supply of rockets.

Minute scrambled for its com again, the small box stubbornly trying to escape what little of its fingers still exist. It grit through the pain, contraction coasting its face as he forced his shaky fingers to type out:

> you message to Leow0ok: i left shulkers

> you message to Leow0ok: 8000000, 10000

> Leow0ok messages you: ??? wtf minute

Minute let his eyes close with the comm’s flip screen. He felt his final heart shatter. There was nothing else to be done here. He was dying.

Still, it couldn't stop a small smile from gracing its lips as the void took its crumbling body fully. He’d done what he could.

(Alternate Ao3 Link)

"You－ You don't have to do this." She tried to plead once more, gritting her teeth against the arrow's sharp sting in her shoulder.

She swong her sword out at her clone just like she had for the last hour, and watched as she expertly danced to the side to dodge it.

Just like she would have herself. Just like She had taught her, both through her "stolen" memories and countless friendly (and not) spars.

"I'm － I'm sorry, but your－ Your dangerous, False." She started, notching another arrow into her bow to hide the subtle shake of her hands. As if False didn't know their shared tells, including the slight wavering in her darkening voice, "I'm sorry, but I can't－ You can't stay.">

False raised her sword to block. She ended up taking the brunt of the arrow as it grazed the hilt and hit the edge of her hands before she could readjust.

She looked back over to False. ...It was sicking to see such a mix of Guilt and Determination across her features, raised against her and wielded like the bow in her clone's hands.

...She doesn't know how she ever trusted her. Afterall, She's her clone just as much as she is her's. She should've known their joint paranoia would lead to this. A standoff between two old friends, between the mentor and her student, between two sisters who couldn't even look eachother in the eye as they fought.

They went on like this for another hour, trading small harmless blows back and forth as they dodged around eachother, circling around the room like vultures to the corpse of everything they once had. False didn't know what had changed, why she chose now of all times to cast her aside, but she knew it had been inevitable.

Afterall, There was a reason they never switched weapons in their spars. It had always been training for this. For a moment False could have never predicted but knew the plan for as if she had made it herself. Which in a cruel way she supposes she did.

Afterall, The bowsman did have her face and instincts. She had no doubt if the rolls were switch it would still end up the same.

She took the brief pause of False getting more arrows out of her e-chest, the fight having dragged longer then the pair expected, to take stock of the unfamiliar terrain they were in once more. The cave walls were the same as ever, dark and cool and full of contraptions False didn't even want to pretend like she understood. But something was different. It had.... She took time to shift through the gaps fighting left in her brain.

...Why did it look uncanny??? She could have sworn they couldn't see past eachother's close form when they entered, but had that been from the focus of war or had something changed?

"O－ Oh..." She was startled to awareness by her clone, her eyes also glancing around before they settled sharply on something right behind her－ False's eyes wide and getting wider by the second.

She spun on her heels and was quick to raise her sword to protect them, but all she was met with was a big purple sheet. It－ It couldn’t be a nether portal, was much to big but something felt... otherworldly about it nonetheless.

She was distracted from any further questions by a sharp pain racing across her back, sparks of fire and electricity racing across her nerves. She－ tipped arrows? Really? That was a low blow.

She turned back around and lunged at the clone while scrolling furiously through her hotbar. She drew out a Fire Aspect sword, something she had swiped just-in-case, two could play at that game, can play for a betrayal just like they both clearly had been expecting.

It was interesting that she broke first, had let the drum of fighting completely close her off first. Afterall, She always yelled at False for entering that state too quickly when they fought, for being "too bloodthirsty". But this time it had been her, though False supposes the apple can't fall that far from the tree. Her clone would have her vices as well, as much as they both try to act like they don't.

They continued trading blows for a bit, this time much more deadly, actually aiming in incapacitate or no.... To move, They were corralling eachother to the same goal, to the same purple cloak that awakened to their war cries.

False had never given so much of herself to a fight, even when they both had been trying to kill eachother in the past. They always made up, had found it easier to stop before they pushed themselves to passing out.

But this time they pushed on, pushed until every drip of life was being channeled straight into their weapons, no longer an instrument but instead another limb, the very place their souls made home in as they circled around eachother. They never got this close, both to death and eachother, it wouldn't fit the Bow fights her clone was so fond of afterall. And False had always liked the challenge.

This was no longer a game though. Somewhere in the midst of war, in the clashing of Sword on Armor and Arrows on Flesh, they had both made up there minds. This was going to be it, their end. Only one clone would remain, if even that with how exchastuated and blooded the pair were. Someone would drop, would be the loser of this lifelong battle they played, and False tried her best to not let it be her. Even as she felt another spike of weakness shoot through her body, another arrow making it's mark in her flesh.

...She stumbled. As she swung to retaliate, to take the recoil of the shot and turn it into a devastating blow on her foe, her foot caught on something. Some small divit or rock in the ground she'd nievely missed. She tumbled. She saw a flash of panic turn to somber victory on the other's face as her head titled back.

...At least one of them was happy.

