Awaken the Creators - Xenithian (2025)

Table of Contents
Chapter 1: Void Chapter Text Prologue ~ –– ~ Chapter 1 Void Chapter 2: Identity Chapter Text Chapter 2 Identity Chapter 3: A Song in the Darkness Chapter Text Chapter 3 A Song in the Darkness Chapter 4: Friend or Foe Chapter Text Chapter 4 Friend Or Foe Chapter 5: A Lost Magician Chapter Text Chapter 5 A Lost Magician Chapter 6: Word of the Wyrm Chapter Text Chapter 6 Word of the Wyrm Chapter 7: By Slumber Held Fast Chapter Text Chapter 7 By Slumber Held Fast Chapter 8: Calamity Beckoning Chapter Text Chapter 8 Calamity Beckoning Chapter 9: Breaking In Chapter Text Chapter 9 Breaking In Chapter 10: Lord Yharim's Palace Chapter Text Chapter 10 Lord Yharim’s Palace Chapter 11: Her Chapter Text Chapter 11 Her Chapter 12: Scarlet Light Chapter Text Chapter 12 Scarlet Light Chapter 13: Tyrant Chapter Text Chapter 13 Tyrant Chapter 14: The Outcast Chapter Text Chapter 14 The Outcast Chapter 15: Cries of the Damned Chapter Text Chapter 15 Cries of the Damned Chapter 16: Nightfall Chapter Text Chapter 16 Nightfall Chapter 17: Scrutiny Chapter Text Chapter 17 Scrutiny Chapter 18: Paradigm Shift Chapter Text Chapter 18 Paradigm Shift Chapter 19: The First Night Chapter Text Chapter 19 The First Night Chapter 20: Joseph's Plea Chapter Text Chapter 20 Joseph’s Plea Chapter 21: Beginning of the End Chapter Text Chapter 21 Beginning of the End Chapter 22: Alone Chapter Text Chapter 22 Alone Chapter 23: Enigma Chapter Text Chapter 23 Enigma Chapter 24: Truth and Reality Chapter Text Chapter 24 Truth and Reality Chapter 25: Joseph's Curse Chapter Text Chapter 25 Joseph’s Curse Chapter 26: Insanity Chapter Text Chapter 26 Insanity Chapter 27: Event Horizon Chapter Text Chapter 27 Event Horizon Chapter 28: Terminus Chapter Text Chapter 28 Terminus Chapter 29: Stained, Brutal Calamity Chapter Text Chapter 29 Stained, Brutal Calamity Chapter 30: Calco Vita Chapter Text Chapter 30 Calco Vita Chapter 31: Meltdown Chapter Text Chapter 31 Meltdown Chapter 32: Necromancy Chapter Text Chapter 32 Necromancy xszkgvi ∅ ivhfiivxgrlm~ Chapter 33: New Life Chapter Text Chapter 33 New Life Chapter 34: Sciamachy Chapter Text Chapter 34 Sciamachy Chapter 35: An Author's Love Chapter Text Chapter 35 An Author’s Love Chapter 36: A Welcoming Smile Chapter Text Chapter 36 A Welcoming Smile Chapter 37: The Black Beast Chapter Text Chapter 37 The Black Beast Chapter 38: The Broken Made Whole Chapter Text Chapter 38 The Broken Made Whole Chapter 39: Awaken the Creators Chapter Text Chapter 39 Awaken the Creators Chapter 40: Xenith Chapter Text Chapter 40 Xenith Epilogue ~ –– ~ ~– The End –~ References

Chapter 1: Void

Chapter Text

“no good tale makes the hard-won not worth winning,
though it may cost your very life to gain;
and every ending bears a new beginning:
‘it happened, but it happened not in vain.’”

Prologue

~ –– ~

I am a writer; a wielder of creativity; a creator of characters, stories, and worlds. I have been inspired time and time again by many sources. In my life, I will regularly take in the world around me to help shape the worlds within me. The source material is sometimes vibrant, sometimes bleak. My stories absorb both and are better for it.
The joys of life show themselves to those who look for them. I find joy in well completed college assignments, in wonderful and refreshing time spent with family and friends, and in the pure creative power of inspiration. I share these joys with my characters. When Steve and Blue rest on the grassy earth after a task is done, enjoying each other’s company, it is because I have experienced the same. When the Golden Seven rejoices together after surviving a hard-fought battle, it is because I have seen that creativity can be wrought from destruction.
But life is often difficult for those who partake of it. The happy ending of a story, after all, feels hollow and false without destruction — without void — to conquer in the middle. This is something many know from reading, writing, or otherwise imbibing various stories. Where there is creation, there is often destruction. Where there is inspiration, void frequently usurps a place.
This is something I know from experience.
Allow me, reader, to tell you a story. Let us open the cover and flip to the first page. There we shall see Isaac, as he was driving home from school. As he drove, the void struck, in the form of a heedless vehicle. The collision happened swiftly, suddenly, and with enormous force — and as metal clashed and glass flew, everything went pitch black…

