A Glitch of Magic - a Hermitcraft (and third life?) Fanfiction

Prologue

Welcome again to this story! 

I forgot to say in the intro that this book will contain blood, death, gore and censored swearing. I will try and leave a TW if it's really bad. 

I do not ship hermits.

Now, let's begin!

Prison had been so cold. 

So dark.

So empty. 

Everything they were had been taken from them. They existed as a formless glitch with memories, plans, and pain. But no one could take them from them. No one could take their hope for more. No. Their PLAN for more. And it all started today. 

They crept through the world in flickering lag and glitch. No one noticed. No one cared. It didn't take long to reach where they wanted to go, find who they wanted to find, glitch up to where they were, and speak. 

'Who's there?' The hermit replied. 'I know somewhere's there.'

They didn't reply, seeing if the hermit would continue.

'I know it's another hermit. Cub? Is that you? Or Grian?'

'I̷̧̧̛̦͇͇̗̮̬̍͆̊̏̇̐̅̍̅̌̓̕͝ ̸̛̤͉͈̗̘̆̂̂͗͒͒́͛͆͠͠ä̵͚͇́m̷͉̞̹͈̤͗̕ ̶̳̲̯͕̪̽́̈́̄́̃̚̕͜n̸͔͉̱̳͈͖͛̓͂̓͗͘͜͝o̸̡͇̭͕̤̳̜̩͉̭̐̌̌̑̿̽̓̓͛̈̊̈́̕͜ͅt̷͉̯̟̘̜͇̩͍͉̑̐͆͌̆̐̉͋͑̀̋́͝ ̴̧͖͙͎͇̞͍͖̗̠̘͔̳́̊̎̈̿̓̾̄͌̄͒̈́̔̚͠o̵̢̡͔͚͇͚̰̯͚̩͙̞̹͛̈́̉͠ͅn̷̩̺̈́͂̓͐͆̔̉̄̌̍̌̈́̉́͝ͅȩ̵̨̧͍̟̪͔̺̻̻̹͚̲̑̉̓͊̉̔̀͆̾̈́̄͐̋͘͝ ̷̛̣̟͖̠̳̪̺̎͋̽͊̈́͛͂͑͑͋̃̈́͝͠ǫ̴̨̫̞̦͚͔̩̈͆̏̾͌͑̄̽̉̍͝f̸̡̛̩͔͉͚̫͖̣̗͓͙̫̼͙͌̔̾̓͐̍́̽̎̚ͅ ̸̢̧̨̹̘̖̞̜͕̗͓̩̟͂̓̿͛̿̓̿̂͋̈́̚͝ͅy̷̡͉̋͊̈́̀̏̉͂̎̉͆͑̚ǫ̶̻̮͉͎̰͍̠̲̣̎̒̈́̍͌̒̀̀̔̌̊͑̒͆ǘ̸̪̩͒͐̈̀͊̇̈́̀̒͘͝͝ř̸̨̜̝̈̆̋ ̸̨̡̻̩̼̤̼̻͎̃̅̒͑͒ͅh̷̡̦͂́͐̾̈̈́̓̓̃͑̐̒̕ȩ̵̡͔̻͔̭͎̰͐̐͌̀̃͘r̶̢̟͇̭͖̺̪̬̯̟͕̗̫͍͂̈́̈̾̾̀͛́͗͂̅̅͝͝ͅm̷͖͈͙̤̟̺̪̮̞͙͇̱͆͆͋̆̊̃̍̓̈́̏̐̄͝ͅi̸̞̟̘̺̗̺̭̰̫̇̐̉̍̇̄͋̀̑͝t̸̨̧̤̦̞̠̘̺͌́̀͒͒͆͑̀̀͠ͅs̸̲̗̪̰͎̣̟͙͛́̈͗͐̅̐̕.̶̧̨̨̻͔͕͓̳̟̞̰̞̬̘̒̾̒̅ ̸̤̲̖͙̭͒̄́͋͑̿̚' I reply. 

'Then who are you?' The hermit sounds unsure, scared even. 

