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theminecraftbee · 2 years ago

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There’s a flier someone’s left on the bus. Something shaming a—company logo he doesn’t recognize, as he shoves it aside to grab the last seat in the back that usually means he and Gem don’t have to sit next to anyone else—for “desecration of the Carrows Life”. Alright; with a logo and a slogan like that, it’s either a religious nut job or one of the people real mad at the Church about the demons.

Yeah, sure. He’s exhausted. Impulse can’t really bring himself to care about neon-yellow fliers in the dead of night on the bus.

Just another hour and practically every single stop down the line, and he’ll be home. He’s glad there’s a late-night bus down here; enough people come and go from these streets at two am that they make some poor bus driver do the route.

Next to him, Gem grumbles as she removes her makeup. “Impulse, why do I keep getting the waterproof kind?”

“Hard to dance and still look good if it doesn’t stand up to sweat,” Impulse says, settling into his seat as the bus starts moving again. “Don’t see why that should make it that much harder to remove, unless you’re sweating acetone these days, but they don’t pay me to know how your makeup works.”

“No, they pay you to be your stupid big protective butt. You absolutely know how my makeup works,” Gem says.

“You could wait until we aren’t on a moving bus to take it off?” Impulse offers.

“Nah. I need something to do so I don’t fall asleep, and I’m not opening my other bag until we’re both safely at home.”

“Yeah, fair,” Impulse says, not glancing at it for too long. Gem had a good night tonight. Sometimes, he’s jealous of the nights she has; the amount people are willing to throw at her sometimes is insane. Most of the time, though, he’s just glad he’s paid a regular salary to stand in the corner and occasionally show people exactly why he’s so big if they act up.

(Someone’s got to do it.)

The doors open. The unmistakeable smell of someone on way, way too much weed wafts through the doors. Impulse sighs. There’s a reason they sit in the back.

“What are the odds we get lucky and get home early?” Gem says. “My knee hurts.”

Impulse looks at her sharply. “You didn’t say anything during the show.”

Gem laughs. “Relax, relax. Not that bad. Nothing a bit of icyhot won’t solve, or one of your little…” She wiggles her fingers.

“You need to tell me these things before you dance on them, Gem,” Impulse says. “One of these days, I won’t be able to fix it! Then what are you gonna do about your knee, huh?”

“Uhuh. And the bruise on your face…?”

“He was drunk,” Impulse says. “It’s barely a scratch. Or, uh, well, it’s a bruise, but…”

“If I were any good at healing,” Gem says.

“I’ll ice it!” Impulse says, putting his hands up. “Besides, I don’t need my face to do my job. Might make guys respect me more?”

The bus stops. A few more people get on. There’s a bit of shouting from a drunk guy, and it makes Impulse look up on instinct, both his and Gem’s awareness hovering around their bag. Gem has a nasty curse on it if anyone but her tries to grab it, but these days…

The drunkard isn’t looking their way. He settles down again. Impulse doesn’t.

“One day, one of us will get a car, and we’ll just drive,” Impulse mutters.

“And pay for parking?” Gem asks.

“Well, it’s the thought that counts,” Impulse says.

The bus stops. Impulse looks up at the sign, just to make sure they aren’t near their stop. They aren’t. He almost looks down.

There’s a feeling in his gut. He doesn’t ignore gut feelings after as long as he’s been doing what he does. He puts a hand in his jacket. He doesn’t actually carry a gun; people think he does, but he’s fairly effective at threatening without it, and if all else fails, he does have a thick vest he’d bought with his own money after the only time he’d been shot. It had taken all of his savings, but it had been worth it.

He curls his fingers instead around the lucky charm Gem had given him after they’d become roommates and tries to focus on the feeling. There's something scraping nearby. A horrible scraping, like talons against brick, or maybe more like death clawing against soil.

The bus starts moving again. The drunks stay drunk. The fellow exhausted club and bar workers stay exhausted. The guy who’s high out of his mind doesn’t even blink.

A woman who had gotten on the bus, though, approaches them. Gem stiffens. Impulse is hyper-aware of the bag full of the night’s tips that Gem has with her.