Chapter 1

Void

~ X ~

Somewhere, far away, Isaac’s eyes opened. He was somewhere new, and darkness was all he could see. The ground beneath him was hard and rather cold — a sleek surface not really like any ground he had felt under him before.
Isaac got to his feet with some difficulty. He looked around, seeing nothing besides his own figure, which was not obscured by the blackness. Isaac shivered. It was like this place knew he hated the cold. Or maybe it was just naturally and unfeelingly cold. In any case, Isaac felt extremely out of place within the desolate void. It was dark and cold, and he felt alone, more alone than he had ever felt.
Am I dead?
He immediately discarded the idea. Isaac knew what happened after death, and it certainly wasn’t this. So where was he? What had happened before this?
There were headlights. A deafening crash. The world lurched. In a shock of pain, void swallowed all, and everything went pitch black…
The events revealed themselves in the space of half a second. As Isaac’s mind began to apprehend the enormity of what had transpired, his breathing began to accelerate. “Hello?” he cried, despite knowing he was alone. “Is anyone there?”
Silence.
How long have I been here? Isaac sank to the floor, breathing loudly and irregularly. How long will I be here? He knew nothing about the isolated emptiness surrounding him, and he didn’t even know how to begin escaping it. What will my friends think?
These questions plagued Isaac’s mind. His emotions were growing in size; they were past the point of mental control already. Isaac’s face crumpled as his eyes filled with tears.
What will my family think?
The emotions broke loose; Isaac began to sob. He wept for his own abandonment. He wept for those who would miss him. He wept for those who would receive no answers. And he wept because no one would come to help him.
Or, at least, so he thought.
“Isaac, is that you?” cried an incredulous voice in front of him. Isaac looked up, shocked. He had no reason to expect that anyone else would be here, and on top of that, he didn’t even recognize the high-pitched voice that spoke to him. How did this voice know his name?
Through a teary haze, Isaac watched a red glimmer run towards him. The glimmer grew arms and legs as it approached. Its head formed, then continued upwards, pointing towards a large white flower attached to it. Isaac wiped away his tears, confirming his thoughts. It was humanoid; somewhere between a plant and an animal, and it was a creature he knew very well: a Red Pikmin.
“It is you!” the Pikmin said. “What happened to you?” Coming in close, he looked Isaac in the eye. “Well, I’m here, okay? It’s me. It’s Steve. You’re not alone.”
The second shock, for Isaac, was greater than the first. Steve the Red Pikmin was a character he had created — well, sort of. He had adapted the original idea from another, but the Steve he knew was one he had written. The Steve he knew was the leader of a group of seven other Pikmin, and one the whole Pikmin species looked up to and admired. His group served as the species’ protectors, and he led them fearlessly even though his own mind was scarred by the horrors he had seen. Could it really be that Steve talking to him?
Isaac reached out and touched the side of Steve’s head. He took his hand. Both were real. Isaac simply whispered a question:
“S…like, Golden Seven Steve?”
He smiled as well as a Red Pikmin could. “That’s me.”
The area Isaac had entered, while it was dark and frightening, was no longer alone. It had shown itself to be an incredible and fantastical place if it could conjure a character he had created. Or…perhaps it was a twisted farce, using something taken from his mind to earn his trust. Isaac began trying to think of ways of confirming this wasn’t something masquerading as Steve.
“Hey, Steve, did you find anything?” yelled another high-pitched voice from across the darkness. Steve turned around, and a Blue Pikmin — also sporting a large white flower — ran up to him. “I know you told me to wait, but I couldn’t! Also, I didn’t want you to get worried that I was alone and in danger!”
Steve chuckled. “I wasn’t worried about you, Blue. I was more worried about him.”
Isaac bolted to his feet. First Steve, and now Blue? Blue was Steve’s best friend; his ray of sunshine when his world was dark and cold. Blue was an optimistic juggernaut — even though Pikmin were at the bottom of the food chain in their world, he never failed to find the best in any scenario. Isaac wasn’t dreaming, was he? Was he? How could he be? Where had the crash catapulted him?
“Oh!” exclaimed Blue. “Isaac’s here! He looks…really surprised. I guess I would be, too!” He looked up and waved effervescently with a big smile, greeting Isaac with a voice much louder than necessary. “Hi! It’s me, Blue! You know that already because Steve said it, but I wanted you to know that!”
These were both undoubtedly Isaac’s characters. He began to pace, deep in thought. This was a powerfully creative place, even if it didn’t look the part. Not only had two of his characters appeared, but he could see them clearly, just like he could see himself.
“Where are we?” he asked, much more to himself than to the Pikmin.
“Well, I have no idea,” replied Blue, “but it’s really dark all around. At least we have you here! Now we can find a way out!”
“Yeah.” Steve put a hand on Blue’s shoulder. “This place…it just feels wrong. It’s wonderful to see you, but that just means we have the same plight. Can you get us out of here?”
Isaac froze in the middle of his pacing. Facing the Pikmin, he took a deep breath. What he was about to do had no reason that it should work at all, but there was no reason that two Pikmin should be speaking to him. There was even less of a reason for those two Pikmin to be characters of his. Why not experiment?
