Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The boy was young, and he looked even younger in his sleep. He was barely five foot five, with a round smiling face and neat brown hair. There was a silver compass on a chain around his neck, with the words 'Your Tommy’ engraved on it.

The man in the green hoodie stood next to his bed, admiring him as he slept. Gently, he pulled the covers from the boy’s bed and began to tie him up, being careful not to wake him. The man finished by blindfolding him, then lifted the boy out of bed. He dragged him over to the window, held him tightly, and flew.

The last thing the residents of the town heard from the boy was a single frightened scream.

. . .

Tommy woke up. Surely it had just been a nightmare, that scream that he had heard. But he had to check. He was terrified for his friend.

Tommy was a tall, quite good-looking boy with scruffy, curly blond hair and eyes as blue as the sea. Around his neck, he wore a silver compass on a chain, engraved with the words ‘Your Tubbo’. Getting up, he pulled on a red and white T-shirt and a pair of jeans. He grabbed his trainers and slipped his feet into them.

Tommy was Tubbo’s best friend, although he would only have admitted it under threat of death. Tubbo had been a constant companion to him, always by his side. People often said he was Tommy’s sidekick, but only some knew that he was more than that. Tubbo was Tommy’s lifelong friend. They had always been there for each other.

Tommy told himself that Tubbo was probably fine, that it had probably been a nightmare, and that he was just being silly. However, something was bothering him. He never had nightmares, so why would that be one? Something just didn’t add up. He had to check. If his friend was... no, he couldn’t think about that. He refused to think about that. But what if he was just worrying about nothing? What if nothing had happened, and he had just been dreaming?

Screw it. He was going anyway. The sky was dark, the stars were out, the moon was shining. Outside, odd shadows danced like ballerinas, covered in a blanket of darkness like a stage curtain. Inside, it was just as dark, but Tommy recognised the familiar shapes of his bed, his desk, and his wardrobe. He checked the clock. It was half past two in the morning.

“Of course. Stupid o’clock,” he whispered. It was good to hear the sound of his own voice, in ways that he didn’t know how to describe. He kept talking. “It’s always bloody early when something like this happens, isn’t it?” He stood up and walked to his bedroom door, accidentally stubbing his toe on it. Quietly, he swore, trying not to wake anyone up. “Pog through the pain,” he mumbled, and opened the door.

Still half asleep, he stumbled down the stairs, his fair hair scruffier than usual. He cursed himself for not putting socks on, as his trainers were already hurting his feet. His eyes had just about got used to the dark now, but it was still quite difficult to make out exactly what anything was. He reached the front door, opened it, and stepped outside.

The cold wind hit him sharply as he walked out the door, blowing his hair all over the place. Tubbo’s house was right next door, and he knew where the spare key was kept- under the flowerpot on the windowsill. He grabbed it, his fingers numb from the cold, and unlocked the door. Closing it behind him as he walked in, he ran upstairs to Tubbo’s room. He tiptoed in to check on his friend.

“Hey! Big T!” he whispered. The room looked quite normal, apart from the darkness. The shadows of a desk and a wardrobe, a bed, a South Park poster on the wall, and on the desk, a large jar with a beehive inside. Tubbo loved bees, and the noise of their buzzing filled the room. Tommy wondered how his friend could stand it. But something was wrong. He could see that. The sheets were in a crumpled heap on the floor, and nobody was in the bed.

Nobody was in the bed, he realised.

Tubbo was gone.

. . .

Tubbo was aware of a few things. Firstly, someone had tied him up. He couldn’t move his arms or legs. He was also blindfolded, a thin silk cloth covering his eyes. He couldn’t see anything at all. Someone was holding him, too. He could feel their icy cold hands keeping him in a firm grip, their strong arms refusing to let go of him. Tubbo didn’t like hugs, and this was just a much more frightening version of a hug, one that was holding him captive. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t break free, he couldn’t end this torture. And he was scared. Terrified. Where was he?

He was flying. He could tell by the low pressure in his ears, the wind rushing past his head, the way his feet dangled uselessly. How high up was he? Who was holding on to him? He twisted and turned, tried to escape, but it was impossible. The ropes around him were too tight. Clearly this person was an expert in kidnapping. They knew exactly what they were doing. He tried to fight his way out, slapping and kicking, but the person didn’t react. He swore quietly. There was no way out.

The person pulled the blindfold from Tubbo’s eyes, and the boy saw who his kidnapper was. He was a man with dirty blond hair, his face covered by a simple white mask with a smiley face on it. He wore a green hoodie, also with the same smiley face on it. The face wasn’t comforting. The eyes were simple black dots, one slightly higher up than the other, and the smile a bit too wide, making it look quite creepy.

“Who are you?” Tubbo asked, a fearful look in his eyes. Looking down, he saw just how far from the ground they actually were. They had to be about fifty metres up. “And what the hell do you think you’re doing, taking me away like this?”

“They call me Dream,” the man said. “Although it isn’t my name, it’s what I’m known as. If you want to know why I’m taking you away... all will be revealed in time. Nice PJ’s, by the way,” he added, mocking him.

“Shut up,” Tubbo said, looking down at his black and yellow bee onesie. “If you find this so funny, what do you sleep in, may I ask?”

There was a pause before Dream answered. “I don’t sleep. But if I did, I certainly wouldn’t go to bed in a horrible bee suit. How old are you, twelve? You look it.”

“Seventeen, actually.” Tubbo attempted to break free once again, but Dream’s grip was a lot stronger than he had expected. “I know I look younger, but I’m really just short. Now, will you please, for the love of God, let go of me?”

Dream laughed, a wheezing whistle that sounded very much like a kettle. “If I let go of you, you’d crash down to the ground and break multiple bones, and probably die slowly and painfully. I mean, if that’s what you want, just say the word. Oh, and that silver necklace of yours would most likely break,” he said, admiring the compass around Tubbo’s neck. “Who made that for you?”

Tubbo, despite his legs being tied together, lifted both up and kicked his kidnapper in the nuts. Dream didn’t react. “None of your business,” Tubbo told him. “Now, tell me where we’re going, or I’ll kick you in the balls again.”

“You’re a feisty one, I’ll give you that.” Dream sounded quite impressed. “You’ll find out where we’re going when we get there,” he said. “By all means, go ahead and kick me again. It doesn’t hurt a bit.” Tubbo swore, a single four-letter word, spoken with fear and rage. Dream just laughed it off. “You’re adorable. Do you really think I haven’t heard it all before?”

But Tubbo had stopped listening, lost in his own thoughts.

. . .

Tommy didn’t know where he was going. He only knew that he was running, running from the world, running from the loss of his best friend. Where was Tubbo? He stopped for a second and checked the compass hanging around his neck.

The compasses had been made by Tommy’s friend Wilbur, and they didn’t point north. They pointed towards each other. Tommy only had one link to Tubbo now, and it was this compass. He looked at it. It was pointing towards somewhere that he liked to call The Middle Of Nowhere.

He was in the forest near the village. He sat down under a tree, a large oak that he and Tubbo had once climbed together. He remembered that time. They had been fourteen years old, young and playful. Tommy had made a joke about pushing his friend off the branch. Tubbo, in retaliation, had threatened to kick him in the balls.

Good times, he thought.

There was a rustling behind him, and Tommy quickly turned around to see what it was. However, whatever it was had disappeared.

He kept remembering the good times. It was a good distraction from his fears of losing Tubbo. The games they had played, the events they had attended, the endless pranks that had gone wrong. The times they had stayed up late, playing video games, watching Netflix, before one of their parents shouted that it was one o’clock in the morning and they had to go to bed.

He was lost, lost in a world of endless good times and memories, lost without his friend to guide him. Lost in his own thoughts.

Something behind him tapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of it. Tommy turned around and saw the tallest person he knew looking at him.

“Ranboo,” Tommy said, surprised, and also quite confused. What was he doing here? At this time of night? And, more importantly, why was he talking to Tommy?

Ranboo was extremely tall, six foot six, and Tommy rather disliked him. He was half Enderman, but nobody knew what the other half was. He was seventeen years old, with fluffy blond hair, the fluffiest Tommy had ever seen, and two different coloured eyes- one green, one red. His cheeks were also scarred badly. Right now, he was stood there in a suit, a desperately worried look on his face. “I heard Tubbo scream,” he said, shuddering, his eyes full of panic. Tommy could tell how worried he was. “Do you- do you know if he’s alright?”

“I checked,” Tommy told him. “I don’t know what happened, but he’s disappeared. I don’t know if he’s alright, and to be completely honest, I’m-” Tommy stopped for a second, a bit ashamed. “I’m worried about him, Ranboo.”

The tall boy sat next to him. “If it helps, so am I.” Ranboo stared into the trees, not looking at Tommy. “I was one of his best friends- well, you were his best friend, but he told me I was a very close second.” Ranboo chuckled, but stopped when he saw the look on Tommy’s face. “You’ve got that compass that we can use to find him, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, I have,” Tommy answered him. “But what’s this ‘we’? You’re not coming.”

Ranboo turned to look at him. “I certainly am. I could protect you- I know you’re not strong enough to fight an Enderman, and with my help, you wouldn’t have to fight one at all. And you would have someone to complain to, which is always a bonus.” He shuffled closer to Tommy. “I know you don’t like me, but Tubbo means a lot to me, too.”

Tommy stuck his tongue out. “The pity card won’t work on me, Ender Boy... you know what, fine. Fine. You can come. But you do what I say, and you have to put up with all my complaints.”

“Sounds fair,” Ranboo said. He didn’t smile- he didn’t often smile- but he nodded. “Does sunrise tomorrow morning sound good to you?”

Tommy scowled. “This is a rescue mission, not a business meeting. You don’t have to arrange the date and time.” He paused for a second. “Yeah, sunrise is fine, I’ve not got anything planned tomorrow. My parents won’t mind, will they?”

“I don’t know, mine wouldn’t, but I haven’t met your parents,” Ranboo said. “I’ll see you at sunrise then. Get some sleep, you need it. And make sure you bring some food and water. I’ll bring the tent and sleeping bags- us Endermen have a very special design for them that fits in a relatively small backpack.”

“Whatever,” Tommy said, attempting to still hate Ranboo, but he had to admit that he was rather interested by this. He would have to ask later. “Bye then. See you at sunrise.”

But Ranboo had already gone.

Chapter Text

They had reached their destination- a small building hidden away in the mountains. Dream landed outside it and took Tubbo inside. It was a prison, with a single large cell. There was someone already inside it, but Tubbo didn’t pay any attention to him, as he was on the other side of the bars. This must have been the cell viewing area.

Dream took Tubbo into a small side room, completely bare of furniture. “Child, what’s your name?” he asked, still wearing the smiley face mask.

“Tubbo,” the boy replied. “And I am not a child.”

“Tubbo what?”

“Tubbo Underscore,” the boy in the bee onesie answered.

“And you’re seventeen years old?” Dream asked, removing the ropes he had used to tie Tubbo up.

“Yes, I am.”

“Great.” Dream was scribbling on a notepad as he spoke, making notes. “Right then, young man, I’ll need that ridiculous bee suit from you,” he said firmly.

Tubbo laughed. “It’s definitely not big enough for you. I know you’re jealous, but it really is a few sizes too small.”

Dream glared at him. “I warn you, I’m not in the mood for jokes. Take off the bee onesie and put this on,” he said, handing him a white prison uniform. “Go on, then. I’m waiting.”

“Well, I can’t if you’re looking,” Tubbo said, blushing.

“You certainly can, and you will,” Dream snapped. “For goodness sake, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Just put the prison uniform on.”

Tubbo swore under his breath, but did as he was told, not seeing any point in arguing any more. “There,” he said once he had changed. “Happy now?”

“No, not really,” the man in the green hoodie mumbled. “I’ll need that pretty compass as well.”

Reluctantly, Tubbo gave him the compass. Dream looked at it lovingly, then put it around his neck. He opened a door next to him, picked the boy up, and pushed him through it, before slamming the door behind him.

Tubbo swore loudly. He was now in a prison cell.

. . .

It was sunrise, and Tommy had already arrived where he had agreed to meet with Ranboo, his backpack full of food. The morning was chilly, and the boy blew on his hands to warm them up.

Ranboo appeared, almost out of nowhere, a few seconds later, a rucksack on his back, wearing a grey hoodie and a pair of black jeans. “Ready to go?” he asked Tommy.

“All ready, yeah,” he replied. “You?”

“I’m ready too,” he said. “Did you tell your parents you were coming?” he asked.

Tommy laughed. “No, I did not,” he said with a cheeky smile, but then remembered that he didn’t really like Ranboo. “But it’s fine, they definitely won’t mind. They’ll definitely be alright with it. Because I am a big man and I am old enough!”

“I don’t know, Tommy,” Ranboo said. “Still, shall we go?”

“Yes, yes we should,” Tommy said. “Let’s go, Ender Boy!”

They began walking through the forest, the cold wind blowing, freezing them. It was the end of October, and the weather was chilly. The trees were tall, still holding on to the last of their leaves, graceful figures that stood over their path like guardians. Grass crunched under their feet, almost frozen with the cold. Why was it so cold? Flowers blossomed along the side of the path, their bright colours making the day seem just that little bit more pleasant.

Ranboo and Tommy walked in silence, their feet crunching the fallen leaves. Ranboo didn’t speak, not wanting to upset Tommy. Tommy didn’t want to speak to Ranboo. As the wind blew, the cold hit them harder and harder. The birds twittered, and the air smelled of greenery and berries, the sweet scent of flowers, and the sharp, clear smell of frost and cold.

“Tommy, I’ve got to tell you something,” Ranboo said, after about half an hour. “A few things, actually. That you’ll probably hate.”

“Yeah, tell me whatever,” said Tommy carelessly, attempting to still dislike Ranboo. Why was it so hard to not like him now? Was it because of Tubbo? Whatever it was, he would not let it stop him. He would not. “What is it then, Ender Boy?”

“It’s a few things, actually.” Ranboo looked at him, a bit ashamed. “Well, first... you know I’m half Enderman, right?” He didn’t wait for a reply before continuing. “Which means that water hurts me. It’s like acid to me, it burns me. And I’m sensitive to staring, as well. Let me tell you now, it sucks being half Enderman.” He chuckled. “And, I don’t know if this is an Enderman thing, but I have a serious memory loss issue... I’m always forgetting things. And I can barely remember anything from my past... nothing about the End, nothing at all really from before I met Tubbo.” At this, he looked a bit sad. “And then there’s the enderwalk state. It’s a bit like sleepwalking, but... well, it’s basically me going back to my Enderman self, remembering everything from far in the past, but forgetting most of the recent things, like human language. So, if I start speaking Ender to you, just try to wake me up.”

Tommy didn’t say anything, but listened, finding it quite interesting. Despite his dislike of Ranboo, he had to admit that he was actually quite an interesting person.

“Oh, and I hear a voice in my head as well, which is just great,” Ranboo added. “I’ve tried to ignore it, but it’s hard. It tells me stupid lessons, calls me a traitor... I don’t even know if it’s telling the truth. So, yeah... that’s probably the reason if I start telling something to shut up. Sorry, I know I must be a massive inconvenience to you...”

Tommy looked at him, still trying to hate him, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer rudely, seeing how exhausted Ranboo looked, how he must not have slept at all since last night. “Honestly, you aren’t that big of an inconvenience.” When Ranboo didn’t answer, Tommy took his hand and held it tightly. “No, seriously, you’re not an inconvenience. God, I sound so ridiculous saying the word ‘inconvenience’, don’t I?” Tommy chuckled. “No, you’re Tubbo’s friend, so you can’t be that bad. And you’re an Enderman, which is seriously very poggers.”

“I’m actually only half Enderman,” Ranboo corrected him. “I have no idea what the other side is. I don’t think anyone knows what the other side is.”

“Except your Enderman parent,” Tommy pointed out. “Whichever one of your parents was an Enderman probably knows. I mean, they must know, if they had se-”

Making oddly panicked Enderman noises, Ranboo put a hand over Tommy’s mouth. “Shut up, I don’t need to know, I don’t need to think about that, not right now.” But, a few seconds later, he removed his hand with half a smile. “Honestly, there’s very few things I won’t let you talk about while we’re walking, and, umm... Enderman reproduction, shall we say... is one of those very few things. Alright? You got that?”

Tommy laughed. “Yeah, alright, fine, I’ll keep quiet for now. Can’t promise anything for later though.” He giggled.

“You are so childish, Tommy,” Ranboo mumbled, and the two continued walking. This was where the forest ended, and the flat plains began, huge expanses of grass and wildflowers. Clouds gathered in the sky, but they didn’t appear to be bringing rain. The whole place had a subtle floral scent. Tommy checked his compass. They were definitely going the right way.

He decided to give Ranboo a chance. He was Tubbo’s friend, after all. Maybe he wasn’t that bad. More importantly, he couldn’t wait to learn more about Endermen.

. . .

Tubbo looked around. The cell was simple. It was quite large, with a small, barred window, a bench under it, a relatively large blanket to sleep on, and a bucket in the corner that smelled awful, presumably to be used as a toilet. There was another inmate sat on the bench, a strong-looking man, with pink hair tied back in a long braid, and red eyes. Red. How odd, Tubbo thought. The man's face and arms were covered in scars, and he was dressed in the same prison uniform as him.

“Hi,” Tubbo said to him, nervously, keeping a fair distance. “I’m Tubbo.” He was worried that, if he got close, the man would knock him out. He looked like a tough man, with a deadly fire in his eyes.

“Hey,” the man answered him, looking at him. “I’m Technoblade. What did you do to get put in here?” He had a deep, emotionless voice, almost boring.

“I don’t know, really. That Dream guy basically just kidnapped me, and here I am.” Tubbo sat down on the floor, not daring to use the bench. “What did you do?”

“Tried to fight him. As you can probably tell, I didn’t win.” He got off the bench and sat next to Tubbo. Seeing the boy shudder, Technoblade put his arm around him. “Are you alright? You look a bit frightened. What’s scaring you?”

Tubbo wriggled away from him. “Well... you are, to be honest. Everything that’s happened in the last few hours has scared me, though. So, you know, don’t take it personally. Oh, and just to let you know... I really don’t like hugs.”

Technoblade looked at the boy. “I heard you arguing with Dream about a bee onesie.”

Tubbo blushed. He didn’t know if Technoblade was making fun of him, so he said, “I was in my pyjamas when he kidnapped me.”

The man with the pink hair laughed. “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one with embarrassing pyjamas. I have a pig onesie. It’s actually really comfortable, but everyone calls me a child when I wear it. Talking of children, how old are you? And, this is really important by the way, are you an orphan?”

“I am seventeen years old, I am not a child,” Tubbo said, staring the man in the eye. “And no, I’m not an orphan.”

“Thank God.” Technoblade looked relieved. “I hate orphans, you know. They killed my mother, my little sister, my father... God, I hate orphans.”

“Wait,” Tubbo said. “If both your parents were killed by orphans, doesn’t that make you one?” Tubbo thought he had a very valid point.

Technoblade didn’t answer that. Instead, he stood up and looked out of the barred window. “One day,” he said, staring at the mountain scenery with such intensity that Tubbo had to step back and wonder if he was in prison with a madman, “one day, Tubbo, I’ll fight my way out of here. I’ll beat Dream, this time. And I’ll bring you with me.”

Tubbo didn’t know whether to pity, fear, or admire the man. He was certainly braver than anyone else Tubbo had ever met.

. . .

It was afternoon, the birds were chirping, and the world seemed normal. Outside the house was a young man. Wilbur Soot was twenty-five years old, and a good friend of Tommy’s. He had dark brown hair, extremely messy and scruffy, and brown eyes. He also wore thin round glasses. He was a musician and a writer, and lived in a large house with his father Philza.

He knocked on the door of Tommy’s house. Motherinnit, Tommy’s mother, opened it. “Good morning, Wilbur,” she said. “I haven’t seen Tommy at all today, sorry. I imagine he’s over at Tubbo’s. Probably helping him look after his bees. I heard one had a fungal infection, and you know how much Tubbo loves his- sorry, am I waffling?” she asked, seeing the look on Wilbur’s face.

“Yes, but it’s fine, I do it too,” Wilbur said with a laugh. “No, he’s not at Tubbo’s, I went there first.” He looked confused. “Then where is he?”

“In that case, he’s most likely pranking someone.” Motherinnit sighed. Her son was always doing silly things. “Right then, Will, would you like a cup of tea while we wait for him to come back?”

“Sorry, Motherinnit, I’m busy. I’ve got a song to write, and Dadza wants me to do his taxes. I mean, can’t he do them himself, the old git?” Wilbur looked annoyed. “It’s not like it’s hard. You write a few things down, get some money, then hand it in to the government. A five year old could do it.”

“Well, Phil’s getting old now,” Motherinnit said, nodding. “What’s the song about? Is it something about your ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend being an arsehole?”

“No, I’m done with the girlfriend songs. It’s called Electronic Cup,” the man replied. “I’ll let you make what you want of that. Anyway, I really need to get off, sorry. I’m just really busy at the moment.”

“Of course, dear, you go and write your song.” Motherinnit waved and closed the door. However, Wilbur was worried. Where was Tommy? Was he pranking someone, like Motherinnit had said? Somehow, Wilbur wasn’t convinced.

Where was he, then? Was he on an early walk in the forest? He began to walk home, quite worried. On the way, he saw Tubbo’s sister, Lani. “Hi, Lani,” he said, noticing that the girl was looking a bit sad. “Have you seen Tommy anywhere?”

“No,” she replied. “Do you know where Tubbo is?” she asked him, a spark of hope in her eyes.

Wilbur looked confused. “No,” he said. “Why? Can’t you find him?”

“Will, he’s been missing since three o’clock this morning,” the little girl said. She had long, dark hair, with a few blonde highlights, and bright blue eyes, which were red from crying. “I’m really worried. He doesn’t wake up until half past eight unless Mum makes him, and he wasn’t in bed at three in the morning. Maybe Tommy’s with him.”

“I don’t know,” Wilbur said. “Tommy’s gone, too. I can’t find him anywhere.” He swore quietly. “Maybe...” A thought formed in his mind. “Maybe one of them disappeared, and the other’s using one of my compasses to find them.”

Lani looked amazed. “You made those compasses?”

“Well, Dadza helped me,” he said, “but yeah, I did most of it. Anyway, that’s just a wild guess at what might have happened. We don’t know.”

“Sounds like it could be true,” Lani said. “How’s the work on Electronic Cup going? I listened to the bit you sent me. It sounds great so far!”

Wilbur smiled. “Thanks. I’ve been working on it for a while. I need some ideas for the second verse, though. Do you want to come and help me with it?”

Lani, interested, nodded. “I’d love to,” she said. “Maybe Philza can make me one of his famous cups of tea while I’m there.”

“I’ll make sure he does,” said Wilbur. “That reminds me, Lani. How would you like to learn how to do someone’s taxes for them?”

. . .

Night had fallen. Tommy and Ranboo had just reached the edge of the ocean. There was a boat tied to a post, and they had set up the tent, with the sleeping bags inside. Tommy was roasting marshmallows, and Ranboo was trying to stop the boy from causing a wildfire.

Tommy threw twigs and dead grass on the fire in huge handfuls, laughing happily. Holding the marshmallows on sticks, he jumped as one caught fire, dropping it. “I am Big Man Tommy and my job is to be a sexy hot Professional Arsonist!” he shouted, throwing a handful of mud and grass into the flames.

“Careful, Tommy. You don’t want to start a bushfire.” Ranboo looked at the boy holding the marshmallows, seeing the blackened white sweets on the ends of the sticks. “By the way, you’re burning the marshmallows. They should not be that colour.”

Tommy swore loudly and took the marshmallows off the fire. “I am a terrible cook,” he mumbled. “They must still be edible, though.” He popped one in his mouth, chewed it for a while, then spat it out into the flames. He swore again. “Never mind. Absolutely not edible. Tastes like absolute-” He finished his sentence with a single swear word and went to get more marshmallows out of the bag. Ranboo, watching him, chuckled. “Do you want me to tell you when the marshmallows look done?”

Tommy stuck his tongue out. “No, I am a big man, and I will do the cooking all by myself. I don’t need help from you, Ender Boy.” He paused for a second. “Fine then,” he said, walking back with the marshmallows. A cloudy, almost sad expression suddenly showed on his face. “I-” he lowered his voice considerably- “I really miss Tubbo. Already, even though it’s only been a day.” He sat down on the sand and started roasting a second batch of marshmallows. “Do- do you miss him like I do?” he asked, his voice cracking, close to tears.

“Oh, Tommy.” Ranboo sat next to him and put a hand on the boy’s hair. He didn’t reply for a few moments, not knowing what to say. Eventually he broke the silence by saying, “The marshmallows look ready.” Tommy took them off the fire, gave a few to Ranboo, and looked at him expectantly, chewing a marshmallow. The child looked like what he was- not a big man, not a sexy hot professional arsonist, but a small boy who had lost his friend.

Seeing the boy like that, Ranboo finally answered. “Yes. Yes, I do miss Tubbo,” he said, much more quietly than he had expected. “We need to find him, Tommy.”

Tommy turned away, but Ranboo heard what the boy mumbled. “I’m so glad I brought you with me, Ender Boy.” Ranboo decided not to bother him after that, and went to put out the fire.

Crickets began to chirp, the stars came out, and Tommy and Ranboo sat down next to each other, not talking. Staring into the gloom, they watched the light of the endless stars shimmering on the ocean. They sat there, silently, until Ranboo decided it was time for bed.

The two boys settled into their sleeping bags. Tommy, feeling a bit lonely, reached out and touched Ranboo’s finger. “Tommy,” Ranboo said softly, and held the boy’s hand. “Don’t worry, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” the boy whispered, and closed his eyes. He fell asleep almost immediately. Ranboo watched him. Tommy looked so young in his sleep. His blond hair was just as scruffy as it always was, but it was almost as if five years had been taken from him. He was seventeen years old, but he barely looked twelve now. Time was such an odd thing.

With that thought, Ranboo fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Tommy woke up.

It was cold, so cold. He remembered falling asleep with Ranboo holding his hand, but now there was no sign of the person Tommy called ‘Ender Boy’. Where was he? Surely he hadn’t done a Tubbo and just disappeared. He climbed out of his sleeping bag and stepped outside.

Ranboo, thank God, was outside. He turned to Tommy and made some strange noises. Was he speaking Ender language? Tommy realised that the tall boy was enderwalking and shook his shoulder. “Ranboo, wake up.”

He woke up surprisingly quickly. “Good morning, Tommy,” he said. “So, what’s the plan for today? Where are we going next?”

Tommy pointed to the boat. “We’re going over the ocean in that.”

Ranboo jumped. “Tommy, I can’t go over the ocean. You know water burns me...” Ranboo looked panicked, fear creeping into his eyes. “If one wave soaks me, I’ll be seriously injured.”

“Well, it’s a risk we’ll have to take.” Tommy threw him a leftover marshmallow. “That’s your breakfast.”

Ranboo nibbled on the marshmallow, shuddering. “Tommy, I absolutely can’t go in that boat! I’m going to get hurt!”

Tommy, seeing his panic, went over and patted the tall boy on the head. He had to reach quite far to do so, as Ranboo was extremely tall. “You’ll be fine, Ender Boy. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Thanks, Tommy, but I don’t think you can.” Ranboo looked out at the sea, not peacefully, like the night before, but with a worried look that barely concealed his blinding fear of water and the pain it caused him. He looked as if he was on the verge of a panic attack.

Tommy tried his last hope. “Ranboo...”

The tall boy turned to look at him. “Yeah?”

“Do it for Tubbo.”

There was a long silence, throughout all of which Ranboo was shaking in fear and Tommy was crossing his fingers. He was afraid, too. Afraid of... well, just about everything at this point.

Ranboo eventually spoke. “I’ll do it... for Tubbo.”

Tommy’s relief was immense. He attempted to untie the boat from its post, but, after getting quite frustrated and swearing a lot, he let Ranboo take over, who, to Tommy’s great annoyance, took less than ten seconds to undo the knot.

“Let’s go, Ender Boy!” Tommy shouted.

“One second,” Ranboo said. “Let me find something to use as a shield first.”

. . .

Lani had gone to Wilbur’s house again. She didn’t know what it was about him. It certainly wasn’t love- she was far too young for that. Perhaps it was the fact that they both had strong connections with missing people. Because it had officially been announced by the police. Both Tubbo and Tommy were missing, along with some Enderman guy called Ranboo, but they didn’t really know him very well.

Thinking about this, Lani sighed. The police were useless. She thought- no, she knew- that Sam, the head of police, was more interested in stopping the only drug dealer in town than looking for missing people. It wasn’t fair. Nobody was interested in buying Quackity’s “happy flour” anyway, at least, nobody that she knew.

She turned to Wilbur, who was writing the last verse of his song, Electronic Cup. “You’ve got your grammar wrong on the third line. It’s ‘their’, not ‘there’.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right.” Wilbur quietly cursed himself as he corrected his mistake. “Lani, can I ask you something?”

The girl nodded. “Of course.”