“Hello. Sorry for interrupting,” the woman says. She’s tall. She has long, light brown hair that she hasn’t tied back. She’s wearing a long overcoat. It looks second-hand, but not properly so, like it’s being worn by someone who doesn’t quite know how to fit into second-hand clothes, or perhaps doesn’t quite know how not to fit.

There's bruises on her face, too. A split lip and a black eye and a bit of blood on the collar of her shirt.

"You look lost," Impulse says without thinking. The woman blinks.

"Oh! Yes, I suppose you could say that," she says. "That's..."

Impulse slowly takes his hand out of his jacket. Her voice is even more lost, somehow. Impeccably put-together. Very hard to read. But Impulse, he has to read people for a living, and this is a woman who is lost.

"I was just here because you two look the most aware and fit on the bus," she says.

"Oh, I'm not all that fit," Gem lies to the woman's face. "I mean, just look at me! I'm delicate!"

Impulse has seen Gem's abs. She's not delicate, she just puts on a show of being—still not delicate, actually, but the kind of not-delicate men like, not the kind of not-delicate she actually is. It's a fine line.

The woman raises an eyebrow. "Okay," she says. "I'm just—there are demons. Not far. I got away from them, but they might be following you."

"They're following you?" says Gem.

"Shhh," says the woman.

"Fine," Impulse says. "They're following you. Why? And why did you get on the bus?"

The woman is silent for a moment. "I don't think they'll catch up to us," she says. "I don't—I don't have another place to go back to, right now. I'm a bit... I don't mean to put anyone in danger. You two are the most fit looking people on here, is all. If danger did happen..."

Impulse feels something in him crack. He looks at Gem. It wouldn't be the first time the two of them have helped someone down on their luck off the streets. Of course, it's not entirely out of the goodness of their hearts, all the time, but, well, Impulse is still Impulse and Gem puts up with it and this world doesn't work if people don't help each other, Impulse has always said.

Gem shrugs and nods.

"Sit down. You can get off at our stop. My name's Gem, by the way."

The woman, slowly, sits down in a seat across from them.

"Impulse," Impulse says.

The woman opens her mouth. The woman closes it. "You can call me Griba," she says, finally.

Impulse quirks an eyebrow. "I can call you?"

"Hey, that sounds like—wasn't there someone with a name like that on the news recently?" Gem says.

The woman grimaces. "You could say that," she says.

Gem and Impulse look at each other. They look back at the woman. "Fine then. Keep your secrets," Gem says imperiously, and her tone works, because it makes—Griba, Impulse supposes, until she wants to give them her real name—laugh.

"At least until we find out if the demons get me," she says agreeably.

The bus stops again. They all tense. One person gets off and no one gets on. The bus starts moving again.

"One of these days," Impulse mutters.

"You've got to finish the sentence," Gem says. "Don't leave me hanging like that!"

"Is this an ongoing thing?" Griba says, and they continue onwards together.

#a bee fic #last days talk #not tagging with the characters both to preserve the (very thin) mystery of who one of these is #and because there are some adult implications here i don't necessarily want in the main tags #anyway. for anyone wondering what i'd do with a last days sequel: something like this.#mentions of alcohol #mentions of drugs #also for the record. the way... griba... enters this story is an intentional parallel with how she does it in last days #however changed because she's changed as a character and that's a large part of what this story would be about

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hopepetal · 1 year ago

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Masterlist

Read on AO3!

Part Seven!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated! :)

@applestruda

The sound of several horses’ hooves clip-clopping against the ground broke the natural quiet ambience of the canyon where Cub resided. There was no doubt that Cub could hear them approaching from quite some distance away, given the amount of noise four horses made, and he opened the door as the knights were dismounting. He did a quick headcount, gaze darting between each knight, before frowning.

“There's only four of you. What happened?”

Grian winced, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I think you might want to sit down for this. It's a bit of a long story.”

Cub raised his eyebrows, but said nothing as he stood aside and beckoned the knights into his home. He put a hand out to stop Pearl before she could follow the other three in, gesturing to her wing. “Are you grounded?” he asked, a thousand other questions lingering in his gaze.

Pearl pressed her lips together, nodding tersely. “I'll tell you more when we're explaining,” she promised. “It'll heal eventually,” she added at the end.

