I Can't Remember

[18] Well, It's Time They Found Out What Was Messing With The Memories Anyway...

"What the hell are you doing here?!"

Ranboo and Tommy had the sense to look sheepish as Dream screamed at them.

"All this way, do you realise how dangerous it is?! I've put traps and trick steps the whole way! If either of your horses had made one wrong step, you would be dead!"

"But–"

"But we didn't, Clay," said Ranboo. He slowly walked towards Dream. His chest was heaving as he fumed with anger, trying to control his breathing. He had a deadly glare as Ranboo approached him.

"Ranboo..." Tommy cautioned. Ranboo ignored it, choosing to keep eye contact with Dream.

"What are you doing?" Dream's voice sounded out as he masked his confusion with anger.

They were face to face now. Suddenly, Ranboo lifted his hands.

Dream flinched. Well... he tried to flinch.

Ranboo had his arms around Dream's shoulders. He was hugging him.

With shaking hands, Dream hugged back. Tommy cautiously moved forward.

"We care about you, Clay, we were really worried. You have to understand you snatched away the Book, screamed and held your head. Then you somehow managed to get on your horse and ride more than 500 blocks away to... here. All the while you looked barely conscious. God knows what could've happened to you. Let us help, man." Dream hugged Ranboo tighter as tears slipped out of his eyes. Tommy put an awkward hand on his shoulder.

"Not to ruin the moment, big man," Tommy began, "but it's getting dark. If you don't mind, maybe we could go inside?"

"It's very nice, this place," said Tommy. He winced at his poor choice of words. It wasn't wrong, per se, it was just... a bit of an understatement.

To someone like Tommy, who grew up in the heart of industrialisation with too many people around him, whose entire life was just one long struggle– struggle for a breath of fresh air, struggle for a walk on the beach, struggle for escape from his father's house, struggle for independence– a place like this felt like a safe haven. Surrounding the house were dense woods, with a dirt trail stretching out from the house entrance into the woods. Lots of birds flew around the house, snacking on the grains in the balcony and on the roof. The only sounds were the birds, the wind, and the woods.

All in all, it was perfect.

Dream nodded in thanks as he led the two boys inside. They marvelled at his cozy interior as he went to the kitchen. He pulled out a dusty glass from the stand and washed it. He filled it with water and gulped it down. He also washed his face. Nothing happened. If anything, he felt worse.

The glass fell from his grip. He thought he heard someone say his name, but before he could respond he had fallen down. With half-lidded eyes, he saw a figure approach, but before he could identify it... he passed out.

***

The teenagers made him sit on the couch. There was a glass of water, a jug, a plate full of food, and a trashcan around him. They had prepared for every scenario. Now it was his time to talk.

And talk he did.

He realised that there was no other way around it, he had to explain his plan. Else they would just meddle.

"Alright, first of all, you can call me Dream now. My memories are back, and I'd like to honour this name as much as I have honoured my real name.

Second, no interruptions. This is a long one."

He started off. He explained that the Book was a very strong celestial object, handcrafted by the Gods. He didn't know why they had chosen him to protect it, but he did it anyway.

What he didn't know was that the Book was cursed. With every use, he would lose a part of his memory, as a sacrifice. It was nature's– and the maker's– way of maintaining balance.

Every time he used it, more and more memory would be gone, making him forget important things. Drove an evil force in him. Which wasn't killed till Tommy took his first and second canon life.

When he used it in the prison, he lost every shred of useful memory that he had left, leaving him in total confusion. He only knew parts about his life before L'manberg, afterwards were like an album of paintings, holding snapshots over the year.s clear enough to be informational, vague enough to be frustrating. He lost sense of the timeline.

This also connected to Ranboo's memories. Ranboo was part Enderman, a creature of The End. The creation of the Book had permanently damaged the Endermen, but Ranboo still held to his 'humanity' due to his hybrid nature. Once the Book was destroyed, he would also get his memories back. God, he had his memories back too, that was something huge to register.

When he had nothing left to give, the ownership of the Book had to be transferred to someone else. There were only two people around at the time– Wilbur and Sapnap. Sapnap was the one who was revived, so Wilbur immediately got ownership. And the thing about the Book is that it is so powerful that it cannot be destroyed by usual means.

Which meant that it had to be destroyed at the weak point of the server. Which was the Stronghold.

The server lands were not stable enough to support the opening to The End, but the scope of opening a portal to The End was good enough. That region has to be weak, or the portal wouldn't open. The Nether is well connected to the 'Overworld', so Nether portals were not a big deal.

That was the only place where the Book could be destroyed. The Gods lived in the End City, so it was the closest to its origins that the Book was going to get.

There was another problem though, such an object required more than just proximity to the End.

It required– surprise, surprise– a sacrifice.

A strong one too.

More specifically, a server leader.

The Book was like a test to the owner, was he willing to leave his mortal form behind for the safety of the server?

Dream looked up at them.

"I'm willing."