#inspired by the cool bros of nerf house

[ianite-simp]

young dianite :)

[ianite-simp]

dark!karl pt. 1

this is the first part of this fic, the only part with a happy ending :) 

The others were always underestimating Karl. From the day he washed up on the island, his memory so foggy he could hardly recall how to complete simple tasks, the other champions constantly found little reasons to poke fun at him. While Tom was generally the one doing the teasing, Jordan, the so-called champion of justice rarely intervened. Not that Karl minded, at first. He learned to laugh along quickly; after all, friends would be friends. Still, there were the moments of frustration he felt as he struggled to catch hold of a faint memory, the knowledge of how to craft or construct a simple item, while the other two quickly developed their islands. Even worse were the times he simply couldn’t control his limbs properly. While Tom and Jordan nimbly maneuvered their way through courses and tests of agility, Karl found himself cursing and struggling to make his legs bend the proper way, legs that felt disconnected from his body, as though he were a puppeteer with no clue how to control his puppet.

But the times that were far, far worse than anything else were the brief conversations when Jordan and Tom would bring up their gods. They spoke of them with such a sense of familiarity, of understanding, that Karl found himself eagerly hanging onto every word they said. Listening to them describe the gods so close to them, Karl couldn’t help but admit a shadow of doubt in his mind. Who am I? Why am I here? The others knew where they stood, they felt secure in their alignments. Yet he felt he didn’t quite fit with any of the three, Mianite was too much of a goody-two-shoes, Dianite was downright evil, and Ianite’s actions didn’t quite make sense to him. 

In many of their stories, their memories from other dimensions, a bloke named Tucker was brought up quite a bit. He was Mianite’s champion, the “good guy” hero. It was obvious that the other two missed him, and he could understand why. Almost all of their old jokes, pranks, and stories seemed to tie back to Tucker. Sometimes, listening to the captain and the zombie chat, Karl got the sense of being an outsider, of not belonging. The strange, sidelong looks the priest would give him whenever he brought up the gods didn’t exactly make him feel comfortable, either. It was like Declan was trying to figure out just who he was, a thought that always made Karl snort in amusement. Good luck with that, mate. I don’t even know that. But a feeling of unease would always follow, washing over him in a chilly wave that raised the hair on his arms. He’d hear unfamiliar whispers in the back of his mind, whispers that seemed louder whenever he felt isolated. You’ll never replace Tucker. You’re better than them. You aren’t one of them. You’ll never be as close to them as he was. You don’t belong. 

Of course, he pushed back against the thoughts, attributing them to having a few meads too many with Tom, or not getting enough sleep, or something like that. Something that wouldn’t make him seem mad. But when they came across the prophecy that foretold the coming of the three heroes, everything changed. He was given his role, to be the new champion of Mianite. A replacement, obviously. There couldn’t be another word for it, he was stuck with god with no consideration for who he actually was. He wasn’t, he couldn’t be a golden boy, not like Tucker at least. He liked to have some fun with pranks, cause a bit of chaos. If he should’ve been assigned to any god, it should have been Dianite. A sense of frustration planted itself, heavy and irritating, in the back of his mind as he set to building a temple for Mianite. No one seemed to care about who he was, what he wanted, everyone trusted the bloody prophecy. They just want Tucker back. You’re his replacement.  But he pushed the intrusive thoughts away, throwing himself fully into building the temple. He knew he couldn’t create anything nearly as awe-inspiring as what Jordan and Tom would come up with, given his frequent lapses in memory, but he was determined to do his best. He worked tirelessly over that week, only allowing himself moments to rest when he came close to collapsing. The work absorbed him, and he was glad, because it was a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. As odd as it was, the job of creating a temple for his god was a way of forgetting the gods existed, a way of forgetting the prophecy.

The day of the gods’ arrival came too soon for Karl. Despite being physically drained from it, the hours he spent working on his temple were some of the most peaceful he had known on the island. He barely paid attention as Ianite was summoned, hardly even noticing as she spoke to the priest and the captain. He felt faintly sick, a heavy feeling of anxiety in his stomach, as they approached his temple. Will Mianite approve of me? Or is he going to mock me just like the others? Is he just looking for a temporary replacement? Crossing his arms firmly over his chest in order to hide the faint tremors in his hands, he tried to listen to what Declan was saying. His eyes fixated expectantly on the carefully chiseled throne he had worked tirelessly to create, he felt his heart plummet as the god made no appearance. There was only the faintest echo of a confused, disembodied voice. The temple wasn’t good enough. I’ve completely messed this up. The only thing I had to do right, I botched entirely. I could’ve proved I’m good enough, that I don’t need to be someone else, that I don’t need to fill Tucker’s shoes. He couldn’t hear what Declan was saying anymore, couldn’t hear the feeble attempts at reassuring him, because his pulse was pounding in his head like a judge’s gavel. 

As the others hurried over to Dianite’s temple, Karl lingered at the base of the throne he had painstakingly made, his hand tracing the familiar austere lines of the quartz. He wasn’t as accustomed to praying as the others were, but he couldn’t help but mentally demand, What did I do wrong? Am I not good enough? Silence greeted his hopeless plea. Giving himself a small shake, he left the temple to soar to Tom’s island, doing his best to put up his usual, laid-back front. His jokes at Tom’s expense were half-hearted at best, but Tom was too occupied and Jordan too polite to say anything to him. All the better, really, considering they wouldn’t understand any of the bitterness welling up from the depths of his stomach. After sitting through what felt like an eternity of conversation with Dianite, Karl eagerly took the first opportunity he was given to fly back to his own island. His mind had been mostly occupied with ways he could improve his temple, and he was determined to get a good start on the new plans with what was left of the afternoon. He could show them that he was able to progress, become better. But as he approached his home, he nearly tumbled out of the air as he tried to stop short in the air, stunned by the sight in front of him. Doing his best to recover his spiraling flight with a few clumsy adjustments, he landed in a heap on the beach. Stumbling to his feet without pausing to shake the sand from his clothes, he broke into a run as he headed for his temple. The once pristine, carefully constructed building was reduced to devastated ruin, the walls and pillars barely supporting a crumbling roof. Heaps of smoldering rubble continued to clatter down from the ceiling onto the cracked and half obliterated floor. The throne, what he had worked the hardest on, was barely intact, broad cracks forming veins in the previously unblemished surface. Of all the days for this to happen, why did it have to be today? Why? Rubbing a hand across his eyes in a desperate attempt to hide the stinging tears forming, he let out a low string of curses. Why is it always me?

In the days before the trial, Karl found himself fighting harder and harder with each new hour to hold back the bitterness that seemed determined to hang heavy over him. He couldn’t bring himself to repair his temple, after watching hours of work get absolutely destroyed. He avoided that portion of his island entirely, focusing on his farms, his home - anything but the still smoldering ruins. He didn’t want a reminder of what Tom had done, had likely done without a moment of remorse. On the day of the trial, he tried his best to stay calm and keep his temper in check. Without being properly aware of what he was even saying, he got involved in some mindless debate with Jordan. Anything to keep his mind off what Tom had done. But as they filed into the courthouse, and each took their turn in the cell, he was overwhelmed by a sudden, strange disgust he felt for Tom and his god as the zombie stepped inside. All they do is blow stuff up, and they don’t care one fuckin’ bit. The intensity of the emotion startled him at first, but he allowed himself to wallow in it for the remainder of the trial. He had spent the past two days doing everything he could to be fair and compassionate - but Tom’s blatant disregard for truth destroyed every bit of sympathy he had. 

When Tom was declared guilty and handed his punishment, Karl was struck by a pang of dissatisfaction. After everything he did, all he had to face was some menial labour. Unable to speak up about it without sounding like some sort of sadist,, Karl kept to the side, unaware of the scowl that had stolen over his features. Destroys my temple, all he has to do is spend some time digging himself out of obsidian. They call this fairness? He forced himself to keep quiet, prepared to head back to his island, until Tom requested their attention, and quickly renounced his god in favor of Ianite. Absolute garbage, as if anyone’ll believe that. Renouncing his ways? That’s rich, after he trashed my temple. Barely giving Tom the time to finish what he was saying, Jordan immediately began voicing complaints. Karl lingered a moment longer, but seeing no sincerity in Tom’s assurances of faithfulness, he quickly took off in the direction of his island. The rising irritation made it impossible for him to stay any longer. Stretching his arms out, he took a moment to take in the soft breezes racing by him, the sun warm on his neck, the glinting water far below. While he wasn’t the best at landings, flying with the elytras over the islands never failed to calm him down. All he really had were these islands, no childhood memories or past friends to think of. Just the chain of islands in the vast ocean. The short flight gave some relief to the pent up emotions within him, but the bitterness continued to swirl inside him once he touched down, for hours after the trial had ended.

Luckily, within only a few days, there was a new event to distract him from the mess of emotions, a new chance for him to prove himself worthy of Mianite. A chance to prove yourself better than Tucker. The training grounds, if anything, would be a good distraction, and a way for him to work on regaining proper control of his limbs. As they went through the different challenges, Karl refused to let himself grow discouraged. He hadn’t expected to be the best at any of the tasks, and though they took all of his focus, he found himself starting to enjoy the competitive spirit. He felt closer to being equals with Tom and Jordan than he had in a long time, and needless to say, it was a nice change. By the time they finished messing around on the elytra course, he had almost forgotten the real reason for going through the challenges. A combination of fear and anticipation seemed to take hold of him as he waited anxiously alongside the others for Mianite to appear. With eager shouts, the others spotted him before Karl did, a figure standing just outside the door. Karl’s breath hitched in his throat as he quickly passed through the door to stand before his god. Illuminated by the late afternoon sun, Mianite stood proud and tall, his gaze confident as he surveyed the assembled heroes in front of him. 

“Good afternoon!” He exclaimed, his eyes settling onto Karl as a warm smile formed on his face. An explicable feeling of joy filled Karl’s chest as he met the clear blue eyes of the god, his god. 

“Hello sir,” he replied, adding on as a panicked afterthought, “lookin’ fresh.” He wanted to deck himself after saying that, it just seemed wrong to address a god with such informality. 