'̶̡̟̰͎̻̻̟̹̩̙̹̽̓̆͛͋̃̇̕͠͝ͅI̶͖̣̱̦̯̻̙̥̹͚̹̿͌ ̴̢̧̻͙̝̳͕̭̆͌̒̀͂̐̔́͛̍̏̔̚̕͜͜͠ͅą̵̰͈͔͔͈͇̝̦̘̞̗̳͖̋̿̑̈́̐͛͌̐̀͂́̓̂͘͠m̵̟̪̲̬̣̔́̈́̓̽͒͌̓̒͛͗͊͌̕͝ ̶̧̛̩̞̪̦̤̙͕̋̏́̍͛̋͊̀̆́͗̚͘n̶̡͚͕̣̯͓̭̦͕̙̦̖̩̠̥̓̔͊͒͠o̴̡͙̣͉̬̣͊̋͗̃̔̈́ͅ ̸̡͕͍͙̲̙̲̜̱͉͑̏͜ȍ̵̧͙̖̘̫̥̔̆̓̒̐̽͒̽̓͌́̕n̷͓͚͓̏̈́̓̿̓̌̾ĕ̸̯̺̻͖̪̦͖̳͗͆͌́.̷̠̺̥̻̥͉̼̿̇͂̊̒͛͘̚'̷̢̡̨̛̰̠̟͈͚͔̭̞͎͎̃̍̕͜͜͠ ̴̛̦̙̤̮̦͍̙̖̟̘̼͍̹͌͒͗͒͛̎̑̅͋̚̚͝͠͠

'̴̨̡̡̛̯͇͍̯̔̐̾̂͒́̍̍͆̐͂̏̊̚ͅA̸̡͙͍̺̰̜̼̻̮̳͍̖̼̦̽̀̈͒̓͛̈́̈̓̚͝͝ṇ̶͖̞̫̟̦͎̮̣̮͓͙̥̇̆̐͐̈́͆̃̓̕ͅḑ̴͇̩̯̼̹͉͔̞̫̬͙̥̓́͌ ̴̣̗̳͈̙̯̺̰̗̟̰̠̊́̔̔͑͊̈́̍͛̇͘͜͝I̷̬͉̬̤̦̦͈̞̳̘̻͛̾̽̔͊̆̀͒̒͌͠ ̸̨͇̗̣̮͚̟̞̱̣͐̉̒̃̀̌̏̽̽͗͑͘͠ḧ̵̢̫̙͈̖͕̱̥́̃̊́̄̂̆́͝͝͝͝a̵̙̰̳̗̞̠̩̙̝̠͛̂̇̌̏͆̋̔͌͗̄͂̈̄͗͜͜ṿ̴̙̝͎̦͇̄̏̏͌̅̈́́e̶̢̦͉̖̊͜ ̸̡̢̲̝̺̘̰̹͙̳̼̝͈̒̉́̂̃͐͆́̎͒̽͘͜͝ą̸̺͔̜͍͉̬̱̥͍͚̅ ̶̢̛̩̫̳̜̪̯̯̔ͅg̴͖̘̜͈̦̣̰̭͓̟̞̈́̐̑̔̇̇̊̒̿̊̕͜͜͠i̴̡͉̦̣͕̞͇̯̩͐͜ͅf̸̧̨̟͈̩̗̞͓̻̦̲̥͎͔̉ͅţ̸̼͔̘̦͖͚̹̗̱̃͆̌̌̋́̀͐̄̍͝ ̴͚̲̻̣̾͆̌̒̅͌͗f̷̨̧̖̟͚̳̫͊̏̃̅̏̌̈͊̐̍̐́̐͜͠o̷̩̾̈̓̎̈́̍̈́̓͌̕͠͠͝͠r̸̢̛̮̬̅̆̆͂̿̈́̈̽͋̈ ̷̢̢̨͉̻͙̘͈̩͎̟̲̅́̃͂̌̈́̊͒̎̾̿̿͝ͅy̸̠̭̖̱͆̇̄̈́̀̓̚͘͠͠o̷̙͐̃u̵̼̖̞̝͚͓͍͈̭̓̌̆͐̎͗̔͘͝͝͠.̸̲̖̞̘͕͈̺̪̍̒͂̐͐̐͑̀͜͠'̷̭̼̍̾͗̆̅̆̃̾̔̐͛̍͌̚̚

Prologue, and we're already bringing out the internet texts!