It felt like hours as she fell. False had expected another arrow or maybe ten to lodge into her on the way down, for her clone to take her full victory, but it bever happened. Instead she heard words in a somber tone she refused to listen too, as purple overtook her vision.

Oh.... Oh, She had gotten her wish without causing more death. She would be rid of False without adding to the death count the other pretended she wasn't known for.

The nausea of teleportation hit soon after as she finally stopped falling into the cursed thing. But it meant nothing in the end, her vision already stolen by the magic as the sound of a bow tapping her sword reached her ears. Then, the sounds of footsteps as they receded.

It... It was over. She lost.

False chuckled and closed her eyes. At least she was alive... She didn't know where she was going, or if the strange portal would even keep her alive as she felt her atoms be torn apart for cross-dimension travel, but she was alive right now. Maybe if she was lucky she'd even stay alive long enough to find her way back, to challenge her double to round two and finally prove herself.

She wouldn’t let this be the end, and that thought guided her into the unconscious realm of teleportation with a surefireness she'd never felt before.

(Alternate Ao3 Link)

The maw of the void stared with unfeeling eyes. The whole End seemed to shake with every flap of the Ender Dragon's wing, leaving blurry spots deep in Grian's cornea. The buggers were being absolutely annoying to remove, a curse many befall when they went through the End Portal. The world was much too silent for how hard his friends were staring at him. God he wished they would just speak up or maybe kill that godforsaken dragon before she killed them. He took one final breath before forcing himself to look up from the simple bedrock platform one spawns in.

"Oh God..." Grian immediately collapsed under the fear of seeing not only the void where his friends should be, but thousands upon thousands of eyes replacing the stars themself. He cursed himself for ever thinking up of the symbol he'd quickly learned belonged to these godforsaken deities, Beings who heralded themselves as benevolent gods of order but had only ever seemed intent of ruining Grian's fun (that his friends were more than fine with, Watchers!)

"The One Who Seeks Destruction, Look At Thy's new Salvation" the voices whispered from every corner of the End. Grian could only barely make them out from the noise of the Dragon herself, but it was enough to know he would Not be doing that. If the Watchers wanted to take away his friends then He sure as heck wasn't going to bow down to them after so long rebelling.

So he went through the motions of completing the End, struggling all the while with only looking down at the ground. Both to save himself from Enderman attacks and so he wouldn't look at the bloodthirsty stares of Them. Aiming at the Dragon in such a state proved almost as hard as being summoned into the End itself, every glance upset his stomach down into the void itself from how overwhelming having such a large audience to his demise was. But he tried his best to persevere and after an eon of failed attempts he finally landed the killing blow.

"Emperor of Defiance." The voices responded but were no longer only whispers. Instead being joined by two distinct voices coming from behind Grian. He instinctively jumped far away from them while trying not to vomit as he was left with nowhere to look but at the cloaked figures covered in an ungodly amount of eyes, making even their friends in the void's tapestry look like a mear water drop to their ocean of stares.

"What- what do you want?" Grian heaved out between breaths. His brain was an unstable concoction of primal fear and sheer defiant anger for the beings who'd tormented him and stole his friends. It took everything in Grian's soul to not start cursing the Watchers out as he revelled in the idea of tearing them down into lowly puddles of blood.

"We want you, Dear Emperor" The leftmost Watcher Started, accompanied by the soft whispers of unseen eyes.

The Other joined, "We have seen how you set your plans in motion, how you insure Order in every step of your pranks and-"

"We do not agree, mind you." The Other interrupted their counterpart, voice almost monotone but with a slight undercurrent of anger.

"Yes, yes. We will teach you kindness to the worlds you will Watch, but we gift you our rank nonetheless." The other agreed, offering a hand out to Grian’s trembling form.

Grian scoffed, no longer able to bite back the scorn coating his insides, "Like I'd ever join you lot. Not after what you did to us."

The Watchers Hissed from every inch of the End as the two deities in front of him vanished, "You Can't Escape Our Gift Mortal!"

Grian gasped as he collapsed in searing pain. His knees scraped the cold floor of End Stone. He felt his eyes burn like a furnace crafting glass, forcing him to keep them shut. At first not paying mind to the dripping sounds, until eventually he reached out in confusion. Just as his hands touched the thick liquid of blood, he was overtaken by another wave of nausea and pain. He could feel the same light that had overtaken his eyesight burst from his back and take a form he felt he should recognize had he had any room for thoughts left. After eons of screams, both from himself and the Watchers congratulating him, he finally gained enough senses to slowly open his eyes against the maw of agony. He was briefly overtaken by just how much he could See, his human vision having been placed by a kaleidoscope of colours and perspectives that made his stomach lurch at the sensory overload of it all. Eventually he was able to take in the Sights, how his formally mortal form was now covered in eyes and deep transparent purple wings. He saw them flap in quick motion to the ever increasing heartbeat and decreasing breaths the gruesome sight had left him in. Grian couldn't stomach looking at the deep maroon and purple blood that coated everything he could see, but yet he couldn't feel his body with the same fervorousity as the Watchers jeers of content.

"Congratulations, you can now join Us Who Watch! A great honour for someone as mortal as you!" The Watchers cried into his ears, adding a sickeningly sweet harmony to Grian's own wretched sobs.