But Mianite didn’t seem to care, as he went on to say, “You’ve done so, so well. You really are amazing!” Though he knew it was said to all of them, a warm glow filled Karl as Mianite met his eyes yet again, as though directing the praise all to him. The feeling of satisfaction he got just from hearing his god’s voice, from seeing him and speaking to him, that suddenly made it clear to Karl why Jordan was so devoted to his goddess. After spending several minutes speaking to his god with the familiarity of an old friend, and shoving Tom aside whenever he tried to interrupt, Mianite’s expression grew grave. “I’m afraid I do come carrying a warning.” Snapping his fingers in the air twice, a slim book appeared in his hands, the leather binding worn and faded. “To my favourite, read this.” He held the book out to Karl, who accepted it immediately. His favourite, I’m his favourite. I’ve done something right here, for once. I’m his hero, properly. Mentally shaking off his distracting thoughts, Karl opened the book. It was relatively short, but he chose to read it aloud rather than pass it around immediately.

“Dear Friends,

Thank you for birthing me to this land within this human body. I have heard my Brother, Dianite and Sister, Ianite have come to this world already… I worry they may be sick… Something was not right in Asgard. I built this training ground to both test and build you. You are now the Chosen heroes. Work in unity and leave no-one behind.

The Darkness we all believed to be myth may be amongst you.

The true form has yet to be seen, but the stories have been told that the Darkness is not one being, but many. It inhabits bodies, uses them, then discards them when they are weakened. It is near impossible to tell when the Darkness has claimed a host. Rumours state that it chases power and seeks one who is on the cusp of greatness, hoping to claim it for their own.

Beware my friends, for this could bring us all down. I must now learn how to harness the magic of this land.

Mianite.”

“Spooky, dude,” Jordan commented in the stunned silence. Pocketing the text, Karl shrugged in response, as Tom attempted to take off using his elytras and promptly crashed, Joining the captain’s laughter, Karl brushed off the slight twinge he felt in his temples. Must be a bit of a headache forming, no wonder given all this racket. But I’ve got my god now, and I’ve done something right. I’m just as good as Tucker. The delightfully warm feeling returned to him, practically eliminating the slight ache in his head. Things were getting better for him, finally.

[ianite-simp]

Countdown - A Dark!Dec Fic

This is angst, start to finish. Declan and his son.

Five tiny fingers curled around his thumb. His little boy, his baby, his son. His round wide eyes were fixated on Declan’s face, fixated with a fascination that melts his heart. His fingers gently cup those of his son’s, dwarfing the chubby fist. So delicate, he can’t help but marvel over the tiny thing. He wants to pull his son into his very heart, tuck him away in its safest and warmest depths, where he’ll be safe from everything. Safe from the mischievous men, meddling gods, and murderous monsters. That spot was for his son, it had always been waiting for him, if only he would choose to stay.

Five words tumbled from Tom’s lips, a jumbled mess as he tried to process the memories flooding his mind. “Dec, you’re… you’re my da?” Declan met the desperation in his son’s eyes with a cold steadiness. “Yes,” he replied, his voice as steady and sharp as the blade he held in his hands. “In another time, that is.” He noted the anguished, confused look on Tom’s face without even a tug in his heart. He had his orders, he knew what he had to do. Emotions couldn’t get in his way, not this time.

Four scarlet scrapes dotted Tom’s thin knees, as the little boy sniffled weakly. “Shh, shh. Da’s here, it’s alright. Did you trip?” Declan kneeled in front of his son, gently lifting his tear streaked face. Tom gave him a small nod, tears still trickling down his cheeks “It’s just a few little scrapes, yeah? You’ll be good as new once I bandage you up, my boy. Promise.” He wrapped his arms around his son’s slight frame, giving him a small squeeze, before he gathered him in his arms. “Getting big, aren’t you? Soon you’ll be the one carrying your da around.” A soft giggle escaped Tom, bringing a smile to Declan’s face.

Four slashes of the sword was all it took. Four steps, four broad sweeps. Four times Tom took each blow, his cries unheard by anyone but Declan. With each swing of his blade, with each exclamation of pain from Tom, he couldn’t hold back the doubts that crept into his mind like a creeping taint. Why wouldn’t he just fight back? Why wasn’t he raising his own sword, his shield, anything? While he couldn’t feel any remorse, there was a dull confusion that slowed his attacks.

Three promises, made to his shivering son, curled up by his side in the too, too empty bed. “I won’t leave you, I swear it.” One hand held Tom close, the other gently combed the young boy’s hair from his face. “But Mum said, she said…” His voice was scratchy, sore what had seemed like days of bewildered tears. “Tom, we’ll be fine together, I promise. You… you know I still love your mum, and she still loves you but… she’ll be happier this way, and we can be happy too, yeah? I promise you, by the gods I do.” His voice wavered, but he tightened his hold on his son. He had to be there, be strong for his son.

Three times Tom stumbled, as Declan’s attacks slowed. His legs, weakening, gave out on him, his battered form falling to the hard ground. No one was there to catch him, not like before. His friends, his god, no one but Declan stood before him. His father, the one who had promised to be there for him whenever he fell. Now Declan was only a shell, a puppet with no control, a mechanism to be guided by the whims of the Darkness. He wasn’t Tom’s father anymore.

Two months his son was gone from him. For two months, he tried to hold fast to the memories of his boy. The way he bounded about, never slowing down to walk, always brimming with energy. The way he spoke about his plans for the future, the way a bright glint came into his eyes whenever he was excited. The teasing tone he would take on, always finding something to laugh about. These memories were as precious as diamonds to him, as precious as a gift from the gods. They were everything to him, in the absence of something real.

Two pale brown eyes met icy blue eyes. Nothing was said, how could Tom say anything? The blood slowly dripping from his wounds was the only sounds, quiet drips against the smooth stone. Declan inclined his head, otherwise he was motionless. The strange, twisting feeling in his chest was growing stronger, yet he didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just watched.

One letter was delivered that morning. A plain, rough piece of parchment, sealed with a drop of wax. An unfamiliar hand had written it, which told him everything he needed to know before even reading it. Still, he traced the words with a finger again, and again, and again. Each time praying that something, anything would be different. It couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be real. But it was. HIs son, his Tom, his little boy, was gone.

One crumpled body fell fully to the ground, a soft thud echoing in Declan’s ears. It was as though a hot iron had been run through his heart, a pain unlike any he had ever felt. Worse than when he lost his wife, worse than when he lost his son the first time. Because this time he hadn’t lost his son, he had murdered him. A strangled moan escaped him, the bloodied sword in his hand clattering to the ground as he dropped to his knees, fumbling hands lifting the limp head of his son, his child, from the cold ground. “Oh, gods. Oh, gods.” He rocked the lifeless form in his arms, cradling the broken form against his chest. The blank eyes of his boy stared up at the sky, his spirit worlds away already. The hold of the Darkness slipped from Declan at that moment, but no warmth filled him. “Please… I know I’ve broken my word, but… just protect him, please… protect my boy.” His voice dissolved into low sobs, as he continued to sit, rocking his son gently. If only he had been able to protect him.

If only he hadn’t been so weak.

[ianite-simp]

dark!karl pt. 3

choo choo here comes the angst train

Jordan was in the middle of shooting as many vexes as he could out of the sky above when he heard the yell. Firing off another arrow, he spun around, scanning the ground from his vantage point on Tom’s tree farm. He spotted Tom quickly enough, still upright and putting up a fight. “TOM!” He yelled as loudly as he could, waving to get his attention. “WHERE’S-” Before he could finish his question, Tom pointed towards the beach he was already headed for. Jumping down from his perch, Jordan made his way through the slowly diminishing hordes towards the shoreline. He was starting to grow tired, but the idea of being taken out in this strange dimension terrified him enough to keep him firing arrows as fast as he could. After what felt like an eternity, he reached the beach at the same time as Tom.

“Oh shi…” Tom’s voice trailed off, as his eyes landed on the massive crowd of mobs surrounding what had been Karl’s position.

“We have to get him,” Jordan stated, and without waiting for a response, plunged into the swirling fray of mobs, Tom following close at his heels.

Everything hurt. Really, really badly, but his skull in particular. It was like someone had tried to crack it open from the inside, but using a rock or something just as dull. Karl blinked, his eyes flying open suddenly. Why is everything so dark? Where am I? Sounds slowly began to filter into his ears, as his vision cleared. Strong shrieks, guttural growls, and above all of it, an eerie ringing in his ears. He pushed himself to his elbows, then rapidly to his feet. His limbs obeyed him with a speed that nearly knocked him off his feet. He had never had such… control over his limbs. He was practically shoved back to the ground as he gathered his bearings, by the mobs slashing and biting at him. Strangely, none were landing proper hits on him. On his armour, at least. He still felt the scrapes and bruises forming on his exposed skin, but suddenly, it seemed much easier to dispose of the mobs. Snatching his sword up from the ground, Karl began sweeping it in broad arcs. Mobs practically melted away under the gleaming blade, and he found himself falling into the rhythm of the slaughter. Nothing could touch him. I’m invincible, he thought to himself, nearly laughing aloud. 

Suddenly, though, there was nothing. The mobs were gone, all killed and dissolved into the ground. Karl stood, panting lightly, watching the smoke of the last few mobs fade into the air. 

“What the hell was that, Karl? You were insane!” Tom’s voice rose to a shriek as he came running towards Karl, battered and bruised but with no significant injuries.

“Really dude, that was pretty swick,” Jordan added on as he walked over, in a condition similar to Tom’s. Pulling his helmet off for a breath of fresh air, Karl was a moment from responding when both Tom and Jordan froze, strange looks fixated on their faces.

“What is it?” His voice sounded strange, even to him, a low rasp faintly audible in it.

Champions, I warned you I had a puppet among you. May I present to you my new follower.

The low voice of the Darkness rumbled overhead, startling the three. Stunned, but suddenly beyond furious, Karl threw his helmet to the ground, pointing accusingly at the sky. “No! I told you I don’t want anything to do with you, you fuckin’ blighter! Whatever you did to me, change it back. Mianite’s my god, not whatever the hell you are.” He was shouting at the top of his lungs, but he didn’t care. He wanted the full attention of the bastard in the sky, and he wanted whatever he had done fixed. 

Karl, don’t you enjoy being as you should be? Strong, agile, in full control?