“That's a relief to hear.” Cub stepped aside to allow Pearl in, closing the door behind them. “Take a seat where you can find one, all of you. I'll get us all some tea while you're getting settled.”

Grian sat down on the small bench near the window next to Pearl, gently bumping his shoulder against hers. “How are you doing?” he murmured, glancing at her wing. “Stitches holding up well? Any pain?”

Pearl gave him a tired smile that didn't quite match the anxious look in her eyes. “I haven't given myself enough time to think about it,” she answered vaguely, and Grian frowned. “I'll be fine, Griba. I promise.”

Grian's gaze darkened, and he clenched his hands into fists, staring down at his lap. “About earlier, when–”

“I don't want to talk about that,” Pearl bit out, leftover panic from the memory of that close call seeping into her voice. “It's too soon. And there are more important things to focus on right now. Impulse's well-being and whereabouts, for example.”

Grian sighed softly, but didn't press the matter. He simply wrapped a wing around Pearl, as a comfort to the both of them. He could've lost her forever. If he had been any slower, if they'd arrived a second later, if he hadn't been strong enough to catch her and fly back up…

If Pearl had died, Grian wasn't sure what he would've done. Would grief have overwhelmed him? Would he have hovered, numb, unable to process what had just happened? Would anger have swept through him like the river swept through that ravine?

Would he have killed Impulse in a blind rage?

Grian swallowed, finding that he was suddenly fighting back tears. Now that there was a moment to sit and reflect, the fear from earlier and the overwhelming grief from even the possibility he could've lost his sister crashed into him at full force.

It was stupid. He wasn't even the one who could've died. Pearl was fine, she was sitting right next to him and she was breathing and she was injured but she was alive, and Grian let out a soft trill.

He felt Pearl place one of her hands over his and lightly flutter her wings. “I'm here, Griba,” she whispered, and squeezed his hand gently.

“Thank the void for that,” Grian responded, “I don't know what I would do…” Without you.

Pearl shrugged. “Well, for one, you'd make an absolute mess of the storage system,” she joked, and Grian fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I can't trust any of you around those chests.”

Though she joked, Pearl's mind was still weighed down by what had occured just hours earlier. She could've died. Of course, it wasn't like she had never had a near death experience before– everyone had near death experiences at least once, it was a part of life!– but none by falling.

Would she ever truly feel safe flying again?

Pearl knew some avians who had fallen while flying. Most didn't survive. Many considered those who did to be the unlucky ones. Avians who fell and lived to tell the tale lost faith in their wings. The first rule of flight is trust, and falling shatters that trust completely. Unable to trust their wings to carry them and hold them in the air, the unfortunate few that Pearl had known developed an unnatural fear of heights. The connection they had with the sky snapped like a rubber band stretched too far, and they began to prefer the ground and even the water. Avians who fell often never flew again, and a grounded avian…

There had been screaming. Screaming, and blood, and feathers. And she hadn't been strong enough to pull them up. And they had refused to fly. They wouldn't. They couldn't.

They had said they'd run. And…

Well. Evolution had gifted them wings for a reason.

Pearl tried not to think about it too hard. She was fine. She would fly again, when her wound healed. Besides, she was more than proficient enough to defend herself while she was stuck on the ground. She would be fine.

She had to be. For the knights. For everyone who depended on her. She wouldn't fail. Not again. Not ever again.

Mumbo and Scar sat down at the wooden table, Mumbo fidgeting nervously and glancing around the room. Scar couldn't even bring himself to attempt to lighten the mood, weighed down by the situation as he was. He clasped his hands together on the table and stared down at them, lost in his own thoughts.

Was this his fault?

He should've known something was wrong. He had known something was wrong. Impulse had come to him, reached out and spoken with him, and Scar had done his best. He had tried his gosh darn hardest to help Impulse. He thought he had been doing pretty well!

Clearly not, though, given he'd somehow missed the literal demon inhabiting Impulse's mind. Sure, he'd known something was off, but he had never expected that. To be fair, neither had any of the other knights, but still.

“I don't think you could've done much.” Mumbo's voice broke into Scar's thoughts, and he startled slightly in his chair. “Oh– sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.”