Wilbur took a sip out of the teacup next to him, blinking a lot. Suddenly, he burst into a fit of coughing. Was he trying to stop himself from crying? The girl was relieved when she finally heard his question. “Lani... do you miss Tubbo?”

“Yes, I do.” Lani put her hand on the man’s shoulder. It felt weird, comforting an adult, but she could see that Wilbur needed it. “You must miss Tommy, too.”

“God, Lani.” Wilbur swore. “Yeah, I do... Tommy was... well, to be honest, he was an annoying child, but he was my best friend.” He sighed. “Where do you think he is?”

“I don’t know,” Lani answered.

“There was something Dadza wrote in his old diaries that I read,” Wilbur said. “And it said...”

“What did it say?” Lani asked.

Wilbur waited a while before he replied. “It said... ‘You could spend a lifetime wondering what lies on the other end of the train tracks. Or you could go and find out. It hurts to let someone go, but sometimes leaving is necessary.’ That’s- that’s what he wrote.”

Lani glared at him. “Shut up, Wilbur, they’re not dead!” she exclaimed. “They can’t be. They just can’t...” She jumped at the idea. Her expression was a mixture of fear, worry, and hope, her hand clutching Wilbur’s, trying to convince herself that they weren’t...

No. She wouldn’t think about that. She couldn’t consider that for a second. Only if she knew for certain would she accept it. Tubbo was alive. Tommy was alive.

And she would tell herself that until it was proven otherwise.

. . .

Tubbo stared outside at the mountain scenery. Why was he here? What did Dream want with him? Why had he been kidnapped? He stood up and paced around the prison cell, swearing softly. Technoblade, sensing his distress, took the boy’s hand. “You get used to it eventually,” he told Tubbo. “But you never give up hope. I’m going to bust out of here one day and you’re coming with me.”

“Get off me,” the boy replied, pulling his hand away. “I don’t care, I just don’t really care any more. Take me with you if you want, but I’d be useless. You’d need to read out all the road signs for me.”

“Oh, are you blind or something?” Technoblade asked him, not sarcastically, but asking a genuine question.

Tubbo shook his head. “No, I’m not blind. I’m dyslexic.” He laughed. “If I was blind, I’d have bumped into something by now, I can guarantee you.”

Technoblade didn’t laugh, but he cracked a smile. He said something, but Tubbo didn’t hear, because Dream, in another room, was arguing with someone. It sounded like a woman, but it was hard to tell.

A few moments later, a girl walked into the prison viewing area, on the other side of the bars. Dream followed her, then walked out the door.

The girl looked about fifteen, with long blonde hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a white T-shirt with a cute green blob on it, and a pair of denim shorts. She was also wearing Tubbo’s compass. Seeing this, Tubbo jumped up and gave her the meanest stare he could, which was unfortunately not very mean looking. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“I’m Drista. Dream’s sister,” she said. “He’s gone away for a bit, so he’s left me in charge. Screw him,” she added, sounding annoyed. “Look, I really don’t like having to watch over you guys, but Dream’s literally going to kill me if I don’t do what he says. So, yeah. Sorry.”

“If you don’t like it, let us out!” Technoblade’s roar was terrifying, almost inhuman. It seemed impossible that this noise could come out of a man’s mouth. But Technoblade seemed like an exception to all the rules. “Let us out! We could take you with us, and protect you!”

Drista stood back and shook her head. Speaking in a faint whisper, she said, “I can’t do that...” Shuddering, she stepped backwards a few steps more. Tubbo, in the prison cell, jumped back to the wall, afraid of the man with the pink hair.

“Why not? What’s stopping you, you coward?” Technoblade stood up. He looked somewhat like a gladiator, and was certainly as fearsome as one. “We could keep you safe from Dream! If you say no, then you’re a coward. That’s all you are, a coward!” He grabbed the bars and stared into the girl’s eyes. “We can protect you from your brother! What is it? Is he paying you or something?”

Drista backed up to the wall, shaking like a leaf. Her blue eyes were full of tears.

“Technoblade.” Tubbo, stood shivering in the corner of the cell, looked at the man. “You’re frightening her. That really isn’t the best way to do this.”

He just shrugged. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that fear is the greatest motivator. It makes people listen.”

“What I meant by that,” Tubbo said, “was that you were frightening me, Technoblade.”

Technoblade went to sit down next to him. He didn’t speak for a while, and Tubbo realised that he was waiting for Drista to stop listening. He finally spoke when she left the room to make herself some coffee. “Tubbo, I’m trying to get us out of here. Don’t worry.”

“You do realise that you were shouting at a teenage girl,” Tubbo said. “She looked petrified. I was petrified, never mind her. She didn’t do anything to us, and you just yelled at her. That wasn’t fair, Technoblade. And you scared me.”

“You don’t need to be scared of me. I won’t hurt you- I mean, you want to get out of here as much as I do.” Technoblade looked at the floor for a few moments. “Are you sure I can’t give you a hug? Because you look like you need one.”

“Yes, I am absolutely sure, thank you very much.” Tubbo got up and moved to sit on the bench. “Please, just don’t do that again. It was terrifying.”

There was a long pause before he replied. “I’ll try. But I’ve been in here for three months now and, let me tell you, it’s awful,” Technoblade said. “It really is.” He looked exhausted. Almost sad. But how could he be sad? He didn’t seem like someone that would ever be sad.

“You can talk to me about it, if you want,” Tubbo said. “I’ll listen.” He walked over to Technoblade and gave him a hug.

Technoblade accepted it. “Thanks. But... I thought you said you didn’t like hugs.”

“I know.” Tubbo leaned forward and whispered in his ear. “But you look like you need one.”

. . .

Philza stood in the kitchen, making tea. He looked as though he was in his early thirties, but it was said that he was much older, and some said he was as old as time. He was of medium height, with fair hair and greyish blue eyes. He had a small beard, and he was never seen without his classic green and white hat that looked very much like it was made out of a beach towel.

Motherinnit had just come round to his house. She had been extremely distressed, worried about Tommy. Philza had decided she needed a cup of tea. Wilbur and Lani were upstairs, presumably writing that Electronic Cup song he was hearing so much about, but he knew they would come downstairs if tea was mentioned. Philza had a reputation for making the best cups of tea in the neighbourhood.

He turned the kettle on and waited for it to boil. He glanced at the fridge for a second- a Samsung Smart Refrigerator. What if things had been different? What if he had found himself a woman? But no, he’d been stuck with a Samsung Smart Refrigerator. Although he couldn’t deny that it had been interesting watching a fridge giving birth.

The kettle boiled, and Philza went to make the tea. He brought it through to the living room, where Wilbur and Lani were already sat, talking to Motherinnit about the progress on Electronic Cup. “And then,” Wilbur was saying, “Lani had this great idea to replace the lyric about squeaky chickens to one about the suck power of vacuum cleaners.”

“Horse power,” Lani corrected him. “Not suck power.”

Philza laughed as he brought the tea in. “Honestly, suck power sounds cooler. Definitely use that.” He put the tray on the table and sat down next to Motherinnit. “You alright now, Sarah?”

Motherinnit sighed. “Not really, no. They told me Tubbo and Ranboo were missing as well... Tubbo was a really nice boy. And Ranboo was also really sweet. He had the best recipe for cookies.” She looked at the tea tray. A single tear trickled out of her eye. “Where do you think they are?”

“We don’t know,” Lani said. “But Wilbur told me about something Philza wrote in his diary a few years ago...”

The man in the beach towel hat looked at his son. “Wilbur, I told you not to read those. They’re not dead. I refuse to believe it.”

“I also refuse,” Motherinnit said. “Because I am Sarah Innit, Big Fat Lass!”

Wilbur laughed. “Yeah, you’re definitely Tommy’s mum.”

. . .

A strong wind blew, freezing the two boys as they sailed across the water. Tommy was singing a sea shanty- well, trying to shout it over the noise of the howling wind and the waves. Ranboo was holding a large piece of scrap metal that he had found, using it as a shield against potential water.

“What do we do with a drunken sailor, what do we do with a drunken sailor,” Tommy was... singing? Yelling? Something along those lines. “What do we do with a drunken sailor, early in the morning!”

Ranboo sighed. “Tommy, you sound like a dying frog screaming into a foghorn.” A wave lightly splashed him, and he jumped back, with an Enderman shriek of pain. “God, I hate this so much!”

“Let’s talk, get to know each other,” Tommy said. “So, umm... what’s your favourite colour?”

Ranboo thought for a moment. “Probably royal blue. What’s yours?”

“Just bog-standard blue,” Tommy said. “You know, bloo, like the passports, the beautiful bloo passports,” he said with a smile.

The tall boy looked confused. “Is there some kind of joke there that I don’t get?”

Tommy didn’t explain. “What’s your opinion on politics?” he asked.

“Schlatt was a terrible mayor and I’m glad he’s dead,” Ranboo said. “Eret was definitely the best guy to take his place.” He stared at the ocean with a sad smile, then yelped as a wave splashed him. “I should really get used to this...”

And then he heard it.

“Hey, Ranboo,” it said. “How’s life?”

Ranboo threw his hands over his ears. “Shut up!” he shrieked. “Now is really not a good time! Go away and stop talking to me!”

Tommy looked at him. “Oh, sorry,” he said innocently, not knowing what was going on. He hadn’t heard anything.

“I have him...” The voice was soft, eerie sounding. “I have him. And soon, I will have more.”

Ranboo stood up, making the boat tip. He stared out at the ocean. “What do you want from me? Who do you have?”

“I have the boy,” it said. “Tubbo.”

Ranboo’s knees buckled, and he fell on top of Tommy. “No- no- not Tubbo! Tubbo, can you hear me? Can he hear me? Tell me!”

“Ow!” Tommy shouted. “What the- Ranboo, what the-” Suddenly he realised. “It’s not real, Ranboo. It’s just the voice!” He shook the tall boy off him. “What are you hearing, anyway? What’s it saying?”

“He cannot hear you,” the voice said. “Only I can. I’m busy, away from him. Getting more people.”

Ranboo’s voice was weak. “It says- it says it’s got Tubbo...” He shivered. “What do you mean, more? Who else are you going to kidnap?”

“Tell Tommy that the Soot boy isn’t safe.” The voice was clearly enjoying itself. “By tomorrow morning, he will be mine, caught in a trap that he cannot escape.”

Tommy took Ranboo’s hand and held it tightly. “I’ve got you, Ender Boy. What’s it saying?”

“I think,” the tall boy said, shaking, “I think it’s going to kidnap... the Soot boy?”

“No,” Tommy said, his voice thin and quiet. “Not Wilbur!”

. . .

Dream, flying back to the village, laughed. He was about to achieve two things- kidnap a musician, and make Ranboo panic more than ever before. Wouldn’t it terrify him to know exactly what Dream was doing, but have no power to stop it?

Chapter Text

Wilbur had gone over to Tommy’s house. He didn’t know why, but he felt like it. And now, sat on Tommy’s bed, he was glad that he had. It calmed him to know that he was in the same room that Tommy had played Minecraft in. This was the place where Tommy had shot Wilbur with a Nerf gun (several times), where they had stream sniped Corpse Husband together, where Tommy had helped Wilbur with more than a few songs. This room was so familiar to Wilbur. But it seemed so empty without Tommy.

The room was quite small. The bed was in the corner, with Minecraft sheets and a fluffy pillow. The dresser was next to it, with a bottle of deodorant on it. There was a shelving unit on the opposite side of the room, with Tommy’s disc collection displayed proudly on it, as well as a few rough drawings of Tommy’s favourite streamers, badly drawn, but they meant a lot to Wilbur. There was a bin full of Diet Coke cans next to the shelves. The desk was near the window, with Tommy’s computer on it, as well as his diary.

Wilbur had never opened Tommy’s diary, but he was curious. He walked over and sat at the desk. He opened the diary and began to read.

Tommy Innit’s Diary

"No (there was a swear word here) past this point
That includes you, Motherinnit
Only read on if you think Tommy is a BIG MAN
If you are still reading you are very cool and pog"

Wilbur flicked to a random page in the middle of the diary.

"March 12th, 2021

Me and Tubbo are gonna stream snipe Ninja tonight. Mum bought us a load of Pringles which is very poggers of her. Tonight is going to be POGCHAMP. I helped Will with his band’s new song. Decided to throw in a lyric about a toilet LMAO, hope he doesn’t notice. Tried to play it on the piano but it’s so hard, idk how Will does it"

Wilbur opened another page.

"July 8th, 2021

Me and Tubbo just stole Karl Jacobs’s underwear off his washing line. Don’t worry we delivered them back to him through his letterbox :-) Big T wanted ice cream afterwards so we went to McPuffy’s. That boy is the most innocent being in the world and I love him so much- as a friend of course, I swear I’m not gay LMFAO"

Wilbur was close to tears. He flicked to the last entry and read it.

"October 26th, 2021

I swear I just heard Tubbo scream. It’s 2:30 in the morning but I’m gonna go see what happened. If anything’s happened to him, I’ll never forgive myself. That boy means the absolute bloody world to me and if anyone’s hurt him I will rip them to shreds with my bare hands

Okay I’m back, Tubbo’s missing. Idk where he is but I will find him. Met Ranboo while I was out. He wanted to help me find him. It’s bad enough as it is and now I’ve got him to deal with. This is very not poggers

This is probably my last entry in a while. I’m leaving now. Wish me luck. If I die finding him, at least I die doing something useful. Tubbo is my entire world. He means so much to me. I can’t live without him.

Wilbur, if you’re reading this, you are a big man and very pog. I’ll be back when I find Tubbo."

Wilbur, reading this, sighed. “I miss you so much, Tommy,” he whispered. Motherinnit opened the door and stood next to him. “We all do, Will,” she said.

But Wilbur looked quite amazed. “So that was where ‘A toilet with a seat left up’ in ‘One Day’ came from. I was wondering how that line got there.” He looked at Motherinnit. “Tommy and Ranboo went to look for Tubbo, because he went missing.”

Motherinnit smiled. “That’s what happened?” Her eyes were full of tears. “That’s my boy. That’s my Tommy.” She sat down on Tommy’s bed. “This is exactly how he left the room. I haven’t touched anything,” she said. “I didn’t want to.”

Wilbur sat next to her. He thought of the boy, how happy he always was, how loud and funny he was. He didn’t even feel stupid when he suddenly burst into tears.

He wanted Tommy back. He wanted Tubbo back.

Everyone wanted Tommy and Tubbo back.

Ranboo was sadly forgotten.

. . .

Tubbo, in prison with Technoblade, decided to make an effort to talk to him. He seemed nice enough. And he had pink hair, which was, in his opinion, very pog. “Technoblade,” he said, a little nervously. “Umm... have I told you about Tommy?

“No, you haven’t,” Technoblade told him. “Who’s Tommy?”

“He was,” Tubbo said, “my best friend in the entire world. He was loud, funny, and he... he was just one of those people who instantly light up the room when they walk in.” Tubbo smiled. “He swore a lot, he made us all laugh, and he always had horribly inaccurate dating advice. We stream sniped Lazarbeam once. That was fun. Tommy asked him what-” Tubbo giggled. “Tommy asked him what his favourite type of boob was.”

Technoblade burst out laughing. “He sounds entertaining.”

“I haven’t got to the best part yet,” Tubbo said. “Lazarbeam replied that-” Tubbo started laughing, properly laughing- “that it was all of them!”

“That sounds great. I’ve never stream sniped anyone, I’ve never had the opportunity,” he said, flicking his pink braid over his shoulder. “I’ve always been too busy getting my revenge on orphans.” He sighed. “Did you have any other friends?”

Tubbo nodded. “Yeah, I did. His name was Ranboo. He was this Enderman hybrid thing. He was really cool. And really tall.”

“How tall?” Technoblade asked. “Like an Enderman? Eight foot or something?”

“Put it this way,” Tubbo said with a smile. “I’m short, aren’t I? I’m five foot four. Ranboo was six foot six. Imagine the height difference.”

Technoblade began to laugh. “Oh, so not Enderman height then. But close.”

“Yeah, he was fun,” Tubbo said. “He had terrible memory, though, which made for a lot of funny moments. There was one time he forgot what a kettle was called. His new name for it was ‘the little steamy boi’. We should make a petition to call kettles ‘little steamy bois’ instead,” he said with a smile.

“Absolutely. Give me the paper and I’ll sign it now,” Technoblade joked. “I had friends as well. There was a girl... her name was Niki. She was the most beautiful woman I have ever met. We were good friends. She was smart, she was friendly...” He smiled. “We weren’t anything more than friends, don’t you dare try to tease me. And then Philza. He was kind, he was-”

Tubbo interrupted him. “Philza? Philza Minecraft? I know Philza! He’s Wilbur’s dad, isn’t he? Oh wait! You’re that Blood God guy that he used to talk about!”

“Yeah, that was his nickname for me,” the man replied. “I called him the King of Crows.” He laughed. “And then Dream put me in this prison to rot. We’re gonna get out of here, Tubbo, you got that?”

The boy laughed. “Yes, we are, Blood God! Wait- what’s my nickname then? Can I be the Bee Lord?”

Technoblade didn’t answer. He just laughed. Drista came over to them, a cup of coffee in her hand. “Umm, sorry, but Dream said to yell at you if you start laughing. So, yeah, just prepare.”

Technoblade replied by giving her the middle finger.

. . .

Karl Jacobs was exhausted as usual. He never seemed to get any sleep. Work always got in the way, and it was quite annoying. He hadn’t eaten in a few days, and he couldn’t even remember when he’d last had time to have fun. He was in his early twenties, with curly dirty blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a purple hoodie. He walked into the market to get himself some shopping.

He walked around the various stalls, buying things. While he was buying some apples, he looked down to his right.

Sat there was a man in a blue hoodie. He wore a blue beanie, but a few curls of black hair stuck out from underneath it. He was remarkably short, although not as short as that Tubbo boy who had once delivered Karl his own underwear through his letterbox. He was holding some small drawstring bags and offered one to Karl. “Hey,” he said. “Do you want to buy some of this? It’s good stuff.”

Karl stared at him. “No, thanks, I’d rather not. It looks a bit shady.” He smiled at him. “What is it?”

“Something that the police would arrest me for if they knew I was selling it.” The man sat on the floor grinned. He looked like a teenager, maybe eighteen or nineteen. “I’m Quackity. Who are you?”

“Karl. Karl Jacobs.” He paid for the apples, then sat down next to Quackity. “I live down the road.”

The man in the blue beanie smiled. “Cool. I live in a caravan. So, what do you work as?”

Karl sighed. “I do Jimmy Donaldson’s banking work. It’s exhausting- he’s always spending so much money and it’s me who has to deal with it. He spends it on the most stupid things, too. Last month he rented a spacecraft just so he could play Among Us in real life. How am I supposed to explain that to the people at NASA?”

Quackity patted him on the shoulder. “Just take a holiday. Tell him you’re taking a month off, you look like you need one. Honestly, I’m sure he’ll understand.” He looked at Karl. “Have you eaten anything today? You look hungry.”

“Honestly, I haven’t eaten in the last three days.” Karl looked at Quackity. Everything seemed a bit fuzzy. Was this the effects of hunger, exhaustion, overwork, or just being near Quackity’s suspicious powders? He pulled some money out of his pocket and offered a logical solution to at least one of his problems. “Let’s go to McPuffy’s.”

“Great idea!” Quackity said. “We can drive there in my caravan. I promise that I am a very safe driver that definitely won’t crash into anything.”

Karl decided to trust him. Something was telling him that Quackity could be a friend. Maybe a very unreliable friend, but definitely a friend. Perhaps it was worth getting to know him a bit more.

Quackity, starting the caravan, had similar thoughts.

The sun set over the town. There was a chill in the air as they drove. The silence was beautiful. Well, it was until they started driving.

“Quackity, mind that lamp post! No- for God’s sake! You’ve just run over a cat! God damn it... No, don’t hit the traffic cone! What the honk- No, not the pigeon! How much of that powder have you had?!”

. . .

A long way away, a boat had just crashed into the sand. “Land ahoy!” Tommy shouted, jumping on to the beach. “Well done, Ender Boy. You survived that without any major injuries.”

Ranboo wasn’t listening. He was still in the boat, recovering from his seasickness. The waves had become very rough a few hours ago, and he still felt unwell. He tumbled out of the rowboat. “Tommy, I feel sick,” he said, his voice dry.

“Well, I can’t do anything about that, so, yeah, sorry.” Tommy passed Ranboo a pack of crackers. “Eat that whenever you’re ready.” He took Ranboo’s backpack from him and started putting up the tent.

Ranboo started nibbling on a cracker. There were small burns all over him, a result of waves splashing him. In some places, like on his arm, a purple liquid was trickling down. His hoodie was splattered with water, but his hair was somehow perfectly dry, and still as fluffy as always.

Tommy finished putting the tent up, grabbed a pack of crackers, and sat down next to him. “Ranboo, what’s that purple stuff?”

“What purple stuff?” Ranboo looked at him, confused.

“That purple liquid that’s on your arm,” Tommy said, reaching out to wipe it away. Ranboo stopped him, grabbing his arm. “Don’t touch that.”

“Why not? What is it?” Tommy asked.

Ranboo let go of Tommy’s arm and wiped it away himself. “It’s Ender Acid,” he explained. “Basically, it’s what Endermen have instead of blood. And it’s poisonous to... well, everything really. If you touched it... it’s acid, Tommy. That should tell you everything you need to know.” He took a first aid kit out of his bag and put a plaster on the cut. “One second. Let me make sure there’s no danger of you being melted away.” He started putting plasters everywhere where there was even a tiny bit of Ender Acid, his fluffy hair blowing around in the wind. As soon as he was finished, he pulled Tommy into a hug.

“Oh- this is nice,” Tommy said, the words escaping his mouth without him even realising. He returned the hug with a smile. “Tubbo never lets me hug him.”

“Tubbo doesn’t like hugs,” Ranboo said. “It’s disappointing, but we’ve got to respect that.” He smiled, the first time Tommy had ever seen him smile. “How are you so... so warm?”

Tommy laughed. “Humans are, Ender Boy. Why are you so weirdly cold?” He smiled, still not letting go. “I’m not complaining, though. This is nice.”

“Endermen are cold. We’re used to living in the End, which I remember was quite cold, so we naturally adapted to that.” He laughed. “Evolution, am I right?” He finally let go of Tommy. “Where is the compass pointing to?”

Tommy looked at it. “That way,” he said, pointing towards a large coniferous forest about a hundred metres away. “Ranboo... thanks for coming with me. I could probably have done this alone, but you were right- it’s good having someone here with me. Someone who understands...”

He looked away and wiped his eyes. Was he crying? The tall boy patted him on the back. “It’s okay, Tommy. You can cry.”

“No, I’m fine,” Tommy said. “I don’t need to cry. I’m not a baby.” He sighed. “I just-” He swore, quietly, and didn’t finish his sentence.

Ranboo looked at him. “I understand, Tommy,” he said. “Honestly, everything about this just sucks, doesn’t it?” He gave Tommy another hug, a quick, tight one. “We’ll rescue Tubbo. I promise. Please, just cry... I can’t look at you like this.”

“No, I’m fine.” Tommy walked towards the tent. “I’m going to bed. It’s getting dark anyway.”

Ranboo followed him. “Goodnight, Tommy,” he said.

“Goodnight, Ender Boy,” Tommy whispered back.

Crickets chirped. The moon was out. The stars glittered in the night sky, like jewels scattered across an inky black carpet.

. . .

Dream flew through the open window into the house. The man asleep in bed had messy brown hair. Dream grabbed him.

He should have been more careful. Wilbur woke up. “Who are... What the hell! What the muffin!”

Dream swore loudly. He pinned the man to the wall and tied him up, not bothering with a blindfold this time. Holding him, he flew out of the window.

Philza ran into his son’s room. “Wilbur- what the... Wilbur?”

He was gone. His son had vanished without a trace.

Chapter Text

Tommy opened his eyes and climbed out of his sleeping bag. Once again, Ranboo was outside, this time trying to talk to a rabbit in Ender language. He was enderwalking again. Tommy shook the tall boy’s shoulder. “Wake up, Ender Boy,” Tommy said.

Ranboo woke up. He looked at Tommy. He looked so different, so... breakable, Ranboo thought. His scruffy blond hair was soaked with sweat. His red and white T-shirt was dirty, there was a rip in the right knee of his jeans, and his trainers were caked with mud. But it was Tommy’s eyes that were so disturbing to Ranboo. They were large and watery, blue like a rough sea. He was clearly barely holding it together.

“Oh, Tommy,” Ranboo whispered, and squeezed the boy’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“No, Ranboo, I’m bloody not.” Tommy looked like a piece of delicate pottery. One tiny mistake and he would break. “I feel sick, and I miss Tubbo. How are you not going crazy?”

“Because I was already crazy from the beginning, Tommy.” Ranboo looked exhausted. His burns weren’t much better. The hood of his hoodie had been ripped off, and his jeans were considerably more destroyed than Tommy’s. Almost as if some sort of acid had melted them. His fluffy hair looked the exact same as always, however, blowing around in the wind like a stick of candy floss.

Tommy gave him a pack of crackers. “You look tired, Ender Boy.”

Ranboo sighed. “I miss Tubbo,” he said, looking out at the ocean. “So, have we gone the right way?”

“My compass is pointing into the forest,” Tommy said. He looked so lonely and sad, the kind of look that made Ranboo want to hug him and never let go. Leaning forward, the boy rubbed at his eyes, trying hard not to cry. “Tubbo must be in that forest. Or beyond it.”

The tall boy looked confused. “What forest?”

Tommy laughed. “The one behind you, dummy.” The laugh faded as quickly as it had appeared. He blinked and looked down at his feet. “Seriously. There is a forest behind you, and I have no idea how you haven’t seen it yet.”

Ranboo turned around. How had he not noticed the huge coniferous forest there? “God, I am blind. Yeah, that’s better than the ocean any day.” He chuckled, and nibbled on one of the crackers, returning to the exhausted expression from before. “So, are we setting off now, Tommy? Or do you need some time?”

“We can leave now, yeah,” Tommy said. He got up and began to take down the tent. Ranboo went to help him.

And, again, he heard it.

“I have him. He is mine.”

Ranboo didn’t stop what he was doing. “Leave mine and Tommy’s friends alone or- “He stopped, ready to get some information out of the voice. “No. Who are you and where are you?”

“The voice again?” Tommy asked, sounding bored and tired, and most of all, sad. Ranboo nodded, answering his question.

“I’m a kidnapper, a villain, perhaps, but that’s all I’ll say.” The voice sounded like it was enjoying itself. “I won’t tell you where I am. I will say one thing, though. I have the Tommy boy’s friend. I believe his name is Wilbur... Wilbur Soot.”

Suddenly he heard another voice. “Get off me, you arsehole! Let go of me! Tommy’s looking for Tubbo. He knows where he is!”

“How?” the first voice asked. “That’s not possible... Stop taunting me, you muffin!” There was the noise of a hard slap. The second voice- Wilbur? - yelled in pain.

“Ranboo, what’s going on?” Tommy looked very confused.

Ranboo jumped. “Whoever it is- the voice- they’ve got that Wilbur guy! I think I heard him!”

Tommy finished packing the tent up and put it in Ranboo’s backpack. “No, that’s- no- it’s not real, Ranboo, it’s just a voice... isn’t it?”

The tall boy stared into the trees. “It’s probably just my mind driving me crazy, don’t worry.” He pulled his backpack on to his back. “Let’s go, Tommy.”

. . .

Dream landed outside the prison. “Welcome to your new home, Wilbur Soot.”

Wilbur was terrified. Did he care? No. The side of his face was screaming in pain from a hard slap that his kidnapper had given him earlier. His hair was messier than usual, if that was possible. And, worst of all, he was trapped in the arms of a man in a green hoodie and a creepy smiley face mask. He swore, every curse word that he knew, shouting it in a great outburst of rage. “Let go of me, you twisted- evil- arsehole!”

“That’s it, Mr Soot. Let it all out.” Dream’s face was covered by the mask, but Wilbur knew he was smiling. He was clearly enjoying every moment of this. “Let’s get you inside.”

Dream walked inside. Wilbur looked around. He could see a prison cell- and was that who he thought it was inside it? “Tubbo, is that you?”

“Wilbur- what the hell?” The boy jumped up. “Wilbur!”

Dream put his hand over Wilbur’s mouth. “You can talk to him later, Soot,” he said. He walked into a side room and took out a notepad and pen. “Full name?”

“Wilbur Gold Soot. Used to be Wilbur Gold Minecraft, but I changed it, because who the hell wants Minecraft as their last name?” Wilbur chuckled for a second, then stopped, seeing the way Dream’s mask was blankly staring at him. “What’s the point of this? Why do you need this information?”

“None of your business. So, you’re twenty-five years old?” Dream was making notes, scribbling things down on his notepad.

Wilbur nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Anyway, what’s this for? It certainly is my business!”

“My personal records. You don’t need to know any more than that.” Dream untied him, then held out a white robe. “Put this prison outfit on,” he said. “By the way, you have worse pyjamas than that boy with the bee onesie. Those are old man pyjamas, Mr Soot.”