The voice was a low purr only audible in his head, he knew. As much as he knew he had to refuse, the temptation started to grow. He could move as effortlessly as the others when the Darkness was by his side. There’d be no more mocking, none of the jibes he always had to laugh off. They’d really accept him then, properly. Not just pretending to like him. He’d be an equal.

An equal, of course… or better.

The smooth words of the Darkness were alluring for only a moment more. He wasn’t better than the others, his friends. They already accepted him, they already supported him. To want any more would be greedy, nothing less. “Darkness, this is your last chance. Leave. Me. Alone.” The moment the last word left his lips, a searing pain shot through his head. Unable to suppress a low groan of pain, Karl dropped to his knees, clutching at his head. The pain seemed to grow stronger, focusing behind his eyes, making it feel like they were about to pop from his skull. It was over in a moment, but the sensation lingered in his eyes, now watering from the pain.

Hesitantly, Karl raised himself to his feet, his limbs feeling like cinder blocks. Tom was suddenly at his side to support him as he swiped at his stinging eyes with the back of his hand. “Uh, Karl? What did you just do?” Tom’s voice was hushed, his eyes directed just ahead of them. Karl, his eyes still bleary from the stinging pain, lifted his head to look where he was looking. A cloaked figure in shimmering armour stood in the gloom ahead, a blade in its hand and a bow over its shoulders. 

“Well fuck,” Karl sighed, setting his helmet firmly back on his head, lifting the sword that seemed to weigh a hundred pounds in his hand.

They were battered and bruised, but alive. Sprawled out on their backs in the warm sand of Tom’s beach, safe in their normal dimension, the three champions enjoyed the late rays of the setting sun on their weary selves. Armour was scattered across the beach, weapons tossed carelessly to the side. They needed a break. Karl’s mind was still spinning with the events of the day. He had one tiny lapse, made one small mistake, and the Darkness pounced. It was waiting for him to trip up again, there was no way they had defeated it permanently. Despite seeing the final arrow Jordan had let loose into the being’s chest, despite seeing it crumble and dissolve into the air, Karl knew it was still out there. For the time being, though, his mind was quiet. No whispers, no chills, just… his thoughts. “Karl,” Jordan began hesitantly, turning his head to look at him, “did you know… what happened back there?”

Karl rubbed a hand over his chin, keeping his eyes on the dusky sky above as he tried to decide how to answer. He didn’t want to keep secrets from his friends any longer, but if they knew what the Darkness had to offer, what would stop them from taking the being up on it? Stop that, don’t doubt them. They’re loyal to their gods, they’d never do something like that. Realizing he still hadn’t answered Jordan, Karl shrugged. “Dunno really. Darkness started talking to me when we were in that upside down dimension, trying to offer me shit. I said no, had a bit of a slip, he snuck in and took over I guess. Gave me some powers I think?” He tried to keep it as short as possible. After all, there was no reason for telling them about the way the Darkness had been scoping him out weeks before they were even aware it existed. That’d just make them worry for no reason, right?

Jordan didn’t look particularly satisfied with the answer, a puzzled look creasing his brow. “Wait, but did you know-”

Tom broke in, sitting up abruptly from where he was sprawled out on his stomach. “Mate, your eyes turned fucking pitch black. Like, leaking and shit.”

Jordan gave Tom a disapproving look, but nodded. “I was going to say that, yeah, but a little less language.”

Karl reached up to touch his eyes, as though he’d find a trace of the strange substance that had made his eyes burn so badly. “Oh,” he simply said. That can’t be good. Catching a glimpse of the other’s worried expressions, he pushed himself up to his feet, grabbing his armour and weapons from where they had been tossed down. “I should head back to my place, see if anything’s been damaged.” Without waiting for a reply from them, he slung his elytras on, taking off for his house. He landed fairly smoothly for once on the landing he had built, pulling the elytras off to leave outside. They’d be fine for one night. He felt weighed down, impossibly heavy - and the weight of his thoughts didn’t particularly help. 

Stashing his gear on a stand by the door, he headed for his bed, falling onto it with a loud huff. He draped an arm over his eyes, trying to dispel the stinging he was starting to imagine in them. He laid there motionless for nearly an hour, until the prickling sensation in his eyes grew too much to handle. With a small groan, he pulled himself from his bed and stumbled to the small, chipped mirror hanging on his wall. He studied his reflection, wincing slightly at the scrapes and bruises he had gotten earlier. Nothing that wouldn’t heal, but he’d definitely be sore for a few days. He turned his focus to his face, blinking several times as he peered closer at the reflection staring back at him in confusion. “Lighting must be bad,” he muttered, pulling the mirror from the wall to stand by a window. Yet there was no change in what he saw. The dark blue of his irises were the same, but the whites of his eyes weren’t quite… white. Strange dark splotches that followed the vein pattern seemed to be spreading inwards towards his irises, with small, glinting black flecks scattered throughout. As he stared, the stinging continued, and he could see the dark splotches slowly creeping farther inwards. The mirror in his hand slipped, shattering on the floor at his feet. Without even registering it, Karl slowly walked back over to his bed, sitting down heavily. This was bad.

Don’t worry Karl, I haven’t given up on you yet.

But it could always get worse.

[ianite-simp]

dark!karl pt. 5

finally here boys, it’s a good bit longer than the other parts, but that’s cause things are going down :)

The strange black cat was back again. It seemed to follow Karl around his island, sneaking closer whenever he wasn’t looking, always just out of the corner of his eye. If Jordan hadn’t mentioned it when he stopped by one day, he would have been sure he was hallucinating. Cats never showed up on his island. And it was a fairly long swim from Tom or Jordan’s places - so its appearance was really just a total mystery to Karl. It was a cute cat, he’d have to admit. But he was too occupied with his purge preparations to pay it much attention - he only had a few days, after all, to get ready for it. Apparently it was a tradition the others had in their other dimensions, and Karl was determined to do his absolute best - at least, not get completely destroyed by the others.

It was quite convenient for him, the timing of the purge. Any time Tom, Jordan, or even Dec approached him about the results of the judgments, he could just make up an excuse about being behind in his preparations and bolt off. Especially given his physical condition - the strange, cracking pattern had spread across most of his face and was covering his neck and shoulders. Doing simple tasks grew excruciating as tiny chips flaked off with his every move. Luckily he had gotten his hands on a bandanna that he could tie around his face instead of the itchy scarf he used to use (though Tom found the look hilarious, and constantly called him Cowboy Karl). But because of the spreading condition, sleeping became entirely out of the question. As such, he had spent numerous sleepless nights thinking about his judgment. It just didn’t seem right. He was just as loyal to Mianite as Jordan was to Ianite, and definitely more loyal than Tom was to Ianite. So why did it decide he was with the Darkness? Had his doubts of Mianite’s strength really given the Darkness that much power over him? 

Is it really a bad thing if that’s the case? He couldn’t stop pondering that question. Mianite was a totally different creature from what he had once been, suddenly seeming incredibly self centered and a bit of a snitch. He was nothing like the welcoming, strong god that Karl had once been proud to call his. 

Hello, Karl.

Without so much as a flinch (the sudden voice and hair-raising chill he associated with the Darkness had grown quite familiar to him at that point ) Karl raised a hand in the air greeting. He trusted the Darkness was able to see it, the sneaking thing he was. He was occupied with trying to calculate the amount of spare supplies he’d need on hand for the purge; a frustrating task, given that he’d never participated in anything like it, as far as he knew. 

You haven’t acknowledged my presence these past few days, Karl.

A sceptical look crossed Karl’s face. “You didn’t talk to me, I’m not going to be talking to thin air like an idiot just to get your attention.”

The Darkness let out a laugh - strangely, it was a warm laugh, almost sweet. I’ve been here the entire time Karl, trying to get your attention. Just turn around.

Feeling slightly bemused, Karl obliged them, turning to look behind him. All he saw was the odd black cat sitting primly atop one of his bookshelves. “What exactly am I - oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t tell me you’ve been spying on me as a bloody cat.” He rolled his eyes, hoping his exasperated tone was evident enough.

I haven’t been spying on you Karl, the Darkness reprimanded as the cat’s eyes narrowed slightly, I’ve been watching over you, and your preparations. The cat stood up, arching its back to stretch before it hopped to the ground, strolling over to the chests. It paused alongside one, rubbing against it with a faint purr. I think you’ll find something to help you if you’d spare a moment to check.

“Must be a trap or something,” Karl muttered, still walking over to the designated chest. He nudged the cat to the side with his foot, lifting the lid of the chest to check inside. It was entirely empty, with only a violently red potion sitting in a small flask at the bottom. Pulling it out, he scanned the label on the side. “Potion of darkness… this is absolutely insane.” His eyes widened as he read the effects listed. One sip of that thing and he’d be practically invincible. “Wait, I can’t even use this during the purge. Potions aren’t allowed.”

I’m sure you’ll find a use for it, the Darkness said mildly. Consider it a gesture of goodwill. 

Karl held the potion in his hand for a long moment, the cool glass bottle heavy in his palm. “Right then,” he mumbled, tucking it back into the chest for safekeeping. It was just a potion, after all. It couldn’t be a bad idea to hold onto it, at least for a little while.

The morning of the purge arrived quickly, the five individuals participating in the challenge loosely huddled on the beach of Tom’s island. Karl felt like his entire body was trembling with nerves as he stood alongside the others, drumming his fingers on the sheath of his sword as Declan went over the rules a final time. “The gods will revive you when you are on the point of death, only that will qualify as a kill. One kill equals one point, and…” Tuning out what Dec was saying, Karl shifted his shoulders slightly, his infected skin stinging painfully from the pressure. He had spent nearly an hour that morning, carefully adjusting every piece of his armour to cover every bit of exposed skin on his torso. The strange, creeping infection had almost reached his waist, his fingertips the only healthy skin remaining on his hands. He had resorted to constantly downing health potions, the only things that offered temporary relief to the burning pain he endured every time he moved.

As Dec finished his short speech, he presented them with the swords of their gods. Karl took the new blade he was offered, eyes wide as he studied the shining blue weapon. 

Come now, Karl. You don’t need something like that.