Scar shrugged. “Don't worry about it. You're fine. How'd you know what I was thinkin', anyway?”

Mumbo gave him a nervous smile. “You're pretty easy to read, mate. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I just–” Mumbo wrang his hands together, looking away. “I'm thinking the same thing, really. I mean, we knew something– Impulse was struggling, we all saw that, and I just…” He sighed. “I think that whatever is going on with Impulse, we wouldn't have been able to fix. Not with what we knew. I mean, we still barely know what's going on with Impulse. Just that it's not really…”

“Him,” Scar finished, nodding solemnly.

Mumbo had been thinking. He usually was stuck in his head, lost deep in his thoughts. But this time, it was… different. No longer was his head filled with theories and speculations, or possibilities for new redstone inventions. No, now he was stuck on thinking about himself, and just how weak he was.

Would he be strong enough to stand against Impulse, should it come down to that?

Not only was Impulse much stronger than him physically, but Mumbo wasn't exactly the strongest in terms of mental fortitude either. He knew that whatever had tried to kill Pearl wasn't Impulse. But it looked like Impulse, and sounded like Impulse, and Mumbo could hardly even bring himself to hurt something that didn't resemble his friends.

He hoped that he wouldn't end up becoming a burden for the rest of his team. If he lost his place among the knights, Mumbo didn't know what he'd do. He had no home to go back to, after all. He supposed he could just wander. Sell his inventions. Likely die a stupid death because he was too nervous to kill a mob.

What a lovely thing to think about!

Cub handed out warm cups of tea to the knights, keeping one for himself as he pulled out the chair at his desk and turned it to face the knights, settling down in the chair carefully. “Alright.” He set down his cup of tea on the desk and adjusted his glasses, looking around at the knights. “Who wants to start?”

Scar sat up straighter. “I will. Remember when I told you we thought the whole thing with Impulse had fixed itself? The sleeplessness and everything. It… came back?” He frowned. “Sort of, but not really, I guess.”

Cub nodded. “I see, I see. Can you expand more on that?”

Scar looked down at his tea. “So, he was sleepwalking, and I guess…” he glanced over at Grian. “I don't really know what happened?”

Grian held his cup in his hands, blowing softly on the hot liquid to cool it. “And I… I woke up one night and just felt something so wrong, and dangerous, like someone was trying to kill me. And I may have slightly freaked out.”

“And that's how I got injured,” Pearl continued. “He attacked Impulse and I just…” She shrugged. “It was an accident, but after what happened today, I think things may be a little more connected than we thought.”

Cub frowned. “What happened?”

Pearl took in a deep breath, and Grian noticed how she tensed up ever so slightly. He wrapped his wing a little tighter around her for a moment as a gentle reassurance. “Impulse asked to speak with me alone. I went with him into the forest. For a long time, we just walked in silence. I'm not even sure if he really knew where he was leading me.” She paused. “We got to the ravine, and Impulse and I sat down. That's when he told me he wanted to leave the knights.”

Grian shot her a confused glance, and Mumbo and Scar shared a concerned look. “What? You didn't mention that.”

“It slipped my mind,” Pearl murmured. “After he told me that, he got really panicky. Totally freaked out, questioning why he led me here. He stood up and began to back away from me.” Her voice trembled. “I thought he was going to fall off the edge and into the ravine. I thought he was going to die.” She took a sip of her tea to calm herself, relaxing as warmth spread through her chest.

Cub hummed softly. “But that didn't happen?”

Pearl shook her head. “I reached out to him and pulled him back. And…” she laughed softly, in the way that spoke of held back tears. “And he pushed me off, instead. I somehow managed to grab onto the edge, and I saw that his eyes… his eyes were red. When he spoke, he didn't sound like himself either.” She paused for a moment, frowning. “It was his own voice, but there was something else to it. Some deeper undertone, some warped sound– I don't know. But he slammed his foot down on my hands and I fell.”

Cub's eyes widened slightly as he gasped softly. “Oh, Pearl…” He shook his head sympathetically. “I'm so sorry.”

“I caught her,” Grian added on quickly, “we'd been following them– we knew something was off.”

