~The First Step~ a Hermitcraft AU

Chapter 38

wc: 1347

its my birthday week :)

Grian fought. That was all he knew.

The next week went by in a blur. He attended no meetings, just trained the soldiers and trained himself.

Years of relaxation and made him soft. The Leader would have been disappointed, he thought to himself, and flinched when he remembered that the Leader was dead. I'm the Leader. His staff clattered to the floor. I'm still disappointed, though.

The training dummy in front of him was barely recognizable, its feature-less face and wooden chest slashed to bits. Grian sat there, staring at its destroyed form, thinking, this is what I do to everyone. They're cursed by my touch. Maybe if I... he closed his eyes. If I died in that cell all those years ago, everyone would be okay. X wouldn't know me... Mumbo, Scar, everyone... they'd be safe. They wouldn't be roped up into this mess.

He opened his eyes again, staring down at the sword and into the eyes of his reflection. Xisuma was right. One person couldn't save everyone. In the end, either he'd be dead, or he'd be alive to see everything crumble to ruin.

The door creaked open. Grian didn't even need to look up to recognize that the quiet footsteps were Xayla's. Back then, those footsteps were his only hope. Now, he wished that they never came. That she never nursed him back to health the first time, or the second, or the dozens and maybe hundreds of times afterwards.

They'd thought he was unconscious when they found him with his wings gone and clothes bloody, but he'd been awake for every second of agony. Everytime he thought he could drift off and perhaps forget the pain, something would twitch, and his vision would flash white, but he remained painfully alert.

The undeniable relief when Xayla's footsteps came for the last time to his little cell was overwhelming. He couldn't see, could barely breathe, couldn't move or speak- but he remembered every step and the searing agony that came with it. He wished he didn't.

"Grian?" Xayla's voice floated in the air, his ears barely picking up on it. "How long have you been in here?"

His head suddenly felt heavy, all of the adrenaline leaving his body in an instant. She gave him a hand to stand up but had to immediately support him when spots danced in his vision.

She frowned and put a hand on his forehead. "Are you okay? I thought I told you that you couldn't exert yourself too much. You're still healing."

"But Xeluph isn't," he mumbled propping himself up on her shoulder.

"You look terrible," Xayla informed him. She checked his forehead again. "And you might have a fever again. I'm gonna check your bandages. When was the last time you ate?"

He managed a shrug. She sighed and shook her head, half guiding and half dragging him back to his room. Inside, his stomach roiled just seeing how weak he was now. In the past, he was much stronger. When his wings were severed, it seemed that most of his reserve was sapped as well.

When they made it back to his room, he basically collapsed into bed, prying off his boots and tossing them into the corner. Xayla sighed again and made her way back to the door.

She paused, one hand on the handle. "I..." Another pause. "I hope that you know that it's not your fault. And that we... we need you, but if you. Uh. If you need something else... you're free to leave."

Grian's eyes drifted closed. The fireplace in the corner crackled, making the room almost too warm, but his chest was very, very cold.

~~~

Xisuma felt very, very cold.

Ever since the fight with Grian, he'd felt uneasy. Whether it was the fact that he'd stayed in the Watcher world instead of taking Grian right home or that he just felt bad about arguing, he felt like he couldn't rest or relax until something was done.