Ignoring the low voice in his head, Karl slipped the sword under his belt for temporary safe keeping. It didn’t seem much stronger than his own, but it was a gift from the gods. He couldn’t toss something like that away. 

At the sound of a wailing siren, the group split apart, each person picking their own direction. Karl bolted for the boat he had left at the shore, determined to put some distance between himself and the others. He climbed in, using broad pulls of his oars until the currents began to pull him along, and he could rest his already tiring arms. Glancing back, a faint feeling of dismay set in as he spotted Jordan and Declan not too far behind. By the looks of it, though, Jordan was faltering slightly, as Dec scored hit after hit - Tom only adding to the problem by firing arrows from the shoreline. Jordan had practically reached his boat by that point, it would be the work of a moment to draw his sword, lunge forward, and sink it deep into the Ianitee’s chest.

That was precisely what Karl chose to do. Jordan’s eyes widened with shock as he let out a strangled gasp and splashed back into the water, his limp body vanishing within the moment as he was revived. Ignoring the faint whoops and cheers from Tom and Dec, Karl grabbed his oars, pulling with all his strength to get as far away as he could. Within a few moments he was halfway between his own island and Tom’s, his small boat bobbing gently in the calm waves.

A strong wave of pride and adrenaline washed over him as he sat, taking deep breaths to calm his racing pulse. He had managed to get the first kill, despite it all. That meant something, surely.

Congratulations, Karl. I knew I chose you for a reason. The familiar rasp of the Darkness rang in his ears. A faint smile crossed his face. Despite it coming from what everyone thought to be the embodiment of pure chaos, the praise was nice.

“I’m still not working for you, you know,” he remarked, sliding the sword of Mianite out from where he had stashed it in the boat, resting the heavy blade across his knees.

You wouldn’t be working for me if you joined me, Karl. I’ve been trying to explain this to you. The voice was calm, patient. That’s the difference between myself and those godlings. You can’t lie to yourself, Karl. You and Mianite were never equals.

Karl shifted uncomfortably, his eyes rising from the sword he held to the horizon, scanning for any signs of the others getting near. “Never said I thought that, man.” That was a lie. He knew it was. All the times he had spent talking with MIanite, the god had given him his undivided attention. He always made Karl feel at ease when he spoke to him, joked with him. But when he remembered the scorn that had filled the god’s face when he last saw him…

You deserve better, Karl. Someone who actually values you, cares for you. The Darkness’ voice softened reassuringly. All I ask is that you trust me.

Karl was silent for a while, completely still as his thoughts wandered through the mess of emotions the past few weeks had been. He knew the choice he was going to make. It didn’t seem like he had any better options. But a small part of him still questioned it, the part that still wanted to be loyal to Mianite, his god. No, he couldn’t refer to Mianite as that. He had lost the connection to the god the moment he put on that armour. He couldn’t go back on this decision.

“I trust you.” 

The potion. He knew what he had to do, even as the Darkness spoke. Before he could change his mind, he stood, and dropped Mianite’s sword over the edge. It only made a faint splash, before sinking silently beneath the waves.

It hardly took five minutes for Karl to row to his island, ascend the elevator, peel off his armor, and open the chest where the potion rested. He felt something push against his legs as he scooped the delicate bottle into his hands. He glanced down, and met the eyes of the cat. It was purring, and seemed almost pleased to see him. Popping the cork out of the potion, Karl took a deep breath before he quickly downed it in one go. A faintly bitter taste lingered in his mouth as he swiped a stray drop from his chin. For nearly a minute he stood there, unsure if anything was actually going to happen. Then it hit him, fullforce.

An excruciating pain filled him, forcing him to first his knees, then into a crumpled heap on the ground. His skin burning, his insides churning as though they had been coated in lava, everything hurt.. It felt as though his eyes had been ripped from his skull, his head throbbing with the waves of pain that just kept coming, and coming, and coming. He felt himself convulse, his head flying back, his limbs twitching sporadically. Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop. He wanted to peel himself from his own body, to fall unconscious, anything that would just make it stop,

And then it did. It took a long moment for him to force his eyes open, to realize the pain was gone. His throat felt raw, his mouth dry. He must have been screaming, cursing, without even realizing it. But otherwise, he felt fine. He felt even better than fine. The weight that always seemed to drag him down was gone, he felt positively light. Slowly, he rose to his feet, holding onto the chest beside him for support as his strength slowly returned. It was incredible, he could move ease, without putting any thought into it. He looked down at himself. He didn’t look significantly stronger but oh, god, he wasn’t himself any longer. Every bit of skin he could see had taken on the cracked texture, darkened to a dusky grey. He could feel something wet on his cheeks. Some black substance as dark as the void, he found, when he wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. It seemed to flow steadily, soft plips barely audible as it slipped from his cheeks to the floor. Experimentally, he flexed his hand, causing a small dusting of the flaking skin to detach and drift downwards. He felt nothing. None of the burning, none of the aches, none of it. He felt normal.

I’m glad you’ve joined me properly, my friend. The voice of the Darkness, rather than giving him the faint chill he was so accustomed to, made him feel almost warm. We will achieve many great things together, so long as you continue to trust me.

Karl smiled as he reached down to scoop the cat into his arms. The others were always underestimating him, but it wouldn’t happen any longer. No, with the Darkness at his side, he would be unstoppable, undefeatable.

He would be happy.

[ianite-simp]

dark!karl pt.4

getting wild up in here, angst is slowly ramping up :)

“I’ll try the armour on!” Mianite chirped, eagerly taking the enchanted armour from Karl.

“My lord, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It’s probably cursed or somethin’,” Karl earnestly tried to dissuade the young god from the risky plan. After recovering the armour the Darkness had worn in their grueling fight, they spent almost an entire day arguing about what to do with it. Personally, Karl thought it would be for the best if they just destroyed the lot. It had a strange, ethereal glow to it unlike regular enchanted armour. It could only lead to trouble. Mianite grinned cheekily, tapping the brim of Karl’s cap, pulled low over his eyes - it was the only thing that could hide the now almost entirely glinting, pitch black depths of his eyes, along with the scarf wrapped tightly across his face to disguise the other side effects of the Darkness’ momentary connection to him. No one questioned them after he claimed he just wanted to upgrade his look - why would they? They just thought he was trying to look like a strange cowboy.

“Don’t worry about it, my champion. I am a god, after all.” Without a moment's hesitation, Mianite pulled the full set of armour on taking a moment to adjust it to fit properly. He spun around with a wide grin, his arms spread out wide. “Well, what do you-” Mid-sentence, his face contorted painfully, and he doubled over, as though struck from behind.

“My lord?” Karl stepped forward hesitantly, reaching a hand out to touch his shoulder. Mianite’s hand shot up, grabbing Karl’s wrist in a vice-like grip. He straightened abruptly, the once sunny face of the god Karl knew and respected twisted into a strange, cruel visage. 

“I’d take better care of your god, if I were you Karl.” The Darknesses’ harsh, rasping voice emitted from Mianite’s mouth like some sort of trick a ventriloquist would play. But this was no magic trick. Wrenching his hand away, Karl sprinted towards the beach - a point where he could take off easily enough with his elytras.

“Jordan, Tom, get out of here!” He yelled panickedly over his shoulder, as he shot into the air, the familiar feeling of the wind rushing against him acting as a small spot of comfort. How could that happen? Why didn’t I stop him? This is all my bloody fault. He reached a high point above the islands, and attempted to pull himself into a controlled circle. The weather wasn’t on his side, unfortunately, and gusts seemed determined to send him plummeting to the ground. It only took a moment for him to spot Jordan and Tom, with the Darkness somehow easily pursuing them. There was no way they’d be able to handle him in another fight, especially in the air, and Karl didn’t want to do anything that would harm Mianite. As Jordan shot by him, struggling to bombard the Darkness with arrows, Karl called loudly out to him, “Jordan, get Ianite’s help! She was down there with us, she has to do something!” Jordan, though struggling to maintain his complex flight pattern, did as asked, diving towards the islands. Helplessly gliding far above, Karl watched the Darkness launching volleys of attacks on Tom, as he tried to distract him from Jordan’s efforts.

Within a minute, the Darkness suddenly froze in place, tendrils of black and purple light winding around his torso like a straightjacket. Ianite’s usually bubbly expression was frozen in a small scowl, as she drew the temporarily trapped being towards her, evidently putting all her strength into it. Dropping into a steep dive, Karl stumbled to a stop alongside her, his eyes fixated on the hate-filled expression contorting Mianite’s face. “It’s pointless trying to capture me sister. I have become more powerful than anything you could conjure up in your visions.” The voice was a combination of Mianite’s confident tones and the grating sounds of the Darkness’. It repulsed Karl, yet he stood still where he was. Ianite rolled her eyes at the declaration, turning to the three champions instead.

“I’ll be bringing him back to Asgard to try and purge this thing from him.” Her eyes flitted to Karl, and he heard a soft voice in his head, much more soothing than what he had ever heard from the Darkness.

He’ll be fine. My brother is rash, it was not your fault.

Karl couldn’t bring himself to give any other response than a small nod. But the instant before they vanished, the all-too familiar tones of the Darkness echoed in his mind.

Imagine following a god as weak as the form I am in...

Then with a small pop, the two gods vanished into thin air. “That was insane,” Tom broke the silence, running a hand through his hair. Jordan nodded mutely in agreement, clearly still mulling over what had happened. “Listen, Karl, why don’t you join Cap, Hermod, and I for a round of mead. It’s on me.” Karl shook his head at Tom’s suggestion. He needed to get away, if anything. He needed space to think, to be alone.

“I’m good right now, catch up with you later mates.” Raising a hand in farewell, he turned to trod slowly back towards his house.

Hours later, he found himself in Mianite’s new temple, the temple his god had created after the first one became demolished. Normally he found it a bright, comforting place to sit and think in. But with Mianite gone, it seemed cold and austere, almost like a crypt. A chill stole over him, a chill that sunk into his bones, a chill that reminded him of the sensation that always crept over him when he looked into the neverending depths of the void in the End. His bare feet softly padding across the smooth floor, he made his way to the front of the temple where he kneeled in front of the glistening throne. It was polished to the point where he could see his own reflection staring back morosely. 

