Lionhearts ||Skephalo||

61

Bad can feel something dripping down his back. He wants to open his eyes, but it's safer to keep them closed, surely?..and besides, it was dark last time he opened them.

He's dead, he realized not too long ago. The pulse that had been so deafening in his last week of life, the pulse that had first reassured him, then faded into the background, and finally burst like an explosion and unleashed the final wave of his resistance; it's gone. His chest feels hollow, empty of anything, most prominently a heart.

He's safe here though. His body isn't twisted, he doesn't have a tail or wings or horns, he doesn't look like a monster.

He's himself.

And he'd rather this than allow Halo to run free; surely that was enough to force him back to where he came from?

...and Skeppy wouldn't recognize him anyway, George wouldn't either. Nobody would know it was him, they'd only see a demon. He was a monster, and his death was the best option, surely.

He can still feel the sensation of his body ripping apart and reforming. He's not sure it will ever leave him- the whole series of events was just...horrifying, in a way no human should ever have to experience. Traumatic, for body and mind alike.

The dripping down his back continues. He's afraid to look, afraid to look, afraid to-

But he did. But he did, he opened his eyes. And somewhere inside of his mind, he screams when he sees what it is.

Please, no! No more!

* * *

Fundy slips down the path Philza guides them down. Although it was less comfortable for him, Fundy had reluctantly shifted to full human, not wanting his tail to get in the way of climbing or combat, and knowing his ears would've been practically bleeding from some of the high pitched noises in the Nether. The other shifters had also abandoned the normal three-quarter forms that were comfortable.

Tubbo grabs onto his arm, steadying himself with a shuddering breath.

"Easy," Fundy murmurs, "Take it slow, Tubbo. We're almost down, after all." From what Philza had told them, this cliffside path would lead them to the forests near the chapel that Bad's body had been taken to; it's apparently in a biome that the piglin don't usually go into, doubling the protection against being followed. Or in their case, ambushed.

The disadvantage of this is that they need to take a different route, seeing as it's further from the area the others need to head towards to enter the fortress. So here they are, picking their way along a path that Fundy would've liked to never set foot on. Between the constant fear of slipping, Tubbo grabbing him periodically to regain balance, and the distant mewls of what Tubbo told him were Ghasts, Fundy was about to hyperventilate half the trip- that is, if he could even breathe properly through the ash.

He whines to himself, I'm not meant for the Nether, I'm not equipped for this heat, jeez, I'm going to die here! But aloud he says nothing, keeping his petty qualms to himself as he follows the others.

Philza calls back softly,

"We'll be on solid land in a few minutes. Don't push yourselves too hard right now, we've got another cliff path portion a little la'er on." Fundy groans softly, a sentiment echoed unanimously by the rest of the group.

"That's easy for you to say, wing man," Vurb grumbles softly. Very slightly bitter, but mostly just venting. The other shifter was having no easier time on the path, and even though Callahan and Mega were vocally uncomplaining, both were shaking and pale with nerves, Mega periodically glaring at things in their environment.
Fundy was just thankful their group was mages. When the world went dark around them, it would've been a death sentence to continue with only the lava illuminated, far below. But thanks to their werelights, they can at least somewhat see. Even if sometimes he wished he couldn't. The drop below gave him vertigo.

He watches the red of the netherrack give way to cyan and teal moss-like growth, odd stalks of grass with bulbous tips peppering the otherwise short flora scene. A few mushrooms catch his eye; darker teal with bright, dangerous, orange patches. They look poisonous, by all standards.

But as he watches, a red creature with leathery skin and two stilt-like legs shambles over the surface of a lava pond, and hauls itself onto land to meander over and begin grazing on the mushrooms in question. It's a weirdly cute animal, and peaceful, glancing at the group with wide, placid eyes as they step onto solid land once again. It croaks quietly, its red skin draining to a greyish purple before it hurries back into the lava, sinking down until only its whiskers are visible.

"They're called striders," Tubbo says quietly, watching Fundy stare the creature down as it all but vanishes. "They're really nice little things, and you can even ride them. Just hook a warped fungus to a string like a fishing rod and hold it out and they'll follow it anywhere. They're not too smart, sadly." As if to prove his point, a younger looking strider nudges its meal off the cliff and it walks directly off to retrieve it. Fundy leans over the cliff slightly, momentarily aghast; surely it just killed itself?

But he spots it rising up from the lava, croaking distantly in disappointment as it realizes its mushroom is gone. Fundy pulls back, and rejoins the group, following Philza as he leads them through the dark forest.

"It's usually brighter," he informs them quietly, "But it's the dark cycle right now, and tha' lasts around...twelve hours, I'd say. Matched to Overworld day an' night."

So that's it, Fundy realizes, Their night and day is by these plants that brighten and dim on their own cycle.

It's intriguing, but he refocuses on the task at hand; making their way to the next cliff path. He gulps slightly, and pulls out his water to take a drink while he can.

"Phil, how long is this next path?" He asks nervously, "Think I might jump off it if it goes too long." Philza snorts, and explains,

"This trail is cut deeper into the cliff face, you don't need to worry. But if you're going to jump, just know that you'll be cremated regardless of your will." The morbid response throws the shifter off, and he laughs nervously. Tubbo leans into the conversation to ask,

"What exactly are we doing when we get there? We reinforce the seal and allat, but what do we do after that?"

"Well," Phil begins, adjusting his short collar, "If we have a spare moment? We help them hunt a bit, get some food so they can hold fort longer. If we run accordin' to plan and schedule, Wilbur contacts me from the fortress, and we run there and assist in calming down the aftermath. And if things go sour and I need to call on them instead, I guess we'll really 'ave to wait and see." He points ahead, firing a bolt of light to illuminate the way ahead briefly. "There it is."

He leads them to what looks more like a cave then a trail; but before they enter, a croak interrupts them, and a pair of lilac eyes blink from the darkness as spindly black hands hold a perfect cube of netherrack with a dusting of nylium atop it close to the being's chest.

Surprise crosses Phil's expression, but he tentatively mimics the croak back, causing the Enderman to let out a delighted trill of happiness. Philza offers a few more rudimentary responses to its excitement, and eventually, the Enderman croaks happily, and hands him the nylium cube before teleporting away in a cloud of purple particles.

"You know how to speak Ender?" Vurb asks, astonished, and Philza shrugs, sliding the cube into his bag absently.

"I learned a little a bit ago for something," he says vaguely, "She was just touring the area. I think. It was that, or she was trying to tell me that grass is a lethal weapon. It's hard to tell the difference with 'er accent." With that, he steps into the tunnel, and begins to lead the way down into the darkness.