Xelqua Rising || The Lost One AU

1.The End

(added 10/13/23): Hello, everyone! This book is the very beginning of a series I've been making for a year and a half now (March 1st, 2022). As of now, there are currently 5 books that are in it. I think it goes without saying that this is a long fic. Overall, it begins pretty laid back (when it's not angsty) with lots of worldbuilding. This first book is the slowest in the series, and the others get faster with each passing chapter. 

Recently, I decided to go back and re-edit the series to brush off inconsistencies that have been bothering me. With all that being said, I hope you enjoy it!

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"I look forward to watching you all," Grian said, a smile on his face. Beside him stood an entity, a cruel being known as a Watcher, and behind them both stood a portal. She was dressed in a simple yet elegant white robe, her physical eyes hidden with fabric that matched her robe. She had three pairs of white wings on her back, and three on her head in place of ears. Above her head floated a halo that had been cracked in half, glowing lavender. She stood close to the smaller male, not so much to comfort him, but to remind him of who he now belonged to. Not that he hadn't effectively belonged to her before, or all of his friends for that matter. 

Grian searched the small crowd in front of him with his eyes. These were his friends, yet he had to leave them. Someone had to pay the price for what they had done and he was the one who agreed to pay it. They all looked worried, sad, confused and heartbroken... so very heartbroken. It was Taurtis, his best friend, who spoke first. For dramatic effect, he took off his headphones and let them hang around his neck. "Grian, it should be me! I was the one who messed up, not you..." He pointed out, placing a hand on his chest.

But Grian shook his head, grinning just a bit wider. "I've already made up my mind. They've already told me all about what they do, and... well, after hearing them out, as crazy as it sounds, I want in." He chuckled. None of his friends joined in, not even one. Martyn, an elf with sharp eyes and ears, gave Grian a suspicious look. He looked as though he was going to call him a liar, but he did not say anything. What was the point? One of them had to go. Not even the Watchers themselves could change that, although the reasons behind such were obscured. 

From the edge of the group, one pushed their way closer to the center, closer to Grian: Jimmy. "There's got to be another way! Surely!" he cried impulsively. Another man, BigB, silently placed a hand on Jimmy's shoulder and shook his head. He looked to the two standing in front of the portal, his eyes reflecting Jimmy's statement anyway. A few moments passed before a woman stepped forward, the hood of her sweatshirt slipping off. Tears were in the edge of her eyes, but she forced herself to smile. 

"If this is truly what you want--" She started, but her voice broke, tears now streaming down her face. She took a loud gasp for air before she could collect herself enough to continue. "Then... then good luck on your next adventure!" She forced a smile for Grian, her dear friend. For the man that felt like a brother to her. It was the least she could do. Most of the friends gathered there joined along with her, smiling and nodding and crying. Jimmy did not join, not accepting any of this. The Watcher moved both herself and Grian, turning to face the portal rather than the group. 

"Grian!" Jimmy cried, reaching out for his friend. Tomohawk and Zee held the desperate male back. "Don't do this!" Grian turned his head, looking over his shoulder, holding onto his smile. 

"It was fun playing with all of you, chaos and all. Things are going to be different now, but I'll still be with you all! So... this isn't a goodbye. That means no crying, all right?" He said with a bit of a laugh. Then, before his friends could say another word, the Watcher walked him into the portal.

 The scene changed from an endless empty landscape with occasional yellow floating rocks to a pristine, white temple, just as unwelcoming and empty.  Grian's smile quickly fell right off of his face. The Watcher led the human around the halls. Neither of them said anything to each other. He took the time to look around, knowing that this place was going to be his new home... or rather, prison. Everything was the same pure white, with exception to a few purple Watcher symbols and statues made of obsidian. He slowly looked at his green tunic. Although he never quite considered it to be colorful before, he now felt as though he were wearing neon now, feeling totally out of place in these colored clothes. He was quite the spectacle, not only because of his strange clothing, but because he was just a human, no wings, no halo, two eyes. A stupid mortal. A play toy. And everyone knew it, and they all knew him, although he did not know them. Every Watcher they passed, each with their own unique halo, stopped and looked at him, and he could almost feel hundreds of their eyes surrounding him. He felt himself try to sink, trying to somehow hide inside his tunic. 

Finally, the Watcher that was leading him led him to the west wing of the temple. It was a long corridor with about ten doors on either side, each one identical. She stopped at the mouth of the wing and turned to Grian, her mouth opening to speak for the first time since they had arrived. 

"This is where all the male Watchers reside. As a female myself, I am allowed no further. The seventh door on the north side will be your new living quarters. I know that this is a very big change from the worlds you are used to boy, so feel free to take the rest of the day to settle in." She spoke rather plainly. Grian couldn't help but cringe as she called him boy, just a quiet jab to remind him of his place here. He didn't try to defend himself-- he knew it was futile. Instead, he only nodded before heading to the door she had called his. He slowly touched the doorknob as he studied all the intricate designs on the door itself. He reached out and traced them, feeling the smooth, cold quartz against his fingertips. He looked back at the mouth of the corridor, finding it to be empty now. He was alone, or at least, as alone as he could be. The Watchers had always been watching him, so even alone, he never truly was alone. He opened the door and slipped inside, closing the door behind him gently.  

A small room greeted him. A few blankets and a few pillows were in a corner as a makeshift bed. In another, a desk with a chair. The third corner had a closet. Just like everything else, everything was a clean white. That was all the room had -- there wasn't even a window or anything. 

This was all that he owned now, having come with only the clothes on his back. He did not miss the things he had left behind -- the Watchers had regularly taken everything from him, so he learned to not grow too attached to the things he made and picked up along the way. He silently walked over to the 'bed' and, comforted by the façade of privacy, collapsed on it, starting to cry. He grabbed at the pillow, mourning the friends he would never truly be with again, only being able to observe them like their captors had for who knows how long. 

He hadn't wanted to come here, he never did, why would he? But he had pretended to be happy for his friends' sakes, to make it easier for them. He made his choice for them and only them. His crying quickly progressed to loud, choked sobs and screams into the pillow, pounding on the cold, hard ground. Why him? Why any of them? What had any of them ever done to make them deserve this endless torture, strife and mind games? He felt like a petty doll, there to entertain, to play with and to taunt; not a human being with thoughts, feelings and a will of his very own. He always had. His only comfort had been in the friends he had made with the other dolls, and now he didn't even have that. He gripped at the pillow, squeezing and pulling at it. He threw it as hard as he could at the door, it making a soft thump before it slid down the wall. He continued to pound on the ground, over and over again, his fist becoming red with irritation. His punches slowed little by little and by the time he his fist had begun to bleed, staining the white floor just a little bit red, sleep had overtaken him. Or had the Watchers used their magic to put him out? Either was equally as likely.