Dreading to see the extent of the damage to his face, he first removed the wide brimmed hat from his now ruffled hair, then carefully unwound the dark blue scarf from his face. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the brightness of the room. The amount of light seemed to only agitate the burning sensation in them, a pain that just intensified as the days passed. He had learned not to rub at them, because that only caused thin rivulets of a thick black substance to trail slowly down his cheeks. The stuff stained like nothing else, and he spent hours trying to scrub it from his pillow when he mistakenly swiped a hand across it.. But he was used to the sight of the lifeless, deep black eyes. It was his skin that had started to worry him. At first, the grey skin had only appeared under his eyes, like shadows from not getting enough sleep. But it soon grew darker, spreading further around his eyes and slowly down his cheeks - giving him the look of someone not quite alive. Thin cracks formed, fracturing the skin like a statue about to crumble. 

He reached a hand up to lightly touch the infected skin, wincing as a few flakes fluttered down. When the skin crumbled away it felt like hundreds of tiny needles had been stabbed into the site. A deep sigh escaped him, as his shoulders slumped, and his eyes fell to the base of the throne. “What did I do wrong? Why did it have to be me, and my god? I don’t… I’ve been tryin’ and tryin’ to figure it out but I dunno why. Am I not good enough? Not strong enough?” His voice cracked slightly, as he croaked out the words in a hushed voice. 

He didn’t expect a reply. He knew he wouldn’t be getting one, what with the state Mianite was in. I failed him. I failed my god. I could’ve protected him, but instead I let the Darkness take him. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing that he could just cry, just let his emotions escape him. Things would be so much easier if he only didn’t have to feel. A sticky, thin trickle of the black substance inched its way down the brittle skin of his cheek, falling onto his loosely folded hands.

It’s not too late to accept my offer, Karl.

A scoff escaped Karl as he heard the voice of the Darkness rumble in his head. “As if. You screwed with my god, man. That was taking it too far. And have you seen me? I’m a walking disaster after that shitty stunt you pulled.”

If you join me, you will be healed. You’ll be restored to your proper self, Karl. But it will be better, because you’ll have access to powers you could never get with one of those little godlings. 

“I’m not looking for power, mate, I just want to be normal. That’s what you don’t understand.”

I know more of you than you would think. You don’t truly want to just be “normal”. You crave respect, to be recognized as someone worthy of it. You fear the memory of old friends will be stronger than any connection you can ever make. If you simply accept my offer-

Karl pushed himself to his feet, snatching up the scarf and hat from the floor. “You,” his voice trembled, but he steeled himself quickly, “have no idea who I am. I don’t want anything you have to offer.” In all honesty, the offers were growing more and more tempting. To be healed, to be accepted, and to simply be happy? The others will never accept you if you make a deal with the Darkness. Don’t you get that? He hesitated though, still struggling to fight the temptation. With that much power, they’d have to accept me. They’d have no other option.

No, no. What was he even thinking? Force his friends to accept him? What kind of lunatic would actually do that? His resolve strengthened, he reassembled his hat and scarf disguise, and turned to stride towards the large doorway. 

One last thought for you, Karl. Do you really want to side with a god that would willingly risk himself and his people to satisfy an idle whim? Do you truly support a god so selfish?

Of everything the Darkness had thrown at him, it was the only thing that truly planted a tiny seed of doubt. Out of everything that had happened to him, it seemed like his loyalty and trust in Mianite would always be a constant source of comfort. He’d always be able to turn to him when he was in need - or so he had thought.

The Darkness’ words kept repeating in Karl’s ears, the doubt he felt towards his god growing stronger and stronger. Still, he refrained from doing anything until he could see Mianite face-to-face again. Maybe it was just somehow a misunderstanding. Maybe the Darkness was only saying it to pin him against his own god. He couldn’t just renounce his god as casually as Tom had done. Mianite was still his anchor, and he couldn’t let go of that.

But it all changed the day of the judgments. When he had to capture his own god at sword point, force him into a cell to guard. Staring through the small openings in the door, the god Karl had once been proud to be announced champion of was nothing more than a sneaking, suspicious shell of his former self. Or had he really been like that all along, and Karl just never noticed? 

His turn in the tank came too soon, he was too lost in his thoughts to properly process what was happening to him, until he was sealed into the tank. The water surrounded him, pushing down from all sides. He felt like he was slowly being dissolved into nothingness. The rather warm water felt scalding through the scarf he clung to, keeping his face as concealed as possible. The short duration he spent submerged felt like an eternity, and when his lungs began to burn with the need for air, the water was suddenly gone, and he heard the whispering voice of the judgment tank in his ear.

Darkness

[ianite-simp]

dark!karl pt. 2

this part is a bit shorter because cliffhangers are lovely (also as an fyi this fic will likely be 6-8 parts long)

Things had improved for Karl. In the couple of weeks following the summoning of Mianite, he had felt like he was part of the trio of heroes more than ever. Tom and Jordan seemed to have a new level of respect for him, now that Mianite had finally showed up and actually accepted him as his champion. When they joked about their gods, he finally felt like he could join in their conversations. Suddenly, being around the others didn’t give him that bittersweet taste in the back of his mouth. He had managed to fill Tucker’s shoes and prove that he was his own person. He occasionally got to chat with Mianite, even, and their conversations were always the highlight of his day. Even just talking about trivial, little things was so nice, because it seemed like his young god really understood him. Aside from his continued struggles with controlling his limbs properly some of the time, things seemed to be getting better.

Oh, and he was probably going insane.

The whispers he had previously passed off as just his subconscious got louder, and far more persistent. He couldn’t go an hour without hearing a voice echoing in his head, a voice unlike any human one he had heard. It was low, with a faint rasp that made Karl shiver with discomfort, similar to hearing nails screeching along a chalkboard. No matter what he was doing, it would whisper to him, slowly growing louder and louder. 

Do you really trust a god who doubted your strength, just like everyone else? Why put up with the mockery of those champions? You could be stronger than them, really make them respect you. 

The offers continued, throughout both night and day. To sleep was impossible, because when his exhausted head hit the pillow of his bed each night, eyes falling shut instantly, the voice only grew louder - drowning out all other sounds. To do anything about it was equally impossible - how could he tell anyone about it without seeming like he was insane? Especially now, now that he had finally started to feel like he fit in with the others, like he was a proper champion. 

So he settled with sitting out on a wide branch of his tree house each night, staring wearily at the star studded skies until the sun eventually rose, filling the sky with its warm glow. He had taken to snatching small swigs of a healing potion throughout the day that he kept in a flask by his side. It gave him a jolt of energy and kept him steadier on his feet, and no one seemed inclined to ask any questions about it. For the moment, it was all he could do.

You must not give the Darkness any powers, however you must conquer your fears.

Karl stared down at the words scrawled out in the book in front of him. “Conquer my fears? What fears?” He scratched at his head, looking up at Tom and Jordan for help. They were standing on a floating island of obsidian, his three pet llamas suspended in the air in front of him, in the strange alternate dimension where everything was upside down. He honestly hadn’t the faintest idea why they were there, but apparently it was important for fighting the Darkness. Something about the place creeped him out, the voice in his head seemed particularly vocal in its taunting. He was having more difficulties than usual with the trek it took to get to the various floating islands, and ended up straggling far behind the other two. 

Karl… my friend. Always left behind, how sad. 

Despite the chill he felt hearing the voice, it had become fairly familiar over the past few days, so he paid almost no attention to it.

“Oops.” Karl spun around to face Jordan, who was standing guiltily with his bow in hand, looking towards the spot where a llama had just hung. 

“Did you really just kill my llama, Sparklez?” Karl gave him the best dead-pan look he could conjure up. Before he could answer, there was a victorious shout from Tom. 

“I’ve killed another one! Oh, not quite.” Karl rolled his eyes, pointing towards the book,

“Guys, I don’t think I’m supposed to kill them. That’s what the Darkness wants.”

Jordan shot him a doubtful look, as he said, “But we had to kill our pets, shouldn’t you?”

Karl was about to respond when the voice, louder than ever, echoed in his ears. 

Oh, Karl… you must give up something you love or you’ll never leave. You have a choice. Join me, join the shadows… join the darkness … And we will rule together one day… Or … slay your pets… All of them. What will it be?

“Hey, mate, you good?” Tom’s voice brought him back to his senses. What was he supposed to say? No man, not doing great, just chatting with pure evil. 

“Yeah, fine.” He raised his eyes to the two llamas still hanging there. It just seemed wrong to kill them. It went against everything Mianite seemed to stand for, surely his god wouldn’t want him to kill them. Besides, refusing to kill two llamas couldn’t really be an issue, right? “I won’t kill them, Mianite wouldn’t want that, would he now? Would Ianite want that, Sparklez, Tom?” Placing a hand on the hilt of his sword, Karl waited for the others to contradict them. It seemed like they wanted to argue, but instead Jordan let out a low sigh, and waved for them to follow him back down the path.

“Might as well get going then,” he called over his shoulder, already nimbly making his way down. As Karl slowly began picking his way down the path after the others, the voice, Darkness, spoke again in his head - sounding decidedly smug.

Welcome, Karl. You may think you are new to this land, but your spirit has been here forever. A true demi-god of this land. Welcome to the dark side. Your powers banish Mianite from the higher realm.

“Don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about man, but if you could kindly fuck off.” Karl muttered under his breath, though the words kept echoing in his mind. Banish Mianite? I didn’t actually do that, right? That’s impossible, he’s just trying to mess with me. 

Don’t pretend you didn’t choose my side Karl. We’re on the same team now, you and I.

Karl shook his head, as though that could get the voice out of his head. Like hell I am you little prick, like hell I am. He looked up, realizing that they had already reached the shore of Tom’s island. But it wasn’t normal - the sky was pitch black and strange orbs of light flickered in the air. The water of the ocean even bubbled strangely. As he surveyed the strange sight, he felt his stomach plummet. These weren’t his islands anymore, these were something twisted and tainted almost beyond recognition. The voice of the Darkness echoed overhead, saying something indistinguishable. Before Karl could react, packs of monsters began to appear from the deep shadows along the volcano, converging quickly on the trio. With jumbled shouts, Karl saw the others get swept away in the tide, each working to find a position that would suit their strengths. Unable to fight his way to a new spot, Karl frantically slashed at the mobs surrounding him, unable to tell if he was even landing hits in the darkness surrounding him. He felt his armour being scratched and battered from all sides, his exposed patches of skin already bearing several slices. His legs felt like lead, he could barely move, and his arms weren’t much better.

