~The First Step~ a Hermitcraft AU

Chapter 61

wc: 1525

tw: discussions of grief, mention of blood

Grian opened his eyes.

He was standing in the middle of what seemed to be a dark abyss, stars littering the expanse surrounding him no matter what direction he faced. Strangely enough, it felt like home.

"Hey."

Grian turned, not even jolting at the sudden sound. His eyes fell on Pearl, who smiled at him with only a hint of sadness. "Hi, Pearl," he breathed.

"Come on," Pearl said, holding out her hand.

Carefully, Grian placed his palm in hers, and-

A flash. Gold. Feathers. A smile, accompanied by a laugh. A hug. A kiss. A song.

The first time Grian had grown wings, they had hurt. They'd left him shivering and screaming on the floor of a dingy stone cell, painting the walls dark with his own blood. This time, it was thrilling.

They bloomed from his back, unfurling in bright, golden glory- not breaking the skin, no, just growing from it, beautiful and complete. Different, this time, as there was no hint of purple, no twinge of violet or blood, but just pure... light.

It felt amazing. It felt like everything Grian had ever dreamed of- Vast, open air; twisting, flying, laughing, his hand in someone else's and the sun shining warmly upon his skin. It was love, and joy, and freedom from a burden he'd carried his entire life.

Until it had ended.

...Wasn't that a thought. Grian hummed, brow furrowing as he considered this. Was he even upset? He'd never given much thought to afterlives and heaven and hell, never doing more than listening to folklore and reading mythos. A place with no bad felt too farfetched, yet... was he happy?

Grian was. Yes, he was, he decided as he flapped great golden feathers.

"I'm ready," Grian said without needing a prompt.

"Let's go," Pearl replied, lips curving to form a grin.

Pearl tugged, and they went.

~~~

Mumbo wandered the aftermath of the battle in shock.

The moment the comm had cut out, him and the others still at the base had shrugged on elytras and flown as fast as humanly possible. With the chaos that the attack had caused, civilians had flooded the streets, though none seemed to pay the speeding group much mind as they shot through the fog of the city. Mumbo's mind had been whirring, flicking through possibilities, but still holding out hope.

Hope that had vanished as soon as he'd dove in through the door, down the hall, and into the thick of a paused battle. It wasn't hard to find the cluster of Hermits, the contrasting brightness of their hair and skin and clothes stark against the gray backdrop of the capitol building. Mumbo is pushing through the crowd before he knows it, past soldiers with... horrified looks on their faces. That was not a good sign.

Iskall was there, one hand grasping Mumbo's shoulder but no words coming from his mouth, and as Mumbo came to his knees his heart sank, shattered, and disintegrated in his chest.

Grian looked peaceful.

Even though his chest did not move, even though there was a faint trickle of blood from his nose, the furrow in between his brows had finally smoothed and his muscles had finally went slack. He seemed like he's lost 10 years, and Mumbo nearly lost it right there when he realized how tense Grian was for so long, only to relax at his death.