“I went vex and pinned Impulse down. Cub, man, the moment I went vex I could smell it.” Scar shuddered at the memory. “The magic. It was so wrong. It had to have been the cause of everything that had been happening.” He flexed his hands, glancing down at them. “And whatever it is, it's strong. Cub, I couldn't do anything.”

Cub grabbed a book from the pile on his desk and began leafing through the pages, searching for something in particular. “I getcha, man. I getcha.” He paused on one of the pages and quickly scanned it. “With the information you've all given me, I think I know what we're dealing with.”

Grian's eyes widened, feathers rustling as he leaned forward slightly. “You do? What is it? How do we beat it?”

“Without doing too much harm to Impulse,” Pearl added on.

“Preferably none!” Mumbo piped up, setting down his tea, “to either party. I mean, that's probably not going to happen, really.”

Cub took a deep breath and started to read from the page. “Blood curse demons are one of the most dangerous types of demons. Taking payment in blood, these demons are incredibly difficult to get rid of without some type of sacrifice, be it the summoner or someone else.” He lifted his gaze momentarily. “That's not all, unfortunately.”

“That already sounds pretty bad,” Pearl commented, “you're telling me there's something worse?”

Cub nodded, going back to reading. “One blood curse demon in particular made itself notorious in parts of the overworld due to the strength of the demon and frequency of the occurrence. In all recorded cases, it was impossible to remove the demon without death. In my other book, The Art of Summoning - Demons, I discuss this demon and it's curse in more detail, but the most important parts bear repeating.” He paused, flipping the page. “When the demon is in control of the summoner's body, the eyes of the summoner are known to turn red. Those afflicted by the curse are known to sleepwalk, and will always feel exhausted no matter how much they sleep. The afflicted are more prone to acts of violence and sudden bloodlust directed toward those close to them. As the curse progresses, the bloodlust will grow stronger until finally, they attempt to kill someone. If the afflicted is not successful in taking the life of another in a certain amount of time, they will take their own life.

This curse is known as the Boogey curse, and the afflicted have been commonly referred to as the Boogeyman.”

Silence fell over the room as the information settled heavy on their minds. The knights shared concerned and scared glances, not quite knowing what to say in response to that.

Mumbo swallowed thickly. “So… you're telling us it's impossible to save Impulse?”

Scar leaned forward, his expression unreadable. “If it truly comes down to it, I would be more than willing to–”

Grian stood up suddenly, fury burning in his eyes. “Absolutely not,” he snapped. “No one is going to be sacrificing themselves. There are other solutions.” He turned to look at Cub, and the anger melted into desperation. “There have to be.”

Cub looked up at Grian with a guilty, pained expression. “With lesser demons, it's possible to force them out by flooding the afflicted's body with magic. The amount of magic required to force this demon out of Impulse would be extraordinary. Even Scar and I, at our best, wouldn't have enough. It's why there are no recorded cases of this particular demon being expelled without casualties.”

“What about the fae?” Scar asked, “if we make a deal with them–”

Cub's gaze turned cold. “And for what, Scar? What would you offer them when they ask you to pay the price?”

Scar went silent.

Grian and Pearl shared a look, one that spoke of shared secrets yet to be revealed. For a moment, their eyes met, and they made a decision as one.

Pearl stood. “There's something we need to show you all.”

Grian slipped out the door in front of her, Pearl gesturing to the rest of the knights and Cub to follow them. Despite their audible confusion, Mumbo and Scar stood and followed Grian. Cub took a moment to bookmark his page and set the book back on the desk before following the rest. They gathered in a semicircle, with Pearl and Grian standing in front of them.

Grian looked over at Pearl. “Pearlie, can you…?” He gestured vaguely to his back, and Pearl nodded, going behind him to undo the extra buttons Grian always insisted on having on his shirts.

Scar crossed his arms. “I know I'm one to talk, but this hardly seems like the appropriate time to be taking your clothes off, G.”

Grian's face turned red as Pearl stifled a giggle. “Oh, Scar, that's not–!” He spluttered for a moment. “I'm not taking critique from a man who keeps making me patch up his chest wounds.”