“Honestly, I borrow Dadza’s pyjamas for one night and everyone goes crazy,” Wilbur said. He changed into the prison uniform. “There you go- now, let me see Tubbo!”

A young woman walked into the room, clearly quite shaken. “Thank God you’re back, Dream, the Technoblade guy’s been yelling at me.” She gave Dream a compass that was around her neck. Wilbur instantly recognized it. “That’s Tubbo’s compass! Why have you got it?”

“None of your business, Soot.” Dream grabbed the man and pushed him through another door. “Go and talk to the bee boy, if that’s what you want!”

Wilbur didn’t listen. He was in a prison cell.

Tubbo ran towards him. “Wilbur!”

. . .

Lani knocked on the door of Wilbur’s house. Philza answered the door almost immediately, his eyes red from crying, his beach towel hat crooked on his head, wearing a fluffy black crow onesie. “Hello, Lani,” he said.

“Good morning, Mr Minecraft,” she said. “Are you alright?”

Philza shook his head. “Lani, if you’re looking for Wilbur, he’s done a Tubbo and just disappeared.” He looked away, drying his eyes with a tissue. “Come in, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

Lani walked inside and sat down on the sofa, waiting for Philza to return. He joined her a few minutes later with two cups of tea. “Wilbur’s gone. I don’t know where he is. Maybe he’s looking for Tommy and Tubbo, but he just disappeared from his bedroom at midnight, so I highly doubt it.”

“He’s definitely not looking for them,” Lani said. “He would have told me. And he was too busy writing his new song.”

“I know. It doesn’t make sense.” Philza took a sip of his tea. “I heard his last scream, you know. The last words he said before he disappeared were ‘What the muffin’. Quite clean for him, honestly.”

Lani giggled. “I know. He swears almost as much as Tommy.” She looked at Wilbur’s father, who was holding back tears. “I would go and look for him, but I wouldn’t know where to look, and I’d rather stay here with you and Motherinnit anyway.”

Philza looked out of the window. “I wonder where he is,” he whispered. “He isn’t dead. I’d know if he was. So where is he?”

Lani didn’t answer his question. “I really hope he’s alright.”

. . .

“Wilbur!” The shout was from a short boy, with neat brown hair and blue eyes. “Thank God you’re here. This is Technoblade- that Blood God guy who was Philza’s friend.”

“Hey, Tubbo,” Wilbur said with a smile. “So, you’re Technoblade?” He held out his hand to the man with the pink hair. “I’m Wilbur. Philza’s son.”

Technoblade shook his hand. “Isn’t your mother a fridge?”

Wilbur blushed. “Yeah, she is, but we don’t talk about that.” He chuckled. “Tubbo, Tommy’s trying to find you. He’s got Ranboo with him.”

“Wait, really?” Tubbo looked up and smiled. “Using the com-”

Wilbur quickly shushed him. “Yes, but don’t say that out loud, or Mr Smiley Face might do something about it.” He looked at the man with the mask and the green hoodie, who appeared not to have heard anything. “Don’t mention the, umm... navigation devices at all. But yes, they’re looking for you.”

Without hesitation, Tubbo ran to the window and looked outside. “Where are they, where are they? How long will they be?”

“I don’t know, Tubbo, but they’ll be here soon.” Wilbur walked over to throw his arms around him, but then remembered that the boy didn’t like hugs. “Tommy and Ranboo travelling together honestly sounds like a recipe for disaster. Don’t they hate each other or something?”

Tubbo chuckled. “They argue over who’s really my best friend. It’s Tommy, obviously. But Ranboo’s a close second. Maybe if they learn to get along, we can all be friends together and do dumb stuff. Maybe we can all go and throw banana peels at Police Officer Sam. I don’t like that guy.”

“Yeah, all he ever does is chase that drug dealer around. He never deals with any real crime.” Wilbur sat on the bench and shivered. “God, it’s cold in here. That smiley face guy needs to add some central heating to this place.”

Technoblade nodded. “I could get down with that idea.”

Tubbo continued looking out of the window, lost in thought.

. . .

The forest was dark and cold. A light snow had begun to fall. The trees were tall, pine trees with cones and needles that pricked the two travellers as they walked. A pure white rabbit peeked out of its burrow as they walked past, startled by the sound of their footsteps.

They stopped walking for a second. “It’s lunchtime, Tommy,” Ranboo said, giving him a packet of crackers. He looked at the boy. Soaked with melted snow and sweat, he was dirty and shivering, his clothes ripped, his eyes full of tears. There was a long scratch covered in dried blood down his arm that he had got from a particularly sharp pine needle, and his hair was frosted with snow, like an iced cake. Ranboo instinctively hugged him. He could see that Tommy needed it.

“Thanks, Ranboo,” he whispered, wiping his eyes. “God, I’m probably going to end up crying... I hope we’re near Tubbo.” He nibbled on a cracker, staring into the trees like he could see his friend in them. Wiping his eyes again, he looked down at his feet.

The tall boy sat down on a snow-covered rock and watched him. “Tubbo will be fine, Tommy. We’ll find him. If Wilbur’s there with him-” He stopped himself. “No. Wilbur is there with him. Looking after him. Keeping him safe from whoever my voice is.”

Tommy sat down next to him, a tear trickling down his cheek. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Tommy.” Ranboo put his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “Honestly, you have no idea how brave you are. I don’t think many people could do this journey.”

Tommy began to stare into the trees again, wiping his eyes every few seconds. “I’m not brave,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m just... honestly, at this point, I don’t even know...” He buried his face in his hands and sniffed. “It’s not that I’m far away from him, you know. It’s the...” He stopped for a second, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. “It’s not knowing where he is, not knowing what happened to him, not even knowing if he’s alive... The only link I have to him is this,” he said, holding the compass in his hand, the chain wrapped around his fingers, and admired how shiny it was, like a mirror. He saw his reflection in it, which startled him, as he looked like some sort of wild animal. He quickly put the necklace back on, shuddering. “God, do I actually look that bad?” he whispered.

“Tommy, we’ve been travelling out here for three days, basically living wild. Of course we were going to end up a bit dirty.” Ranboo looked at him. “We’ll find Tubbo. I promise. If we have to spend a month or a year out here, I’ll make sure we find him.” Ranboo let him cry for a while. “Don’t worry, Tommy,” he whispered in the boy’s ear. “I’m here. And I’ll help you find Tubbo until the day I die if I have to.”

Tommy nodded. He’d given up wiping the tears away by now, and was just letting them fall. “Yeah, we’ll find him. But will we find him dead or alive? Where will we find him? Will we find him being tortured, or dying? Will it be too late for us to save him?” He started coughing violently. Tears leaked from his eyes, feeling like drops of boiling water against his frozen face, melting the frost that had formed. “God, Ranboo, I just feel...” He swore quietly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Thanks. Just for being here.”

Ranboo looked at him and smiled. “You’ve got yourself to thank for that one. You let me come.” He reached his hand forward to wipe a tear from Tommy’s face. Suddenly he yelped. “Balls! That burns!” he said, pulling his hand away. “Why must water exist in this world?” he shouted, quite angrily.

Tommy burst into laughter. “I promise I’m not laughing at you getting hurt,” he giggled, tears still on his face. “It was the way you shouted ‘Balls!’ that was the funny part.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Ranboo said, blushing slightly. “That- that just slipped out, honestly.” He started laughing along with Tommy.

“Why are you apologizing for that?” Tommy was still giggling, but had somewhat calmed down. “You’re allowed to swear!” He looked at Ranboo’s face, then laughed again. “Don’t you just hate it when you forget that water burns you, am I right?” he said sarcastically.

Ranboo playfully whacked him on the head. “Shut up, Tommy! It’s easy to forget these things!” However, he was laughing. “Let’s go. We need to find Tubbo. And he will be alive and well, because we want him to be, and also because I said so.”

Tommy smiled. Despite the dirt on his clothes and the tear tracks on his face, he looked happier. His liveliness had returned. “Let’s go, Ender Boy!”

Chapter Text

Tubbo sat down on the bench. “I hate this place so much.”

It was late afternoon, and the three prisoners were still stuck in their cell. Technoblade was stood near the window, braiding his long pink hair. Tubbo got up and walked over to him. “Can I have a go?” he asked. “I promise I won’t hurt you. At least not deliberately.”

“Well- umm- sure,” the man replied in his deep, emotionless voice. Tubbo took a large handful of his hair and began twisting and pulling it, trying his best. Technoblade didn’t say anything, but his face clearly showed discomfort.

“This must be why Lani does her own hair,” Wilbur mumbled, smiling. It was very entertaining to watch the man with the pink hair make various different faces, while Tubbo attempted to braid his hair, swearing every second, trying to make it look presentable. “Why won’t it stay, God damn it?” the boy said. “This is stupid. How do you do it?”

Technoblade smiled. His smile was surprisingly attractive, quite warm. Somehow it made Tubbo feel better about his time here, knowing that he could smile. “I’ll show you, Tubbo- wait, I think Wilbur wants to say something,” he said, seeing Wilbur looking at them. The smile suddenly vanished, and Technoblade returned to his usual bored expression.

“Yeah, I wanted to tell you about Tommy’s diary.” Wilbur sat down on the bench where Tubbo had been before. “It can wait, though, if you want.”

The boy had jumped at those words. “No, tell me,” he said, sitting down next to Wilbur. “You read Tommy’s diary? Without him going crazy?”

“He was gone, looking for you.” Wilbur brushed a stray bit of hair out of his eyes. He was exhausted, hungry, shivering from the cold... “Do you want to know what he wrote, Tubbo? He wrote a lot about you...” Why was it so unbearably chilly? Why did he have to be frozen like this?

“Tell me what he wrote,” Tubbo said, looking at him expectantly, waiting, chewing a bit of moss that he had found growing in the window frame. It probably wasn’t edible, but Tubbo didn’t care. Dream hadn’t given them any food since he had arrived, and he was extremely hungry.

Wilbur looked at him. “Stop eating that. It could be poisonous.” He watched as Tubbo spat out the moss, then continued. “He wrote... he wrote about how you stole Karl Jacobs’s boxers together, how you stream sniped Ninja, and he wrote...” He turned away for a second and blinked. He was afraid that he would start crying, and that wasn’t something he wanted to do in front of Technoblade, his father’s closest friend and the toughest person he’d ever heard of. He took a deep breath and started speaking again. “He wrote about how much he loved you. How you were the most innocent person he knew. How much you meant to him, and how if... if anything happened to you, he’d never forgive himself...” He screwed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from flowing. “You mean the world to him, Tubbo,” he whispered, his voice dry and squeaky. He still had his eyes closed. He didn’t dare open them.

He was surprised to feel a warm hand on his shoulder. “Wilbur,” he heard someone say in a soft voice. “I don’t know a lot about Tommy, but he sounds like a great friend.” Wilbur opened his eyes and saw, through a film of tears, that Technoblade was standing there. His long pink hair fell in a curtain down to his waist, his crimson eyes were calm, and there was a gentle smile on his face. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“No, Technoblade, I’m bloody not.” Wilbur wiped his eyes frantically, shivering from the cold. He looked at Tubbo, who had his head in his hands, shaking violently, definitely crying. “God, Technoblade, I just...” He closed his eyes again. He didn’t want to talk.

Technoblade looked at the two of them, sat there crying, thinking about Tommy. “It’s alright, you two,” he whispered. “Cry, if you must. I’m here. I understand.”

“Thank you,” Tubbo said. “Thank you so much, Techno- wait, can I call you Techno?”

Technoblade nodded. “Of course. I don’t mind. Can I give you a hug? Both of you, that is? Because you really look like you need one.” When he got no answer from either of them, he simply did it anyway.

They stayed like that for several minutes.

. . .

Karl Jacobs’s evenings were usually spent sorting out business deals for his boss Jimmy. However, tonight, he had a date. He was meeting Quackity in the market for a nice chat, and possibly steal some fruit if they could get away with it.

Quackity was waiting there, wearing a blue jacket and trousers, reading a book called “Law For Dummies”. When he saw Karl there, he smiled. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hello, Quackity,” he replied. “What’s that book you’re reading?” He looked at the title. “Oh, are you studying for something?”

Quackity nodded. “Actually, yeah. I want to be a lawyer, so I’m trying to learn. I’d love to argue for criminal justice. People will admire me for it.”

Karl chuckled. “Maybe your first step for that should be not breaking the law and selling illegal substances, and actually being a well-behaved member of society.”

“Shut up, it’s practical research. And I’m pretty desperate for money at the moment.” Quackity slapped him jokingly, a huge smile on his face. “I can’t even ask my parents for money, cause they’re dead, you know,” he said, still smiling. “You eaten anything today?”

Karl couldn’t lie. “Umm, I had a pack of Cheetos, but that’s it.” He suddenly felt a bit guilty. “Mainly been busy with- you know, work and stuff.”

Quackity shoved a packet of biscuits into his hands. “Take those and eat some now. My orders. You can’t just starve yourself like this.”

“I’m fi-” Karl suddenly realised what he was saying, and that he would be lying if he said it. He opened the packet and ate a biscuit. “No, I’m not fine. These biscuits are really nice, though. What flavour are they?”

“I don’t know, I just stole them from one of the market stalls,” Quackity said with a sly smile. He pinched a biscuit from him and ate it. “Ooh, they are nice. I think that’s orange-”

But he was cut off by Sam, the head of police, yelling. “I’ve caught you now, Quackity! Is that an accomplice you have there?”

Quackity looked at Karl. “Run.”

. . .

Niki Nihachu lived in a small house in the middle of the forest, where she grew flowers to sell to merchants who visited her. She was a beautiful young woman, with soft pink hair that fell down to her shoulders, and eyes the colour of chocolate. Hearing a knock on the door, she went to see who had arrived.

There were two boys outside. One was tall, extremely tall, with fluffy fair hair, wearing a grey hoodie and black jeans, covered in burns and scars. He also had two different coloured eyes- one red, one green. He looked tired, trying to keep himself from falling asleep. The other boy was shorter, but still quite tall, with bright blue eyes. He had blond, curly, scruffy hair, and he wore a white T-shirt with red sleeves and a pair of blue jeans. He also had a beautiful silver compass on a chain around his neck. Both of the travellers looked hurt in various ways, dirty, shivering, and injured, with ripped clothes, and hair frosted with snow, like icing on a cake. “Good evening,” Niki said to them. “Who are you? Please come in, you look freezing.”

The travellers walked inside. Niki offered them seats near her large fireplace, and they happily took them. “I’m Tommy,” said the shorter boy. “The other guy’s Ranboo. He’s part Enderman, you know,” he said with a proud smile.

Ranboo didn’t say anything. His mind was preoccupied with other things. Now that Tommy was happier, did he really need to stay strong for him? He thought about Tubbo. Images of his friend being tortured and killed in various horrific ways entered his mind. He could almost hear the voice laughing at him. It wasn’t travelling that was exhausting him, clearly, but the thoughts and worries that he had been holding back.

Niki looked at them both. “My name’s Niki,” she said with a gentle smile. “Niki Nihachu. I’ll go and get you some hot chocolate, and we can talk.” She had a very soft voice, and a slight German accent, but it was barely noticeable. She left the room, then returned a few minutes later with three steaming mugs of hot chocolate, with whipped cream and mini marshmallows, and topped off with a dark purple orchid flower. “Here you go,” she said, giving the two boys their cups.

“Wow.” Tommy didn’t know what to say, other than that. “That looks amazing!”

Niki chuckled and smiled. “Thank you. It’s my special recipe.” She sat down on a large armchair identical to the ones the boys were sitting on. “So, what brings you two here? Where are you going?”

“Actually, we’re looking for someone.” Ranboo finally spoke, not looking at Niki, his voice a lot quieter than usual. “Our friend went missing a few days ago, so we’re trying to find him. We honestly didn’t expect to find this house here.”

“Well, good luck. I hope you find him.” Niki took a sip of her hot chocolate. “I had a friend who went missing. His name was Techno, and he was... well, he was my only friend at the time, at least, the only person I really considered a friend. He was a bit crazy, and he hated orphans for some reason, but he could be really lovely when it was needed.” She smiled at the memories. “He went missing a few months ago to fight his lifelong enemy, but he never came back.” The smile faded. “He liked to say he was a tough warrior, a fighter, the Blood God, as he called himself. But he was soft and kind on the inside.”

Tommy jumped up. “Is that the Blood God that Philza always tells stories about?”

“Probably, yes,” Niki said. “He did know someone called Philza, who was, according to Technoblade, the King of Crows.”

“Yeah, that’s him. Philza always feeds the birds.” Tommy was clearly enjoying himself. “Did you know he got married?”

Niki smiled. “Oh, good for him! Who was the lucky girl?”

“It wasn’t a girl, actually. It was a Samsung Smart Refrigerator.” Tommy giggled happily. “Can you tell me and Ranboo a story about the Blood God? We really liked Philza’s stories- didn’t we, Ranboo?”

He shook his head. “I’ve never heard any of Philza’s stories and you know it, Tommy.”

Niki took another sip of her hot chocolate. “I’m sorry, but I’m not very good at telling stories. I can never think of the right words to tell them with.” She got up and put a few more sticks on the dying fire. “Tell me about your friend.”

“Well- umm-” Tommy spluttered. He wasn’t ready for this. “He was- umm- his name was Tubbo... and, umm... he liked bees...”

“He kept them in a jar next to his bed,” Ranboo said quietly, quite sadly. He sounded tired. The life had gone out of him. “He liked to listen to their buzzing when he slept. He gave them fresh flowers every morning from his sister’s room, and he sometimes just stuck his fingers in the jar so he could eat the honey. The bees didn’t mind, though. They always seemed to trust him.” He stopped to sip his hot chocolate, getting whipped cream on his nose. He wiped it off before continuing. “He loved those bees. He used to try and breed them, but then Tommy told him what they were actually doing.”

Tommy giggled. “He thought it was disgusting, so he stopped breeding them. I mean, he’s not wrong, it is disgusting. But quite funny.”

Ranboo sighed. “Tommy, you are such a child.” But he was smiling, a tired smile that made him look twenty years older than he actually was. “He wanted to be a professional tranpolinist. He went to the trampoline park every weekend to practice backflips and things. He was really interested in nuclear weapons as well, and he would spend ages studying them. He said that he wanted to use the knowledge of them to keep people safe, to disarm them if needed, and to use them for good.”

“He sounds like such an interesting person. I wish I could meet him,” Niki said, running her hand through her hair. She finished her hot chocolate and placed her mug on the table. Tommy and Ranboo also finished theirs. Niki then got up. “I’ve got some of Techno’s old clothes that you can have tomorrow, if you want. They’ll keep you a lot warmer than those ones you’re wearing.”

Ranboo nodded gratefully. “Thank you very much, that would be great.”

Niki cleared up the empty mugs. “Come with me and I’ll show you to your room. I’ve got some nice warm beds for you, and lovely thick blankets.” She put the mugs in the sink as the two travellers got up. She opened a door behind them. “Here you go. Goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight,” Tommy said, and closed the door.

. . .

Tubbo was shivering, attempting to braid Technoblade’s hair. Techno had taught him how to do it earlier, and now the boy’s shaking hands were making knots in the man’s long pink hair. He wasn’t really attempting to make it look nice, it was more a form of comfort to Tubbo, something to do, something to make him feel like he was doing something useful.

Wilbur was stood by the window, watching the snow falling outside. He went to sit next to the other two prisoners on the bench. Deciding he needed something to hold onto, he took Techno’s hand and clutched it tightly, like a small child afraid of the dark. The pink haired man turned to look at him, and gave him a quick smile. “Wilbur, it’s- Tubbo, please don’t pull my hair, that’s actually quite painful,” he said, slightly annoyed, and continued. “Wilbur, it’s alright. If you’re worried about something, you can tell us.”

Wilbur shook his head. “I’m worried about a lot of things, Techno, but I’d rather not tell you about them.” He shivered. The cold was really getting to him.

“It’s fine, Wilbur. You can tell us when you’re ready,” Techno said. “Oh no, he’s here,” he added, seeing the man in the green hoodie.

Dream was watching them, still wearing his mask, the silver compass dangling on a chain around his neck. “Look at you three. You’re mine now. Mine, trapped in a cage, all mine. Also, you all have terrible pyjamas. Yes, Technoblade, you too. You might not have arrived in yours, but I have seen that pig onesie.”

The man with the pink hair put up his middle finger. For the first time, Tubbo realised how long Techno’s fingernails were. They were sharp, curved slightly, and pointed at the tips, like claws. There were layers of grime and dirt beneath them, and a few crimson splatters that looked rather suspiciously like dried blood. He turned to Tubbo for a second and whispered in his ear. “I’m probably going to start shouting. You know it’s not directed at you, right? Nothing to be afraid of.” Tubbo nodded and didn’t say anything, but quickly hid behind Wilbur.

Dream walked closer, holding a knife. “None of you attempt anything stupid or I’ll stick this in your back. You got that?”

Technoblade stood up, his eyes blazing. “In the back? Are you a coward or something? Of course you are, you scaredy-cat! Scared we’ll fight back, are you?” He was staring Dream down, challenging him. If he had to fight to get out of here, that was what he would do.

“Actually, no. It’s just easier,” answered the man with the green hoodie. “Don’t act like you’re not soft. I saw you teaching the little boy to braid your hair. I saw that, and I intend to use it against you.”

Technoblade let out a pig-like snort. He clearly felt insulted. “He isn’t a little boy. He is seventeen years old. Anyway, I’m allowed to have friends, I’m allowed to be gentle with some people. It certainly doesn’t make me a coward. Don’t you tell me you don’t have friends, that you don’t let anyone see a softer side of you... that must be such a sad life. Honestly, I pity you.”

“Of course I don’t have friends,” Dream said, but he was lying. “Maybe it’s best that you have friends. You’ll all be together when you go to hell, won’t you? You all deserve it!”

Suddenly there was a roaring yell, loud and terrifying, almost inhuman. Techno had leapt forward, holding the prison bars with both hands, glaring at Dream with hate, spit flying out of his mouth. The pure fury in his eyes was uncontrollable, frightening enough that Wilbur backed up to the wall, and Tubbo burst into tears. He swore, a single, extremely offensive word. “You take that back right now!” He looked like some sort of animal, ready to break out of its cage.

Dream, however, had not moved. He was completely calm. “I certainly won’t. I meant it. And believe me, I’ll be the one to send you to hell.”

Technoblade let out another roar. How was it possible for any human to make such a noise? “You won’t even get close,” he yelled, so loud that you could probably hear it a mile away. “TECHNOBLADE NEVER DIES!”

Tubbo cowered behind Wilbur, tears sliding down his cheeks, shaking like a leaf. Wilbur wasn’t much better. He was frozen in fear, screwing his eyes shut.

Dream said a single, extremely rude word, then left. Techno turned around and, seeing them so afraid, put his hand on Wilbur’s shoulder, and used his other hand to wipe the tears from Tubbo’s face. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. “You both know that I’m trying to get us out of here, right?”

Tubbo nodded. “Yeah, but please don’t do it in such a ridiculous and terrifying way,” he said, his voice strained and shaky. “One of these days you’ll end up giving me a heart attack.”

. . .

Lani was alone in her bedroom. Laying on her sunny yellow bedsheets, she was still awake. She couldn’t sleep. First Tubbo had gone, then Tommy and Ranboo, and now Wilbur. Where were they? Why on earth were they all disappearing? She climbed out of bed, not caring that it was midnight. She needed answers. However, she couldn’t get answers, so the next best option was sitting down, wrapped up in a frog blanket, and trying to play Electronic Cup on her piano.

She looked down at herself, her fluffy ladybird pyjamas, her long brown hair, and her bee slippers that she had borrowed from Tubbo. Where was he? Hearing noises outside, she looked out of the window. Sam was chasing Quackity again... and was that someone else running there? Someone older than Quackity, with dirty blond hair and bright blue eyes, wearing a purple hoodie with a green swirl on it. Who was that?

Wait. Was that the guy who did Jimmy Donaldson’s banking work?

That couldn’t be.

But that was...

She ignored it and sat down on the wooden stool in front of her small piano.

Lani had always wanted to learn to play the piano. However, she had never been able to have lessons, so she had taught herself. Placing her fingers on the keys, she pressed a few of them, then began to flawlessly play the music notes.

She wanted to sing, but didn’t want to wake her parents. Where was Wilbur? Had he gone to find them? No, he would have told her.

Screw it. She was singing. This was too much.

And how was Philza going to handle this? Lani decided that she had to be there for him. She would go over there tomorrow.

And Tommy? Where was he? Looking for Tubbo? And Ranboo, too. Where was everyone going? Why were they disappearing?

The police were useless. She wished she could be useful.

Lani went back to bed.

Chapter Text

Philza was awake. Tired, exhausted actually, but awake. He couldn’t sleep. Wilbur was on his mind, of course. Where was everyone? Where was Tubbo, where was Tommy? And of course, where was Wilbur? Were they alright? Were they alive? Were they dead? Although only Wilbur was Philza’s son, the other two felt like his children in his heart.

He remembered the good times.

He had attempted to stream snipe Vikkstar once with Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo. He didn’t really know what was going on, and he had been laughed at for being extremely slow with technology, but it had been Philza who had managed to get into a Fortnite game with the famous streamer. Tommy had promptly taken over and played for him. However, Philza had still found it fun.

There was the one time that Tommy, Tubbo, Lani and Wilbur had gone to the Alec Benjamin concert, an hour’s drive away in the city of Las Nevadas. Motherinnit had insisted they needed an adult with them, so Philza had gone too, driving them all the way there, then sleeping through the concert.

He looked down at the floor, staring intensely, holding back tears. He was old...

...as old as time, some said...

...too old to cry. He was not a child.

A tear rolled down his cheek, and he swore. “No. Go away. I’m not that upset about this.” He bit his lip, hard, and swore again. A drop of blood trickled down his chin, and although his lip stung with pain, it was infinitely better than crying.

He got up and went downstairs. Often, at times like this, men resort to their wives for comfort. Philza walked to his fridge. Laying his head on the built-in water dispenser, he burst into a flood of noisy tears. The fridge simply beeped loudly, as Samsung Smart Refrigerators do.

Yes, he was upset about this. Damn himself for saying he wasn’t. Swearing softly, he patted the fridge, slowly running his fingers down the door, cursing himself for marrying a Samsung Smart Refrigerator. If only Lani was here, he thought.

He walked back upstairs again, but this time went to Wilbur’s room. A small, cluttered room, the bed was under the window. There was a desk in the corner, the surface hidden by papers. On one wall was a poster of Anvil CatJam, a band that Wilbur liked, as well as several photos of him and his friends getting up to mischief. His long brown coat was thrown on the floor, as well as a yellow jumper stained with blue ink that Wilbur had planned to use as part of his “Ghostbur” costume for Halloween. In the back corner of the room was a guitar, which was next to a stack of books about manipulation and psychology.

Philza went to look more closely at the desk and the papers on it. Wilbur’s plans for Electronic Cup were given priority in the middle of the desk. Underneath it were papers written by Wilbur about subjects as diverse as a horror series called Local 58, the benefits of eating sand, as well as thirty-two reasons why he hated anteaters. There was also a detailed backstory to the character of “Ghostbur”, some notes on guitar chords, and several music sheets for a lot of different songs. As Philza dug even deeper into the papers, he found one of Wilbur’s drawings from years ago of Tommy and Tubbo’s compasses. The concept sketches. Wilbur still kept them, tucked under everything else.

And, right at the bottom, was a note written by five-year-old Wilbur after Philza had told him about a dangerous man called Dream. It read simply, “YOOOOOOOOOO SUCK IT GREEN BOYYYYYY!!!”. Philza, exhausted, drifted into a strange state of half-sleep, dreaming of his son.

Wilbur was not dead. He refused to believe it. Where was he, then? Philza had never felt so far away from his son. His eyes clouded with tears. “No,” he said out loud. “Piss off. I’m too old to cry.” But even as he said the words, he knew he was lying. He went to look out of the window. “Wilbur, where are you?”

. . .

Tommy and Ranboo woke up and got dressed into the clothes Niki had left them. They were so much warmer than their other clothes, and much more comfortable. Both outfits were the same- a large beige coat, with fur around the hood and buttons made of a white, stony material. The coat was stained with red in some places, and was worn over a scratchy white woollen shirt and a pair of brown trousers. The shoes were large leather boots, also with fur.

They walked out of the room, where Niki had prepared the two travellers a large stack of blueberry pancakes for breakfast. “Here, eat this. You must be starving,” she said, her smile as soft as always.

“Thanks,” Tommy said, and they sat down. Ranboo was quiet. He seemed worried. “So, Niki,” Tommy said happily. “What are the buttons on this coat made from? It’s a really nice rocky material. Just curious, you know,” he said with a grin.

Niki looked at him. “Are you sure you want to know?” The boy nodded, so she continued. “Technoblade made them from the bones of orphans. The string used is a special plant I grow, and the fur is made of orphan hair. The stains on the coat are blood, most definitely. Technoblade could be a cold, heartless murderer at times, especially where orphans were involved.”