Slowly, deliberately, Isaac lifted his arms. He crossed them at the forearms and turned his palms inward, forming an X.
The result was instantaneous. Something in Isaac’s core ignited with power. It felt like finding the perfect plot point to finish a wonderful story. It felt like spotting an old friend in a crowd. And it felt like the wonder, the nostalgia, the relief of finally coming home after years away. An alabastrine energy leaped into his arms and announced its arrival with a sigil: a crossed-out circle made of two lines. This, too, was from his writing. Xenith — an energetic form of pure creativity — was his to wield.
Joy and amazement overwhelmed Isaac. He uncrossed his arms, dropping to his knees. Everything he was experiencing was beyond words. Blue ran up to him, asking if he was okay. Isaac only shook his head; opening his mouth, he couldn’t make a sound. He wasn’t okay. He was far greater than okay. He was in a place where he could feel, tangibly, his power to create.
Isaac reached up to his collar with a shaking hand and pulled on a string he knew had to be there. Out from under his shirt came the Xenithian Amulet. Every detail was exactly as he had imagined it. The talisman was a pearly white teardrop with seven gems embedded in its front, equally spaced in a circle. Each gem bore a color of the rainbow; the colors were arranged counter-clockwise. Isaac knew that this artifact acted as an elemental battery of sorts, with each gem housing a different element. When the elements combined, Xenith formed. And it was Xenith — it had to be. That was the only thing it could be. It had reverberated through his very soul, echoing with creation. It was like nothing Isaac had ever felt.
Tears spilled down Isaac’s face as he continued to stare at the Amulet. Within this place, he was the Xenithian Warrior. He smirked, realizing he likely wouldn’t live up to the flawless ideal of the self-insert he had written years ago. However, within this place, he knew he was in danger — the Xenith had only confirmed that fact further. Steve was right. This was not a place to stay.
Isaac dried his tears and shakily stood. Steve looked up at him expectantly; he gave a quick nod. He crossed his arms again, basking in the Xenith for a moment. Then, he opened them, palms facing outwards. The Xenith crystallized into a violet frame in front of him; a far cry from the portal home he was expecting. Crossing his arms again, he shot them upwards but teleported nowhere. Why weren’t any of his abilities actually working? He crossed his arms a third time. Steve put a hand on his arm.
“You said you only have so much power in your Amulet, Isaac. Don’t use it all up if it’s not going to work.”
“Yeah! Maybe we can find another way out! Then we can all get back home. And if anyone can get us home, it’s you!” Blue gave a trademark smile. “So don’t worry about what you just did not working, Isaac! I know that you’ll come up with something else to help us. And Steve can help us know what that is!”
Steve just patted Blue on the shoulder. “With how little I know right now, bud, that might be easier said than done. Let’s just take things one step at a time, okay?”
Before they could determine what the next step was, a wave of fire billowed their direction. Isaac and Blue ducked; Steve, who was naturally fireproof as a Red Pikmin, let it wash over him. Isaac could feel the heat of it on the back of his neck as it passed over. The flame fizzled out as it passed them, and no sooner did it dissipate than Blue jumped to his feet.
“Steve!” he yelled. “That has to be Ember! I can’t think of anyone else who uses fire that crazily. And since you’re here, and Isaac’s here, the rest of our friends should be here, too! Come on, let’s go find him!”
“Blue, wait.” Blue stopped mid-flight as Steve approached him. “Let us lead the way,” he began. “Even if this is Ember, which we don’t know if it is, I don’t want us to have to help another flaming Pikmin…especially if it’s you.”
“Aw!” Giving Steve a quick hug, Blue lined himself up behind him. “Okay, lead the way!”
They began to walk in the direction the fire had issued from. Since one of the elements the Amulet could send and receive was fire, Isaac readied it to do so with a few quick movements. Hopefully he could act quickly enough to deflect any more flames. As the three approached the source, they began to hear a conversation.
“I’m just saying this is not a very safe or efficient way to find people. You could seriously hurt someone!”
“Well, you know what? I’d rather find someone on fire than no one at all. If that someone is friendly, we have everything we need right here to help them. If it’s a threat, we can fend it off.”
“But…wouldn’t you rather avoid the risk?”
“Look. I get the two of you are real careful about this sort of thing. But personally, I don’t know where we are, how we got here, or why we’re here, but—”
Just then, the groups came into sight of each other. Isaac saw five more of his characters arrayed before him, all of them Pikmin as well: one Red, one Blue, one Yellow, one White, and one Purple. They all had leaves on their stems instead of flowers, which was a consequence of the unique elemental power each of them had. The relief from the five was palpable upon seeing Steve and Blue. Ember, the Red Pikmin of the group, walked up to Steve. “Hey, Steve. Good to see you. You doing okay?”
“Yeah. We found someone, too.”
Ember looked up at Isaac, seemingly just noticing him. “Oh, hey. What’s up?”
Isaac just laughed. “Honestly? I have no idea.” He took another look over the Pikmin, disbelief still bombarding his mind. “But thanks.”