Scar raised his eyebrows, smirking. “Oh, you enjoy looking at my–”

“That's enough, ya goofs,” Pearl interrupted, finishing with the buttons. “I don't want to dampen the mood, but unfortunately this is a bit… serious.” She took her original place beside Grian. “Do you want to explain at all, or…?”

Grian gave her a tired smile. “When have I ever explained anything?”

Magic swirled like wind around the two avians, and dark scales like small shards of the void began to coalesce around the two. Like puzzle pieces coming together to make a picture, the scales formed shapes– limbs, made of sparkling void and magic.

For Grian, it was wings that extended from the slits in the back of his shirt. Wings that stretched toward the sky, cut out from the infinite void that stretched below the world. The darkness of the void seeped into his colorful feathers, dyeing them pitch black. Once his new pair of wings were complete, the void shattered like glass and faded away, leaving behind black wings that looked exactly like the other pair. Exactly like a normal pair of wings, except for the fact that eyes of different shapes and sizes now decorated his feathers.

For Pearl, it was arms that slipped through the thin slits in the sides of her shirt. Like with Grian's wings, her new limbs looked to be made of void until they were complete– and then the void shattered, leaving behind normal looking arms. The shards of void didn't fade like they had with Grian, though. They went to her eyes, and when she opened them, it was as though they'd been replaced by the void. Her wings and feathery antennae were also dyed black just as Grian's had been.

As the whirlwind of magic ceased, and wings black as the eternal night stretched toward the sky, the other three looked up in fear and awe. For a moment that stretched on for what felt like centuries, there was silence.

“Holy shit.” Cub was the first to speak, eyes shining as he examined the two siblings. “You're–”

“Watchers,” Grian finished, “yes. Please don't freak out.”

“It was his idea,” Pearl murmured, trying to shade her now ink-black eyes from the sun, “I just followed along. I promised I would make sure he wasn't going to get himself killed. You know how it is.”

Scar stepped back, giving both Grian and Pearl a once-over. “Huh. You know, I thought that Watchers would be taller. All that magic, and they couldn't even give you a couple extra inches?”

That seemed to break the tension lingering on the moment, and Pearl giggled, relaxing. Mumbo broke his silence to laugh as well, nodding. “He's right, mate. For a being that's supposed to be a super myth, you're still super short.”

Grian's jaw dropped. “I am perfectly fine with my height, Scar! Mumbo!” he protested, “and I could still take you out even though I'm shorter!”

Cub's eyes were shining as he took a step forward. “But extra limbs, and eyes? Can you see from those eyes, what's it like? Do they retain the same function? Does the time spent hidden affect them? How–?”

“It's really bright out,” Pearl muttered, looking incredibly uncomfortable with that fact. As a moth hybrid, her eyes normally were more sensitive to light. As a Watcher, they were even more so.

Grian raised one of his wings to hover over Pearl, shading her from the sun. “Yes, we can see from the eyes. Our eyes are light sensitive. We can use them to see magic, the people around us, pretty much anything nearby. And, uh…” He glanced at Pearl. “I dunno about Pearl, but my wings are fine when I bring them out, they don't get weaker or anything. I haven't really thought about what happens to them when we switch forms.”

“You can't really think too hard about all this super magical stuff,” Pearl added on, “or you're going to give yourself a headache. Trust me. And my arms are the same as Grian's wings. They don't lose any mobility or anything.”

Mumbo tentatively reached out and poked one of Pearl's arms. “Oh, that's fascinating,” he breathed, before looking up at Pearl. “Sorry! Should've asked. My bad.”

Pearl laughed softly, shaking her head. “You're fine, mate.”

Grian gave Mumbo a slight smile, before looking back over at Cub and Scar. “I'm sure you know about the Watchers and their magical capabilities.”

“Of course!” Cub exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “Even individually, Watchers were said to have an incredible amount of magical energy– that's the reason for the extra limbs and eyes, right? Your magical energy increases when you transform, so it manifests in more ways. Oh, that's incredible, man!”

Pearl let out a breathy laugh. “Well, thank you? I'm glad you're not all freaked out about this. It's certainly a little… weird.”