Tommy only seemed more excited, while Ranboo looked rather sick, his face having turned greenish-white. “Sorry, Niki, but I’m not very hungry.”

“That’s fine. Are you sure, though? You must be starving from travelling.” The woman with pink hair looked quite concerned. Then she realised. “Oh, did that put you off your pancakes?” she asked, getting up. She walked over to Ranboo and gave him a hug. “Eat, please,” she whispered. “You look hungry.” Ranboo picked up his fork, but still didn’t eat. “It’s not just that,” he said. “I have... other things on my mind.”

Tommy wasn’t listening. He was shovelling mouthful after mouthful of pancake into his mouth, chewing the blueberries happily.

Niki looked at Ranboo. “It’s fine. You don’t always have to be alright. It’s okay to not be okay, you know?” She sat back down and began eating her pancakes again. Ranboo also started eating. “Yeah, I know that,” he said, squirting syrup all over the blueberries. “It’s just... I want to cry. I really want to. I honestly need to. But I’m half Enderman, and tears are water... they burn me... I can’t cry, because it hurts, it causes me physical pain. See the scars on my cheeks? They’re from crying,” he said.  “I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you want my advice?” Niki asked softly.

Ranboo nodded. “Yes, yes please.”

Niki smiled. Her smile was beautiful, gentle, and, best of all, genuine. “Just let the tears out. I’m sure that the pain and the burning is easier to bear than keeping your feelings back. You don’t have to cry now, though. You can wait, if you like, and cry when you’re ready. You already have scars on your cheeks, so a few more won’t be a big deal... at least, I don’t think. Endermen are different to humans after all.”

Ranboo took her hand and squeezed it tight. “Thank you, Niki... thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome, Ranboo.” Using her other hand, she brushed her hair out of her face. “Tommy, are you finished?”

“Mmmff?” Tommy had his mouth full of blueberry pancake. “Nom.” He swallowed his food. “Yeah, I’m done, I suppose. Let’s go, Ranboo!”

. . .

Tubbo, once again, was looking out of the window. He looked lonely, sad, lost in a world of pain and despair that his own mind had created. There was a scratch down his arm, bleeding, but not much. How had that happened? He didn’t know. All he could think about was Tommy and Ranboo.

Wilbur was sat on the cold stone floor, tapping his fingers on the wall, humming ‘Two Trucks’ in the most melancholy tone he could manage. Techno was sat next to him, just under the window near where Tubbo was stood, catching and drinking the water that was dripping in from outside. It had been snowing during the night, and as it melted, cold, clear water was trickling down the wall from a hole just under the window frame. Not one drop had hit the floor. Technoblade had caught every drop in his hands. He had drunk some himself, but had let the others have most of it. “Tubbo, are you okay?” he asked, looking up at the boy.

Tubbo didn’t look at him. He examined the scratch on his arm, then realised that, at some point, he had made it with his own fingernails. “No, Techno, I’m not,” he said, wiping the blood away. How long ago had he done that? Had he done it on purpose, he wondered? Surely he would have remembered it if he had. He began staring out of the window again. “I’m... really not okay... I’ve been...” Tubbo burst into a fit of coughing, which forced a tear out of his eye. “I’ve been thinking about horrible things. Dead things. Mainly dead people...” Tubbo rubbed at his eyes frantically, trying to stop tears from leaking out.

“Tommy and Ranboo,” Wilbur whispered. “Tubbo, they’re not dead, they’re coming to help us. If they were dead, I’d know. You’d know.”

“No, I wouldn’t! You wouldn’t either! You can’t just sense something like that!” Tubbo dug his fingernails into his arm, leaving long scratches down it. Fresh blood trickled down to his elbow. “You don’t know whether they’re alive or dead, Wilbur! How would you know?”

“Tubbo.” Techno had stood up, leaving Wilbur to catch and drink the dripping water from the window. He poured the water from his cupped hands on to Tubbo’s scratches, cleaning them carefully. He then ripped off part of his sleeve and tied it around the wounds, like a bandage. “Tubbo, calm down. You would know. Friends can sense things like that.” He looked at the boy, who had his eyes screwed shut, clinging onto the window frame, trying to stop himself from crying. Techno put his hand on his shoulder, trying to help him. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “If they don’t come, I’ll bust us out of here myself, and we’ll go and find them.” When that didn’t help, Techno took the boy’s hand and held it tightly. “Do you need a hug? Here, I’ll give you a hug.” Techno gently put his arms around Tubbo, who gave up holding back the tears and began to cry.

“But...” he whispered. “If they’re alive, why haven’t they already arrived? It’s been four days, Techno. Four days is a long time.”

Techno nodded. “I know. But you don’t know how far away we are. Where are they coming from, though? I know this place is about a day’s journey from my friend Niki’s house.”

“They’re travelling from L’manberg,” Tubbo mumbled sadly. Techno looked at the boy, whose brown hair was no longer neat, but now scruffy, his bright blue eyes full of tears, lost and sad and lonely. He was dressed in a white prison uniform, a piece of ripped white fabric around his arm where he had scratched himself, another scratch on his other arm covered in half-dried blood. His feet were bare, he was cold and shivering, and his round face didn’t smile at all. He was seventeen, but he barely looked twelve.

Techno looked at him. “That’s quite far away, I think. God, I haven’t been there since Jonathan Schlatt was the mayor... or, rather, since I killed him,” he added grimly. “Don’t look at me like that, you two. You know it had to be done. Schlatt was a murderer himself... I don’t know if you’ll remember, Tubbo, but Wilbur will... but he executed Chandler Hallow, that guy who used to do Jimmy Donaldson’s banking work.”

“And that woman Dadza fancied,” Wilbur said. “Kristin Watson, her name was... Schlatt executed her after she made a speech with intention to start a revolution.”

“No, she didn’t die,” Techno interrupted. “Didn’t she escape?”

Wilbur jumped up, leaving the water dripping from the window to collect in a puddle on the floor. “No, she didn’t. Someone else did. Can’t remember who though.”

“Probably that guy who made a secret army... what was his name...Lord Grian Dreamslayer!” Technoblade jumped up in triumph. “All his army- the Hermits- got executed... apart from one.”

Tubbo looked confused. “I don’t remember any of this...” There were still tears on his face.

“Well, Lord Grian Dreamslayer and his army all died ten years ago, Chandler was twelve years ago I think, and Kristin was executed fourteen years ago. I wouldn’t expect you to remember,” Wilbur said. “Wait, Techno- you said you killed him? How?”

“With a knife,” Techno said with a smile. “I’m sorry, but L’manberg suffered eleven years with him in charge. I couldn’t sit back and do nothing.” He returned to the wall to catch the dripping water, mumbling about how he hated governments.

. . .

Sam’s office was a large one. On the desk was a photo of Jonathan Schlatt, a previous mayor of L’manberg, who was Sam’s personal role model. The walls were covered in posters, a criminal’s face on each. Most of these posters featured Quackity Blue, extremely overpowered and very dangerous drug lord, wanted on charges of creation, possession, distribution, and sale of drugs, as well as assaulting a police officer. Next to one of the posters of Quackity was a smaller one, with Karl Jacobs’s face on it. The notice on it said “wanted for aiding and abetting Quackity Blue- note: PC Jack Manifold claims we have no proof and says that this charge is ‘remarkably stupid’. This is not true so please ignore it.”

Sam himself was a tall man who always wore a bright green and white uniform, and anyone who dared to argue with that would face ten hours of community service. He had a necklace with a charm on it shaped like a Minecraft creeper, although he claimed it was a pig that someone had accidentally made wrong. Sam was quite rude, usually over the top, and always unintentionally hilarious.

He turned a page in his police files and took a long sip of his coffee, which was in a green cup with the words “Schlatt For Mayor” on it in large white letters, a leftover piece of merchandise from his mayoral campaign, over sixteen years ago. He looked at the page he was holding, which declared, in large black letters, MISSING PERSONS CASE. He turned the page quickly. There were more important cases in the town of L’manberg... namely, catching Quackity, and finding out who killed Jonathan Schlatt.

PC Jack Manifold walked into the room. “Here, boss. Brought you some more coffee. So, what’s the plan for finding the missing people?”

Sam stuck out his tongue. “There’s no point. Catching Quackity Blue is so much more important than that trash.” He finished his original cup of coffee and took the one Jack was offering him. “Also, if you find out who murdered Schlatt, let me know at once.”

“Will do, mate- I mean boss,” the young police officer quickly corrected himself. “By the way, do you want a whopper? I’m just going to Burger King now.”

Sam took a sip of coffee and shook his head. “No, thanks, I’m going to McPuffy’s for dinner tonight. On my own, of course.” He turned another page in his files. “Please leave, I’m busy.”

“I’ll bring you a doughnut later, boss.” Jack Manifold hurriedly left the room, and Sam continued studying his files.

. . .

It was cold, it was so cold, snowing, half past nine in the morning, cold, frosty and silent. Both Tommy and Ranboo had a layer of fallen snow on their hair. Despite the warm coats that Niki had given them (specially made of the remains of orphans), they were shivering. How far north were they, and was that even the problem? Or was the weather just that bad?

Ranboo turned to Tommy. “Still going the right way?”

The boy smiled and looked down at the compass. “Looks like it, Ender Boy. Are- are you alright?” he asked, noticing how cold, shivering, and sad his friend looked.

Ranboo shook his head. “I wish I could say yes to that question.” He stopped walking and sat on a frosted tree stump, clearly dead, with mushrooms growing around it. An icicle had fallen from a tree above, leaving a standing cone in the snow next to it. Ranboo himself looked desolate and lost, although his hair was just as fluffy as always.

He looked up at the branches above him, where an empty bird nest was sat, the skeleton of a chick dangling from it. Everything seemed dead here. There was a corpse of a malnourished white rabbit just behind Tommy, and a bone propped up against a tree right in front of him. A few minutes ago, they had passed the skeleton of a whole child, half buried in the snow, bloodstained and clearly killed violently. Even the trees seemed dead, no longer graceful figures, but weedy and thin, their branches struggling to hold up with the amount of snow that they were holding.

Was this the result of hard times in winter, despite it only being autumn? Or something else, more magical? What curse was upon this land, and were they going to be subjected to it? To distract himself, Ranboo ran his fingers through his hair. “Tommy, can I have a closer look at that compass? I promise I won’t damage it.”

“Yeah, of course,” the boy said, taking the chain from around his neck and giving it to him with a gentle smile. This compass was the last link to Tubbo... the last link to a friend.

Ranboo took hold of it. The heat inside it made him jump- it was warm, as if there was some sort of living thing in it. Perhaps it was Tubbo’s life force, he thought. It was beautifully made, a shining silver, reflecting his face back at him, like a mirror. It was round, with a grey, stony dial. What the dial’s purpose was, he didn’t know. The words ‘Your Tubbo’ were engraved around the side. The needle of the compass was a shimmering red, like a crystal, spinning on top of a picture of Tommy and Tubbo together with Wilbur.

He turned the compass around to look at the back. There was a message engraved on the silver metal, slightly scratched and worn with age, but still legible.

“What am I without you?”

“Yourself?”

-Tommy and Tubbo, 2016

Also, Tommy, if you break this, I will bloody kill you, it took like a month to make- Wilby

There was also a scribble underneath the text, presumably Wilbur’s signature. 2016? That was a long time ago, it seemed. They would have been twelve. Wilbur would have been twenty. Had Wilbur gone to college, or university? Did he have a girlfriend? Why were these questions only occurring to him now? He bit his lip, hard, until purple Ender Acid trickled down his chin. He gave the compass back to his fellow traveller. “It’s beautiful, Tommy.”

Ranboo sat there and stared straight ahead for less than five seconds before burying his face into his knees and letting out an awful wail, like a banshee. He sounded like a wounded dog that was slowly dying, with nobody around to help it, or put it out of its misery.

Now Tommy understood why Ranboo had avoided crying and stayed strong for him. Hearing and seeing him like this was absolutely heartbreaking. It was even worse when he remembered that he would not only be in pain emotionally, but also physically, because tears were water, and of course, water burned him. Tommy reached towards him and hugged him tightly.

At that exact moment, the dangling body of the baby bird fell from the nest and landed head-first in the snow right next to them, its tiny skeletal feet sticking straight up like miniscule frozen plants.

The painful sounds of Ranboo sobbing echoed through the forest, bringing sorrow and terror to every animal that heard it. A lynx that was simply trying to eat a dead deer stood still and looked up, searching for the source of this sound. Not thinking, as it usually would, that this was another living creature that it could hunt, but feeling sympathy for it. A haunting of Endermen a few miles away also heard it. Recognising it as one of their own species, they stopped and listened, while the leader of the haunting began doing a charm, hoping to ease its pain.

When Ranboo finally stopped, he looked up, and Tommy saw his face. The area under the tall boy’s eyes was bleeding purple Ender Acid, there were long burn marks down his cheeks, and he was clearly in a lot of pain. “I’m alright now, Tommy,” he said, his voice barely audible.

A group of Endermen stepped out of the trees and began talking in Ender language. Tommy didn’t understand a word they were saying. However, Ranboo nodded at their every word, and even accepted a hug from one of them. They left soon after, all except one of them, who stayed and gave him a necklace with a green pearl on it. Tommy watched them in awe. He found Endermen extremely interesting.

“What did they say?” Tommy asked. He had watched them intently, clearly interested.

“Endermen look out for each other,” Ranboo said, with a smile. “They heard me and came to see what had happened. The Enderman who’s here now is going to lead us to the mountains safely, because, according to him, there are dangerous creatures waiting here.” He turned to the Enderman and said something in Ender language. “This necklace... it has an Ender Pearl on it, which is supposed to be lucky, but I don’t really know how that works, considering that these pearls are actually... no, I’ll stop there,” he said, blushing and wiping the Ender Acid from his cheeks.

Tommy looked at him, almost challenging him. “What’s an Ender Pearl?”

“You don’t need to know,” Ranboo said, then realised that the boy wasn’t going to leave him alone until he learned this vital piece of knowledge. “Okay then... well, I may as well just give you a full lesson on Enderman reproduction,” he mumbled. “Oh God. Here we go.” He said something to the Enderman, although what, Tommy didn’t know. They started walking again, the Enderman in front. “Right, Tommy... this is the exact talk my parents gave me a few years ago, I hope it’s worth my embarrassment...”

Chapter Text

He was sat there, wearing a green hoodie, his face covered by a smiling mask, tufts of his blond hair poking out from under his hood. What he looked like under the mask was a secret to everyone, except his friend, his boyfriend, his parents, and Drista. There was a sword tucked into his belt, a quiver of arrows strapped over his shoulder, and Tubbo’s compass on a chain around his neck. He had already read the writing engraved on the back- something about listening to music discs, signed by “Wilby”. He could sort of understand. Dream liked music just like any other human being.

Slipping a straw behind his mask, he slurped a strawberry milkshake loudly, got up from his chair, and went to check on his prisoners.

What a change since last night. Technoblade’s hair was loose, falling down past his shoulders in a long curtain. His hands were cupped and full of water that was dripping down from the window, and part of his left sleeve was ripped off. The small boy was sat in the corner, a long scratch down one arm, covered in dried blood. On his other arm was a piece of white cloth tied like a bandage, stained red. He looked as if he was slowly going insane. The Soot boy was probably the best off out of all of them, although he looked quite lonely and sad. His messy, scruffy hair was even messier and scruffier, but other than that, not much had changed about him. This was what Dream had wanted, to break them, both physically and emotionally.

“Hello, prisoners,” Dream said. It wasn’t just his mask that was smiling. “I’ll be leaving at two o’clock today, so make the most of having me here.” He turned his head towards the three people in the cell. “Is there anything you would like before I leave?”

Wilbur stared at him defensively. “Yeah, there is. Let us out of here.” He had said it calmly, but he had bitten his lip while talking, and a drop of blood was slowly falling down his chin. He raised his hand to wipe it. “Let us out of this horrible place.” He paused for a second, then added, “Or at least give us some food and water. We’ve survived on melted snow for three days and we’re absolutely starving.”

Dream simply shook his head. “No. Can’t do that, sorry.” His voice was full of joy. He brushed his hair away from his mask and stepped forward, admiring the compass that was around his neck. “This time, the compass doesn’t stay here with you. It comes with me. I’ve overheard you talking... apparently you have friends coming to help you who can locate the compass, and therefore the prison. I’m going to prevent that. They’ll find me, and only me. Then I’ll keep them here with you, and finally, I’ll kill you all, in the most painful ways I can think of. It’s for science, don’t worry... it’s for an experiment.”

Technoblade also stood up, a deadly stare in his eyes. “Is that all we are to you?” he asked softly, almost smiling. Without warning, he leapt forward and grabbed on to the bars and began to shout. “Is that really all we are to you? A science experiment? Who the hell do you think you are, Dream?” He let out a terrifying roar, so loud that the floor shook slightly.

The man with the smiley face mask watched as the other two prisoners cowered in the corner, shuddering and hugging each other tightly. “Cowards,” he muttered. “Why are you afraid of him? I captured that man. That’s why he’s here. I’m the one you should be afraid of.”

Through tears, Tubbo stared at him and swore loudly. “Screw you, Dream!”

“Don’t think I will, thanks,” Wilbur said, attempting to lighten the mood, and failing spectacularly. He smiled at his own joke for a second, then glared at the man in the green hoodie. He then launched into a speech far too offensive and inappropriate to write down, exhausting his vocabulary of swear words.

Dream simply listened, smiling behind his mask. “I’ve heard far worse in my time, Soot,” he said calmly. He turned around and disappeared into another room for a second, then came back with a folding chair. He set it up in front of the cell and sat down. “So, are you alright? Tell me how you’re feeling... I want to know. I want to know everything about you, like your favourite colours, and where you live... and the compass. Who should I expect to arrive, and where are they coming from? How does the compass work? Who made it, and why? Of course, you don’t have to answer, but it would make everything so much easier...”

. . .

Tommy’s room seemed so quiet. It looked exactly the same as usual, with the Minecraft bedsheets, the large, fluffy pillow, the dresser and the deodorant... Motherinnit hadn’t touched anything, hadn’t tidied up at all. She didn’t want to. She walked over to Tommy’s desk, the computer, and the diary, which was open on a page stating “Vikkstar is BEST STREAMER”. The rest of the page was covered with Fortnite stickers.

Motherinnit then looked at the shelves, which deserve a more detailed description. The shelving unit was tall, with five shelves. On the bottom shelf were Tommy’s spare trainers, which were covered in mud and grass. On the next shelf up were several bad drawings of YouTubers. Clearly, drawing was not Tommy’s strong point. The middle shelf was empty, apart from a single empty can of Diet Coke. The second shelf from the top was home to Tommy’s favourite Nerf blaster, which he had dubbed the “Vlog Gun”. Finally, the top shelf housed Tommy’s most prized possessions, his disc collection, as well as a device that played them.

Tommy collected vintage music discs, and had managed to collect seven in total so far, each with their own special cases. The first, in a case covered in designs of the countryside, was called Cat, and was the oldest one that Tommy owned, being seventy years old. The second was Blocks, and was one of the more recent discs, that stored all of the music from Minecraft. Next was Chirp, one of Tommy’s favourites, in a case with a bird design on it. It had been a gift from Philza. Mellohi was the next of the discs, and was also commonly known as the “Waltz of the Endermen”. The fifth was Stal, which was clearly the disc with the most interesting story. There were several Stal discs in existence, and the song they played had been a symbol of rebellion in the time that Jonathan Schlatt had been mayor. The next was Wait, which was in a modern blue case, with a music note on it, and the words “Wait, Where Are We Now?” The final disc was Pigstep, a disc from the late eighties, in a red, fiery case with a cartoon pig design. There was also a note on the shelf. It said, "Still waiting for the Far disc that Will promised me. Remove note from shelf when Far is added to the collection."

(Wow, that was a long paragraph about music discs.)

Motherinnit sat down on Tommy’s bed and looked around the room, eventually resting her eyes on the poster of the band Anvil CatJam on the wall above the overflowing bin full of Diet Coke cans.

It was quiet. Too quiet. Without Tommy, without Tubbo, without Wilbur... why had they all gone missing? She felt something strange on her cheek, something warm and wet. Of course, she was crying. It wasn’t right for a mother to lose her son so early. Tommy was just seventeen... he had his whole life ahead of him. He could become one of the YouTubers he enjoyed watching so much. And Tubbo was the same age as Tommy, with a dream to be a beekeeper, while having a secondary career in nuclear science... Wilbur was twenty-five. Still young. A musician with so much to give to the world... and now they were gone.

Where were they? Motherinnit refused to believe that they were dead. She only knew one thing, and that was that her son was searching for Tubbo with those compasses that Wilbur had made.

And now Wilbur was gone...

It didn’t seem right. It was quiet. Far too quiet. She got up and decided to visit Philza. She needed someone to talk to. Perhaps she could pick up Lani on the way.

. . .

The Enderman turned to the two travellers and pointed to the mountains. Ranboo said something in Ender language, thanking the Enderman for his help. Tommy, not knowing how to speak Ender, gave the extremely tall person a hug instead.

The Enderman had to be about nine foot tall, and honestly quite frightening. He had extremely pale skin, fluffy black hair, and bright purple eyes that made Tommy shiver. They were just so unnatural, and it felt as if they were always watching. His arms and legs were extremely long in proportion to his rather small body, and he wore a long black and purple robe. He also had a pearl necklace identical to the one that he had given to Ranboo. His face bore several scars, most likely caused by tears.

The Enderman said a word to Ranboo in Ender language, and Ranboo repeated it. Tommy worked out that this was goodbye, as the Enderman walked a few paces back into the trees and teleported away.

“So, these are the mountains,” he said, looking up. But Tommy was more focused on his compass. He kept running around in different directions, looking at something at the top of the mountains. A building, it looked like. “What on earth are you doing, Tommy?” Ranboo asked.

The boy looked at him. “Tubbo’s up there, Ender Boy. In that building. I’ll show you...” He began running left and right. “The needle moves slightly, which means we’re close. And it’s pointing up there, see?” he said proudly, showing Ranboo the compass with a smile.

The ‘Ender Boy’ looked at it. “You’re- you’re right, Tommy...” he said. His face suddenly lit up. “Let’s go and save Tubbo! If- if he’s still alive, that is,” he added quietly. “But we don’t consider that option here!”

Tommy gave a yell of delight. “Yeah! Poggers!” He looked at his friend. “Can we sing Wilbur's songs as loud as we can, so that Tubbo knows we’re coming?”

Ranboo chuckled. “I don’t know the words to any of them- apart from Your New Boyfriend, but that’s a classic,” he said with a smile.

“Well then, Your New Boyfriend it is,” Tommy said, taking his hand and skipping towards the mountains, tunelessly shouting "YOUR NEW BOYFRIEND'S AN ARSEHOLE!” at the top of his lungs.

Ranboo could help but think about what he had said two days ago- that Tommy sounded like a dying frog screaming into a foghorn.

. . .

Dream was still sat in his chair, throwing insults at the prisoners every now and then, admiring the compass hanging around his neck. He had a green smoothie in one hand. The end of the straw had disappeared behind his mask.

Drista walked into the room with a slightly panicked expression, a cup of coffee in her hand. “Dream, you might have to leave a bit earlier than expected... there’s people at the foot of the mountains. One of them is tall, and the other is stupidly tall- almost like an Enderman,” she said. “They’re both blond, and both wearing similar outfits, as far as I can tell. Big, fluffy coats and leather boots with fur around the top. They’re still quite far away, though.”

Dream swore quietly. “I’ll go in a few minutes, Drista. I’ve got another person in mind that I could kidnap. And then I’ll be back. Do you promise that you’ll capture them if they say that they’re looking for my prisoners?”

“Yes,” Drista said. Techno realised how young she looked, barely fifteen years old, and how nervous and afraid she was. He tried to convince himself that she was just another orphan that needed murdering, but, for some reason, he couldn’t help but pity her.

Dream turned and stared at her. “I need a promise, Drista,” he said, pulling a knife out of his pocket and holding it. “Promise me.” He was just holding the knife, not pointing it at her, but just the sight of Dream with a knife sent shivers down Tubbo’s spine, as he realised that, what Dream wanted, Dream got. If he wanted, he could kill that girl right now, to make an example of people who disobeyed him. He could kill his sister right now, and make his prisoners watch the death of an innocent girl.

Drista’s eyes were full of fear. “I- I promise, that if they say that they’re looking for the prisoners, I will capture them and keep them hostage,” she said quietly, her voice faint.

“Say it properly!” Dream snapped, raising the knife slightly, his other hand ready to give his sister a hard slap in the face.

Wilbur jumped up. “Leave her alone, you monster!” he shouted, but the man in the green hoodie didn’t listen to him, instead stepping closer to the girl, clutching the knife tightly.

Drista jumped back. “I promise- don’t hit me!” she squeaked, but Dream did it anyway. She let out a pitiful yelp of pain, and Technoblade saw that the side of her face was bright red. Despite having inflicted much worse pain on people much younger than her before, he still winced. He had to admit that he was quite fond of Drista, however much of a coward she seemed to be. “I promise, Dream, I promise!” she screamed, backing up to the wall. “I’ll keep them here! I promise!”

Dream finally looked satisfied. “You’d better keep that promise, or you know what happens,” he said grimly, holding the knife in his hand and miming slitting the girl’s throat. “Also, get that coffee away from me. You know coffee doesn’t agree with me. Just the smell makes me feel sick.”

Drista walked as far away from Dream as she could. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“You will be,” Dream muttered darkly. “Right, I’ll leave now... but don’t you three think you’re not under my control, because you are.” Dream stood up, brushing tufts of hair away from his mask.

Suddenly, Wilbur realised who this was- his name was Dream, and in Dadza’s stories, there was a dangerous man called Dream... This was Dream. The Dream. The same Dream that Dadza had told him stories about when he was little. He remembered a note that he had wrote... a note that Dadza had laughed at, like it was a good joke...

“Suck it, Green Boy!” Wilbur yelled as loudly as he could. Dream ignored him and walked out of the room, flashing his sister the middle finger as he left.

. . .

Lani looked around Tubbo’s room, the yellow walls, the beehive in its large jar, with the bees buzzing around inside it. The posters on the wall, posters of Lovejoy, posters of South Park, posters about bees, and one with a large nuclear bomb on it, on which Tubbo had scribbled “study later”. There was a wooden desk under the window, with a note on it in Wilbur’s handwriting that said “2B2T TIPS: anywhere you see that pattern of blocks I showed you, AVOID IT AT ALL COSTS, it’s a chunk ban”, and a leaflet for the GLBN (Greater L’manberg Beekeeping Network), as well as Tubbo’s laptop.

Lani walked over and turned on the laptop, seeing that Tubbo had several tabs open- one open on a YouTube video called Depressed doorbell commits suicide, a second one showing Tubbo’s favourite Spotify playlist, another open on the Greater L’manberg Beekeeping Network’s home page. He also had Minecraft open, which was showing a brown screen with text saying, "Kicked from server. Reason: You’ve been standing there for 29 hours and 34 minutes, mate, don’t know how you haven’t died yet. That’s impressive. I’ve never seen anyone survive so long on 2b2t. Still, you’re taking up one of our 128 player slots and FitMC wants to get in so I’m gonna have to kick you."

Lani chuckled at the message, then wondered why on earth her brother was playing on 2b2t, the most infamous Minecraft server in the world, where there were absolutely no rules. Hacking, cheating, swearing, and slavery were all permitted on 2b2t. She decided not to question it. Perhaps it was something to do with Tubbo’s strange interest in nuclear weapons.

It was too quiet, far too quiet.

Lani opened the large jar with the beehive in it and slipped some flowers in for the bees before carefully closing it. She couldn’t let them starve while Tubbo was away. She could already see two or three dead bees at the bottom of the jar, which she blamed herself for.

She missed him. As much as she didn’t particularly want to admit it, she missed Tubbo. She missed Tommy, too. And Wilbur, of course. She’d been learning to play Electronic Cup on the piano and it just didn’t seem right without his singing.

Suddenly there was a loud noise that made Lani jump. “Oh, it’s just the door,” she realised, and walked downstairs to open it.

Outside was stood a tall middle-aged woman, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, wearing a green jacket over a red and white striped T-shirt. “Hello, Lani,” she said. “I’m going to Philza’s. Would you like to come with me?”

“Hello, Motherinnit,” Lani said with a smile. “Yeah, why not. We can enjoy one of his famous cups of tea and maybe even read all Wilbur’s short stories that he just leaves on his desk. When I went there last time I found a load of made up whale ‘facts’. According to that paper, sperm whales can’t cu-”

“Philza’s house is just around the corner, isn’t it?” Motherinnit said, interrupting her. “Let’s go, then. Do you have a coat? It’s freezing out here, and I don’t want you to catch a cold... your mother would murder me.”

Lani shook her head. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “It’s five minutes away, Motherinnit...”

. . .