(Alternate Ao3 Link)

When Pentar got back to their ship he immediately clocked onto how there was a tenseness in the way ECorridor’s shoulders were set, to how his wings were curled far closer to his body then normal when they were in the safety of their home.

Pentar felt his heart drop. Something… Something must have happened when he was out.

“E…” He started with a breathless laugh of disbelief, unsure at first how to continue.

“Yeah, bro..?” ECorridor took the choice from him, his voice dripping with confusion as he asked, “ What did— did something happen or…?”

Pentar shook his head, “Not quite. Though, I could ask you the same.”

“What?” E laughed out, “Why— Why would you think that, bro?”

“Bruh, I don't know. You just… You seem extra tense or something.” Pentar half-lied.

“Not— Not really, bro? I mean you were off-planet fighting, so I was worried yeah, but not any more than normal?”

Pentar hummed, he wanted to believe E, he really did. But, his teammate was still abnormally tense and Pentar couldn’t help the way worry coursed through his veins at that fact alone.

“Alright...” Pentar said as he walked closer to where ECorridor was sitting. He watched as E seemed to tense up more the closer he got.

E shifted slightly as he tried to portray a fake sense of calm that was immediately given away by the puff of his feathers.

Pentar’s face furrowed as he asked, “Bruh, you're sure you're good?”

ECorridor seemed to search his face for a second before nodding, “Yeah… Yeah it’s nothing, Pentar.”

“If you're sure... But you can tell me anything, bro. No more secrets.” Pentar tried to reassure his teammate.

“No more secrets.” E nodded along, though his face was scrunched up as if he was trying to convince himself just as much as Pentar.

Pentar hesitantly went to drop it completely. So, he stepped back to leave, but he was stopped by E grabbing his wrist.

“Actually, umm… Could you— Could you look at my wings? …Please?” E asked in a whisper.

Pentar didn’t have to think about his answer as he rounded the table to stand behind E, “Yeah, of course.”

Pentar stifled a gasp as he took in the disarray of bloodied feathers. The magenta and purple patterns were near unrecognisable under the mess if Pentar hadn’t long since committed them to his memory. It didn’t take long for him to follow the blood to the source of E’s pain, a deep but short gash hidden alongside the alula and covert feathers. It was clear from the angle of the cut that E had been running away from whatever caused this, but Pentar felt the familiar concoction of guilt and the need to Protect E bubble up regardless.

“Who… What happened?” Pentar asked as he went to grab their medical supplies they kept around for his “job”.

The wound might have been in a place where ECorridor could feasibly take care of it himself with some difficulty, but there was an unspoken rule between them that they would always let the other take care of their wounds if needed.

Though, E could have warned him so he could’ve had the chance to get back before it had gotten this bad.

“It’s nothing—” E started before being cut off by a soft hiss, “ It’s nothing you need to worry about, bro. I just… ran into an old friend.”

Pentar couldn’t help but scoff as he gently wiped away the blood, “Some friend.”

“Bro… Like you're one to talk.” E shot back, and yeah… yeah, he had Pentar there.

>But, Mane kept to his promise of no violence after they teamed up, which clearly wasn’t a mercy this mystery person thought E deserved. They were wrong, obviously.

Pentar took a deep breath and tried to temper the protective anger that coursed through him at the idea anyone would willingly hurt his teammate, especially after everything E had been through.

Though, how was Pentar supposed to protect ECorridor if he wouldn’t tell him when he was in trouble?

“You're sure this ‘friend’ won’t be a problem, yeah? Like this isn’t— I'm not going to have to worry about this at some point?” Pentar couldn’t help but ask as he set down the bloodied rag and went to work righting E’s feathers so they would lay flat again.

“You're not going after Mu— them.” ECorridor laughs out, “I told you it’s nothing. You don’t need to worry about it, Pentar.”

Pentar hummed as he continued to work. He didn’t fully believe ECorridor wasn’t lying again, but they had said no more secrets multiple times now. If E truly thought this M person would become a problem, then Pentar had to trust he’d be let in on whatever ECorridor was currently hiding.

Pentar chuckled as he responded, “Alright. Do you want a health pot or nah?”

E nodded slightly and unfurled his wings as he relaxed some, “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Pentar took the red almost glowing concoction and poured it slowly over the open wounds. He took great care to get as little as possible on the feathers surrounding the cut, knowing how much E hated the sticky feeling of the potion seeping in despite direct access being an unfortunate necessity to the liquid medicine working.

Pentar set aside the now empty bottle and got to work wrapping bandages carefully around the wound. He avoided taking up any more space with the bandages then needed as wing injuries were hard to cover up without causing further discomfort or a lack of mobility.

When he was done he leaned around E, looking directly into his eyes before asking, “Is that better?”

E nodded as he leaned against Pentar’s side, “Yeah. Thank you, bro. Thank you.”

“Of course. Anything for you, man.” Pentar responded with full sincerity. He’d long since proved he’d do anything for his teammate, but he wasn’t going to skip out on the chance of reminding E of the fact when he could.