I could help you, Karl. You could be just as agile, just as strong as your companions. Even stronger, in fact. You just have to allow me in for a moment.

The voice rang coyly in his ears. “No, I don’t want whatever it is you’re selling, man.” Grunting with the exertion, Karl continued slashing at the monsters surrounding him, praying that no vexes would be attracted to his area. He wouldn’t be able to handle them on top of everything else.

Just give me one moment Karl, and you’ll be more powerful than you ever thought powerful.

Unable to even answer, Karl felt his arms growing even heavier. But he couldn’t turn to the Darkness for help. He couldn’t betray Mianite like that, not his god. That would be wrong. I can’t last much longer with the amount on my back. I’m going to get overwhelmed unless Tom and Jordan help out. For a split second, as a vex scored a nasty slash across his hand, Karl felt his resolve weaken. Maybe, just maybe… No, I can’t. I’m Mianite’s champion, if I die, I die protecting him and his honor. 

Half a second was all that the Darkness needed. Karl let out a strangled, choking scream as his legs collapsed underneath him.

[ianite-simp]

dark!karl pt. 6

Here’s part six 0.o (warning, very mild gore/slight murder but not quite)

He spent most of his time alone, after joining the Darkness. He didn’t even know if Tom and Jordan were aware of what he had done - probably, considering he pointedly ignored every attempt at communication they made. He had too much work to do, as the Darkness told him. He had to train for hours on end, learning how to put his newfound strength and agility to use.

All in all, things were better for him. Sure, all of his skin had dissolved into a deep grey mess, but the crumbling had slowed, only small flaks drifting off on occasion. Sure, the strangely viscous black substances continued to trickle from his tear ducts, but he had learned to ignore it. That aside, he felt better than he had in weeks. He felt safe, in a way. More connected than he ever had when he was a follower of Mianite.

That is, until the Priest showed up. It was late in the afternoon, and he was in the middle of a rigorous training session, the Darkness’ voice loud in his mind as it directed him through a series of exercises. “Karl? You there?” Declan’s voice echoed up from the base of the tree, causing Karl to freeze mid-swing. He slowly lowered the blade he held, edging towards the broad balcony to peer down.

Answer him. Find out what the meddler wants.

“Yeah, why?” Karl called down, his tone brusque.

“Mind if I come up? I think I’ve found some information for you. About your past.” The words seemed to resound in his ears. His past? He couldn’t deny it, he was curious. Even though the Darkness reassured him time and time again that it didn’t matter, that only the future mattered, he couldn’t shake the interest he felt.

Karl, have you forgotten what I’ve told you? The Darkness’ voice was a soft purr in his ears. You don’t need to worry about that. It’s dangerous to dig up unnecessary memories. What the Priest is going to suggest… it’s nothing safe, for you at least. He knows this.

“But… how can somethin’ like that be dangerous? It can’t be that bad.” A frustrated edge clung to his voice, as he debated on how to respond to Declan.

Karl, I asked you to trust me. Do you still hold that trust?

Karl let out a soft huff, rolling his eyes. “Course I do.”

Get rid of the Priest.

Karl felt his eyes widen in alarm, as he shot a glance down to the almost out of sight figure far below. “Does - does that mean you want me to kill him? I can’t, there’s no way, I’m not a-”

Karl. I don’t want to have to repeat myself again, it grows tiring. I have trusted you this far to have free reign over your actions, I don’t wish to have to take matters into my own hands. It is of the utmost necessity that you do as I say.

His grip tightened on the sword in his hand. It couldn’t be wrong, he was overthinking. The Darkness hadn’t lied to him before, this had to be necessary. It didn’t make sense otherwise. He had to trust the Darkness.

Without a second thought, he turned to the water elevator, quickly descending to the base of the tree. Declan met his eyes the moment he appeared, the warm smile on his face shifting almost immediately into a look of confusion. “Karl, what happ-”

It was the work of a moment to swing his sword, just as he had been practicing, in a broad downward arc. The blade sunk deep into the Priest’s chest, facing no resistance. With a small wrench, Karl pulled it free again, watching blankly as Dec stumbled, gasping as his hands fumbled at the gaping wound in his chest. He fell, choked gurgles barely escaping his lips as he spasmed slowly and painfully on the ground.

Then he was still, and Karl was left standing there, a dripping blade and splatters of blood on his hands.

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. When the realization hit him, Karl feebly reached out a badly shaking hand for anyone, anything to support him. Everything was spinning, swirling. The ground seemed to be ripped out from under his feet as he fell to his knees, nearly doubled over. He could barely breathe, sucking in small gasps of air with every choked breath, eyes clenched shut as he tried to block out the sight in front of him. 

In the moment, it had been nothing to him. The Darkness spoke, and he obeyed. Not a moment of hesitation. Not a thought of why it was wrong. But it was. God, it was so, so wrong. He hadn’t wanted anything like this to happen, he had been promised it wouldn’t happen. He scrubbed at his eyes with his palms, as hard as he could, as though he could erase what he saw, what he did. But as he pulled his trembling hands away from his face, the stains were still there. 

Karl, please, collect yourself. Karl barely noticed as the Darkness appeared before him, a slim shadowy figure that crouched in front of him. It reached out, lightly gripping his shoulder. Karl, do you hear me? Look at me, my friend, look at me. Its voice was soft, soothing. Almost like a mother shushing a child.

He looked up reluctantly, his blurry eyes meeting the shifting features of the Darkness. The slightly chaotic appearance of the being had never unsettled him more than it did in that moment. “I… I didn’t realize…” He softly croaked, his throat raw, as though he had been screaming.

I know, Karl. But you need to focus, and do as I say. Please? Its grip on his shoulder tightened, as it raised its other hand to lightly touch his face. With a deep breath, Karl gave it a small nod. Good. Bring the Priest back to his island. He’s not quite gone from this word, and it will be for the best if he’s found in his own tower.

Karl nodded again, and the apparition vanished, leaving him alone with the now still body of the Priest. He closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his nerves, before he quickly slung his elytras on, gathering the body in his arms. It took a few tries to get off the ground, the weight of the man in his arms pulling him down, but with the aid of a few fireworks, he soon found himself soaring through the skies, towards the high tower.

The winds tugged at his hair, whipping the short strands in his eyes as he circled the broad platform, trying to locate the best spot to land. He eventually chose one, landing with a slight stumble. He hesitated for a moment, still holding the Priest’s limp form, as he considered his options. He could place the body inside, or at the base, but then the blood already staining his arms would spread farther. His movements slow and careful, he laid the body out, propping him up against a post. 

It was difficult to tell, but his chest was still rising and falling, Declan just barely holding onto life. Karl turned from the unsettling sight, his eyes falling on the horizon. He wanted to stay until the end, to make sure the deed was done properly. Besides, it just seemed… wrong to leave him on his own. After existing for a millenia, to die painfully and alone seemed cruel. But he had done the right thing, hadn’t he? He had done as the Darkness told him to. He couldn’t doubt the Darkness.

A few stray flakes of his skin peeled away from his hands, drifting out onto the strong winds gusting around the tower, as a familiar voice broke into his thoughts. “Karl?” A feeling of dread gathering over his head, Karl slowly turned to face the stunned faces of Tom and Jordan.

“Hello.”

[ianite-simp]

From Way High Up - The Thoughts of Ianite

Ianite’s thoughts while writing the short book to Jordan, from S2. (Wanted to write some fluff, this story seemed to be the fluffiest thing I could make)

SPARKLEZ!

A burst of joy and relief filled her heart. Hours of work, gathering and plucking strands of her consciousness to form a connection had finally shown a result.

Her heart was overflowing, she was giddy in her happiness.

You wouldn't believe the things I've seen. Or maybe you would. What do I know?

She felt as though she could giggle. A goddess, giggling. Who could have thought it? She hadn’t giggled for what felt like a millennia. Maybe in other worlds, in other lives, she was giggling at that moment. 

Worlds upon worlds of wonder have embraced my many selves. I'm living a thousand lives at once.

Sights flashed before her eyes, sprawling cities, a young infant toddling along, sweetly chirping birds, roaring waterfalls.

And those are just the lives I'm aware of. For instance, in a place called Middle Earth I am reborn a beautiful elf queen. And under the ice shield of a moon called Europa I am a strand of plankton. And in a world we both know well, I'm a bunch of little girls who look just like me, and maybe other things too...

Her words seemed to fail her, as she struggled to say what she wanted. She had only a moment to speak to her champion, her man, her son, her everything.

Anyway, my umbrella consciousness has reformed for just a moment; my caretaker, in his mercy, has allowed me to show you these things.

Her resolve strengthened as the words she needed came to her in a rush.

But you definitely won't believe the most amazing thing I've seen. Lately I've been looking through a window... A window into bygone years. A man sits in front of a screen, speaking his soul to the world while playing a game. I think I know who he is!

A warmth filled her, recalling the moment she had recognized the man. The joy, pure joy she had felt in that moment. A joy she hadn’t felt since long before her quintessence was released.

I see this man forming friendships with those who also speak to the world. I know who they are too. They project themselves as tiny box figures into a world made of boxes. It's so much less detailed than the world where the man and his friends sit. I would not have known Ruxomar and its sister dimensions to be so childlike in appearance except by this contrast!

She had been confused and fascinated by this tiny world, the way in which her familiar home had been shrunken into the glowing screen. The sight of her brothers, small and weak in appearance had made her laugh when she first saw them.

The days go on as the friends play. The boxlike world is ruled by two gods. Of course I know who they are. The man is faced with a choice between the two. His life is riddled with choices! And like the stubborn idealist he is, he carves out a middle path. He'll take neither god. He'll have a goddess all to his own.

She paused, her heart swelling with a strange melancholy as she bit back the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks.

He created me.

A man named Jordan Maron created the goddess Ianite in a world beyond worlds. And Jordan Maron looks just like you. He is one of your countless alternate selves. He looks so much less boxy! I think that if I did not already know you and Spark so well, I would call him my favorite version.