Chapter 2: Identity

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Identity

~ X ~

After a second, Flint, the Purple Pikmin, was the first to speak. “Hey, Steve and Blue! Hey, Isaac! I’m happy to see you. Me and them were looking around and trying to find out what’s going on.”
“‘The others and I were looking,’” Bolt corrected. The Yellow Pikmin walked up to Flint and knocked on his head a few times. “Anyone home in there?”
“Hey!” Flint gave Bolt a small shove. “The words mean the same thing, so I don’t know why they need to be in—”
“Sorry, but could we, uh, focus?” The soft voice belonged to Toxin, the White Pikmin. “I’d like to get back home.”
The others agreed. “We’re kinda still working on that,” Isaac replied. “It’s great to see you all, and I’m sure we’ll all get time to chat eventually. Right now, though, Toxin’s right — we need to focus. Would you guys happen to have any idea where we are?”
“Nope!” Flint answered, fidgeting with a stone he made. “Right now, we’re trying to not get eaten by whatever lives here. We’re strong enough to stop any predators, sure, but it might be too late if we’re surprised. Though…if something did attack, it’d make this a whole lot more exciting! I’ve been so bored, I can’t even stand it.”
“Your entertainment doesn’t eclipse the necessity of our safety, Flint.” From Steve’s tone of voice, Isaac could tell he had said that line many times. Flint just waved him off.
“In either case, it’d be nice to see something else living.” Riptide, the Blue Pikmin besides Blue, was staring at the ground with sadness in his eyes. “This place is so barren. I just want to see one plant, or one creature besides ourselves — one scrap of evidence that this area is alive and well. But there’s…nothing. It’s making us all uneasy.”
“At least it’s not as bad as the Vault,” Ember murmured.
Blue bristled. “Ember, we’ve been over this. You can’t go mentioning these experiences in such a cavalier way around Steve. You know it upsets him, and you know why.”
“I can take it, Blue. It’s okay; I’m fine.”
“Yeah, I know you’re fine, but I want you to be better than fine!” Blue turned towards Steve, putting his hands on his shoulders. “You’ve been on edge this whole time, and I don’t want something to happen that’ll really mess you up.”
Steve nodded. He looked past Blue and just sighed. Feeling his shoulders slump, Blue turned, and everyone followed Steve’s gaze. A pink Winged Pikmin landed in front of them, and in a swirl of golden gel the Pikmin turned Red. They all knew only one Pikmin was capable of doing that.
“Hello, everyone,” Plasmin greeted them.
Ember’s leaf burst into flame, a malicious scowl on his face. “Hey. Hey, Blue. You said you didn’t want me to bring up the Vault.”
Blue shot a glare over his shoulder. “We’re not getting into this, Ember.”
“Who locked the seven of us up there, alone?”
“That was the Plasm Wraith. This—”
“Who was the one who killed in front of us the other Pikmin who tried to rescue us?”
“The Wraith. We know that.”
“Uh huh. Hey, Blue. What’s that in front of us?”
“That is Plasmin. He is our friend, and he’s changed a lot. Will you stop treating him like the monster he used to be?”
“I think we just saw the same thing, right, Blue? Pikmin don’t do that. We have one—”
A snap cracked through the space as Bolt jabbed his finger into Ember’s side, sending a decent-sized spark into him. Ember flinched, then whirled around, the flame on his leaf roaring. “What’s your problem?!”
“You’re my problem. You’re being stupid. Shut up.”
“I’m being stupid? You—”
“Ember. Bolt. Stop it, right now.” Steve’s voice stopped the altercation dead. “The only reason I was upset to see Plasmin was because I knew this would happen. Now, I’ve said this a hundred times before, and I’ll say it a hundred more. I don’t care if Plasmin continues to act like one of us, or if he stabs us all in the back. None of that matters if we can’t work together, because as Pikmin we must to survive. I don’t know what he is, but I know what we are. I know what you are. Act like it.”
Ember’s leaf smoldered, and Bolt murmured a complaint that he had nothing to do with it. Isaac just sighed. He had written quite the dysfunctional group.
“...Right.” Plasmin’s gaze flitted up to Isaac. “How are you doing? I saw you just a little while ago, and I didn’t want to interrupt. I’m glad you got up and found the others.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine,” Isaac answered. “Steve and Blue were the first to find me, then we went and found the others.” He shuddered; it was like he almost heard himself calling out, asking if anyone was there.
“Really? They weren’t with you when I saw you.” Plasmin shook his head. “It could have been that I wasn’t looking for you. I was looking for someone else — someone I know unfortunately well, and someone who I think would very much enjoy this scenery.”
The air temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. Isaac remembered yet another character of his. It was the antagonist of the Amulet’s story — a being of darkness that was animated by Xepakt, a purely destructive energy. Plasmin was referring to the Shadow Fist.
“I searched for him,” Plasmin continued, “but I couldn’t find him. Trying to find a specific kind of darkness in the middle of a world of darkness is challenging, to say the least. Do you have any ideas where he could be, Isaac? I know the two of you have gotten into quite a few altercations.”
Isaac shook his head. “Couldn’t tell you. I…” He lost focus. “Hold on a second.”
A sound had caught his attention. The sound was music — a melancholy track, composed of piano and strings. Isaac knew the song instantly. It was called Whisper of Beauty, and it was from a niche show that was one of his all-time favorites. Why could that song possibly be playing?
“Just…hang on a minute. I’m going to go investigate…that,” he told the Pikmin, vaguely gesturing in the music’s direction. Isaac walked towards the music, and the walk became a jog, and the jog became a run. As he got closer, he heard the sound of sobbing amidst the music. The sobs just about broke his heart, as if he were the one crying.
He was sprinting now. Soon enough, he saw a figure. The figure was slumped over, his shoulders shaking from the sobs. His shirt was as black as his surroundings. Isaac slowed his pace and walked up to him with dizzying deja vu.
“Hey. Friend?”
The figure stopped crying for a second, then continued, writing off Isaac’s voice as something he had imagined. Isaac stooped down and carefully laid a hand on his shoulder; he started back with a shout. And then, their eyes met.
Everything else stopped. The face Isaac saw, which was just as dumbstruck as his own, was one he knew extremely well. And it wasn’t the face of the Shadow Fist.
It was the face Isaac saw whenever he looked in a mirror.