It was cold. So cold. Ranboo’s fluffy hair was tucked inside his hood, his hands and face had become pure icy white, and there was a large pile of snow on his head that was slowly melting. Tommy’s hands were beginning to turn a strange shade of blue, his hair was getting in his face, his coat was soaked from snow melting on him as he walked. Why was it snowing? Hadn’t they had enough bad weather?

To distract himself, Tommy asked Ranboo, “So, you know Tubbo, right?”

“I wouldn’t have come all this way if I didn’t.” The tall boy looked at his friend with a serious expression. “I couldn’t have lived with myself if I didn’t help find him. Tubbo is... the only friend I have- no, the only friend I had, before we went on this journey together,” he corrected himself. “After all this is over, we should just all hang out together, somewhere... maybe have our own secret place to meet up...”

Tommy smiled. “There’s a bench, pretty far into the woods. It’s got no paths leading to it, and I’ve never seen anyone else there but me and Tubbo. We use it as a secret hangout area, where we hide and plan pranks on people. The only downside is that there’s no Wi-Fi there, but if we need internet, we can use Tubbo’s mobile hotspot. He gets loads of mobile data every month because his mum’s really nice and doesn’t make him stick to the lowest data plan,” he said, mumbling “Screw you, Motherinnit,” under his breath afterwards.

Ranboo chuckled. “That sounds good. That sounds perfect, actually.” He rubbed his hands together to warm them up. “I’m gonna be honest, Tommy. I’m scared- I’m scared of what we’ll find up there in that building. What if Tubbo’s not even there, and we only find his compass? God, I’m not usually one to worry, but this is seriously frightening me...”

“I’m not surprised. Halloween’s only tomorrow,” Tommy said, grinning. “It’s the thirtieth of October. It’s really sad that we’re missing out... I had a great costume. I was going to be Mayor Schlatt. Tubbo was going as a hot dog, and Wilbur was going to be a ghost. What were you going to dress up as?”

“Player 456, you know, from Squid Game.” Ranboo kept walking with a smile. “I bought a whole bottle of fake blood for that costume, it’s a shame that it’s going to be wasted.”

“A shame, indeed. Still, you won’t need fake blood once I get hold of you- all that blood will be very real,” Ranboo heard someone say. He knew exactly who it was. The voice had been taunting him since they had left Niki’s hut. He hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t wanted to frighten Tommy. “You’re afraid, aren’t you? You should be. You’re going to die soon, and so are your friends. I’ll spare you until the end... wouldn’t you love to watch them die, as painfully as possible?”

Ranboo slapped himself in the face and hoped the voice would feel it as hard as he did. “Shut up,” he told it. “You’re not real.”

The voice cackled. “You don’t remember me, Ranboo?”

He froze. That was the first time that the voice had said his name to him. But no, it wasn’t real, it was all in his head, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real...

Suddenly Tommy poked him in the arm. “Ender Boy,” he said with a smile. “I think I just saw an apparition! There was something-”

“Tommy, it’s nothing, I just heard the voice again,” his friend said. “It’s just giving me death threats now- like it knows where we are...”

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about,” Tommy said excitedly. “It was this big green man! I didn’t see much, but it flew right over our heads and then disappeared into those trees behind us!”

Ranboo sighed. “Tommy, you’re seeing things, it’s probably nothing.”

“He didn’t see anything, Ranboo,” the voice said, “...other than me, that is...”

Chapter Text

Drista sat in the corner, shivering and cold. She was a very pretty girl, with long, blonde hair that fell down in waves to her shoulders, and sea-blue eyes. She was dressed in a white T-shirt with a small smiley face on it, and denim shorts. She must have been freezing, Wilbur thought. She also had a pair of silver sandals on her feet, and a bright green butterfly clip in her hair.

She was sat on the cold stone floor, hugging her knees, silently crying in the corner. Her face was still bright red where Dream had hit her, and was clearly still stinging. She was clearly terrified of her brother.

“Drista,” Technoblade said gently. “Tubbo told me who those people were. They’re our friends. You don’t like your brother, do you?”

“No kidding, Sherlock,” she mumbled.

Techno looked at her. “When they come, let us out with them. We can help you. I know someone who can keep you safe from Dream, and she doesn’t live too far from here. And she makes the best hot chocolate in the world. You just have to trust us.”

Drista looked confused. “Don’t you hate me, because I’m keeping you here?”

“No, of course not! Not after what happened a few minutes ago,” Tubbo said. “How can we hate you? You’re literally a teenage girl.”

Techno reached his hand through the bars. “You can trust us. I promise.”

Drista got up. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she walked forward and took his hand. “Thanks,” she said. “What if he comes back, though?”

“There are more of us than there are of him.” Techno didn’t let go of Drista’s hand. “We can fight him. We outnumber him. If our friends arrive, then we’ll have an even better chance against him. I promise, we will make everything better. We will kill Dream. We will.”

Wilbur looked over. “Maybe not kill him. But send him to a place where he’ll never bother you again.”

“Nah, we’ll kill him,” Techno said, and spat on the floor behind him. “Look, I killed Jonathan Schlatt, and he wasn’t half as bad as this guy. Dream doesn’t deserve to exist in this world. We’ve been enemies since we were children, and that was centuries ago... oh yeah, we’re both as old as time, don’t know if I mentioned that...”

“I think, since Drista is his sister,” Tubbo said, interrupting him, “she should decide whether we kill him or not. It’s only fair.”

Drista looked him in the eye. “Yeah, I’m with Techno on this one. Capital punishment is the best punishment for people like him.” She grinned. “Can I braid your hair, please?”

“Sure, why not,” Techno said, letting go of her hand and turning around. Drista carefully took hold of the man’s long pink hair and began making knots in it with shaking hands. “Promise me one thing,” Techno said, looking at a piece of moss under the window. “Promise me that you won’t get caught up in all this. It’s too dangerous for a little girl like you.”

Drista pulled his hair, hard, until he gave a yelp of pain. “How dare you! I’m his sister- his twin sister, actually. It’s just that time’s been much kinder to my looks than his. I’m as old as he is, as old as time...”

“Wait,” Techno said. “That means you’re a goddess. Just like me and Dream are gods. That means you have powers...”

Drista nodded. “Yeah. Problem is, I don’t know how to use them...”

“Wait, gods exist?” Tubbo blurted out. “Does that mean... that Philza Minecraft really is as old as time?”

Techno smiled. “Oh, yeah, I forgot about Philza... Oh yes. And if we get away from here, all we have to do is round up the gods and make a plan.”

. . .

It was ridiculously cold. Tommy and Ranboo were still climbing, the snow falling, not soft or gentle any more, but almost hailstone. Ranboo turned to look at his friend. “Tommy, you have an icicle of snot dangling from your nose.”

He giggled happily and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “We’re almost there, Ranboo. Almost there. Almost at Tubbo. Then we’ll go home, have biscuits and one of Philza’s cups of tea, and everything will be over. We just need to get to that building.”

“Yeah, but we don’t know what’s in that building, Tommy... God, I hope there’s food in there.” Ranboo hadn’t eaten since breakfast at Niki’s hut, having given his friend the last pack of crackers for lunch. “We need to be prepared, in case we need to fight anyone.”

Tommy swore loudly. “Look, Ender Boy, I’m just a child, I’m not going to be fighting anyone. Why can’t you do that?”

Ranboo was tempted to slap him. “I’m literally the same age as you, Tommy.”

“I know,” he said with a smile, “but you’re doing the fighting, because I don’t know how to fight. Do I just kick the person who attacks me in the backside?”

Ranboo chuckled. “Yeah, that’ll definitely work, Tommy.”

“Great, I’ll do that,” the boy said, not picking up the sarcasm. He then proceeded to slip on some ice and fell over, quite comically and dramatically, swearing in pain. Ranboo carefully walked over to help him, holding back laughter. “I never thought anyone could use that many curse words in the space of thirty seconds,” he remarked with a smile. “Honestly, that’s quite impressive.”

“Ow,” Tommy said, rolling around in the snow and clutching his knee. Ranboo helped him up, which somehow made Tommy immediately better. “It doesn’t hurt any more, Ender Boy. Now let’s go and kick some arse,” he said cheerfully, a big smile on his face. “Open a can of whoopass on whoever’s got Tubbo.”

Ranboo cracked a smile. “How on earth did you recover that quickly? Very interesting.” Ranboo pretended to make a note of it. “But yes. Whoever’s got Tubbo, we’ll beat them up and then... and then we’ll subject them to the torture of our singing.”

Tommy looked disgusted. “Hey, I’m not that bad!” However, he then thought of a question. “I know it’s a bit of a random question right now, but what was the End like?”

“Honestly, I can’t remember much. It was... yellowish, I think... with a black sky.” Ranboo was struggling to remember. “There was a dragon, and... there were big buildings called ‘cities’, and there was a... weird indestructible thing in the middle...”

“...there was a portal, a portal filled with stars that brought you here. Obsidian pillars topped with crystals of fire. It was a group of many islands, floating in space, in a dark, starless sky. The ground was cold and stony, pale yellow, and Endermen walked on it. There were cities, which were in reality just tall, very unbalanced buildings, with a room for each family. The people used large flying boats to travel. There were tall, scraggly, alien purple trees called chorus plants everywhere, with lilac coloured fruit that tasted very much like bramble berries and that allowed those who ate them to teleport once to a random place. And yes, there was indeed a dragon, the so-called Ender Dragon. Her name was Jean, and she was an extremely distraught creature, worried and upset about her only egg never hatching.”

Ranboo looked amazed. He did remember... or his voice did. Tommy just seemed confused. “Why were you just silent for a second?”

“I remember,” the voice said. “You may not, but I do... also, if you do meet your friend, tell him to watch over his sister. She may not be safe.”

Ranboo jumped. “Not Lani... no, you leave her alone, what has she done to you? She’s thirteen, for God’s sake!”

“What, it’s got Lani?” Tommy said, terrified, understanding what was going on.

The voice had gone silent. “I think so. Tommy, we have to get to that building as soon as possible.”

Neither of them noticed that the compass was pointing the other way.

. . .

Philza’s living room had large, old-fashioned, squishy sofas, several warm, comfortable armchairs, and the biggest fireplace in the town of L’manberg. Hearing a knock on the door, he opened it. Outside were stood Lani and Motherinnit, shivering in the cold.

“Hello, you two. Come in,” he said, with a smile- a forced smile, clearly holding back tears, but still a smile. “I’ll make you a cup of tea. I’ve found some really interesting papers on Wilbur’s desk, by the way,” he said, as they sat down on the sofas. “They’re just there, on the coffee table. I suggest you read the 32 reasons he hates anteaters, it really is a laugh. Half of them are just swear words,” he said, as he went to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Lani looked through the papers, and found an essay on the benefits of communism, a list of online games that his firewall had blocked, and an architectural plan of a Minecraft church, with the words ‘Church Prime’ at the bottom of the page. She started reading a leaflet that Wilbur had written after he destroyed someone’s house on the Hypixel Minecraft server, with the wonderful opening sentence of “Go to the bookies now, odds on Wilby getting banned from Hypixel”. Motherinnit had absorbed herself in one of Wilbur’s notebooks, reading a short story of his called “Origins”, in which Wilbur and his friends had weird superpowers, and Tommy was a chicken for some reason. He had written it when he was just fifteen.

Philza came back with the tea a few minutes later. “Yeah, there’s some interesting stuff in there,” he said with a smile. “Oh, is that his Origins story? That one’s good. If you find the one about ghost hunting, that’s good as well. The one about Jonathan Schlatt eating Hot Pockets, though- that one is just pure comedy. It’s absolutely ridiculous and I love it.”

Lani put down the homemade Hypixel leaflet and searched through the rest of the pile. “There’s some good stuff in there, but there’s some nonsense as well. I think Wilbur might be slightly crazy, judging by his writing. It’s honestly great.”

Philza nodded and put the tea tray down on the table. “Absolutely. I found the original plans for his Jubilee Line song in there, buried under a file full of pictures of bread stapled to trees.” He sat down, his hat looking very much like a popcorn bucket as it tipped over his eyes. He quickly adjusted it and picked up an oatmeal biscuit. “So, Lani, have you been working on Electronic Cup at all while Wilbur’s been away?”

“No, I haven’t touched it. I’ve been too busy... umm... not looking after Tubbo’s bees?” she said. “No, it’s Wilbur’s song, not mine. I don’t want to mess with it. What’s the best way to look for everyone?”

Philza shook his head. “Give it two weeks and I’ll go looking for them.”

“I can’t go two weeks,” Motherinnit said, closing Wilbur’s notebook. “I cannot go another two weeks without seeing my son. I will go insane.”

Philza thought about it for a second. “Then we’ll make it ten days. If they’re not back then, I will look for them.” He picked up a photo from the pile, showing Tommy pushing Tubbo on a tire swing. “They can’t have left Logstedshire. It’s not possible, this country is massive. It would take more than four or five days to leave it.”

“You’re right, I suppose,” Motherinnit said, and took a sip of her tea. “Okay. I can deal with that.”

“Then we’ll make that a plan,” Philza said. “Would anyone like a bowl of Eton Mess? I made it for Wilbur, it’s his favourite. Then he disappeared...”

Lani smiled. “That sounds nice,” she said.

“Great,” Philza said. “You- you don’t mind sand in it, do you? Wilbur asked for it specifically... God, that man needs to see a therapist when he gets back...”

. . .

Karl and Quackity were sat in the caravan, making their costumes for Halloween, when they planned to go trick or treating. Karl had managed to get a weekend off from doing Mr Beast’s banking work, and was now slowly sticking buttons and gears on to his time traveller costume, glue getting all over his fingers. Quackity was carefully stitching feathers on to his duck costume, swearing every time he pricked himself with the needle.

“So,” Karl said, thinking of conversation topics, sticking a rather shiny bronze button on his magnificent top hat. “Is Quackity your real name? It doesn’t sound like a real name to me, that’s all.”

He shook his head. “No, of course not,” he said with a smile, reaching for another feather. “My real name’s Alex. Quackity was the nickname my friends gave me, because they thought I sounded a bit like a duck when I laughed. Then my parents died, and I came here on a boat with a load of other homeless kids. On my fake identity papers, I put my name as Quackity... it reminded me of home.” He was still smiling, but sadly. “We were supposed to go to Boatem Town on a train, but I ran away, and ended up here.”

Karl couldn’t help but pity him. “And the only way you could make a living was to sell drugs... it all makes sense now...”

“Yeah. I stole the recipes from the boat- it was illegally transporting drugs, too.” He began stitching another feather on to his costume.

Karl glued a copper spring to his hat. “So... where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m from Mexico. Mexico City.” He looked up at Karl. “That’s another reason the police are after me- I’m an illegal immigrant. I don’t know what to do any more.”

Karl looked at him with a smile. “The police won’t try to help you, and we already know that... why don’t we just go straight to Mayor Eret? He seems like a nice guy. He’d probably help us. He hosts an LGBTQIA+ pride parade every month. Oh, and the man’s got style, too. Have you seen his hair? It’s amazing. And his really cool sunglasses...”

“Style’s not going to help us here, Karl,” Quackity said, picking up the needle again. “The mayor has no reason to help us, so why would he?”

“Because,” Karl said, “Eret isn’t like Schlatt. Eret would understand, I know he would... He wouldn’t execute you for something stupid.”

Quackity shook his head. “I still don’t really want to. I’m honestly a bit scared. Really. I don’t know who I can trust, other than you...”

Karl stuck a small piece of broken pipe to his hat. “I know. But I can’t think of any other options.” He looked at Quackity- Alex? - with a smile. “Of course, I won’t do anything until you agree.”

“Give me a week or two to decide,” Quackity said. “If I can’t think of anything better, then I’ll let you know and we can go and ask. Right, do you want any bottle caps for your costume? I’ve got some in a jar on top of the fridge, if you want. And I’ve got an empty sardine tin that I can wash if you want. You know, I’ve been collecting these feathers since April and I still don’t know if I’ll have enough...”

. . .

It was cold. Shivering, Tommy stared at the building in front of him as if it was his only hope, which it was, really. It was so close yet so far, barely a few hundred metres away, but that seemed so distant.

The building was made of grey stone bricks, with no visible door, icicles hanging from some of the bricks that were jutting out, and a flat roof covered in snow and ice. It almost looked like a prison, cold and uninviting. There was a small barred window in its wall, from which a rather monotone and deep voice could be heard, telling a story about Lord Grian Dreamslayer and his army, a story that Tommy had heard before from Philza when he had been given the Stal disc. The person that was telling the story sounded fed up, tired, as if it was done with everything.

Suddenly Tommy and Ranboo both heard a familiar voice, a voice they knew, talking. “I know. Tommy has one. It’s one of the first ones, and the message is just a list of all the Hermits’ names...”

“That’s him, Ender Boy, that’s him,” Tommy said with a smile. “He’s in there, he’s in that building, we need to get in...”

“Jesus Christ, that is!” Ranboo gave Tommy the biggest hug that he could, and then started running towards the building. “Tubbo! Tubbo, can you hear us?”

There was a small pause. “Ranboo, is that you?”

“Tubbo!” Tommy screamed and started charging towards the building.

. . .

“The Hermits were twelve,” Techno was saying. “Lord Grian Dreamslayer was their leader, and he had elected Mumbo Jumbolio and Iskallium Dioritus as his co-leaders. Their main way of communication was writing messages on the cases of music discs- specifically a certain record called Stal- in the form of a list of songs. Schlatt never suspected anything. The discs are all collectors’ items now, I think-”

“I know. Tommy has one,” Tubbo said, interrupting him. “It’s one of the first ones, and the message on it is just a list of the Hermits’ names. I’ve memorised them all. There’s ‘Evil’ Xisuma Void, and Gemini Taylor... Tommy loves it. He polishes the disc every few weeks to keep it in good condition.”

Techno looked surprised that Tubbo even knew about it. “Wow. Well... the Hermits planned for revolution, they planned to overthrow the mayor, but Schlatt got wind of their plan and promptly executed them all, starting with Scott Major, or Smajor-”

“Tubbo! Tubbo, can you hear us?”

The voice was a familiar one to the small boy, who immediately jumped up, a smile creeping across his face. “Ranboo, is that you?”

“Tubbo!”

Another familiar voice. This time, Wilbur jumped up. “Tommy! Tommy, oh, thank God... the entrance is round the other side...”

Tubbo went to look out of the window. Stood outside were two people, two people that Tubbo recognised. “You came! You came!”

Techno joined him at the window. “Hey, those are my coats!” he said, but he was smiling. “You must be Tommy and Ranboo. I’ve heard a lot about you. Is it true that one of you has one of the original Stal discs? That’s really interesting.”

“Can we come inside? It’s freezing out here,” Ranboo said.

Wilbur appeared at the window. “Yeah, of course,” he said. “Drista’s just unlocking the door for you now. It’s around the other side of the building. I warn you though, it’s not much warmer in here...”

But Tommy and Ranboo had already gone, running around the side of the building as fast as their long legs could carry them.

Chapter Text

The door was unlocked. In their rush to get to it, Tommy and Ranboo fell over each other, landing in a heap on the snow. “Tommy, you’re supposed to buy me a drink first,” Ranboo said, giggling.

“Shut up, Ender Boy,” Tommy said with a smile, and stood up. Seeing Drista in the doorway, he politely said, “Good afternoon,” and walked inside the building. Ranboo got up, dusted the snow off of himself, and went after him.

They were unpleasantly surprised by the fact that Tubbo and Wilbur were in a prison cell, along with some guy that they’d never heard of. Tubbo quickly introduced him. “This is Technoblade, the Blood God,” he said. “Say hello, Techno.”

“Hello, Techno,” the man with the pink hair said, with a slight chuckle in his voice.

“Give me a second, and I’ll open the cell door,” Drista said. “We’ll go into the living areas over there. They actually have heating, and I can make you all a cup of tea.”

A few minutes later, Tommy was sat with Wilbur in what was, according to Drista, Dream’s bedroom. Tommy was quite confused. “Who’s Dream?” he asked Wilbur.

“He’s the guy who kept us locked up in there.” Wilbur gave Tommy a hug. He needed it. “God, Tommy, I’m so glad you’re here...” He sipped the tea that Drista had made them. “That Dream guy- he is- well, he hurt an innocent girl, he captured us, and now he’s gone away with Tubbo’s compass... honestly, though, I don’t fancy our chances of fighting Dream. Technoblade thinks it’s a good idea, but I reckon it’s too dangerous.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. We’ll stay in the prison tonight, and then set off first thing in the morning.” Tommy looked at a photo on what was presumably Dream’s bedside table, showing two men. They were around the same height. One was wearing a blue Supreme T-shirt, a red hat that looked like a mushroom cap, and a pair of white sunglasses, and was holding a large snowman teddy. The other had a hoodie with a flame design, and a white headband. Both of them had dark brown hair. “Who on earth are they?” Tommy asked, showing his friend the photo.

Wilbur picked it up and studied it. He looked on the back, where there was a message saying ‘Gogy and Sap at the Snowchester Christmas Fair 2011’, and an address: 4 Manhunt Avenue, Snowchester. “I don’t know, Tommy,” he said, giving the photo back to Tommy. “I’ll see if Dadza knows when we get back.”

“Philza knows everything,” the boy said with a smile, putting it in his pocket. “Can we look through more of Dream’s stuff?” Without waiting for an answer, Tommy opened a drawer, then closed it when he realised it was full of crusty green socks. “Yuck. Smells like cheese.”

Wilbur smiled. “Oh, Tommy. I missed you so much... Right, now, have I told you about the Mind Goblins here? They’re quite dangerous...”

“What are the Mind Goblins?” Tommy asked, confused.

An enormous grin started creeping across Wilbur’s face. “Mind gobbling deez nuts!” he said triumphantly. “How did you fall for that, Tommy?” he asked, bursting into a fit of laughter.

. . .

Tubbo sat down next to Ranboo on what Drista had told them was her bed, which had bright green bedding with emoji smiley faces on it. “Thanks for coming,” he said. “Seriously, thanks. That Dream guy’s a madman- he thinks he can just slap his sister and not get punished for it. If I hit Lani, my mum would ground me.” Tubbo chuckled, smiling. “Do you know if my bees are alright?”

“Honestly, I have no idea, but I’m sure Lani’s taking care of them.” The tall boy took a sip of his cup of tea and looked around the room, eventually resting his eyes on a poster on the wall, showing Harry Styles holding a large watermelon. “So, are you alright? He hasn’t hurt you at all, has he?”

Tubbo shuffled closer to his friend. “No, he hasn’t. He did take my bee onesie though, which really wasn’t fair of him.” He looked at Ranboo. “Can I- can I hug you, please? I know I said I didn’t like hugs, but I’ve changed my mind...”

Ranboo put both of his arms around Tubbo, smiling. “There you go. So, you’re sure you’re alright? I don’t know who Dream is, but he sounds like a horrible person.”

“Believe me, he is. What about you, though, Boo? Are you alright?” Tubbo returned the hug. “Those scars on your cheeks... they look fresh...”

“Well... I might have cried. Just a little.” Seeing Tubbo’s face, Ranboo admitted the truth. “Yeah, okay, I cried a lot, and I’m not ashamed to say that it felt good. I missed you, you know. I don’t really have anyone else- well, now I have Tommy, but I really did miss you.”

Tubbo stuck out his tongue. “Alright, keep the wholesome, fluffy comments to a minimum,” he mumbled, but he was smiling, clearly enjoying it. He still hadn’t let go of Ranboo. “Also, Tommy told me earlier that you said ‘balls’. I’m so proud of you for that. I just wish I’d heard it myself.”

The ‘Ender Boy’ burst into laughter. “That’s all you care about? Me saying swear words? You haven’t changed at all. Anyway, it’s my birthday in a few days, so I will be officially allowed to swear as much as I like.”

“Wait, it is?” Tubbo looked surprised. “It’s your eighteenth soon, of course! On the second of November! God, I forgot. Can we celebrate when we get back?”

“Celebrate? No, you don’t need to. As far as I can remember, Endermen don’t celebrate birthdays,” Ranboo said. “They just, sort of... happen, and it’s not really a big deal.”

The voice didn’t agree. “Ordinarily, on your eighteenth birthday, you would be assigned a room in your home End City, and given your own flying ship to travel with. From now, you would be an independent adult. Your education would be finished forever. You would be expected to speak both Old Enderian and Ender fluently, and to be able to teleport. You could travel with your friends to different worlds, including this one. You would have your own portal pass, you could join a travelling tribe, the world was yours.”

Ranboo ignored it. “Yeah, nothing interesting. On your eighteenth birthday, you basically become an adult, and that’s about it.” He rested his head on Tubbo’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “God, I have missed you... I have missed you so much.”

“Don’t make this weird, please,” Tubbo said, shaking him off. “I’ve missed you too, Boo. Thanks for coming and saving us.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “So, do you want to talk to Tommy? He- well, he probably doesn’t want me to tell you this, but he cried too. He cried like a little baby. He missed you just as much as I did.” Without waiting for an answer, Ranboo took Tubbo’s hand and got up. “Come on. Let’s go and see Tommy.”

. . .

Lani carefully ate her sand-filled Eton Mess dessert, which tasted almost metallic. How could this be Wilbur’s favourite? At least the tea tasted good. Better than good. It was one of Philza’s cups of tea, and calling it simply “good” was an insult to it.

Philza’s television was on in the background, playing one of those Saturday night game shows, this particular one featuring Bradley Walsh and an extremely smart entomologist. Wilbur’s papers were all over the coffee table, extremely disorganised and messy. Motherinnit was reading some plans for a song called “Karen, Please Come Back, I Miss The Kids”. Philza was reading a paper that Wilbur had written quite recently about the history of L’manberg. “Wow. Wilbur is a busy man,” he said. “I thought he was writing nonsense, but this is actually a really well-written paper...” He offered the paper to Lani. “Honestly, it’s quite interesting.”

Lani took the paper from him and decided to read. History was not a subject that she usually paid attention to. However, she knew the basic history of L’manberg.

Everything had started with three potion brewers, known as Thomas Simons, William Gold, and Toby Smith. The king of the country of Logstedshire at the time was called Clay, and he had forbidden them to brew potions. As a result of this, the potion brewers decided to create their own village, where they made the laws. This was the start of L’manberg. Of course, King Clay and his army hadn’t been happy about it. They had tried to regain control, and failed.

When the three potion brewers died, William’s son Floris became the mayor of L’manberg. He spent most of his time in the wild, hunting foxes, and left his good friend Cara in charge, who was a known pirate and sheep thief. They enforced strict, painful punishments and heavy taxes, which the people were not happy about. The L’manbergians called upon the people of the village of Pogtopia to help save them from these cruel rulers, and thus started what became known as the Pogtopian Uprising.

With the help of the Pogtopian army, a kind woman named Hannah Rose became the joint ruler of the two villages, which lived in peace for a hundred years. Then, a new king of Logstedshire, known only as Diamond Minecart, decided to declare war on not only L’manberg and Pogtopia, but the neighbouring towns of Kinoko Kingdom and Snowchester.

The four towns created their army, which was led by the fearless Freddie Badlinu, a battle commander from Pogtopia. However, Diamond Minecart had an extremely strong army, and things began to look hopeless, until an elite force of fighters rose from under the ground. They called themselves the Syndicate, and lived in a subterranean base of tunnels and chambers. After helping them win the battle, the Syndicate’s base became known as the Stronghold, and was welcomed as a part of Logstedshire. The war had become known as the Doomsday War.

However, some of L’manberg’s darkest history had taken place just sixteen years ago, in the mayoral elections of 2005. Jonathan Schlatt had run for mayor, promising great things to the people of L’manberg. When he had been elected, the first thing he had done was execute everyone else from the mayoral race. And it had only got worse from there. Schlatt’s solution to everything was execution, and he liked to kill people in the most horrible and painful ways. Philza had told Lani a story about a woman named Kristin Watson, who had been drowned in salt for making a public speech insulting the mayor. Schlatt had a grand old time nuking the Stronghold and executing a lot of innocent people.

There had been a small glimmer of hope when, in 2011, a brave man named Lord Grian Dreamslayer started a secret army, named the Hermits, who communicated through lists of songs on the back of cases of a music disc named Stal. The name Stal didn’t mean anything, and neither did the actual music on the disc, which had been composed by a friend of the Hermits, known as C418. Only the fake song lists mattered. Someone, though, told Schlatt about their plans, and he promptly had the Hermits publicly tortured and executed.

Schlatt’s rule came to an abrupt end in 2016, when the mayor was murdered. The killer had never been found, although it did allow the people of L’manberg to live happily again.

Lani didn’t know why, but she had a feeling that she was going to be part of history in some way, and quite soon, too. Almost as if an enemy was coming. Perhaps it was all these disappearances that were unsettling her. Whatever it was, she was determined to play a part in it.

. . .

Tommy walked over to Tubbo and smiled. They were together, and they were happy. They hadn’t seen each other for- what, four days? That was a long time for them. They had known each other for years, and you usually didn’t see one without the other.

The first thing Tubbo did was give Tommy a hug. “I missed you,” he whispered. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

“Believe me, I do,” Tommy said with a smile. “I missed you too, Tubbo. Right, why don’t we stop being cute now and get back to being best friends?”