It was the truth. The man she saw, he had a sense of... connectedness about him. It was as though he was Spark, Sparklez, and all other alternates while just being... him. The moment she saw him, it wasn’t like when she met her other champions. No, it was like meeting an old friend again.

Now I grasp the truth I have been seeking all my life. I have see what is above gods. It is ____________.

A surge of frustration filled her as the words seemed to dissolve as she wrote them. But she couldn't worry about that, she already felt the tug of the worlds around her, threatening to pull her form apart at any moment.

My umbrella consciousness won't hold much longer. Let me say a few choice words before the final goodbye between this version of you and this version of me. Thank you for choosing to create me. I believe that had the other you not made that choice in that far off world, none of my present selves would exist. In a strange sense, you are my god.

She could imagine her brothers' expressions had she told them that, the little nose wrinkle Mianite would do, the way Dianite would purse his lips. It was strange, she could see them in such clarity, yet she couldn't remember the last time she gave them a hug, the last time she spoke to them.

Thank you for believing in your creation enough to make it real. Thank you for continuing to love me and make choices for my wellbeing. I hope another you loves another me in another world soon.

Her thoughts wandered to another version of her champion, the familiar green glasses, the sweet smile he always had for her. The pain of realizing she would never be at his side again, be held in his arms again, it never quite faded. 

If Jordan looks out the window one of these days, he might be able to see me.

Not even creeping. Just fyi.

A smile tugged at her lips as she scribbled the words down, feeling her form starting to erode away.

[ianite-simp]

take it upon yourself pt. 2

part 1

Spending more time with Dianite came naturally to Jordan. Things were somehow… just like they’d always been.

 Of course, he shared more than he used to. That was a change. With Ianite, there were more secrets. No, not quite secrets, just boundaries. She didn’t take much interest in mortal affairs, especially when it had to do with the other champions. Not that it bothered Jordan. She was still learning, still figuring out how to be a goddess. He could understand her lack of interest. God knows how many times he zoned out when she was talking about growing up with her siblings.

But with Dianite, it was different. Talking to him about things was easy, simple. He’d appear randomly throughout the day, generally when Jordan was absorbed in some menial task that didn’t require much focus. It was always when he was frustrated over some thing or another, when the strain was getting just a little too much. He was almost always entirely engrossed by whatever he was working on. A soft touch on his shoulder, fingers combing through his hair, a chin nuzzled softly against his neck - the god always found some way to capture his attention.

“Stressed?” 

“You think?” There was a shadow of a smile on his face, contrary to his short tone. 

“Tell me about it?” The god’s voice was quiet, a warm whisper in his ear.

So he did. And somehow, just by talking, just by letting out his frustration about Tom’s latest prank, just by sharing Karl’s latest additions to his island, just by talking about absolutely nothing at all - somehow, it made things a little easier.

~

As the days went on, Jordan found himself settling into his new rhythm with a surprising ease. He managed his own work, until one or the other called on him to do something for them. Working with them was easy enough. That was a funny thing, when he considered it. Things had grown to a point where he wasn’t just completing tasks for them, running to do as they beckoned. No, he was almost an equal. Only when he was working, of course. He wasn’t going to drop the formalities, lose the respect he had for the pair. He knew his place. 

The only concern he had (aside from constantly having to shoulder all responsibility for maintaining peace on the islands) was Ianite finding out he was assisting her brother. As far as he knew, Ianite knew nothing of the deal he had made with Dianite. If she did, she said nothing. That worked for him. As reluctant as he had been initially, Dianite had been far more… passive than he had anticipated. None of his requests had been particularly out of the ordinary, or worrying. Yeah, spending three days searching for a very specific sort of flower for the god was annoying as hell, but it was nothing other than time consuming. Besides, the god had the tendency of rewarding him with trinkets and tools - gifts that he could pass off easily enough as something he made himself. But he knew their real value. 

It was interesting. From Ianite, he had never needed the material to understand her appreciation for him. A simple word of praise was enough. But Dianite liked to be flashy, he liked to throw in a bit of flair wherever he could.

Jordan found the gifts left just outside his house, no note or anything. Just a plain chest, as inconspicuous as any other thing on his island. Brimming with curiosity, he flipped the lid open immediately. A dark, greenish smoke billowed out instantly, and he stumbled back a step or two, coughing as the noxious clouds crept into his lungs. Probably the god's idea of a joke, he assumed. Brushing the last tendrils away from the chest, he carefully extracted the shining blade.

The taut leather wrapped hilt fit perfectly in his hand, as though it had been made for him and him alone to wield. The blade itself was perfectly balanced. “As all things should be.” He murmured, running a fingertip along one honed edge. “Thank you, m’lord.”

~

"Haven't seen much of you recently, bro. Doing good?" He cast a subtle glance around the room, quickly taking it in. The tower had changed, that was for sure. The broad windows that had once allowed bright sunlight to stream through were covered with dark drapes, the only light the flickering halos cast by the lanterns hung from the ceiling. Maybe it was just the lighting, or maybe he just needed more sleep, but every so often he caught glimpses of writhing tendrils flitting across the ground, among the drapes, across the furnaces. A faint flash of green, a shadow that almost wriggled along a surface, the closer glances he stole only put him further on edge.

"Busy with a lot." Jordan didn't turn from where he stood, rummaging through one of his chests. His response was unusually short, not quite snippy but not exactly friendly. Scratching the side of his nose, Karl squinted in the dim lighting as he studied the captain. He was normally the most put together of the bunch, clothes neatly pressed, hair combed back or at least trimmed. But the man’s hair was a ruffled mess, curling below his ears, little strands continually falling into and getting pushed out of his eyes. His clothes were just as unkempt, wrinkled and looking as though they had been slept in for the past week

"Too busy to hang out with your mates? Tom's driving me over the edge with his nonsense." He said it with a laugh, jerking his hand away from the furnace it rested on at the approach of one of the drifting smoke motes. Creepy looking things, that's what they were. Jordan didn’t seem to notice them, though, despite the way they seemed to gravitate towards him, then back, then towards him again, like some strange tides.

Jordan shrugged, pulling something from the depths of the storage. An arrow, it looked like. Leaving the chest ajar, he strode to his ender chest, where he quickly began sorting through its contents in search of something. "Just helping out m'lady, working on the island. You know, time flies."

His attention caught by something glinting in the open chest, Karl wandered over. "Woah, cool sword bro. Where'd you get it?" He ran his hand over the flat of the blade, testing the edge with the pad of his thumb. Lethally sharp.

A sharp prick in the center of his neck made him freeze. The tip of the arrowhead was cold, numbingly cold. It seemed to freeze the skin it touched, sending a tremor through his skin. A slender tendril of smoke crept over his shoulder, a swirling strand of deep green that seemed to move with a will of its own. The same smoke that curled almost imperceptibly across the captain's skin.

"Hands away from that." His voice was low, so dangerously low. Carefully, ever so carefully, he moved his hands from the slender blade, raising them defensively in the air. Sudden movement would mean certain death, he knew that much. Jordan had always been possessive of his belongings, but actually threatening him? That was… new, to say the least.

Doing his best to keep his outward appearance calm, he quickly started to say, "Bro, I didn't-"

"Stop bothering me." His voice was low, dangerously so. "This is none of your business." The point of the arrow dug against the bare skin of his neck. He swallowed anxiously, his mouth forming noiseless words as he tried to find something to say that wouldn't result in him getting shot. Jordan was terrifyingly accurate with that bow, and he didn't much fancy being skewered by it. Something about the eerie smoke told him the death wouldn't be temporary.

"Leave." One word. One command. Yet the weight behind it was all too powerfully present.

"Yeah, sure. On my way out, I'll… I'll see you around." The words caught in his throat, but he forced them out regardless. Slowly, painfully slowly, he took a step away. Then another. Then another. Then another. Then he opened the door with an impressively steady hand. Then he was outside, away from the dark. Away from the arrow at his back. Away from that terrifying, quiet, collected Jordan.

That wasn’t the Jordan he was used to. When Jordan got mad he was loud and spluttering with righteous indignation. He had no qualms with telling the world that he was upset, and that something was wrong. But that? That wasn’t normal.

Something wasn't right. But the question was what exactly?

~

There was so much to do. Always so, so much to do. It felt like every time he turned around there was another problem that needed fixing, another quest to go on, another task from the gods. It was getting to him a little, he knew. He had covered his windows, the rising and setting of the sun only reminding him of how behind he was on everything. Besides, it was so much easier to work in the cool, quiet dark, removed from distractions and interruptions. Silly, inconsequential things like pranks had long since fallen from his agenda. He was too busy to be distracted by things like little feuds. 

Now, his somewhat unkempt appearance was annoying, to be sure, but he just didn’t have the time to manage it. So he simply got rid of the small mirror by his bed. If he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t a problem. There was just no time in his schedule for frivolous things, no time to do what he wanted.

But he was doing what he wanted, wasn’t he? He was helping his goddess, and his god. Temporary god, at least. He had to remind himself of that. The deal with Dianite was just that, a deal. But for some reason, when he finally got the air stone, Dianite was just as regular in his visits. There were less requests, to be sure, but the god seemed to be intent on keeping up the temporary god-follower relationship.

Not that Jordan minded, really. The connection to Dianite was turbulent and energizing. Where his bond with Ianite filled him with a collected, calm sense of determination, that of Dianite’s fueled him with a turbulent, electric energy. It filled and satiated a part of his mind he never knew existed, a part of his mind that always wondered but never knew, a part of his mind that seemed to have always been devoted to the god.

And there was nothing wrong with following two gods, of course. He was just as devoted to his lady as ever. Almost more than ever, as though he were trying to prove to someone that his loyalty to her would never waver. He just found that a new loyalty could be forged and maintained alongside it. It added more work to his days, to be sure, but who else would do it? He was the only one who could manage it, make it all run smoothly.

A break was impossible. The only respite he got was when he would eventually fall into a deep slumber for a few hours each night, bone-tired yet with a mind still racing to sort out the work to  be done tomorrow. The dark shadows that filled the room seemed to embrace him as he collapsed into the soft sheets of his unmade bed, his wavering vision making the shadows look almost like grasping hands that curled over his torso, his exhausted limbs too heavy to move as his eyes fell shut and his vision fell to the darkness. 

