A Guide For The Outsiders

What Makes a Hero? (Sacrifices and Sorrow, I love you all, This is goodbye)

TW: if you've read my other books, you shouldn't have a problem
(Astra has no clue what to tag)

Ranboo woke up. Or maybe they didn't, because they didn't remember falling asleep. The ground around them was rubble, the entire city leveled to the ground. There was nothing around them but ashes and dust, shattered glass sparkled in the sunlight, so fine it was almost sand particles.

They drew in a breath, but it never reached his lungs, the exhale never reaching his hand. Ranboo rose, boots crunching on rubble as they tripped around, trying to find something tangible. They reached for their axe, somehow unscathed, but their hand never closed around it. Ranboo collapsed to the ground.

● ● ●

The enderian found themselves in a place of darkness, not uncomfortable black, nor searing white, something muted, something quiet. They found a small pool of water, and when they stared into it, their reflection stared back. Not burned, not injured. There were no scars that beared meaning, no wounds that told the enderian's life. He looked almost childlike. No marks to represent the toil of life, the stress of burdens or pain.

Ranboo looked whole.

Then the pool drew them in, Ranboo absent-mindedly let their claws trail in the water, they touched their reflection, the ripples distorting it, warping it until it looked different. Scared and clutching a book with a frayed quill, his reflection had ink stains on their hands and a strained smile.

Ranboo swept his hand over the water again, the ripples distorting their reflection again. His reflection was a full enderian, with a brazen look. They were adorned with a purple tunic and gold jewelry. Rings and bangles, earrings, and a circlet, they were honored, valued, at least on the surface.

They dragged their fingers through the water once again, the glint of rings and bracelets replaced with the eerie glow of a mask. This version of him was human. A blank face stared back at them. This reflection was hollow, carved out through trauma, or lack of control. It's mind's  eye drawing into the dark recedes of their mind, unwilling, or unable to watch what their hands do to others. Unable to stop things, and unable to break out.

Someone appeared behind him, his reflection showing what the enderian really looked like. Burned, their face marred by fire and shrapnel, there was a woman behind him, her face shrouded by the shadow her hat cast.

"Someone finds themselves at the pool of reflection once again. Have you found what you're looking for, dear child?"

"Sorry, again?"

The woman laughed airily, nothing negative within her voice. She waved a pale hand, and the place changed, beautiful swirling colors that blurred in pretty pastels.

"You are familiar with me. Even if you don't think so, you subconsciously remember me. It is a part of your nature."

"Part of my nature?"

"I am from your original telling, so you recognize me as someone you know."

"Why does everything seem so confusing and overlapping?"

"It's hard to place things together into a coherent image when some pieces are tainted by evil."

Ranboo saw bits and pieces, Tubbo banishing Tommy, with green strings holding up the brunette's hands. Tommy yelling at Tubbo with strings wrapped around his neck, choking out his real voice. Ranboo throwing explosives, with strings moving his arms.

Another version of them, with strings ensnaring him, tangling him as all the fight and struggle leaves their eyes, they give up, and they gave into the control.