Chapter 3: A Song in the Darkness

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

A Song in the Darkness

– ♪ –

The twins stared at each other for an eternity.
Joseph paused the music, his mind reeling. The last thing he remembered was the crash, and now he was staring at an exact duplicate of himself. The only physical difference he could see was the clothing they were wearing: Joseph’s shirt bore the name of Creo, one of his favorite musical artists, while the one standing across from him sported the main character of the game Hollow Knight on his shirt.
Is this really…me?
Putting his phone back in his pocket, Joseph slowly stood. He remained half-facing, with his hands in a guarding position. If this was something pretending to be him with malevolent intentions, he would have to act fast in order to gain the upper hand in a combat scenario. He took a deep breath and asked a simple question:
“What song was I playing?”
“You were playing Whisper of Beauty by NyxTheShield,” his twin immediately responded. “It is a song that appears in Season 2, Episode 5 of Glitchtale, in the scene where Frisk and Chara meet in the void and discuss Frisk’s plan for Chara to replace him. I assume that you played it because your current surroundings remind you of that void, because of your great sadness over those who will miss you, and because you felt profoundly alone. But don’t worry.” Isaac put a hand on Joseph’s shoulder, and Joseph let him. “I’m here, and there are others with me. And despite the song, I have no intentions of punching you in the face.”
There was a good second of silence. Then, Joseph burst out laughing, pulling Isaac into an embrace. Laughter and tears flowed equally from both as they squeezed each other just about as hard as they could. Joseph knew this was truly himself. He felt it in his heart, in his core, in his soul. Only he could know to that exact degree what he had felt when he first woke up in this place.
Isaac and Joseph stepped back, studying each other’s faces much like they would in a mirror. They had the same oval face and round nose, the same dirty blond hair and bushy eyebrows, and the same eyes that they could never really decide if they were green or blue. They were identical. They shared a smile, and Joseph was the first to speak.
“So…I guess we’re both Isaac, then?”
Isaac chuckled. “Something like that.” His head turned, and he focused on something in the shadows. He wore an expression like he was about to speak, but no words came out. Joseph knew it well.
“If there’s something you want to say, I’m all ears,” Joseph assured him. “Not trying to rush the thinking process, but I know that face.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” He faced Joseph again, his brows still knit in thought. “It…it’ll be easy enough to get the two of us mixed up as it is. Would you mind going by Joseph?”
Something within Joseph reacted to that proposition with unease. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why — maybe it was because it was new, and he had never gone by his middle name before. Shrugging the anxiety away, he nodded.
“Yeah, I can do that. It’ll take some getting used to, sure, but it can work.”
“Sounds great. Now that the logistics are out of the way, I have some things to tell you about this place where we’ve woken up.” Isaac took a few steps back. “I hate it, sure, but some parts of it are…pretty cool, to say the least. What I’m about to show you is my favorite example. Watch carefully, and try not to faint.”
Isaac lifted his arms slowly. Joseph realized exactly what he was doing at once. Sure enough, he brought his arms up to his chest and demonstratively crossed them at the forearms. Immediately upon doing so, the Xenithian sigil flashed into being as pure creativity announced its presence. The sigil faded as Isaac’s arms continued to glow white. The event knocked the air out of Joseph’s lungs from shock, and he dropped to his knees.
The Xenithian Warrior uncrossed his arms and took out from under his shirt the exact replica of the Amulet they had imagined so long ago. It was here; it was real. But how?
“I know you have a quintillion questions.” He tucked the Amulet back under his shirt. “I’ve only narrowed mine down to about three quadrillion myself. But our stories…somehow, they’re real here. This isn’t the only evidence of it, either. Our characters are out there, too. I’ve seen them.”
Joseph started to laugh. “All I got were these.” Sitting back on his calves, he took his phone and Bluetooth earbuds out of his pockets, placing them with his small triangular Bluetooth speaker. “Maybe I just provide the soundtrack to your adventures. I don’t know.”
The objects Joseph held reminded Isaac of something. “‘You’ve been sent to a world where music is magic: choirs can change the weather and orchestras can topple castle walls,’” he quoted. “‘With your phone and Bluetooth speaker, you’ve just become the most powerful wizard in the land.’ It’s a writing prompt that inspired us, but that we never really did anything with. Remember?”
“Oh. Yeah, of course. But…this can’t be that, right?” Joseph picked up the phone and speaker, pocketing the earbuds. “I mean, you have the Xenithian Amulet, for goodness’ sake. Do you really think this place is going to conjure up a writing prompt that we haven’t touched?”
Isaac only shrugged. “You don’t know how this place works, and neither do I. We haven’t written anything there, but maybe we’re about to. Think about the song you played: Whisper of Beauty. Think about everything I just said about it with Frisk and Chara meeting up. You weren’t playing it very loud. Do you think it…summoned me somehow?”
“No way. If you’re in a desolate void and you hear a Glitchtale song, I don’t care how quiet it is. You’re going to investigate.” Joseph unlocked his phone, then started looking over his playlist. “That being said…it would be awesome to have music powers. I’d like to investigate that, if only for something to do.”
“Absolutely! I’d like to see that happen as well.” Isaac came up and looked over Joseph’s shoulder. He was looking through his Ranked playlist, which detailed his favorites. Joseph chuckled as he was greeted with the song at the top of the list.
“Hey, look, it’s our song! How about we try Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter?”