But he was managing it, despite the aimless thoughts and wishes that came creeping and slipping into the back of his mind as he drifted off. Sometimes he found himself wishing that the day had more hours, or he had more hands, or had someone who could help shoulder the work. But what good could that possibly be? Because at the end of the day, he knew he was the only one capable enough to handle it. Because he was the only one who could do it all, and he knew so.

~

“Jordan!” Tom’s voice was loud, demanding, a bit annoying.

“What?” He didn’t mean to come off as exasperated, as irritated as he did. There was just so much to be done, and the morning’s quest had already taken long enough to handle. Still, he didn’t want to sound rude. He had been spending little enough time with the others, no reason to be impolite on top of that. So he sighed, muttering, “Sorry, what is it?”

“Your island, er, what’s up with that? Looking a little…” The zombie drawled the word out, as he seemed to be searching for the proper word. “Smokey?”

“Really?” A surprised look crept onto his tired face, as he turned to look back at his island, lowering his sunglasses to get a better look. Sure, it looked a little hazy, but it didn’t seem too weird. Probably just the smoke from his furnaces, he’d been smelting quite a bit of netherite recently. “Doesn’t seem weird to me.”

He turned back to the others, who were looking oddly… confused? “What?” He demanded, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Your e-”

“Nothing, mate. Nothing. Just a trick of the light. Catch you later at Hermod’s place? He said he made a new batch of mead for us.” Karl hastily interrupted Tom, an unusually friendly smile on his face.

“No thanks, got some things I need to take care of.” Jordan forced himself to smile back, though he couldn’t suppress the feeling that they were hiding something from him. He could ask them about it some time later, he wanted to get out of the hot sun and back to his place where he could get back to work.

~

“You saw it too, didn’t you? His eyes, the purple ring around them’s gone half red.”

“Yeah, I did. And the dark line between ‘em? Weird.”

“Why didn’t you let me say anything? Jordan’s a shit liar, he’d explain.”

“Because you’d piss him off, he’s been touchy lately.”

“He’s always touchy though, I just-”

“Nah, it’s different. He’s been acting weird. Cap’s a scary man, I don’t want to mess with him when he’s upset.”

“Pfft, sure.”

~

“So you haven’t given her the stone yet.” It wasn’t a question, the way it was said was too assertive, too self-confident. 

Jordan stiffened slightly, the hairs on the back of his neck raising at the sudden voice, though the faint scent of wood smoke had alerted him to the god’s presence before he even spoke. “Not yet.” He answered shortly, not raising his eyes from the sword he was polishing.

“And you haven’t given me my fire stone yet.”

“Not yet.”

“Captain, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were keeping them for yourself.” A hand lifted his chin, forcing his focus away from the blade resting in his lap. “Trying to be a god, are you now?”

“That’s against our contract, m’lord.” He said evenly, eyes meeting Dianite’s over the top of his glasses. 

The god chuckled, running a finger along Jordan’s jaw, before he dropped it to ruffle his hair. “Of course it is. But you’ve always been one to find loopholes in things like that.” Jordan was silent, returning his eyes to the cloth he ran methodically over the sword he held. He couldn’t quite ignore what the god had said to him, but he could at least ignore the god for the time being.

He was going to give the gods the stones he had promised them, of course he was. It was just that for the time being, they made it easier for him to manage things. Carrying them, he felt energized, he felt stronger, he felt powerful. They gave him a tantalizingly small dose of power - just enough to leave him craving just a little more, just a tiny bit more. It was so much easier to carry out the work he had to do in a day when he had those stones with him. So of course it left him wondering just how good it would feel to have all four, to be as powerful as a god - to be a god.

But it was only a daydream. He was content as he was. Really, he was. Dianite treated him almost as an equal, Ianite too. He didn’t need to be a god to feel fulfilled. He was only holding onto the stones for safekeeping. Because there was always a chance that Dianite would pass off a stone to Tom for a while, and the idea of Tom having the stones was almost infuriating. Tom didn’t deserve them. Tom didn’t work as hard, didn’t push himself to work as hard as Jordan did. No, he deserved to keep hold of the stones, if only for a while longer. Besides, the gods would have all of eternity to do what they wanted with the stones once they got them, he only had the lifespan of a mortal. There could be no harm in him keeping them a bit longer.

“I admire your dedication, Captain, but I must say that if you polish that sword any further there’ll be no blade left.” He was pulled from his thoughts by a quietly chiding voice, and a hand gently taking the polishing cloth from his hand.

“Sorry, I was just thinking.” He blinked a few times, standing up abruptly. No point in wasting time, he had more important things to be doing than just daydreaming.

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to the sword for trying to scrub it out of existence." The god's teasing tone reminded Jordan faintly of Ianite, the siblings had the same playful tone at times.

"Sure, definitely will do that." He rolled his eyes, as he carefully hung the sword on the wall. Before he could turn around again, he felt the god's presence directly behind him, the god's chin resting in the crook of his neck.

"Your hair looks nice."

"I need to cut it, I know." Jordan wrinkled his nose as he batted a particularly annoying strand from his eyes.

The god tsked impatiently at him, drawing back reluctantly to gather his hair up with both hands. "Just tie it back, you won't have to worry about those little flyways."

Jordan sighed, but stayed still for a moment as Dianite finished tying his hair back with a scrap of string. "As I said, looks very nice." The god spun him around, surveying his work with an approving look.

"Yeah, yeah." He pulled away from the god, a faint smile on his face. Though younger than in past realms, the god was still the same smug bastard as always. With a sigh, he pulled his to-do list from his pocket. The list scrawled onto the scrap of paper only seemed to be growing longer and longer as the days passed. He scribbled out "polish sword" with a quick gesture, before studying the remaining tasks. Quite a bit to do, but what was new there?

"I'll take my leave now Captain but… do stick to our contract, won't you? Those stones aren't meant to remain in mortal hands for too long."

"Are you saying I can't manage keeping them safe?"

"I trust my champion is more than suited to that task. I just meant that they can… alter a mortal who has held them for a prolonged period." With a small wave of his fingers, he vanished, leaving Jordan alone with a whiff of brimstone and smoke.

Jordan was entirely caught off guard, as he stood frozen in place. His… champion? Did Dianite really mean him? But he was still Ianite's champion, wasn't he? Feeling more than a little alarmed, he grabbed his jacket, which he'd dropped onto his bed due to the heat of the furnaces, burying his face into the soft fabric. A few deep breaths were more than enough to convince him that it still held the familiar scent of lavender and End static. But alongside it, almost just a strong, was the smell of smoke and sulfur.

He dropped the jacket, his hands instinctively clawing for his pockets to pull out the two stones, fingers wrapping around them, their familiar weight soothing in his palms. So what if he was Dianite's champion as well? Even if… even if it wasn't temporary, he didn't exactly mind. A quiet groan escaped him, as his eyes squeezed shut. It just added a lot more to his plate. And as tiring as that sounded, he'd just have to handle it. He had the stones, after all. That'd make it easier. He could manage it, with the stones.

~

"Give me the stones, Tom." The words were taught, as taught as the string that held the arrow steadily aimed at Tom's throat. As taught as the tension that filled the air around them, something dangerous threatening to snap at any moment.

"Sparklez, I got them fair and square." Tom's voice shook, but he met Jordan's eyes with as level a stare as possible.

"I don't care, Tom. Give them to me." Jordan spoke quietly, hardly above a whisper. Yet in the silence of the room, both Karl and Tom could hear him perfectly.

"No!" Out of the corner of his eye, Jordan could see Karl wince at Tom's obvious outrage. He tightened his hold on his bow, slightly repositioning the angle of the shot.

"The stones. I don't have all day." Without moving his eyes from Tom's, he turned his head towards Karl. "You know better than him, Karl. Tell him."

Karl's hands were trembling - either with rage or fear, or perhaps a mix of both. Yet he raised them both defensively as he spoke. "Tom, just give him the stones. They're not worth gettin' shot."

"I'll just respawn! Sparkez, you're absolutely mad." 

Jordan narrowed his eyes, his head tilting to one side. "Am I, zombie boy? I'm the most qualified one to hold onto those stones. Do yourself a favor and listen to Karl. I don't want this to get messy." He wasn't lying. The idea of shooting Tom, especially with the arrow gifted from Dianite, it wasn't pleasant. Unfortunately it had been the first to come to hand when he had stormed into Tom's house after they had found the final stone. He hadn't really thought of what he was going to do. He just knew that he had to get the stones from Tom. He was so tired of Tom gloating that he had more stones than them, lauding it over them constantly. Tom really didn't deserve to have the stones. He didn't do nearly as much as Jordan to find them, to keep them safe from Gandus and the darkness. No, he was meant to have them. He was meant to keep them safe. "My arm's getting tired." Jordan sighed, "I really didn't want to do this." As he prepared to release his hold on the bowstring, he caught Tom's eyes flashing away from him.

Without a second thought, he abruptly angled the bow at the wall, the arrow sinking deep into the wood. Within the same breath, he drew his sword from his side, spinning instinctively to his left to meet Karl's blade. With a small twist of his wrist, he quickly disarmed Karl, stopping him in his tracks with a quick slice across his stomach. In two steps he was in front of Tom, his sword buried in the zombie's chest. "I'm not surprised Dianite chose me over you, really." He breathed the taunting words into Tom's ear, as he slipped the stones out of his pocket. Tugging the sword back out of Tom's chest, Jordan re-sheathed it as he carefully extracted his stones from his own pocket.

The four stones seemed to throb with an energy in his hands, a swirling pool of power sitting within his grasp. They seemed to call out to him, with their colliding energies, beckoning him to just accept their power. 

"Become a god," they whispered, "and you'll be unstoppable. Become a god, and you can do anything. Become a god, and embrace your potential."

His palms felt as though they were on fire, melting and dissolving into pure matter. He stared, entirely entranced, at the stones in his hands. So small, yet offering so much. The sweet, cloying scent of roses filled his senses, confusing his thoughts. His vision swam before him, shadowy figures darting across the edges of his sight, small fingers wrapping around his arms. All he could see were the stones. All he could imagine was being a god. All he could do was accept their offer.

And so he did.