Grian nodded. “You probably have a ton of questions, but we'll have time to answer them later. After we save Impulse. Like Cub said, Pearl and I have a ton of magic in us. If anyone's going to be able to get the demon out of Impulse, it's us.” His eyes were full of steely determination as he spoke, and he could only hope he sounded as confident as he was trying to be. This would work. It had to.

“Griba and I will be able to find Impulse now that we know what we're looking for,” Pearl explained, “so that makes achieving our goal much easier, since we won't have to worry about tracking him down. The hard part is going to be getting Im– the demon– to stick around long enough for us to finish casting the spell.”

Grian had always been better at watching than she had. He always found what he was looking for much more easily than Pearl– she had told herself that was why he was able to be so unorganized. But Pearl had always been better at the magical aspect, more in tune with the ebb and flow of the magic around her than Grian was. They were both proficient enough in casting individually, but together? And against another magical force that would be actively fighting against them? Pearl would be lying if she said she didn't have any worries or doubts about this plan.

But there was too much at stake. If either Grian or Pearl faltered, or if they didn't have enough magic, or if anything went wrong, someone would die. There was no room for self doubt or error when lives hung in the balance. They would likely only get one chance to succeed at this. Pearl tried not to let her hands visibly shake. She couldn't let herself be scared. Not now.

Scar grinned. “Oh, don't you worry! Me and Mumbo here will help with that. We need to pull our own weight, after all! Can't just let you and Grian do all the hard work!” Despite the confident persona that he so often displayed, there was an unusual darkness in his eyes. Like storm clouds stretching across the sky, casting the lush forest into shadow.

Mumbo squeaked, turning on his heel to look at Scar. “We– we will? Are you sure about that, mate?” His voice trembled noticeably as he spoke. “How– I can't really do much, you know, I'm potato boy. Not– not much of a fighter.”

Scar slung an arm around Mumbo's shoulders. “Ah, ah, ah! You are still a valuable addition to the team! Besides, you know how to fight! You don't need to win, just keep him busy! I'll be there too, so you won't be fighting alone.”

Mumbo chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I… I guess! I guess that's that, then!”

Grian nodded. “That sounds like a solid plan. Once I get a pin on Impulse's location, we'll prepare and head out as soon as possible. When we get to him, Scar and Mumbo will keep the demon occupied while Pearl and I cast the spell. And then…”

“We save Impulse,” Pearl finished, taking her brother's hand. “Then we go home. And rest. And talk.” She smiled wearily at Grian. “See? Isn't coming up with a plan much better than just flying away while injured and getting kidnapped?”

Both Grian and Scar winced, though their laughter was reassurance that they weren't really hurt by that comment. “You're never going to let me forget about that, are you?” Grian asked, sighing when Pearl shook her head. “Right. Well, it's going to take me a moment to locate Impulse and everything, so start getting ready to leave.” He pulled his hand away from Pearl's, and closed his mortal eyes. Spreading his wings slightly, other eyes all over the black appendages began to open as Grian began his search.

Scar and Mumbo's eyes were glued to the sight, wide in awe. “Amayzin',” Scar breathed.

“It's certainly something,” Mumbo agreed, his voice a hushed whisper.

Cub watched for a moment, in awe, before he turned to Pearl. “I have something for you.” He hurried back into the house, leaving the door slightly open. He came back out just a few moments later, carrying something wrapped in cloth. “For your wing.”

Pearl took the bundle and unwrapped it, staring at the contents for a moment before looking up at Cub. “You're kidding. You don't actually– Cub, this is so hard to get!” She carefully ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the potion, gazing at the slightly glowing liquid. “This can't actually be…”

Cub smiled slightly. “A regen pot? You bet. It's the real thing– I brewed it myself. Just… I want to be able to help you all more. If I had been able to catch what was going on with Impulse sooner, then…”

Pearl shook her head. “Cub, mate, you've done so much for us. You've helped so much! We'd be lost without you!” Eyes as black and endless as the night sky met light green– like fields of grass in the bright summer sun, compared to the forest green of Scar's eyes. “Cub, really. Thank you so much. I…” She paused. “I don't want to get all teary on you. So, just… thank you. Thank you.”

