The Grim Reaper || Technoblade (Old)

18: Burns

Days had passed since I had warned Technoblade of the impending danger, and I couldn't help but notice a subtle shift in his behavior. Over the past couple of days, he had become increasingly occupied, spending more and more time brewing potions or sharpening his weapons. Also starting to leave the cabin at greater and greater lengths of time.

I couldn't help but worry when he left for an extended period of time, what was he doing? Sure, he deserved his privacy, but with gods know who out there, I couldn't help but release a breath of relief whenever he trudged back into the cabin.

I had to admit, it felt as if I was doing nothing, sure I would tend to Carl or visit a village to buy some much needed supplies that we couldn't get anywhere else, or sometimes I'd cook to try and get a taste of something other than potatoes, yet it really felt like I hadn't been doing much.

Sometimes I found myself staring out of the window on a particularly sunny day, only to watch as the wind started to pick up and a blizzard came down from the sky, then I was left to look at the inside of the cabin, it was boring.

Then again, it was usually boring in the cabin, there wasn't much to do, if Technoblade didn't leave me anything to do, or if I finished it too early, then I'd spend the rest of the day just sitting around. Maybe I should visit Wilbur again, or try and talk to the ex-president, although he seemed quite annoying.

But then there would be no telling how long I'd be gone, and I didn't want to leave Technoblade alone. Maybe I'd call Phil again, or ask Techno if I could join him at whatever he was doing, or do something else.

What was I thinking? I was my own person, I didn't have to listen to Technoblade, I could do what I wanted.

What did I want to do?

There were so many options, would I truly be able to live a life? Without any burdens or fear of changing fate? What if I did something now that affected the entire future?

How could Phil live like this? Knowing everything but nothing, how could he be so sure that he was making the right choices? That he wouldn't bring those he loved into oblivion? I mean, look at what happened to his son? His own flesh and blood, killed from his own hands.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, I paced back and forth in the cabin. The creaking floorboards echoed in my ears, almost like daggers that made me stare at them whenever they creaked.

I found myself spiraling into a crisis. Doubt crept into every crevice of my mind, was I doing the right thing? Should I have come here? Was I causing issues for everyone? Should I have stayed where I was before?

I couldn't help but question the very essence of my existence and purpose. Was this ok? Was I allowed to do this? Why would the gods let me do this? In the solitude of the cabin, the walls seemed to close in, suffocating me with their unrelenting presence.

I stopped mid step, noticing my racing heart and instead sitting on the floor, it was fine, right? I left, I left them all behind, all of those tortured souls, I was doing better now?

I brought my hand up to my mask, pulling down my hood and revealing my face. I couldn't help it, it felt like I wasn't getting enough air, I couldn't breathe. It felt like they were all calling to me, calling to me in pain, begging for me to make it stop, if only I could.

Sitting there, then standing there, I caught a glance of myself in the window and I couldn't help but stare.

The last time I saw myself I had a face.

Or at least, I had features.

Right?

It wasn't just black, dark, emptiness?