“Yeah, why not.” Tubbo grinned. “So, how’s it been? You look tired. Like, really tired. And you smell like dead stuff.”

Tommy giggled. “Piss off, I do not. And yeah, I’m tired. Sleep deprived pog?” He burst into laughter. “Well, if I smell that bad, you smell of dust and cold water.”

Tubbo glared at him jokingly. “Tommy, mate, would you like to be booted in the groin? If not, I suggest you stick a sock in it.”

Wilbur watched them, smiling at their friendship. He turned around and saw Techno talking to Drista.

“One second,” he was saying. “I’ll write down the directions for you. When you get to Niki’s house, say Techno sent you, and tell her to prepare the sleeping bags. You got that?”

“Got it,” she said. “Will I have to travel all night?”

Techno nodded. “Yes, probably. But it will be worth it, I promise. We will solve everything, we will kill your brother, we will get rid of him forever, and you may reign as a goddess. You know what, you can even do it yourself, if you like. I’m sure I can trust you with a knife.”

Drista shuddered. “I don’t think I could. I’d never forgive myself for it, and I don’t even like holding knives when I cook.” She looked at Techno. “I’m going to get ready for the journey. Can you please make dinner for everyone? There’s some hot dogs in the cupboard, and there should be a big bowl of salad in the fridge if Dream hasn’t thrown it away.”

“Of course. Drista, can I tell you something?” he said. “I think you may be a crucial part of everything. I think you’re going to help us the most in getting rid of Dream.”

Drista didn’t answer. She only smiled and walked into another room, presumably to get ready. Techno went to the kitchen and began heating up a large metal pot full of water.

He knew who Dream was, and what he had done.

Dream Was Taken. Clay. Smile Man. Speedrunner. He had many names, and had once been a king. The king of Logstedshire. The same king who had once forbade potion brewing. The same king who had once tried to destroy a village just to get his way. What was wrong with potions anyway?

“We will kill him,” he mumbled. “We have to kill him. If we don’t, people are going to die, and you know what, I think I’ve seen enough death in my life so far.” He opened the tin of hot dogs and dropped them into the pot. “I’ve stayed out of L’manberg long enough. It’s time to go back home.”

. . .

Niki sat down in one of her big, squishy armchairs and sipped a cup of hot chocolate. She already missed those two boys who had visited her. It had been nice to have some company. But that was her life. People came to buy flowers, people came to stay for the night, people left and never came back. She was alone for a few weeks. The cycle continued.

Oh, and she missed Techno. That was who she missed the most, out of everyone. His kindness when it was needed. The way he smelled faintly of pine trees and animals. His soft pink hair that she had loved to braid. His bravery and courage, and the determination to actually get a plan done. Yes, he might have had some strange hatred for orphans, but he felt like family to her.

And now he was gone, one of the many people who had left and never come back. He had said that he was going to fight an old enemy. Perhaps he had failed. Perhaps he was dead.

No. No, he was not, Niki told herself. If he was, she would know. She would feel it.

She stood up and walked to her gardening room, where she grew all of her flowers. She noticed one thing had happened at some point during the day- all of her bluebells had died, except one.

“That’s odd,” she said to herself, but then she saw something. A light pattern on the wall, a dancing shadow. It looked quite like a girl, but she knew that it wasn’t. She only knew one person who braided his hair like that. What was this? A sign?

“Techno?” she asked. “Technoblade, is that you?” A tear trickled down Niki’s cheek as she cut away the dead flowers and watered the solitary bluebell. The pattern of light and dark stayed on the wall as she did so, as if it was watching her. After carefully removing the seeds from the dead flowers and storing them away in her seed box, she added the flowers to her compost heap.

She looked towards where the shape on the wall had been, but it had gone. She decided to cherish that bluebell. Perhaps it would bring Techno good luck- and hopefully those boys, too, who had been looking for their missing friend. She gave the bluebell a sprinkle of her special flower food before leaving her gardening room, finishing her hot chocolate and going to bed.

. . .

Motherinnit was shopping, looking for some nice wool colours so that she could knit everyone a Christmas jumper. She picked out a blue colour that she thought was very pretty, then was almost knocked over by someone running past.

“Sorry about him, miss,” Karl Jacobs said as he followed his new friend. “He’s just excited, that’s all. Hey, look at this, Quackity! I found this copper monocle that I could use for my costume.”

Motherinnit chuckled. “Kids nowadays.” She should have expected it. Tomorrow was Halloween, of course. She looked for more wool, and eventually found a beautiful emerald green before she was almost knocked over again, this time by PC Sam. “Will you watch where you’re going, you lousy police officer?” she said, angrily. It didn’t annoy her that Sam had bumped into her and not apologised. She just didn’t like the police. To be fair, nobody really did, and she was surprised that Eret hadn’t replaced Sam with someone better.

“I have criminals to catch, Mrs Innit,” Sam said, running after Quackity and Karl. “You two! Stop right there, in the name of the law!”

Quackity stopped. “No, it’s me you want. Karl hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Karl almost dropped his shopping. “Quackity, what are you doing? No. I will not let you get arrested now. I’ve probably done something at some point... I still haven’t paid that parking ticket from last Tuesday. I’d call that doing something wrong.”

Sam stopped and glared at him. “I don’t care about parking tickets. You’re friends with a criminal, therefore you are bad news and I have to arrest you.”

Motherinnit stepped forward. “Officer, I apologise for butting in, but how would you like me to take whatever issues you have to Mayor Eret?”

“There’s no need for that, Mrs Innit,” the head of police said, stepping towards the two friends. “Quackity Blue and Karl Jacobs, you two are under arrest.”

Motherinnit looked him in the eye with a strict stare. “Why? Please tell me what they have actually done to deserve it, officer.”

“Quackity is being arrested for possession and distribution of drugs,” Sam said, smiling smugly. “Karl Jacobs has been helping him, I believe, and also because of that parking ticket. Now, would you like me to arrest you for being a nosy parker and sticking your head into private police business?”

“Officer,” she said. “Maybe you should spend some time looking for those missing people? My son is one of them. Also, your criminals seem to have got away.”

It was true. Quackity and Karl were nowhere to be seen. “Damn it!” the police officer shouted, swearing and jumping up and down on the floor.

. . .

Lani was alone in the forest, walking on an unfamiliar path to her. Why was she getting this feeling? Why did she feel as if she was going to be a part of history? Why was she thinking like this? She had never thought anything similar before. Was she going mad?

She heard her phone buzz, and checked her pocket. She had three messages from an unknown number. She looked at them.

"good evening, my name is Dream

do not look up

you will see things that you do not wish to"

Lani froze in fear and kept her eyes focused on her feet. Those were some serial killer standard messages. Was that where everyone was going? Were they being murdered, and their bodies hidden?

There was another message on her screen.

"do as I say or you and your brother will both be killed"

Lani shuddered. She couldn’t help but wonder what was above her. Did she want to know? She decided to take a peek and hope that nobody noticed.

She wished she didn’t.

There was a man in the trees above her, wearing a simple white mask with a smiley face on it. He had a green hoodie and jeans, but what startled Lani the most was that he was covered in blood. The few strands of hair that poked out from over his mask were stained red, there was a large portion of his hoodie that had turned crimson, and there was a scarlet liquid dripping from the rips in his jeans. And he was wearing a compass on a chain around his neck. Tubbo’s compass.

“What have you done with my brother?” she said, jumping back in fear. She was terrified. She just wanted to get away from this man.

Dream didn’t move. “I warned you, Lani.”

In a sudden flash of movement, he jumped down from the treetops and snatched her, then shot into the sky and began to fly away.

Chapter Text

Drista had got changed, and was now wearing a plain dark green hoodie and black leggings. She wanted to stay hidden from her brother. Techno was serving dinner- overcooked hot dogs and some rather wilted salad. It was the thought that counted.

Ranboo nibbled on a hot dog, which didn’t taste very nice at all. “So, what’s the plan for when we get back? What should we do?”

“Well, first, we need to plan. If we don’t kill Dream when he comes back here, we’ll need to be able to work out where he is at all times. We’ll also need to work out a battle plan.” Technoblade was formulating all kinds of plans in his mind. “But you’ll have to give me some time to work everything out, and decide who’s going to do what.” He shoved a hot dog into his mouth. “Mmm. That authentic dead creature taste... yeah, these are really overcooked. Sorry about that.”

“At least he admits it,” Tommy mumbled, trying one of the dry cucumber pieces, which tasted less than great. “So, what can we do? I have the compass, which might help us locate Dream. And I may or may not have swiped a photo from his room that might help us work out who his friends are.”

Tubbo stared at the ceiling. “He’s got my compass. I don’t even know where we are right now, and he’s got my compass. Tommy, Ranboo, I hope you know the way home, because I don’t.”

Techno smiled. “Don’t worry, Tubbo, I know the way. L’manberg used to be my home too.” He tried the salad, which tasted awful. “Drista, you made a mistake putting me in charge of dinner,” he said, chuckling. “By the way, is there anything about your brother that we need to know?”

She thought for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. He’s as old as time, he can fly- wait, you already know all that, don’t you?”

“Yes, but do you know anything that I might not?” Techno asked. “As Sun Tzu wrote in his book The Art Of War, ‘If you know your enemy, you need not fear the result of a thousand battles’. Or, at least, something like that. It’s been a while since I’ve read it.”

Wilbur’s plate was empty. He didn’t dare put anything on it. “I don’t know, Techno. Dadza made me read it years ago and I didn’t pay attention to anything that happened in it.” He smiled. “Drista, are you ready to leave?”

“I’ll need to get some sleeping bags out of the cupboard for you all,” she said, standing up. “And I need my coat and shoes. Other than that, though, yes.” She walked into another room, and there were noises of her opening doors.

Techno smiled. “She’ll be alright. She’s strong enough to make the journey, and she has a good amount of common sense.” He tried another hot dog. “God, that is awful. Someone needs to give me cooking lessons, because I desperately need them...”

. . .

Dream soared through the air, flying above the trees like a superhero in a cartoon, carrying Lani in his arms. He looked down at the little girl, who didn’t dare speak. Her dark brown hair was in a messy ponytail, and she was dressed in a yellow and brown striped jumper and some dungarees. Dream noticed that she had the same blue eyes as her brother.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you?” Dream said, running his fingers through the girl’s hair, which was extremely soft. It made him wish he had children. A tear formed in his eye, but he ignored it. “It’s alright. You’re allowed to talk, I won’t hurt you.”

Lani didn’t know if she could believe him, and stayed silent. Her phone suddenly fell out of her pocket and landed somewhere in the forest below, crashing into the treetops, then making quite a thump as it fell, knocking a large bird’s nest down onto the forest floor.

Dream continued flying, seeing the large lake in front of him. From a distance, it would be easy to mistake it for an ocean. “Too scared to speak? Of course, I understand.” He looked down. There had once been a boat there, tied to a post. Had it been untied? And that piece of scrap metal on the beach had disappeared.

Someone had been here. Who, he didn’t know, but it worried him. It meant that someone was travelling towards the prison. Of course, it could just have been a coincidence, but Dream didn’t believe in coincidences. To distract himself from that thought, he asked, “So, you live in L’manberg?”

Lani nodded. She still didn’t trust him, still didn’t want to say anything. She was far too scared. From what he’d said, she knew this man was her brother’s kidnapper. She would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her voice.

Dream was disappointed that she wasn’t talking. “Lani Underscore. I know who you are. I know where you live. I have your brother captive. Speak to me. Otherwise, I could drop you right here, and you’ll die a painful and slow death from falling. You won’t get to see your brother ever again.”

Lani trembled, opened her mouth, and screamed. Tears dripped from her eyes, falling into the forest below. Although they didn’t see it, they splashed into a small puddle of rainwater, where fallen autumn leaves balanced on the surface like sailing boats, blown around by the chilly wind.

She continued screaming, her fear getting the better of her, until Dream covered her mouth with his hand. “It’s alright, I won’t hurt you. You’re not annoying me like the others did. Now, tell me. Do you know if I should be expecting anyone? Do you know if somebody’s looking for your brother?”

She was afraid. She didn’t want to tell the truth, but she was far too afraid to lie. She settled for half a lie instead. “Yes, someone is looking, but I don’t know exactly who. Tommy asked the police to search for Tubbo, so that’s happening. Whether they’ll find him with no information... I don’t know.” She was shaking in fear as she said it, afraid of being dropped into the unknown. What if he knew she was lying? What if this was a test? Was she going to die, right now, in the middle of nowhere where her body wouldn’t be found?

Dream nodded. “This police search... that may well be true. But no information? You’re lying to me, Lani. I know how these compasses work. I believe Tommy has the other compass? He must have handed it in to the police to help them find your brother. He may well even be part of the search party.”

The girl shivered. It was cold, and darkness was falling. “I don’t know. All I know is that Tommy is missing too, and nobody knows where he is. He isn’t part of the search party.”

More lies, but Dream seemed to believe them. “So perhaps Tommy is using his compass, and the police are indeed nowhere near. Good to know I only have to expect a teenage boy on my doorstep.” He turned his head towards her. “Does he have any companions? I heard about a friend... an Enderman...”

Lani realised that he knew everything. Or almost everything. “Ranboo is only half Enderman. How do you know all this?”

Dream smiled. Probably. It was hard to tell with the mask. “Believe me, Lani, I know a lot more about this than you. They may have reached the prison by now. If they have, my assistant will have taken them captive.” He turned his head away for a second. “Hopefully. If she hasn’t made a mess of it like she usually does.” He mumbled something, but the only words she could catch of it were “useless” and a word too offensive and inappropriate to be written anywhere except the War and Piss Dictionary of Swear Words.

Lani realised that he had mentioned ‘prison’. “Where are we going?” she asked, trying not to look too closely at that creepy smile on his mask. “And, umm... what happened to you that covered you in so much blood?”

Behind the mask, Dream went red. “The blood’s fake. Well, not fake, really... it’s goat blood.” They were now flying over the huge lake, Lani’s legs dangling fifty metres above the dark water, the fading daylight reflecting off its indigo surface. “We’re going to my personal jail. You should be rather uncomfortable there, but don’t worry, it won’t be for long, because you’re going to die soon. Don’t worry, though. Since you’re not testing my patience, I’ll make it quick and painless.”

Lani suddenly realised that there was no way out of this. If she escaped Dream’s iron grip, she would fall in the water and drown. If she somehow managed not to drown, she would freeze. If she escaped the lake without catching hypothermia, she could be attacked by wolves or foxes in the forest. If she stayed here, she’d die anyway. She was caught in a trap. A death trap.

“Why are you doing this?” Lani asked, shivering- from fear, from the cold, and from worrying about her brother. “What’s your reason for kidnapping people? Do you need someone to talk to? I’m quite happy to listen, if that’s the case...”

Dream shook his head. “I’ll explain everything when we get there.” He tightened his grip on the girl. “I suggest you get some sleep. You might find that you need it.”

. . .

But Dream’s mind had wandered elsewhere.

Christmas music playing on a speaker in the background. The smell of mince pies and gingerbread in the air. Sap, wearing his fire hoodie, eating some roasted chestnuts that he had bought from a stall outside. Gogy, with his mushroom hat, hugging an enormous snowman teddy that he had won in the raffle. Dream himself, holding a camera. His mask off, a smile on his face. Wearing an extremely itchy green Christmas jumper, and some fairy lights as a scarf.

“Hold that pose, Gogy... Sap, put your chestnuts down. Please just let me have one photo of you where you’re not stuffing your face with something. If it’s not someone’s pet cat or dog, it’s a bag of chestnuts...”

“Hey, be nice, I’m trying to lose weight.”

“No, Sap, he’s right. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a single picture of you where you’re not eating something.”

Sap put his bag of hot chestnuts down and looked at the camera, trying to ignore the huge snowman teddy next to him. The only thing that he had won in the raffle was a box of pink Barbie bath bombs, and although Dream had told him to get rid of them because “bath bombs are girly”, he had hidden them in his bag, and was quite looking forward to enjoying a nice long soak in the bath with them. They apparently had mini Barbie dolls inside, which would be good fun to play with until Dream discovered them and put them in the bin.

Of course, Dream hadn’t said anything about Gogy’s massive snowman teddy, and seemed to rather like it. The joys of hanging out with your best friend who really wants to impress his boyfriend. Dream and Gogy were dating, which meant that Sap always ended up being the joke of the group. Not that he cared. As long as he could eat his chestnuts.

Gogy was a lot happier. He posed for the photo in all sorts of childish ways, before trying out some rather sexy poses that didn’t really work while holding a snowman teddy. He had already taken a selfie in front of the huge Christmas tree in the town square and posted it to Facebook. Gogy was the coolest, most perfect person in the country of Logstedshire and didn’t he know it- mainly because Dream reminded him every single day. He stole one of Sap’s chestnuts, then spat it out because he really didn’t like it. “Can I go and get a cup of hot chocolate and a photo with Father Christmas?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dream said, smiling. “We’ll come with you. Won’t we, Sap?”

“I could go for some hot chocolate right now,” he said, stuffing another chestnut into his mouth. “Yeah, why not. I’ll pass on the photo with Santa though.”

Dream checked his camera. He had a perfect picture for his photo album. He pressed the Print button on his camera, and out came the photo. On the back, Dream scribbled, “Gogy and Sap at the Snowchester Christmas Fair 2011.” Afterwards, he had a thought. He was moving into a new house soon, and needed to remember the address, so he wrote that down too. “4 Manhunt Avenue, Snowchester.”

Life was perfect. He still had plans, though. He still wanted to get rid of L’manberg. But how, he still didn’t know. He would need a few months- or even years- to figure it out.

. . .

“Dream has my compass,” Tubbo said, scared and annoyed. “What are we going to do about that? Where do you think he’s gone? What on earth is going on?”

Wilbur slapped the table, trying to make himself heard above everyone else. “I’ve just landed on Mayfair, who owns Mayfair? Hello, I don’t know who owns Mayfair...”

Drista entered the room, where everyone was sat down playing Monopoly. She had put on a long black coat and a woolly hat, and was ready to leave. “I’m leaving now, guys. Techno, did you write that list of directions for me?”

“Yes, it’s here,” he said, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket and giving it to her. “Also, Wilbur, I own Mayfair, with a hotel on it. That’s two thousand to me, please.”

“Two thousand!?” Wilbur searched in his pile of money. “Jesus, Techno, you’re going to bankrupt me. I’ve only just got enough. Oh wait- I rolled a double, I get to roll again.”

Tommy glared at him. “That’s not a rule- is it?”

“I’ve always played it like that,” Ranboo said, looking at him. “Yeah, I think that’s a rule. Just like how you put any money from taxes under Free Parking.”

Now it was Wilbur’s turn to get annoyed. “No, that’s not how it’s played! What the hell is this Free Parking rubbish?”

Tubbo stared at him. “No, that’s how I play it as well! You put the money from Income Tax under the Free Parking square. That’s how it works!”

Techno banged the table hard with his fist. “Let me check the rules, everyone. Also, Drista’s leaving, so say goodbye to her while I check this ‘Free Parking’ thing and also how rolling a double works.” He took the leaflet of rules out of the box and started reading it.

“Well- umm- bye, Drista. Have a safe journey,” Wilbur said. “Also, what do you think about this Free Parking nonsense?”

Drista shook her head. “I’m not getting into an argument about Monopoly now,” she said, adjusting her hat and pulling on some black woolly gloves. “I need to leave as early as possible so that I have less chance of being seen by my brother. There’s a forest, isn’t there? I need to hide myself in there as soon as possible.” She wrapped a black scarf around her neck. “So, is there much danger in there? Any bears, wolves, lynxes, or even Endermen that I need to look out for?”

Ranboo gave her the Ender Pearl necklace that the Enderman had given him in the forest. “There are some Endermen there, but they’ll recognise this and know not to hurt you. They might even travel with you, to protect you. As for the wild animals, I’m sure you’ll be fine as long as you don’t annoy them. There’s also a lot of dead things there, but they won’t hurt you. They’re just a bit creepy looking.”

“That sounds... honestly terrifying, but better than here.” She smiled. “That woman who lives at the hut- what is she like? Is she nice?”

“She makes the best hot chocolate ever,” Tommy butted in. “And she likes flowers. She’s really nice, and I think Techno has a crush on her.”

“I don’t. Please don’t even joke about it,” Techno said. “Bye, Drista. Stay safe. And there’s nothing about that Free Parking rule in here...”

. . .

Philza looked outside at the shimmering stars and smiled. He felt that at least they were on his side these days. Wilbur may have been gone, but at least the stars would never leave him.

He sat down next to his fridge. He was thinking, far back. 2007. Kristin Watson. Her name in history forever, her kind face stuck in his memory for twice as long. It wasn’t fair. Thank goodness Schlatt’s tyranny was over. She was the sweetest, friendliest woman in the world. Her life had been far too short.

He had talked to her a few times. She was a funeral director, and often joked that she was the “Guardian of Death”. Wilbur had been just eleven at the time of her death, and had really taken to her, even calling her “Mumza”. Did Wilbur miss her too? Did Wilbur even remember her?

He thought further back. Techno. Where was he? He’d left L’manberg sixteen years ago, as Schlatt’s rule had begun. “He’s bad news,” he had said, and left the next day. And he had been right. Techno had briefly returned to visit him just before Schlatt’s death, and Philza hadn’t seen him since.

Further back. Him and Techno fighting alongside Freddie Badlinu. A few years later, Freddie had died, leaving him and Techno alone.

Even further... He could always remember Techno being with him, always. Why had he left? Yes, Schlatt had been a terrible president, but that couldn’t have been the only reason. Techno wasn’t afraid of death. Maybe there had been something he needed to do.

He buried his head in his hands, trying not to cry. The Samsung Smart Refrigerator beeped loudly. Did it know what was going on?

It was cold. Philza stood up, walked over to the radiator, turned it on, and sat down next to the fridge again. Where was Wilbur? Where was Tommy? Where was Tubbo?

Where was Techno?

Most importantly, would they be coming back?

. . .

The prison felt strangely empty without Drista. It felt quite threatening. Lonely. Cold. There were five sleeping bags on the floor, one for each of them.

“What if,” Tommy said, with a smile, “we all wake up in our beds in the morning, and it turns out that all of this has just been a bad dream?”

Tubbo climbed into his sleeping bag. “Yeah. If that happens, I don’t know whether I’ll cry, or slap someone in the face.” He chuckled. “I don’t know who I’d slap, though.”

“Not me, I hope,” Tommy said, laying his head on his pillow. “Can someone turn the light off? I’m so tired. I could...” He closed his eyes and instantly started snoring loudly.

Wilbur turned the light off and snuggled into his own sleeping bag. “Honestly, I just want to get home and see Dadza again.”

“Same here, Wilbur,” Techno said. He had buried himself inside his sleeping bag, curled up in a little ball. “We just need to get back home first.”

Ranboo closed his eyes. “What’s the plan for after that?”

Wilbur was already half asleep. “Find a way to get rid of Dream. And if we can’t do that, watch all the Home Alone films again and go to the Christmas fair in Snowchester.”

“As long as we get my compass back first,” Tubbo mumbled before he fell fast asleep.

. . .

Drista realised that she had probably made a mistake, wearing black clothes in the white snow. If Dream flew over right now, he would spot her straight away. She kept running, down the mountain, the pearl necklace that Ranboo had given her glistening in the moonlight. At least it wasn’t snowing.

She reached the edge of the forest, falling into the snow at the bottom of the mountain. It was cold, so cold. She felt a shiver down her spine as she saw how dark it was in there, how cold it must be. The silence was unnerving, and she was sure she could see eyes in the gloom, watching her. She looked down at her necklace and clutched the Ender Pearl on it tightly, hoping that it would offer her some protection.

Something grabbed her shoulder and shook her tightly. Drista looked up. There was a man standing above her, an extremely tall man, with bright purple eyes that glared at her menacingly, and fluffy black hair. He was wearing a suit, which was stained with some sort of purple liquid, and had an Ender Pearl necklace, just like the one that Ranboo had given her. He also had scars on his cheeks, similar to Ranboo’s, but considerably worse. Just by looking, Drista knew that he was an Enderman.

“Ranboo sent me,” she said, then suddenly felt stupid, realising that he didn’t speak English. She opened her hand and showed him the necklace. “Please don’t hurt me,” she said, hoping that he would understand. “I’m not here to disturb you, I only want to travel.”

The Enderman stood next to her. He had already seen two humans today. The leader of his haunting had travelled with them, keeping them safe. This one clearly didn’t speak Ender, but had been sent by the other two. That was the same necklace and he could see that. He took the girl’s hand and began to walk. He would take her to the small hut in the forest that the flower goddess lived in, he decided.

As they walked, Drista noticed several things. Firstly, the Enderman seemed to know where she was headed. Secondly, how cold his hand was. It was weird, but strangely comforting. She squeezed his hand tightly and felt tears fall down her cheeks. The Enderman noticed and let go of her hand, putting his arm around her shoulders instead. “Thank you,” she whispered. He would understand. She knew he would.

There was suddenly a loud crunching under her feet, not snow, but something hard. She had stepped on the skeleton of a baby bird that had fallen from a nest above her head. Looking around, she saw more death. The frozen corpse of a white rabbit. A bloodstained bone propped up against a tree behind her. And was that the skeleton of a whole child in the distance there?

She looked down at a dead tree stump, which was rotting, and covered in mushrooms. The Enderman also looked. He recognised this place. He had been here just this morning with his haunting, drawn there by the tears of one of their own kind. He wondered where he and his friend were now. Obviously, they had met this girl, and given her the necklace. But who was this girl? He knew nothing about her, not speaking her language. However, he could tell that she was afraid of something, or someone. Perhaps she was running away from an abusive family or relationship. But where had she come from? Was it that building in the mountains? What went on in that building that had frightened her enough to make her run away?

Drista pulled her phone out of her pocket and opened Google Translate. Looking through the list of languages, she tapped on the option for Ender. She began to type a sentence into the app. She wanted to tell him her story, and although Google Translate was rather unreliable, it would have to do.

She looked at the first seven words that she had typed, quite satisfied.

"My brother Dream is cruel as hell."

Chapter Text

Tommy was woken up by a hard slap in the face.

He opened his eyes, feeling the stinging pain in his cheek. Standing above him was a man wearing a smiley face mask. However, that wasn’t what he paid attention to.

The man was holding Lani... she was wriggling, like a worm, clearly terrified. Trying to escape. She was trapped, and the man didn’t seem to want to let go of her any time soon. Her hair was a mess, one of her shoes was missing, and her eyes were full of fear.

“What- the-” Tommy swore loudly and jumped to his feet. “Get your filthy hands off her,” he said, running to try and help Lani, before falling over dramatically. The sleeping bag was still around his ankles.

Tubbo had been woken up by the noise. “Get off my sister, you arsehole!” he shouted. He ran to try and free her, but was swiftly booted across the room by Dream’s large foot. He continued shouting, screaming rude words at the top of his lungs.

Wilbur was also awake, and woke up Techno. “Blood God, we need you. Like, right now.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, Techno. But we need your help.”

The pink-haired man got up. “There was something I saw in one of the cupboards. I need to go and get it. Can you stall for time?”

Wilbur nodded. “I can try, but I’m not a fighter... I’m not Dadza...”

“You’ve got this, Wilbur.” Techno patted him on the shoulder. “I know you might not be as good as Philza. But I have faith in you, and I know you can do this.”

Wilbur didn’t look convinced. “If I don’t do this right, we’re all going to die. There’s a lot riding on this, you know. Our lives included. They’ll never find us... not that the police are even bothered,” he mumbled. “I don’t know if I can do this, Techno.”

His face suddenly became more stern. “You don’t have a choice, Wilbur. We’ll die for certain if you don’t do this. Do you want to see Philza again? Then distract Dream. I’ll be ten minutes at most.” He ran off into Dream’s room, leaving Wilbur stood there.

He decided that he needed backup, and woke up Ranboo. “I need your help. We’re fighting Dream.”

“Where’s Techno?” he asked.

“Doing something, I don’t know.” Wilbur grabbed Ranboo’s hand and pulled him out of his sleeping bag. “Get up. We need to save Lani.”

At the mention of Lani’s name, Ranboo jumped up and ran at Dream, trying to punch him, missing every time. “Let go of Lani,” he said calmly.

Dream shook his head. “You’re the Enderman child.” It was a statement, not a question. Why did Ranboo recognise his voice?

Wilbur suddenly kicked Dream in the backside, which did absolutely nothing. “Let go of her now! What’s she done to you? What have any of us done to you? Why are you kidnapping people?” Wilbur kicked Dream again, which, once again, did nothing. “I want an explanation, Dream. For now, that’s all I want. An explanation.”

The man with the smiley face mask turned around and looked at him. “Wilbur... that’s exactly what Philza Minecraft would have said. He never wanted a fight... only an explanation.” He quickly looked down and adjusted his mask. “The King of Crows... he had a whole army of them that he could command at will... where is he, Wilbur? Where is your father? If he’s in L’manberg, I have business there anyway...”