They both laughed at the suggestion. “Dude, I don’t even know what that song would do,” Isaac replied. “But sure. We play Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter, discover it does something enormous because it means so much to us, discover magic draws from your physical strength, and you drop dead. Wonderful trial run. Let’s try something a bit less powerful for our first song.”
“Okeydoke. We’ll save that one for later.” Joseph scrolled to the bottom of the ranking. “Here’s a different song. How about Shine? I’m wearing the shirt for it, and this darkness is disconcerting, anyway. Let’s get rid of some of it.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Isaac stepped back a safe distance. “Play us out, friend.”
Taking a deep breath, Joseph slowly stood. He turned on his speaker and began Shine. The song had a calm and relaxed melody, but it would grow enough to make any possible casting effective. It would be peaceful enough to keep him safe, but engrossing enough to test the waters well.
For the first few seconds, Joseph didn’t try to create any sort of effect. He listened to the music and felt its rhythm, moving his speaker in a slow sweeping movement. As he did so, the song seemed to surround him. A latent power formed around Joseph, living through the music he was playing, beckoning him to reach out and join it. Amazed, Joseph heeded the call, reaching out with his speaker towards the invisible force. He instantly felt a connection form between him and the energy around him, mediated by Shine. Joseph turned his speaker to face upwards and imagined forming a small ball of light above it.
The light blinked into existence, in time with the music.
Being in tune with the power of the song felt warm and calming — a much-needed contrast with the bitter darkness. Joseph lowered his speaker and looked at the light he had formed, joy and wonder forming a lump in his throat. Isaac walked over and patted him on the shoulder; Joseph turned to face him.
“There you go!” he said. “I told you there was something at play here. Good work! Just a couple of observations.”
Isaac pointed above Joseph’s head. “There’s a magical staff that formed above you.” Joseph looked up but didn’t see anything. “When you created the ball of light,” Isaac continued, “a note was placed on it. I’m thinking that’s your power supply.”
“Okay. Hold on.” As the song mellowed, Joseph raised the light he had made, then let it scatter into a hundred stars. It was beautiful. “Did that do anything?”
Looking up, Isaac nodded. “Yeah, there’s another note. It’s next to the first one. My guess is that when you fill this up, you’ll be out of power. Are you tired at all?”
“No, not yet. Maybe that’ll happen at the end of the song.”
“Okay. If that’s the case, then, don’t overdo it.” Shine’s melody came back in. “Here’s the beginning of the song again,” Isaac pointed out. “I’d recommend just trying to replicate what you did last time, and then maybe play with it just a little bit more. This is a more exciting drop than the previous one, but you don’t have a lot of room on that staff, so be careful.”
Maintaining his connection with the song, Joseph thought about what he had learned. He certainly didn’t want to find out what would happen should he fill the staff above his head. As the next section of the song approached, he simply repeated his previous action and created a small orb of light.
As he looked at the light, he felt his connection with the music pulling him towards action. He felt like he should do more with this song. He wanted to do more. After all, any good song had lots and lots of notes, didn’t it? Keeping only three or four seemed like a waste. Joseph allowed himself a mischievous smile. Would this kill him? Nah.
With a smooth, swift motion, Joseph sent the ball of light spinning around him. Then he made another, and a third. At first, Isaac tensed and grimaced, but then he relaxed. The stars spun around Joseph, lifted over his head at his command, then flew in front of him. The song gave him three beats, and he turned each light a different color: red, blue, and green. The colors faded away as the lights flew upward and dissolved into sparks.
“Wow!” Joseph laughed. “That was exhilarating. And I’m not dead yet, am I?”
Isaac grinned. “Not yet, friend. Just so you know, the staff scrolls as more notes are added to it. I don’t know where the end is; you should be safe to do some more stuff.”
“Wonderful. The last drop’s coming, and I’m gonna give it all I’ve got. Try not to go blind.” As the song built, Joseph felt his connection expand, giving him access to a greater area. He found it incredible how closely the structure of the song and the nature of the magic were linked. Joseph raised his speaker and brought his planned effect to the front of his mind. As the drop hit, he straightened his arm and mentally executed the effect.
The entire area was diffused with a warm light. Joseph couldn’t keep himself from laughing out loud. He basked in the effect for a while, then looked at Isaac. Unlike Joseph, Isaac was disturbed. Was the end of his staff coming so soon?
Looking around, Joseph realized what caused his unease. The darkness at the fringes of the light Shine produced seemed to be twisting, writhing, clawing. Joseph focused completely on the music he was playing, brightening the light somewhat. He didn’t want to think about the shadows, because they looked alive.
As the song reached its conclusion, Joseph prepared to let the light fade. Instead, it blinked off like someone hit a switch. Joseph stared at his speaker. Did he lose focus? Maybe the staff was full. But Shine was still playing, and he never felt his connection with the music sever.
“It wasn’t you.”
The voice was dark and irritated, and it came from behind Joseph. He turned with a start. The figure in front of him was one he could barely see, but it was one he knew instantly, and not just because it was a silhouette of himself. Joseph recognized the winding violet shadows that composed his form, and the raven black flame flickering from his eyes. Isaac was right — his characters were out there. One of them was standing right in front of him.
“And what, exactly, were you trying to do, Warrior?” asked the Shadow Fist. “Are you trying to anger me on purpose at this point?”