Cub's gaze softened, and he nodded. “Of course, man. Of course. Take that potion, okay? It might feel a little weird, but I'm sure you know that already.”

Pearl carefully uncorked the potion before quickly downing the liquid, wincing from the bitter taste. “Oh, that does not get better the more you do it–” She cut herself off with a soft hiss, sucking in a breath through clenched teeth. “That sure works quick!”

Cub laughed, taking the now empty potion bottle and cloth back from Pearl. “They're sought-after items for a reason. You should be good to take those bandages off now. And…” His voice became more serious. “...good luck. I'll see you, all five of you, soon.”

Pearl could only nod as she began to remove the bandages from her wing. Suddenly, a thought came to her. “Hey, Cub? Do you know who wrote that book you were reading? The demon one.”

Cub's brow furrowed as he thought back. “I'm not sure… I think he used a pseudonym? M. Saus, I think it was. Not many people know of him because of how little he wrote, and because he only ever wrote about demons. I remember reading something in the author's note at the beginning– something about an unfortunate experience with a demon when he was younger? I dunno. He's probably long dead by now.” He shrugged. “Why do you ask?”

Pearl hummed thoughtfully. “No reason. I was just curious. Thanks, Cub.”

“No problem, man. I'll be right back.” Cub disappeared back into his house, probably to put the empty potion bottle away.

Not a moment later, the rustling of feathers broke Grian's extended silence. He slowly lowered his wings, letting them rest behind him as he opened his mortal eyes. “Found him,” he announced to the knights. “Get ready. We're leaving now.”

There was an anxious air hanging around the knights as they quickly readied their horses for the trip. Pearl reverted back to her normal form so as not to spook her horse and to give her sensitive eyes a rest, but Grian decided to stay in his Watcher form for a while longer. Just in case something happened, so he'd be able to sense it. Scar made light idle conversation with Mumbo, knowing how the other knight would get overly anxious if he wasn't distracted.

Cub stepped back outside, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “You're all heading out, then?” he asked, humming softly when he got confirmation from Scar. “I'll see you all soon, then. And good luck.”

Grian mounted his horse, settling himself in the saddle. “Thanks, Cub. You'll hear from us, one way or another.”

“I'll keep the side room open if you need. Come here if any of you get seriously injured.” Cub looked between all the knights. “I don't trust any of you– other than Pearl, that is– with looking after yourselves. If I don't hear from any of you in two weeks, I'm assuming the worst.” Despite the light hearted tone he kept in his voice, his eyes were full of concern.

“Why does everyone always trust Pearl?” Grian complained, mostly to himself. “When I first met her, she had just crash landed. That's not responsible behavior, if you ask me–”

Pearl smacked him with her wing, and Grian nearly fell off his horse.

Cub locked eyes with Scar. “And you, mister. I want you to promise me you'll come back. That you'll be safe. That you won't do anything unnecessarily dangerous, or sacrificial!”

“Of course I will!” Scar exclaimed. “You have my word. Vex's honor.”

Cub snorted, rolling his eyes. “Vex's honor? I'll hold you to it, man.” His smile dropped slightly. “One more thing. I want you to remember…” He stepped forward, laying a hand on Scar's arm and lowering his voice. “You are in control. Not the vex. You do not need to fear that side of you.”

Scar's face was unreadable for a moment, before he pressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. “Right. Yeah. Of course. No fear. None.” He glanced up at the other knights before looking back down at Cub. “I'll be back. I promise. And I'll bring Impulse with me.”

Cub smiled. “Good.”

The sun began its descent in the sky as the knights rode out, led by Grian.

–

His head–

Oh, void.

It hurt. Everything hurt. He was– he was dying, he had to be, his head hurt so much.

Five things, he needed to calm down, five things he could–

He couldn't see

His vision

blurred he couldn't–

Blood.

There was blood

on his hands, it wasn't, his

He remembered

A rabbit.

Thrashing in his hands, and he–

No. No, no no no no

His head. His head hurt.

He snapped its neck he killed it the demon–

Sleep, little mortal, or insanity will take your mind.

Impulse...

drifted.

#my writing #boatem knights au #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #grian #goodtimeswithscar #mumbo jumbo #cubfan135 #hermitcraft fanfic

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