Wilbur felt weak. He missed his father. But then he remembered what he had to do. “Dream. I want to know why you’re doing this.”

“Well then,” he said, “if you want it so much... I’ll explain everything.” Dream sat down on Techno’s pillow and pulled his hood down, revealing his dirty blond hair, which was even scruffier than Tommy’s. “I’ll start with a nice, simple sentence. You’re all going to die.”

. . .

Drista knocked on the wooden door in front of her. It opened instantly, and there she was- a woman, a beautiful one, with pink hair and deep brown eyes. “Hello,” she said. “My name’s Drista. Techno sent me... I’m in hiding from my brother and I need somewhere to stay. He says he’ll be coming later.”

The woman smiled and invited her in, speaking a few words in Ender to the Enderman before he left. They sat down in the big, squishy armchairs. “I’m Niki,” she said. “Give me one second, and I’ll go and make some hot chocolate and bring us a plate of biscuits.”

She left the room, and returned a minute later with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate, topped with cream and marshmallows, and a plate of warm, freshly baked gingerbread people. “So, you’re Dream’s sister, I take it?” she asked, taking a biscuit and nibbling the head.

“Yes, I am,” Drista told her, also taking a piece of gingerbread. “I’m hiding from him... he should be back at the prison by now, I’m honestly quite scared for everyone there. But I trust them. They might not defeat him, but everyone will get away alive. Technoblade will probably protect them. He and Philza are the only ones Dream ever feared.”

Niki listened, interested. “Is that true? They used to be good friends, Philza and Techno. I’ve met them both... Techno is just the kindest, sweetest person in the world, even if he is a mass murderer. And Philza seemed nice enough. It’s been a long time since I last saw him... two hundred years now, I think,” she said, biting her biscuit’s arm off. “So, what’s the plan? Am I going to come with you somewhere? You might need me.”

“I think we’re all going to L’manberg once everyone else arrives,” the girl said. “I don’t know, though. It all depends on what Techno has planned. All I know is that we’re going to kill Dream at some point, when or how I don’t know, but it’s happening.”

Niki sipped her hot chocolate, a glint in her eye that clearly suggested that she wanted to fight. “Then they’ll have to go to L’manberg. It’s dangerous, but Dream wants the place destroyed, so it’s perfect bait. I’d trust Techno- that man knows what he’s doing.”

Drista also attempted to drink her hot chocolate, getting whipped cream all over her nose. She wiped it off, a smile on her face. “Yeah, I think I trust Techno. I’m sure he’s got a plan figured out that none of us know much about.” She leaned back into her armchair, which was warm and comfortable. “Oh, thank God I’m out of the forest. It was... there were skeletons and corpses everywhere... do you know what happened?”

“Yeah, a lot of those are probably Techno’s doing. He stayed here for a few months when he was on his way to defeat his lifelong enemy... who, thinking about it, was probably Dream,” Niki realised. “At least you had that Enderman there with you. What was he like? He seemed nice when I spoke to him.”

Drista nibbled on the gingerbread. She was hungry. She hadn’t had any dinner- in fact, she didn’t even think she had eaten lunch. “He was actually really nice,” she said. “Are all Endermen like that? I should really learn Ender language one of these days. I had to suffer with Google Translate, and I don’t think he understood a word of what I was trying to say.”

Niki chuckled softly, her smile becoming more gentle. “You should be glad that you have Google Translate,” she said. “I had to learn Ender from a tutor. My tutor... she was a female Enderman, and she was lovely, but she just didn’t understand why I giggled constantly when I tried to speak Ender. I thought I sounded ridiculous. She thought I was being disrespectful. I was, but I didn’t realise it at the time, of course. I was only young, and this was a few thousand years ago.”

Drista smiled. “Technoblade and the others should be here in a day or two. Then, we can all go to L’manberg, which is where everyone’s from, except you and me.

She got up, a sad look in her eyes. “You know, I miss Techno.” She walked over to a flowerpot on a side table. “This flower- I hope- will keep him safe, as well as everyone else.”

The flower in the pot was a deep, purplish blue. It stood alone, a solitary plant, some dead shoots by its side. It was a bluebell, and it was flourishing.

. . .

He looked mad. His flamingo-coloured hair was tangled, falling down in a mess as he raked through the dark green wardrobe. He was looking for something, clearly. His hands moved in a frenzy as he threw things behind him carelessly, his long hair flying around wildly. His fingers, searching through the mess, moved quickly and easily, his long, sharp, dirty fingernails scratching the wood at the back of the cupboard. He looked like a pig searching for mushrooms under a rotting tree stump.

“Where is it, where is it, where is it,” he growled. Although he didn’t say them out loud, every swear word he knew was going through his mind. Where was it? He knew what he was looking for and he knew that it was here. Or was it? Had he got it wrong?

He saw something shining right at the back. Was that it? He dug deeper into the wardrobe, throwing all sorts of things behind him as he tried to get to it. He didn’t even know what half of this stuff was. What were these bottles with strange blue mist inside them? He threw some sort of gold and emerald statue behind him, not knowing what it was. A severed head covered in a sticky crimson substance was also in the wardrobe, its eyes blankly staring, its skin dry and pale. It didn’t put him off. He’d done much worse things to orphans. There was a book with Ender language on the front, translating to EXPERIMENT LOG. In fact, there were lots of books here- a pink one with a green swirl on the front, simply called Tales, several detailing the history of L’manberg, and one with a black leather cover, the words Book of Necromancy painted on the front in something dark red and crusty that looked like blood.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, he reached out and grabbed what he was looking for.

It was a beautiful sword- long, thin, and perfect. The blade was made of a black metal, and was exceptionally sharp. Just putting his finger on the end of it made him cut himself. The handle was made of a silver material, with a single cracked obsidian stone in the centre. He felt its weight, and discovered that it was just right for him. Although this was his enemy’s sword, he had to admit that it was absolutely stunning.

Looking at it again, he noticed writing scratched into the blade, which felt cold in his hands. He leaned forward to read it.

Nightmare.

A beautiful name for a beautiful sword.

Holding the sword in his hand, he stepped out of Dream’s bedroom. Wilbur didn’t have forever. It was time for a fight.

. . .

Karl stepped into Quackity’s caravan. “Hey!” he said, clearly proud of himself for something. “I have great news to tell you. I have done the best thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Oh, yeah?” Quackity sat down on his sofa, a packet of stale chocolate biscuits in his hand. “Tell me. What’s going on? What’s got you smiling like that, bro?”

He burst into laughter. “Don’t you dare call me ‘bro’, Quackity.” He sat down next to his friend, smiling. The caravan felt like a second home to him now. “Okay, I’ll tell you... I quit. I quit my job doing Jimmy Donaldson’s banking work.”

“You did what?” Quackity stared at him, amazed, and offered him a biscuit. “That’s great, Karl! So, what’s your plan? Who’s doing all the work for Jimmy now?”

Karl took the biscuit and bit into it. “Someone called Chris does it now. God, I wish him luck.” He looked a lot happier than usual, an enormous smile on his face. “As for my plan, I’ve got a lot of money from doing my job- the pay was actually really good- so I’m going to take a few months off and spend time with you. Then, maybe we can go to university next year. I’d love to study science, and then research ways of time travelling. And you could study law, and finally be a lawyer, like you want to be.”

Quackity’s eyes were wide, and full of joy. But then his face fell. “They won’t accept me at university if I have a criminal record.”

“They will if Eret says so. Quackity, you need to talk to him.” Karl finished his biscuit. “He’ll pardon you, and clear you of all charges. He has the power to do that, because he's the mayor. He’ll understand that it was necessary for your survival.”

Quackity looked terrified. “I don’t think I can... What if he just throws me in jail? I’m too young to go to jail, Karl...” He was frozen, staring at the wall, his hands shaking. “He’s the mayor. He can do what he wants. If he wants to send me to jail, he can just do that. No questions asked.”

“That’s not how it works here,” Karl reassured him, giving him a hug. “He can’t do that without a fair trial. I thought you’d know that, Quackity. Don’t worry. I’m sure there’s something in the law that could help you in some way. Just trust me.” When Quackity didn’t reply, he got up. “Let’s go for a walk. You might find that it helps. Then, we can get back here and prepare for trick or treating.”

Quackity didn’t argue. He stood up and pulled on a long, blue, tatty coat, put some old leather shoes on, and started walking towards the door. Karl followed him. He had the time for a walk. Finally, he had the time to do whatever he wanted.

. . .

“You’re all going to die.”

Why was that his first sentence? Tommy had so many questions that he didn’t dare ask. He sat down on his sleeping bag, hugging his knees, which were drawn close to his chest. He was scared. That smiley face mask was creepy, staring into his soul, always watching him, despite never looking directly at him. His name was Dream, but he seemed more like a nightmare, the nightmare of a heavily traumatised person who needed serious psychological help.

“You’re here as my test subjects.” Dream was sat on Techno’s pillow, fiddling with a strand of pink hair that he had found. “I’m going to kill you. I’ve been working out the most painful ways to die, such as being burnt alive, impaled, and slowly bleeding to death. I will be observing you carefully as you die, watching the signs of your pain. This is just a practice, though. I plan to do something much larger that will affect not just a few people, but an entire village.”

Tubbo stared at him, his eyes wide with both fear and interest. “You’re going to nuke L’manberg.”

“No. Although I would, if I had any nuclear bombs.” Dream shifted on the pillow, trying to find a comfortable position. “What I plan to do is much worse than that. I won’t tell you my plans, I’m not that careless... but let me tell you, I’ll at least give them the chance to fight and die honourably.”

Tommy stared at his mask. How could he see? There were no eye holes. “So you’re going to wage war on our village. Great.” He looked at Dream’s clothes, which were stained with something dark red. He knew what it was, and hated him for it. “I’d be careful, mate, we’re a strong bunch, and we put up a good fight.”

“Yes, but I’ve been researching ways to be stronger,” Dream said, clearly happy with himself. “Now, some of you have not met my assistant. Drista, get up! Are you still sleeping?”

No answer came.

Dream finally let go of Lani. “Sit on the floor and don’t you dare make trouble,” he told her. “Although, to be honest, I don’t think you’re stupid enough to do anything else.” She did as she was told, and sat next to her brother. Dream kept talking, enjoying himself. “I’ve also learned the art of speaking inside people’s heads. I love scaring random people... Endermen give me the best reactions.”

“It’s you. You’re the voice. You were the one speaking in my head all this time.” Ranboo stood up. His fluffy hair was covering his right eye, his face tired but serious. “Why? For entertainment? Just for fun? You’re sick, Dream. Wait- it was you! It was you in the End, that day!”

. . .

It was all coming back to him. His parents. Ranbob, his Enderman father, steering the flying ship. He could see him so clearly- his pale skin, his fluffy black hair that blew around in the air, his hands on the wheel, dressed in his favourite purple suit and tall black boots. A serious expression on his face, as he rarely smiled. A black top hat perched on his head that never seemed to fall off. His mother, Boona, a... what species was she again? Did it matter? Her strange, pale blue skin stood out unnaturally against the dark, starless sky. He could remember her every detail, her long, royal blue dress, decorated with crystals of lapis lazuli, her long blonde hair with an icy blue highlight in it. Her silver tiara with a sapphire gemstone. Staring out at the islands beyond, she ran her hands through her hair, leaving her perfect son to his own devices.

Eleven-year-old Ranboo was sat alone with his pet cat at the other end of the ship. His fluffy blond hair was blowing around, bouncing on top of his head. Watching the skies, he saw something strange- a flying man in green clothes, wearing a funny smiley face mask. Still, strange things happened all the time in the End, so he didn’t think much of it.

The man flew towards the ship, that mask looking creepier as it got closer. It didn’t occur to Ranboo that there was any danger. Maybe he was some species of flying messenger, delivering a letter to one of his parents, or one of the other people on the ship- other members of his family, and some friends of his parents.

Where were they flying to again? It was New Year’s Eve, of course! They weren’t going anywhere, they were simply flying around in the ship, the adults getting drunk on chorus plant wine, chatting about taxes, the children eating baby shulkers, prying them out of their shells like large pistachio nuts. Ranboo wasn’t stood with the other children. He was playing with Enderchest, a pure black cat with bright green eyes...

...oh, Enderchest! How he missed her. Was she still alive? Probably not. What a beautiful cat she had been, and one of his only friends. People never seemed to like him. They thought he was weird because of his blond hair, because he was so short compared to them, because he was eleven years old and still couldn’t teleport even a short distance... because he wasn’t like the others. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t he just be a pure Enderman, like the others?

He reached in his pocket. Finding a roasted Endermite, he took a bite out of it, and thought something that he had never thought before. Even if he couldn’t do what the others could, did he have any special powers from his mother’s side that he didn’t know about?

And all the time, that man in the sky was getting closer.

An Endermite, he thought, was an interesting creature. The size of his hand, it was a dull purple colour, with strangely glowing red eyes. It had a round body, six long legs, and was slightly hairy. However, they tasted quite nice, with a savoury flavour that can’t be described in text. He took another bite, finishing one of the legs, then put it back in his pocket, just in case.

He still didn’t know who that was, but if there was one thing that he could tell, it was that he was heading straight for Ranboo. And he was extremely close... barely ten metres away...

The man didn’t stop. Instead, he grabbed him and headed on his way, flying through the dark sky. He then gave Ranboo a sweet. “Eat that. You’ll like it.”

Ranboo ate it, and felt himself becoming sleepy, closing his eyes. What was going on? Who was this man? And why did that mask look so creepy up close? But he was so tired... he would miss the fireworks... but he didn’t care.

The next thing he could remember was waking up on someone’s sofa, with two children looking down at him. One was a girl, seven years old, looking down at him in fear and interest, too shy to say anything. Her older brother seemed more friendly. He had neat brown hair and blue eyes, and was wearing a white shirt with a bee design on it.

“Hello. My name’s Tubbo. Who are you?”

. . .

“It was you, that day. It was New Year’s Eve! I was trying to celebrate!” Ranboo glared at Dream. He’d never felt this before, this painful, raw hate, but it felt good to finally be able to blame someone for everything, and best of all, to finally remember something. “Why? Why would you do that? You’re evil, Dream. You’re- you’re a twisted, cruel monster!” He felt his eyes sting as tears began to form, but he didn’t care. “Was this for your so-called experiments, too?”

Dream looked at him. “Maybe I should consider emotional pain, too. This is quite impressive,” he mumbled, his voice smiling even wider than his mask. “I was practicing spells of memory loss. You were the only subject to completely forget their past... until now, which is strange. Unfortunately, that boy found you and stopped me from experimenting further. That’s why I took him... as a sort of revenge.”

“You’re evil,” Ranboo whispered, staring him down, his eyes locked on that simple smiling mask, tears falling down his face, mixed with purple Ender Acid trickling from wounds below his eyes. The others watched as those same eyes suddenly changed from green and red to a bright, unsettling purple as he slipped into the Enderwalk state, screaming curses at Dream in Ender language. They stood there for a few moments, speechless.

In that time, Techno arrived, a sword in his hand. “Hello, Dream. Stop traumatising children and pick on someone your own size.”

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe you, Dream.” Technoblade’s finger was dripping with blood from where he had cut it while touching the sword, his eyes full of a fiery fury that even Dream hadn’t seen before. “I knew you were bad, Dream, but I thought you were better than this. Ranboo is a child. He’s seventeen. He was eleven when you kidnapped him and removed his memory- that is, if my calculations are correct. He was a child, and still is a child. You had no right to do that, Dream. You were completely out of line.”

Dream got up. “Says the orphan murderer. You had no right to kill those children, Techno. You were also completely out of line and you know it.”

“Actually, I can defend myself here.” Techno’s hand was gripping the sword tightly. A puddle of blood from his wounded finger was collecting on the floor. “First of all, revenge. You know better than anyone that both of my parents were killed by orphans. You were there.” He brushed some hair out of his face with his free hand and stepped closer to Dream. “Secondly, I’m really doing them a service. I know what it’s like to lose your parents, and I know that it destroys you. You never heal. I’ve lived for nearly five thousand years now and it still hurts, knowing that they’ll never come back, knowing that they didn’t even go peacefully, that they were taken before their time.” He stopped to wipe a tear from his eye, and Wilbur noticed how shaky his breathing had become, how he truly was in pain. “Finally, you haven’t killed children, Dream, you’ve done something much worse. You’ve hurt a child deeply. Separated him from his parents, erased his memories, tortured him for years with a voice in his head, made him suffer for life. That’s infinitely worse than death, Dream. You know that. So, don’t you dare try to defend yourself here, because you know I’m right.”

Dream reached in his pocket and brought out a small but deadly-looking knife. “Get over it, Techno. I’m stronger than you. I can remove memories, I can become a voice inside people’s heads, I can do whatever I want to, and you can’t stop me. I’ve been learning something else... I’ve been learning to resurrect the dead. Soon, if all goes well, I will have ultimate power over life and death. People will love me. In my world, death won’t be permanent... the only person who will remain dead will be you.”

“No, Dream, people will not love you! Death should be permanent. It’s the one thing people can rely on in this world.” Techno looked at him, at that smiley face mask. Five thousand years and he still had no idea what was underneath it. “As much as I miss my parents, it wouldn’t be right to have them back. It would feel... wrong. They’re dead, I’ve accepted that, and I’ve moved on as much as I can. If I had them back, then all of that pain would have been for nothing...”

Wilbur watched Techno’s face. He was clearly in a lot of pain. There were tears balancing on his lower eyelids, threatening to fall any second. Wilbur looked at him, surprised. He would never have expected to see Techno cry, and yet here he was, staring Dream down with watery eyes. It was absolutely heartbreaking to see him like that, and Wilbur desperately wanted to run and give him a hug, to comfort him, to tell him that everything was going to be alright. However, he knew that it wasn’t the right moment. Memories flooded his head, memories of being a child, of a...

...of a pink-haired man sat on the sofa chatting to his father, or stood next to Wilbur, stroking his hair, telling him stories about mythical creatures, and floating islands in the sky that housed huge potato farms. Playing pretend sword fights with Wilbur, always letting him win. How old would he have been? Eight or nine, maybe? He knew he had been around that age when the man suddenly disappeared. Dadza had always referred to him simply as “Warrior”, never mentioning his name when Wilbur was around.

Wilbur finally realised that it wasn’t just Dadza that knew Techno. He did, too.

“You don’t understand, Technoblade. You’d be surprised how many people would jump at the idea of having dead relatives and friends back.” Dream was clutching the knife the same way that Techno was holding onto the sword. Wilbur could just see the tiny letters scratched roughly into the side of the knife. Lucid. Was that the knife’s name? What was the deal with naming weapons anyway? It didn’t make them more deadly. “I know what people want, and I’m quite happy to give them what they want, Techno. The only people standing in my way are you and Philza Minecraft.”

Techno watched him. “You have no idea what people want, Dream. If you killed Philza Minecraft, people would go mad. That man is so famous that they named a video game after him.”

Dream looked up at the ceiling. “Not if I made it look like an accident.”

“People won’t believe it. They know that it would take more than an accident to kill Philza.” Technoblade was still staring him down, although the tears that had been in his eyes had vanished. “If you want to kill a god, you have to kill them in battle. That’s how it works. People know that. You know that, too, Dream. So, if you want me dead, raise your knife and fight me, fight me like a real man would, don’t run away from me again like a coward.”

“Again? Last time, I took pity on you and put you in prison.” Dream had turned his head towards Techno, still gripping the knife between his fingers. “When did I ever run away? Tell me, Techno, when did I last run away from you?”

Techno smiled. “The Doomsday War. I know that you were fighting with Diamond Minecart, Dream. I don’t think you noticed, but I was in charge of the Syndicate.”

Dream looked at him. Even with the mask, it was clear that he was confused. “But I thought that the leader of the Syndicate was called Harrison Piglin.”

“I can make up a good fake identity when I want to.” Techno was still smiling. “So, do you want to fight me, Dream? We might as well get it over with.”

The man with the smiling mask lifted his knife. “Get ready to die, Technoblade. I won’t miss you. And I’m sure it’ll be a relief to finally be reunited with your parents.”

Tommy was shaking Ranboo’s shoulder, trying to get him out of the enderwalk state. Lani and Tubbo were stood watching everything happen, frozen in fear.

Wilbur, stood further away than everyone else, watched Dream and Techno as they got ready for the fight, standing in their battle stances, readying their weapons. He couldn’t help but notice that a single tear was trickling down Technoblade’s cheek.

. . .

Quackity shivered. “It’s cold, Karl. This wasn’t a good idea at all.”

“I know, but maybe we can go to McPuffy’s and get one of their special Halloween pumpkin spice coffees,” Karl said, trying to cheer him up. “I’ve heard they’re really good.”

“Boys, what are you doing outside on a day like this?” Philza had just walked out of his house, his stripy hat perched on his head. It still looked very much like an upturned popcorn bucket. “Why don’t you come inside for a cup of tea? It’s a lot warmer in here.”

Karl smiled. “Thank you, Philza. Right now, that’s just what we need.” He took Quackity’s hand, and they went into the house.

Philza ran into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with three steaming cups of tea. “So, Karl, I heard you quit your job. Good decision, that. I’ve heard that Mr Donaldson never lets you have a break.”

“Can confirm, that is absolute truth.” Karl sipped his tea, smiling. “Actually, it’s good that we ran into you. You probably know about Quackity...”

“Drug dealer, illegal immigrant, heard it all,” Philza said, a smile on his face. “But I’m sure there’s more to him than just the police documents. If the police documents are the problem... have you considered talking to the mayor?”

Karl looked at Quackity, whose face was nervous. “I suggested that, but he’s worried. The problem is, I’m sure that it’s the only option.”

Philza looked at Quackity, who was staring at his feet, trying to hold back tears. “Karl, can you go to another room for a second? I’d like to talk to Quackity in private.”

Karl nodded and went to the kitchen, leaving Quackity alone with Philza, who started talking quietly. “I know Eret personally. He would listen to your story, and then decide what to do. He wouldn’t just lock you in prison, so you have nothing to worry about. Am I right in saying that you only did everything to stay alive?”

Quackity didn’t say anything. He was afraid that he would cry, and he didn’t want to cry in front of Philza Minecraft, who was easily the most famous person in L’manberg. Everyone knew Philza’s name. He had a great reputation in the village.

He was surprised to feel a warm hand on his shoulder. “Don’t hold it back, Quackity. It’s okay. Let it out.” It felt good to hear Philza’s voice. It was like being with his parents again. “Have you ever been able to just... be a child? You were only twelve when you came here... and if there’s one thing I know, it’s that life can be ridiculously unfair to children.”

“You’ve done your research,” Quackity said, choking back tears. “But, if you knew all this, why didn’t you go to the police?”

“Oh, believe me, I gave up on the police long ago. They’re useless.” Philza smiled, which made Quackity feel infinitely better. “Honestly, though, you should go and talk to Eret. He’ll understand that you had no choice, and he’ll make sure that the police don’t touch you again.”

Quackity looked up at him. “Thank you,” he whispered, wiping tears from his eyes.

“You’re welcome, Quackity.” Philza took a sip of his tea and looked down at the boy. He was nineteen, but looked younger, despite having been forced to act much older. “There’s just one last thing I want. I want you to tell me your story.”

Quackity looked at his feet again, nervous. “I’ll probably start crying,” he said, blushing slightly.

“I know, and that’s alright,” Philza said, smiling at him. “Tell me everything, Quackity. I promise, it’s all going to be okay.”

. . .

Outside, spying through the window, Sam was hiding in a bush. “Why on earth is Philza Minecraft conversing with criminals?” he muttered to himself, making a note. “Of all people, Philza Minecraft. Perhaps he’s the one who makes the drugs.”

“Oh, and you called me a nosy parker.” Motherinnit suddenly pulled aside some branches, revealed the chief of police kneeling on the icy ground, wearing green clothes to camouflage himself. “I could take this to Mayor Eret, you know. Invasion of privacy is a crime and you should know that.”

“It’s, umm... Neighbourhood Watch,” Sam said desperately. “I’m doing detective work, Mrs Innit. Looking for suspicious activity.”

Motherinnit clearly didn’t believe him. “Are you bollocks. You’re just spying on Quackity because you can. What about those missing people? Lani Underscore went missing last night and you don’t give a damn. You know what, I will take this to the mayor, I think. He deserves to know the problems with his police force, and particularly his chief officer.”

“Excuse me, but I could also go to Eret and tell him that you were harassing a police officer,” Sam said with a smug smile.

She looked furious with him. “Well, you go and bloody do that then, but I’ll make sure he knows about this. You don’t know anything about Quackity. He’s selling drugs. So what? What if he needs to? What if it’s his only way of making a living?” She walked away, cursing him. “Stupid police. They never get anything done, and they never will with that arsehole in charge...”

. . .

“A bluebell.” Drista looked at it. It was a beautiful flower, strong and healthy. “Yeah. Hopefully, that’ll work. But what if it doesn’t?”

“It will. I know it will.” Niki sipped her hot chocolate and took another bite of her gingerbread. “It’s going to be alright. Techno’s going to come and see us, Dream will be dead, or at least far away, and everyone will be fine. I don’t know what’s so different about this flower, though. Why it survived when the others didn’t...”

Drista got up and took a closer look at the flower. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s magic. Maybe some ancient witch touched it or something. How it’s immune to the powers of the God Of Decay, I really have no idea.”

“The God of Decay?” Niki looked confused. “I don’t know who that is.”

Drista walked back to her seat. “Dream calls him Gogy. They’re dating, I think.” She nibbled on the leg of her gingerbread man, which tasted delicious. Niki really had a talent for baking, she thought. “By now, Dream should be back at the prison. Oh, God, I hope they’re alright... What’s Dream going to say, when he finds out that I’m gone? What if I’ve made the wrong decision here?”

“You haven’t. If you’d stayed there, Dream would have killed you.” Niki finished her hot chocolate and placed the mug back on the table. Drista looked at it. It was a dark, reddish pink, with a polar bear wearing a blue woolly hat painted on it. “Don’t worry,” Niki continued. “You did the right thing.”

Drista looked down at her lap. “I’m scared, Niki. I don’t want any of them to die... except Dream. I don’t care if Dream dies- honestly, I will be over the moon if they kill him, I want to get rid of him, he used to ruin my life on a daily basis. Not even just mine. He just likes ruining people’s lives and I don’t want anything to do with him, really.” She picked up her cup of hot chocolate, which was getting cold, and took a sip. “I hope Techno kills him. He deserves it.”

Niki looked at her. “I know I’m a pacifist, and I stay away from violence... but if you want him dead so much, wouldn’t you want to do it yourself?”

“Being stuck as Dream’s assistant for so long... for years, I’ve felt sick whenever blood is even mentioned. I couldn’t do it.” Drista finished her hot chocolate and took a final bite of her gingerbread man. “You’ll come with us to L’manberg, won’t you?”

“Of course I will,” she said. “I want to stop Dream’s plans as much as you do, Drista. And I’m sure Techno has a plan to destroy him in a violent and painful way. And whatever that plan is, I want to be a part of it.”

Drista smiled and nodded. “Good, because I do too.”

. . .

Ranboo was out of the enderwalk state, finally. He could tell what was going on, seeing the two oldest people in the room pointing weapons at each other. He wiped the Ender Acid from under his eyes, feeling the burning sensation from the wounds. He had been crying... and then he remembered. Dream. All of this was his fault. Dream was the reason that he didn’t live in the End any more. Dream was the reason that Tubbo had been kidnapped, along with so many others. Dream was the reason...

Dream himself was standing near the door, his mask stained with blood... whose blood was that? Did he want to know? His bright green hoodie stood out against the darkness of the room, his dark jeans ripped, crusted with something dry and reddish brown. His dirty blond hair was scruffy and tangled, curls of it hanging over his mask, and there was a silver knife in his hand, which he was pointing at the person directly opposite him.

That person was Technoblade. He was stood there, dressed in some of Dream’s green pyjamas, standing a few feet away from his enemy, clutching a sword in his hand. His hair, the colour of a pig, fell down his back in a long curtain, and Ranboo noticed that, as he brushed it out of his face, that there was what appeared to be a dead flower behind his ear. His eyes, though, frightened him. They were full of fury, glaring at Dream like a lynx would stare at its prey. The only thing here was that the prey was ready to fight back.

There was no countdown, no “one, two, three, go”. Dream made the first move, jumping towards Techno and striking towards him with his knife. Techno dodged it easily, and succeeded in hitting Dream in the face with the flat of his sword. It didn’t really do anything at all, other than annoy him. “Why,” Techno said, swinging the sword around, his pink hair flying in a thousand directions as if it had a mind of its own, “why did you do it, Dream? They were children! They still are!”

Stabbing violently with his knife, missing every time, Dream was moving the fight around. They had now gone through the doors and in the prison viewing area. “So were the orphans you killed, Techno. You didn’t even give them a chance to live!”

“I know what it’s like to lose your parents, Dream! They meant everything to me!” Techno’s eyes were furious, but was that pain creeping in? Was that a tear glistening in his eye? “That’s why you can’t beat me! You can’t win against someone who has nothing to lose!”