Chapter 4: Friend or Foe

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Friend Or Foe

– ♪ –

“...Shadow Fist?”
The shade glared at Joseph. “No. The other construct of shadow that follows you around.”
Taking his sarcasm as an answer in the affirmative, Joseph stared at him. Somehow, despite being unable to draw or even really picture him, the Shadow Fist looked exactly as he imagined. Not only that, but his personality was an exact match, too.
What is this place?
“Excuse me, Warrior, but I seem to remember asking you a question. Will you be answering that today?”
Shocked out of his contemplations, Joseph quickly nodded. “I was just playing around,” he offered. “I just got a new power set, essentially, and I wanted to see what it could do. I wasn’t aiming to use light in particular — it just happened to be the easiest choice.”
The Fist was still angry, but his posture relaxed a little. “All right. Perhaps next time you’ll be a bit more considerate of those around you. You can continue to explore your new abilities, but I will not have an already stressful situation interrupted by another light show.”
Stressful? “Why would this be stressful?” Joseph replied. “This place certainly looks like somewhere you’d like to—”
“Ah, yes, and that’s all you ever consider, isn’t it? How things look.” The Fist was disgusted. “But if you did an inch of exploration and perhaps asked a question for once, you’d learn that this place is clearly no paradise of mine.”
“I mean, between the two of us, you’re the one who wants to banish all the elements except shadow from the world—”
“Thereby ending their eternal war and bringing rest to all things.”
A scoff escaped Joseph’s lips. “Yeah. There’s no war if everything’s destroyed.”
“There you are!” exclaimed a high-pitched voice behind Joseph. Relieved that he and the Shadow Fist weren’t immediately coming to blows, he turned and was stunned again. A Pikmin was running out of the void. Not only that, but the Pikmin had a gold leaf and clearly knew the Shadow Fist. It was Plasmin!
Seven more Pikmin followed him. From the assortment of colors and the way they carried themselves, Joseph knew that all of these Pikmin were characters of his. He looked over at Isaac, mouth agape. Isaac smiled — no doubt he had already met the group and experienced the same surprise.
“Hello, Wraith. Hello, Pikmin,” the Fist said. “I was just speaking with the Warrior about using light responsibly. A change in the conversation topic would be welcome. You were looking for me?”
Plasmin didn’t answer. He was too busy studying Joseph. He looked past Joseph to Isaac, using the exposed plasm on his leaf to listen to their thoughts and compare their minds. The action only made him more perplexed. “What’s…going on here?”
“I guess it’s my turn to surprise you,” replied Joseph. “Yeah, there are two of me now. I’m…”
“He’s Joseph,” Isaac finished. “I’m Isaac.”
Joseph nodded. He had meant to say that.
“Fascinating,” the Fist murmured. He teleported in front of Isaac, making him jump. The shadow scrutinized him, and eventually, Isaac had enough. He crossed his arms, summoning Xenith. “Back off.”
The Fist did shrink back a bit, Joseph noticed, even though he tried to hide it. He smirked and moved his arms into his own gesture. Each element had one associated with it, and shadow was no exception — he closed and held up his right fist with the palm facing inwards, holding the back of his forearm with the other hand. His dark form flared at the command.
“Is that a challenge, Warrior?”
“Stop, both of you.” Plasmin walked between the two, and they dropped their arms. “None of us needs you to fight right now. We’re just trying to figure out where we are and what’s going on here. Fist, I thought you might have some answers.”
“Not for those who break my trust,” he responded with measured words. “Need I remind you who first put you in Pikmin form? I do not work with others, Wraith. You know this. Now then, I’ve been so bored it’s sickening. This stand-off was a good diversion. Might we continue?”
“I wasn’t finding it extremely fun,” Isaac commented.
“Oh, you never do. But come on. Aren’t you bored as well?”
They continued to argue as a thought entered Joseph’s mind. The Shadow Fist clearly knew at least some information about this area. However, Joseph knew he wouldn’t surrender it for free. After mulling over what he knew about the Fist, a plan came to him all at once: one that would give them information both about where they found themselves and what Joseph was truly capable of. Joseph grinned. This wouldn’t kill him either.
“Hey, Fist!”
The argument finally halted. Surprised, the Fist turned. “...Yes?”
Joseph walked up to the shade, phone and speaker in hand. “Y'know what? You’re right. I am bored. Also, I’m ticked that you interrupted my song. I think we have a score to settle. How about this: I give you the fight you’re asking for, and if I win, you tell us what you know and help us get out of here. Deal?”
His expression was hard to read as he studied Joseph. Then, he shrugged. “Well, I was hoping to convince the other one, but all right. I’ll take the bait. Deal!”
Unlocking his phone, Joseph had just opened Spotify when Isaac walked up to him and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“You sure this is the right idea, friend?” he asked. “We’ve barely explored your powers, and I think a fight would set everyone on edge. Plus, I’m not saying we should, but if any one of us were to fight the Fist…” Isaac demonstratively crossed his arms; his Xenith shone. “I’m kind of the one to do it.”
A small spark of resentment appeared unwarranted inside Joseph. Disturbed by its presence, he forced it down, making himself focus on Isaac’s concerned face. “The Fist is constantly saying that the battlefield is the best place to explore your abilities,” he argued. “There’s a reason we’ve had him say that, don’t you think? It’s not just because he loves to fight. It’s because there’s a bit of truth to that. I think it’s time we go to the top of the ranking and see what I can really do.” Joseph placed his own hand on Isaac’s shoulder, mirroring the gesture. “I’ll be fine.”
What was Isaac thinking? If they were the same, then so were their minds — but Joseph was never good at reading people. Joseph didn’t have to wonder long, as Isaac nodded and joined the Pikmin off to the side, leaving Joseph facing the Shadow Fist. Joseph opened the Ranked playlist and selected one of the top songs. He couldn’t help but smile as it began.
“Okay. Things take a little while to warm up here, so I’ve got time for some explanation. This song’s called Lightmare, and it’s one of my all-time favorites. I think it’s perfect for our context — I adore the song, it’s powerful, and it combats your abilities wonderfully well.”
Confused, the Fist’s eyes narrowed. “You promised me a fight, Warrior. Am I getting one or not?”
“Oh, you’ll get one soon.” Right before the saxophone came in, Joseph reached out with his speaker. The song’s power linked to him right away. Being in tune with Lightmare felt different than Shine — Joseph’s confidence soared, and his awareness of his surroundings spiked. He began to laugh, which further soured the Fist’s expression.
“All right, we get it. You like your music. I’m beginning to think the deal we made was a bad idea.” He gave Plasmin a pointed glance, then returned his attention to Joseph. “You had better uphold your end of the bargain while I’m still playing fair.”
“Dude, I just told you it’s coming. Just let me go for a little bit.” Joseph was still grinning, and his confidence remained. “I’m new to this, okay? Just give me…” He glanced at his phone. “Thirty seconds. Can you give me thirty seconds?”
Still sulking, the Fist crossed his arms and waited, a paragon of patience. Lightmare began to build. For effect, Joseph started to brighten the area around him. Lightmare’s light was a cold white, which was a striking contrast from Shine’s warm gold. Joseph knew the change in hue would make a difference; Lightmare would be more effective against the Shadow Fist in a fight than Shine would be. The song’s buildup finished, and the light ceased to grow.
“Okay.” Joseph pointed his speaker towards the Fist. “Here we go.”
As Lightmare teased the drop’s melody, the Fist teleported a short distance to the side, but no attack moved past him. His body language shifted from annoyance to full anger. “That’s enough. I will have no more of your pointless—”