“And? Deal with it, Techno!” Dream was near the door now. His mask had cracked- when had that happened? Ranboo hadn’t seen it- and part of the side of his face had been revealed, which was badly scarred, with some kind of dark green streak down it. What was that? His blood? Or the strange glue that kept his mask on? “Your parents are dead, get over it. Why do you still care? It’s such a stupid weakness...”

Techno swung his sword at him, hitting Dream in the side of the face where his mask had been cracked. Blood started trickling from the gash it made, proving that the green liquid must have been something else. “Being upset about my parents isn’t a weakness. It just proves that I’m still somewhat human.”

“And that, Techno, will be your downfall.” They were outside now, standing in the frosty air. Ranboo wasn’t sure who had the upper hand here. Techno had the most powerful weapon, by the looks of it, but Dream was quite good with his knife. “When you’re a god, you can’t be human. Not even somewhat. That’s what you’ve failed to learn in five thousand years!”

Techno swung his sword, missed, and jumped backwards as Dream tried to stab him with his knife. “I don’t know how or where you learned that, but I learnt the opposite. It’s worth it to be human. I’m still capable of love, Dream. I can still be happy. You can’t. You’ve abandoned all that, just because you’re scared of getting hurt.”

Dream succeeded in stabbing Techno’s arm, and watched as the crimson fluid flowed down from the wound. The side of his face twitched, as if he was smiling, seeing the damage that he had done. “I’m still capable of love. I can still be happy. The only thing different between you and me is that you still suffer from the sadness of losing your parents, but I don’t care about things like that at all.”

“That’s because you’re sick and twisted! You don’t feel things any more!” Techno’s pain and anger was clear as he lunged at Dream with the sword, the obsidian-black blade coated with a half-dried layer of scarlet blood. “You don’t care, all you want to do is hurt people... you’ll disguise it all with the excuse of ‘experiments’, try to say you’re a scientist just to get in people’s good books. But you’re just-” Techno slapped Dream’s mask with his sword, cracking it, “-a psychopath! A sadist! You’re evil, Dream, you’re pure evil!”

Dream flew into the air, his fair hair flying around his mask in the mountain winds. Ranboo didn’t know how he did that. Dream didn’t have wings, so how was he flying? It didn’t make sense. “Goodbye, pig,” he said, as he rose into the air.

Ranboo turned around and saw that the prison was aflame. Techno saw it too, and swore loudly. “He’s done it again! He’s run away and left us to deal with the damage.” There were still tears in his eyes, his hair was a tangled mess, and his arm was dripping with blood. “I will kill him. What he’s done to you- all of you- is completely and utterly unfair.”

“Techno,” Wilbur said, walking over and taking his hand. “It’s alright. You’ve kept yourself together for me and Tubbo while we were in prison. It’s our turn to do that for you.”

Techno didn’t say anything for a long time, but sat down, teardrops rolling down his cheeks, staring into the flames that were engulfing the prison. He eventually spoke when the prison roof collapsed. “We need to go and get Niki Nihachu and Drista. Then, we need to go straight back to L’manberg.”

Wilbur sat down next to him and put his arm around him. “Are you alright, Techno?”

“I’m okay, Wilbur.” He stared at the fire. The only source of heat in these mountains, it burned brilliantly in the sunrise. “Come on, everyone. If we get going now, we’ll reach Niki’s hut before dark.”

. . .

At six o’clock on the morning of the 31st of October 2021, on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, six people walked down a mountain.

One was a boy with blond hair, wearing a large, thick, beige coat. Wearing a similar outfit was an extremely tall, pale boy, also with blond hair. There were two shorter children- a boy and a girl, brother and sister, both with brown hair and blue eyes, the boy in a bee onesie, the girl in a striped hoodie and jeans. There was a man with brown hair and eyes, dressed in his father’s pyjamas and slippers. Finally, there was a man with long, pink, tangled hair and a sad look on his face, dressed in green pyjamas, staring into the sunrise like it was his only hope.

They were being watched.

From the small cave house that the man was standing in, he could only hear short phrases from their conversation. Prison... Dream... Battle... and plenty of swear words. He shivered, although he should have been used to the cold. Something had happened with Dream, that man who he despised... one of the men that he despised.

He wished he had a blanket, or something to keep him warm at least, but all he had was this ridiculous suit that he couldn’t even change, or he would lose his powers.

He shifted into an axolotl and jumped in the hot spring a few metres away from him. He couldn’t live here much longer. He wanted to fight, he wanted to change something for good. He had been living here for ten years. Something had to change. He wanted to get rid of Dream, which was something that he and the Hermits had been unable to do with Schlatt.

Xisuma may have been an axolotl at that point in time, but it was then that he decided that things were going to change.

Chapter Text

It was the morning of the fourth of November. Tommy had just woken up, for the first time in a week, in his own bed. Motherinnit had yelled at him when he had come back, told him off for leaving home without her permission, then had started hugging him and crying. Parents, he thought, were confusing.

He climbed out of his bed, quickly got dressed, put on a pair of trainers, and ran downstairs. “Tommy, do you want fried eggs and toast for-” Motherinnit asked him, but he was out of the door before she could finish her sentence.

He ran next door and knocked on the door excitedly. Tubbo opened it, a blue paper cup of coffee in his hand, a smile on his face, wearing a hoodie with the words ‘so yeah, I’m a gamer’ on it. “Hello, Tommy! Right, let’s go and get Boo. Have you had breakfast? I haven’t, I’ve just come downstairs...”

“Yeah, me neither, I came over here as fast as I could,” Tommy said, hugging his friend with a smile, taking his hand, and running across the road. Ranboo’s cottage was down the next street, just on the corner next to McPuffy’s, and a few doors down from Philza’s house. “So, how’s Lani?”

Tubbo took a sip of his coffee. “She’s fine. She got up earlier than me this morning, to see Wilbur, apparently. She’s helping him with Electronic Cup. Right, Boo’s house is just there, Tommy. Let’s go and say hello and take him to the bench.”

They knocked on the door of Ranboo’s house. He opened it a few moments later, smiling happily, dressed in some kind of itchy black jumper. “Hey, you two! It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” He stepped outside and closed the door. “So, we’re going to the bench.”

“Yeah, we are,” Tommy said. He was full of his old energy and loudness, and grabbed hold of Ranboo’s hand. “I promise, you’ll love it. I don’t think anyone else has ever been there, apart from the person who built it. His name’s scribbled on the back of the bench- Dylan Boomer, or something like that.”

Tubbo nodded. “Although we are convinced that we’re reading that wrong,” he added, as they passed the Monument To Crying About It, a statue that had been put up as a joke a few years ago and had never been removed. “Right, so the bench is a few minutes from here...”

The bench was a fifteen-minute walk away from Tommy’s house, hidden in the depths of the forest. They reached it at half past eight, and Ranboo, being the kind person he was, gave Tommy and Tubbo a chocolate bar each from his bag. “You told me you hadn’t had breakfast, and I don’t like Mars Bars that much anyway, so there you go.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said, biting into it. “So, this is the bench. What do you think, Ranboo? Good for planning pranks and other wrong things?”

Ranboo chuckled. “Tommy, we won’t be doing wrong things. We’re supposed to be trying to find Dream’s location.”

That was what Techno had told them when they had arrived at Niki’s. Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo were trying to locate Dream, with the help of Tommy’s compass. Wilbur and Lani were supposed to find out information about Dream’s personal life, and try to locate weaknesses. Techno himself was meeting with Philza, Niki, and Drista, talking about secret things that only he and the gods were supposed to know.

Tubbo reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a map. It marked the areas where nuclear weapons were kept, as well as the areas that Schlatt had nuked, but apart from that, it was a functional map of the country of Logstedshire. Tommy reached for his compass, which, as always, was on a chain around his neck, silver and shining. Ranboo reached down his jumper, where there was presumably a pocket, and brought out an actual compass, made of a clear plastic, the needle, unlike Tommy’s, pointing towards north.

“Now,” said Tommy. “Where’s Dream, then?”

. . .

Wilbur and Lani were sat together on Philza’s sofa. “Will, I’m going to need you out of here by nine. The gods are having a meeting,” Philza said, walking into the room, a glass in his hand.

“That’s fine,” he said. “Why don’t we go swimming in the L’river, Lani?”

Lani smiled. “Sounds good to me. I’ll go and get my costume and meet you there.”

“Great, I wanted to talk to Dadza,” Wilbur said, and Lani left, closing the door behind her.

Philza sat down where Lani had been. “What is it, Wilbur? Are you worried about something? Wait- you don’t want to move out, do you?”

“No! Of course not. This is the family home and I’m not leaving any time soon.” Wilbur leaned back in his seat and looked at his father. “Why didn’t you tell me I knew Techno? You told me those stories about the Blood God, but you never told me I knew him. You never told me that... that Warrior guy who always visited us, you never told me that was Techno.”

“I know, Wilbur. I knew he was leaving, and I didn’t want you to get too attached to him.” Philza adjusted his hat and put his arm around his son. “I probably should have told you, but... you know what, I really don’t have an excuse.” Philza drank from the glass in his hand. Wilbur noticed that it was full of beer, which worried him, as Philza only ever drunk alcohol when he was stressed about something. “So, what did you think of Techno? I know he can be a bit... you know, loud and aggressive...”

At that moment, Techno walked in. He, Drista, and Niki were staying at Philza’s house for now, in three of the house’s four spare bedrooms. “Sorry,” he said, seeing the father and son sitting next to each other. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, you’re fine,” Wilbur told him, and Techno sat down next to them. “So, what is all this secret planning that the gods are doing? You can trust me to keep a secret.”

The pink-haired man shook his head. “It’s too dangerous, Wilbur. If Dream captures you again, he will try to get that information out of you in any way possible. There is one thing I can tell you, though, and that is, we should expect a war soon. Dream wouldn’t just let us off like that without a punishment. And he’s wanted the village of L’manberg destroyed for hundreds of years.” Hearing him say that, Wilbur shuddered. He didn’t like the idea of war. Philza had told him what it was really like, having fought in a fair few battles himself. Techno noticed the worried look in his eyes, took his hand, and said, “Don’t worry about that, though. We’ll prepare you, give you a basic knowledge of weapons and how to use them.”

Wilbur got up. “I should probably leave,” he said, and left the room quite hurriedly, clearly not willing to talk.

Philza turned to Techno, almost mad. “Why did you say that? He’s going to be panicking for the next week at least.”

Techno just shrugged. “It’s best that he knows, Philza. You can’t protect him forever. He’s twenty-five years old, a grown man, and he can handle it.”

Philza sighed. He knew that Techno was right. “Anyway, Will told me that you were holding back tears for most of the walk home. Do you... want to talk about anything? Are you alright?”

“I’ve not really been alright for the past five thousand years.” Techno shuffled closer to his friend and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. “How long do we have until the meeting?”

Philza put his arm around him. “Twenty minutes, which is long enough for you to talk to me... God, I missed you,” he whispered. “Is this about your parents?”

Techno stood up. “I don’t want to talk about it, Philza.” He turned towards the door. “I’m going to go and brush my hair. I’ll be back in time for the meeting.” He walked towards the door and left the room, just as Wilbur came back in.

. . .

Dream knocked on the door of 4 Manhunt Avenue, his mask on, his face smiling. He knew who was in there. He couldn’t wait to see them again. He watched as the door opened.

Standing on the other side of the door was a man with dark brown hair, wearing a hat that looked like a mushroom cap, and his favourite Supreme T-shirt (which was more than ten years old now, and incredibly tatty). There was a pair of headphones around his neck, connected to a phone in his jeans pocket, the screen of it showing a Spotify playlist called “sap please do not pull any more deez nuts jokes on me I swear to god”. He was also wearing a necklace with a small silver mushroom charm on it. He originally looked quite annoyed, but smiled when he saw Dream.

“Hello, Gogy,” Dream said, his smile widening. “Get ready, I’m planning a war. How do you feel about going to L’manberg?”

Gogy looked a bit confused, but then went back to smiling. “That, umm, sounds... good?” He stepped back, letting Dream in, then closed the door. “Welcome back. Did you miss me? What happened? And where’s Drista?”

“Gone. She ran off and let the prisoners out of their cell. I don’t know where she is.” Dream sat down on the leather sofa and took off his mask, revealing his rather handsome face. “Anyway, how have you been?”

“Alright, actually. Hey, Sap!” he said, seeing his friend walk into the room. “Dream’s come home.”

Sap was dressed in a baggy orange jumper and a pair of jeans, a red baseball cap on his head, his hand in a family-size bag of cheese and onion crisps. “Hey, Dream! Welcome back. Have you seen that new Netflix show, Squid Game? It’s really good, and really violent. You’ll love it.”

“Not the time, Sap,” Dream mumbled, and stole one of his crisps. “What are your thoughts on me declaring war on L’manberg?”

Sap stared at him, his eyes wide. “I think you’ve got a mental problem, mate.” But then his face changed. “Do I get to eat the dead bodies?”

Dream shook his head. “I think you’re the one with the mental problem, Sap.” He grabbed the remote and turned on the television, flicking through the channels before finally settling on one he liked, which was showing Fox Boy’s Guess The Price. “I'd better call Bad and Skeppy. They should probably know about this.” With that, he ran out of the room.

“Didn’t even offer me any snacks from wherever he’s been,” Sap mumbled, shaking his head, and shoving another loaded handful of crisps into his mouth.

. . .

Philza’s dining table was long, big enough to fit twelve people. Decorated with a long green tablecloth and a vase of flowers, it was now covered in planning papers, diagrams, notebooks, and crumpled sheets full of scribbles. It was in a similar state to Wilbur’s desk, with pens and pencils scattered everywhere. Four of the dining table’s seats were full.

In one chair was Philza. The usual popcorn bucket hat was perched on his head, his blond hair poking out from beneath it. His eyes, sky blue, squinted at a piece of paper in front of him. He was dressed in a simple black T-shirt and jeans, a green cardigan tied around his waist, and a necklace with a small wooden heart on it. He was drinking tea from an ornately decorated mug in the shape of a crow, which was sat in front of him, the crystal eyes of it gazing at the mountain of notes and scribbles.

Sat on his left was Techno, who was also drinking tea. However, his mug was shaped like a wild boar, painted roughly in a pale pink, and had clearly not been used in a few years. Techno’s hair, a similar colour to the mug, was tied back in its usual braid, his blood-red eyes staring into space. He was dressed quite smartly, wearing a long red robe, edged with white fur, stained with blood in some places, kept tight around his chest by a small bow tied in golden ribbon. Under this, he wore a white button-up shirt and black trousers. Around his middle finger was a bone ring, the words Technoblade Never Dies carved on it. His hand was scribbling notes on a piece of paper, mainly just insults to Dream.

Opposite him was Niki, who was sipping from her own cup of tea, which was in a mug with the words Greatest Dad Ever painted on it- a Father’s Day gift to Philza from Wilbur. Her soft pink hair fell down in waves to her shoulders, she had dark brown eyes, and a pair of round glasses, similar to Wilbur’s, but gold rather than black. She was wearing a pretty brown dress and a mint green apron, which had a single pocket on the front. In this pocket was a small clear plastic bubble, one-third full of dirt, a single bluebell sprouting from a hole at the top. She also had a necklace with several flower-shaped charms on it, as well as a glass bottle on a string, full of dried flower petals and herbs.

The final guest at Philza’s meeting was Drista. She was wearing one of Lani’s hoodies that she had borrowed from her, a yellow and black striped one, and a pair of blue jeans. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her blue eyes were nervous. She still didn’t fully trust these people. She was slowly and carefully sipping tea from one of Philza’s best mugs, which had been a present from Kristin. It was blue, a picture of a warrior princess fighting Schlatt painted on it, covered in glitter and sparkles.

Philza looked around the table, at the faces there- one nervous, one staring at the wall, one smiling softly. And his own, of course, which was tired, worried, stressed. He hadn’t been having a good week, what with Wilbur disappearing and returning, PC Sam almost breaking down his door to question him about Quackity and Karl, and then all this news about Dream. “Right,” he said, wondering how to start. “Welcome, everyone. I’m sure you’re all aware of what’s happening with Dream...” He took a sip of his tea and adjusted his hat. He wasn’t used to starting meetings. “I will not have this village destroyed. I’ve lived here, in Crowfather House, for more than two hundred years now. There are people here who have lived here their entire lives. I don’t want that to end. That’s why we need to make a plan to stop Dream, and bring peace back to the village- although I’m not entirely sure if anyone else knows about what’s going on yet.”

Drista looked at him, impressed. She decided to trust him. “What’s my role in all this?” she asked, messing with her hair. “I still don’t quite understand how I can help you, especially considering that I don’t know how to use my god powers yet.”

“We need you for the inside information about Dream,” Techno said. “He must have kept you well hidden, since we only heard that you existed about... probably three months ago, around there, I think. We need the information, Drista. And, as for your powers, we’ll get to that. You’re an important part of this, Drista, perhaps the most important part of all, because of your connection to the enemy, and your dedication to defeating him.”

Philza smiled. “Techno, this is a war council, not an English essay. No need to make it all poetic and flowery.” He adjusted his hat again and began fiddling with a very old-fashioned audio recording machine. He pressed a few buttons, then said, “This is the Council of the Gods, meeting number one. We are recording. Wait, is this thing working? I hope it’s working, otherwise we’ll have to use my old Samsung phone...”

He then swore as the machine made a large crunching sound and let out a plume of thick black smoke.

. . .

The bench, Ranboo thought, looking around, was quite pretty. The bench itself was an ordinary park bench made from birch wood and some kind of black metal. Scratched on one of the front bench panels was the message Tom Scott and Matt Grey: In Loving Memory. On the back, the name Dylan Boomer was scribbled in black marker. At the base of the bench’s legs, ferns were growing, as well as some small white flowers, which were almost invisible, hidden behind the mud and grass.

The scenery around the bench was just as pretty. Pine trees with green needles and brown, woody cones surrounded the bench, tall foxglove flowers sprouted up just behind it, next to a bramble bush, which was brimming with large, juicy blackberries. In front of the bench, tangled ivy and honeysuckle covered a low stone wall, which was barely visible under layers of moss and lichen. There was a small gap where this wall had collapsed, the fallen bricks covered in mud and dirt, buried under low-growing perennial flowers and grasses that had been trampled by Tommy and Tubbo many times. Scattered around were daisies, poppies, buttercups, and dandelions, from which bees and butterflies were feeding. Beetles scuttled around in the grass, and a swarm of ladybirds had planted themselves on a low tree branch. A siskin bird, high up in its nest, chattered loudly, seeing the three children. Everything was covered in a thin layer of icy frost, making the ground hard and slippery.

The bench was just big enough for the three of them. Tommy was sat in the middle. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a photo- the same photo that he’d taken from the prison.

“Stole this from Dream’s bedroom,” he said with a smile. “I showed it to Wilbur, but he doesn’t know who it is. It’s got their names on the back... Gogy and Sap... does that ring any bells to you?”

Ranboo shook his head, although his eyes were focused on a grey squirrel that was digging inside a pine cone, trying to get the nuts out. “Sorry, Tommy. I have no idea who they are, but maybe we could search on Google to see if anything comes up.”

“I’ll do it,” Tubbo said, turning on his phone. It had been a few hours since they had arrived, and Ranboo saw the time on his phone- 11:47. “Hey, Siri. Who are Gogy and Sap?”

The phone suddenly pulled up a YouTube video, something labelled GeorgeNotFound Onlyfans, which Tubbo decided to watch. “I think... it’s a music video... but this has nothing to do with the photo- oh, that’s Dream- oh no. Oh no. Where is the bleach for my eyes, this is more inappropriate than WAP!”

Tommy burst out laughing. “Can I see?” he asked, but Ranboo snatched the phone from Tubbo. “Since I had my eighteenth birthday three days ago, I can legally look at- oh God, that is absolutely disgusting, I wish I’d never turned eighteen.” He turned to look at the squirrel again, which now appeared to be doing the Default Dance from Fortnite. “Siri, turn off this YouTube video... why isn’t it working?” he asked desperately, turning his eyes back to the screen again, despite not wanting to.

Tommy watched him, giggling. “Is it really that bad?” he asked, brushing a beetle from his arm and trying to look over Ranboo’s shoulder.

“Yes, it’s that bad,” he answered, and finally managed to close down the video. “Tubbo, I think you need to review what Google lets you see.”

“No!” Tubbo said, shaking his head. “I need it this way, otherwise the firewall blocks all my nuclear weapons websites and the 2b2t Minecraft server!”

Tommy looked at him, amused. “I can understand the nuclear weapons, but it should block 2b2t anyway. Even I don’t dare go on there, I can barely escape the spawn point, and I’m fairly sure that there’s some criminal stuff planned on there, like actual bank robberies and things.”

Tubbo grabbed his phone back. “I’m going to see if there’s any Google results other than that video. One second, let me search it up on good old-fashioned Internet Explorer.”

. . .

“So, we’ve established,” Philza said, “that Dream’s strengths are his... well, weird inability to feel emotions, the fact that he hides his face, and, of course, his godly power of chaos... and the possibility that he might be able to resurrect the dead.” He rapidly scribbled it down on a piece of paper. “And his weaknesses... actually, a lot of those things we’ve said- aren’t they weaknesses as well? And his boyfriend. Big weakness there. We can get to him through his boyfriend.”

Twelve o’clock. The gods’ meeting was still going on, Philza recording everything on his old phone. He looked around the table. “Anything to add?”

“Yes, actually, I’ve got another thing to add to the weakness list,” Techno said. “Our rivalry that goes back centuries. He’ll do anything to hurt me, and most times, that involves mentioning my parents.” His voice didn’t change while saying that, but as he looked away, Philza noticed the pain in his eyes that had been bothering him for centuries. As he reached out his arms to hug his friend, Techno turned to face him, glaring at him, and said, “Don’t touch me.”

“At least talk to us, Techno,” Philza said, wishing that he could do something to help him. He hated seeing his friend like this. Noticing that Techno was getting up, he asked him, “Where are you going?” When Techno left without answering, he simply sat back in his chair and said nothing. He didn’t know what to say.

A voice from the other side of the table piped up. “Shouldn’t we go and talk to him?” Niki looked down at the bluebell, which was still sat in her front pocket. She glanced over at Drista, whose face shared similar emotion to hers- concern, worry, pity. “We should talk to him, Philza.”

“I’ll go and see what I can do,” he answered, standing up. “That’s exactly like him, you know. Stropping off when he can’t hold back his emotions any more.” Philza smiled, but it only lasted a few seconds before he pushed his chair in and went to look for Techno.

He found him in the living room. Techno was curled up in a ball in his favourite squishy armchair, hugging his knees. His red robe had fallen to the floor, his trousers ripped where his nails had dug into his leg, which was bleeding. Only three of the buttons on his shirt were done up, and a tuft of his pink chest hair was showing. His long braid had unravelled, and his hair was now falling down the back of the chair like a rather tasteful, although dirty, pink curtain. Strands of it circled his face, which was contorted into a rather odd expression. He was breathing deeply but shakily, his eyes scrunched shut, his mouth a straight line. He was clearly trying not to cry.

Philza perched on the arm of the chair and touched that curtain of pink hair, just behind his ear. Techno shook violently, and a single tear rolled down his cheek as he opened one eye. He said nothing as he closed his eye again, but his breathing became more steady, and he seemed to relax slightly, his face returning to a more normal expression. Philza moved his hand, putting over Techno’s and squeezing it gently, as the pink-haired man let out another tear, this time from the other eye.

“I take it back,” he whispered, opening his eyes. He looked at his hand, his long fingers, his fingernails covered in blood, both dry and wet. “You were right, Philza. I do need to talk about this... but I don’t think that now is the time.” He climbed out of the chair and stood up, putting his long red robe back around his shoulders, and tying it. He then stood, rather awkwardly, for a few seconds, not really knowing what to say.

Philza reached out his arms and hugged him, as tightly as he could, knowing that he needed it. He rested his head on Techno’s shoulder. “When it is the right time, let me know and I’ll be there. I’ll always be there, Techno. You know that, don’t you?”

“God, Philza. You’re going to make me cry.” He said it as if he wasn’t already crying. He stepped back, but a smile had found its way onto his face. “We should probably go back to the meeting now,” he said, brushing solitary strands of pink hair out of his eyes.

Philza looked surprised. “But you’re crying, Techno. Are you sure you want the others to see you like this?”

Techno shook his head. “Honestly, Philza, I don’t care any more. I know I can trust them not to laugh, and that’s enough for me. And there’s no use in holding the tears back any more, it’ll just make everything so much more painful.” He took a ribbon out of his trouser pocket, the one that he usually used to tie his braid with. However, instead of braiding his hair, he simply tied it back in a long ponytail. “Well, are we going, or not?”

Philza smiled, took his friend’s hand, and together, the two old friends walked back to the dining room, hand in hand, as if sixteen years had never passed.

. . .

“Results!” Tubbo punched the air happily. “There’s this Instagram account called Dre Gogy Sap, and in the bio, it has links to these three other accounts. Search it up, you three, and we’ll each look at one of the profiles.”

“Doing it now.” Tommy was smiling happily. “Ranboo, you look at the first link, I’ll look at the second, and Tubbo can look at the third. Sound like a plan?”

Ranboo nodded, and clicked on the first link. This profile showed a man with a smiley face mask. “Oh, this is Dream,” he mumbled. “Oh, he follows Techno! That’s... umm... nice?”

This sentence got a laugh from Tommy. Tubbo just looked stunned. “Techno has Instagram?” He then burst into a fit of coughing as a white butterfly flew into his open mouth.

“The second link... let me see... that’s someone called George Not Found,” Tommy said, after he had finished giggling. “Wait- it’s that Gogy guy from the photo! Same guy! Glasses and all!”

Tubbo nodded. “Yeah, and this last one looks exactly like the other guy... Sap. His name’s Sapnap Fireborn. ‘Guy once arrested on three charges of arson, and those are the only ones they found out about lol’. Ooh, he’s a dirty crime boy.”

“Well, we know who everyone is now, so we can keep tabs on them,” Ranboo said, his eyes focused on a pied wagtail perched on a branch. The black and white colours of the little bird made him think of L’manberg’s police- you were either a law-abiding citizen, or pure scum because you did something silly three years ago. “Yeah. We’ve got the information that Philza wanted. I’ll send him this Instagram link- although Wilbur might need to show him how it works...”

. . .

Wilbur had just checked the L'river, looking for Lani, but had been disappointed. He turned the corner, walking down the street towards the Underscore family’s house, which was number 36. It was a medium-sized house squashed between two others, making it look smaller than it was. It had a rather small front yard, which was full of flowers, and swarming with bees. The house itself was painted a bright, sunny yellow, the roof made from black tiles. Through the upstairs window, the back of a laptop was visible, as well as a photo on the wall behind it, showing some boys at a concert.

Wilbur stepped into the garden, keeping his eyes closed and holding his breath as several bees landed on him, investigating the new object in their territory. He stood still for a few seconds, waiting for them to leave him alone. When most of them had buzzed off, he took a few steps towards the door and pressed the doorbell, which played a muffled and rather discordant rendition of “Carnival Du Paris” as Wilbur waited on the doorstep.

The door opened, and there stood Lani, wearing a Pikachu hoodie that was far too big for her, although she didn’t seem to care. “Hey, Will,” she said, smiling. “Come in. Shall we work on Electronic Cup? I’m going to be completely honest, I didn’t work on it at all while you were away. It just didn’t feel right.”

“Yeah, we might as well.” Wilbur stepped inside and followed Lani upstairs. “How's everything been, then?"

Lani opened her bedroom door, and they walked inside. “Not bad, really; well, you know, apart from Dream kidnapping me.” She sat down in her desk chair and spun around to face him.

Wilbur looked around. He had never seen Lani’s bedroom before. The walls, painted a dull green, were full of photos of cute cats, and a large, professionally painted portrait of Tubbo with his beehive. There were also fairy lights strung around every wall. Her bed was in the corner, with a large, fluffy pillow, the sheets a sunny yellow colour. There was a bookshelf on the wall above it, which held several of Lani’s favourite books, as well as a large pot of honey that she used to stop them falling over. Opposite it, under the window, was a desk, which was clean and tidy, with a neat stack of school books in one corner of it. Also on the desk was Lani’s laptop, a Minecraft world open, with a clear view of a very impressive mansion. The back wall of the room had a few built-in cupboards, but apart from that, was not that interesting.

"This has been," Wilbur said, "a weird bloody few days."

Lani chuckled. "That's one way of putting it."

Wilbur sat down on the bed and flicked open a can of Coke. "Decided not to go for a swim, then?"

"Well, I waited and you didn't turn up, so no." She took a sip from a glass of lemonade that stood on her desk. "Where were you?"

Wilbur shivered. "Well, Techno told me to expect a war soon, and now I'm very scared."

"Oh, God." Lani stared at him, her eyes wide. "Surely he's... making it up?"

Wilbur shook his head. "I don't think he was."

Lani downed the rest of her lemonade. "So what are we going to do?"

"God knows," Wilbur said, looking out of the window. "But, for starters, we can work on Electronic Cup."