And that’s when the song began.
The light around Joseph brightened explosively as a pointed beam of effulgence sent the Shadow Fist flying. The shade wasted no time and teleported behind Joseph, who met his attack with more beams and projectiles of white light, fired to the beat. The Fist matched him shot for shot, beam for beam — and now that the fight had begun, Joseph could make out a hint of a smile on his face. He surged forward; Joseph barely sidestepped his charge, then refocused and continued firing projectiles.
At that moment, Joseph felt sharply outmatched. The Shadow Fist had a wide variety of attacks at his disposal — flight, teleportation, telekinesis, dark beams and projectiles…as well as some even darker abilities reserved for those he particularly despised. In contrast, Joseph was creating his ability set on the fly. The only thing he had come up with was various light projectiles. If he were to win this fight, he would have to diversify his attack patterns or quickly fall behind.
As if to help him do so, the Fist threw Joseph into the air telekinetically. Joseph surrounded himself in soft light, causing it to carry him. He found himself suspended in midair and surrounded by radiance. As Joseph flew, dark projectiles whizzed by, and the ones that connected caused steep drops in his altitude. He decided to land on his own terms. Joseph launched towards the Fist, his remaining light exploding outwards on impact. After Joseph got back up and shot a few more projectiles, the first and most exciting half of the drop ended.
Joseph dropped his arm, and the Fist sighed. “Don’t tell me the song is over already,” he complained. “We just started after waiting for—”
“Good grief, dude. Of course there’s more coming. Did you at least enjoy the fighting we did have just now?”
He gave no response, but Joseph knew the answer already anyway. As a new section of Lightmare approached, Joseph placed his speaker on the ground and put his hands up in a guarding position. The Fist understood his intentions and did the same, coming in close for Lightmare’s syncopated section.
One of the foremost things Joseph knew about sparring from his TaeKwon-Do instructors was to block everything he saw. As Joseph fought the Fist hand-to-hand, he found himself taking more hits than he would have liked. For all his years of training, he had never focused on blocking all the attacks he did not see. The being of darkness he was facing didn’t exactly emphasize visibility. The only reason Joseph was able to block anything at all was due to the light still surrounding him, which had turned a warmer color.
With exhaustion and anger building, Joseph realized the Fist was hitting him so much because of his close proximity. No one said they were doing a boxing match. Why wasn’t he kicking? With a jump backwards, Joseph sent the ball of his foot into the center of the Fist’s torso, catching him off guard. The kick connected; with a slight nod, the Fist confirmed the hit was a fair one. Joseph now had the space he needed. He started relying on his foot techniques almost as much as the Fist relied on his hand techniques. In this way, the rules of the game were set in place, and the competitors played it out for the remainder of the syncopation.
Near the end of that section, something caught Joseph’s eye. He saw a sigil of alabastrine energy hanging above his speaker, and not one he had ever seen or drawn before. It was a leftward-pointing angle with an alpha attached to its lower line. The alpha was wrapped around a line, and four others extended from behind the sigil far to its right, with the alpha’s line in the center. It was the staff that Isaac had mentioned. Notes had already been placed on it; they glowed and pulsated with the music. First, Joseph thought to himself that the staff looked cool. Then, he realized he was staring at it. The realization came too late.
A well-placed blow directly in his stomach sent Joseph sprawling and gasping for air. The syncopated section of Lightmare ended, and he had precious little time before the next drop hit. Joseph looked up at the Fist, who was completely unimpressed.
“Pay attention.”
Joseph nodded, still unable to keep air in his lungs. Thankful that he was somewhat close to his speaker, he fumbled his way over to it and picked it up. Lightmare surrounded him at once. Joseph focused his mental energies on where the song was going, allowing himself to feel excitement over the drop to come. The music’s power permeated him, and Joseph stood up and took a deep breath, a confident smile returning to his face.
“Okay, Fist. Here comes the last drop. You ready?”
The Fist scoffed. “You just had to crawl to your speaker, and you’re asking me if I’m ready? I’m not sure that this song is good for your head.”
“Nah, it’s fine. No fake-outs this time. Winner takes all.”
White light armored Joseph, and the Shadow Fist blazed with dark power.
“Let’s finish this,” said the Fist.
With each fighter knowing what to expect from Lightmare’s magic, the second drop began with both participants fighting much more characteristically than in the first. The Fist’s movement became far more erratic; he started teleporting often and sending his projectile attacks from all angles. Joseph stood his ground and shed light over a wide area, eliminating shadows that came his way with sharp light rays. Growing tired of defense, Joseph tapped into the song to find the Fist. Upon locating him, he surrounded him in light, then used one of his favorite parts of the song to draw the Fist close and hit him with a flash.
He was now on the attack. Joseph kept holding the Fist in light to inhibit his teleportation. Grounding that effect in the rhythm of the song, Joseph fought using the melody by syncing stronger and longer-lasting moves to it. Instead of sending small projectiles or single beams, Joseph would use spreads of beams and large homing projectiles. The Shadow Fist deflected the attacks that he could, and after getting hit by several that he couldn’t, he created a dark explosion to free himself from the limitations on his movement. The blast sent Joseph flying. He surrounded himself with light and came to a halt in midair.
The Fist responded by taking flight as well. The resulting aerial combat was far harder than Joseph had expected — he wasn’t used to having to keep track of attacks from below as well as everywhere else, leaving him disturbingly disoriented. Fortunately for him, the Fist just wanted to test his abilities. Making sure to move quickly, Joseph continued using many of the same attacks. This time, the Fist was able to recognize the patterns and dodge the light much more effectively. Evading one beam, then another, then a third, the Fist surged forward with a melee attack and knocked Joseph down to the ground — all without teleporting. The shadow landed as Joseph got up. Joseph could tell the Fist was very pleased with himself.
The light surrounding Joseph imbued him as he set down his speaker. For the last section of the drop, the combatants once again engaged in hand-to-hand combat, but allowed themselves minimal power usage. Still relying on his kicks, Joseph used waves of light to extend the range of his attacks even further. Unfazed, the Fist drew Joseph into range telekinetically, forcing him to block and rush back to a comfortable distance. The duel continued in this dialogue with multiple hits exchanged, and then the last drop of Lightmare ended.
“Well, Warrior, I’ll cut to the chase,” the Fist began as the light softened. “Your new method of fighting has earned my respect. Despite it taking some time to develop, I thank you for sharing it with me.”
“No problem. You fought well, as always.” Joseph extended his hand to shake. “Thanks for helping me explore this.”
The Shadow Fist took Joseph’s hand as Lightmare drew to a close. With his powers and his adrenaline fading, Joseph came to realize how exhausted and sore he really was. “Now then, if you’ll excuse me,” Joseph panted, “I think I’ll take a bit of a rest.”
The Fist smirked. “All right. Let me know if you want my help with that.”

Chapter 5: A Lost Magician

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

A Lost Magician

~ X ~

Joseph and the Fist walked back to the group. Flint started clapping. His excitement died down as no one joined him. Joseph sank to the ground, and the Fist sat near him.
“So, have you two had your fun?” Isaac asked.
They chuckled. “Eventually, yes,” the Fist replied. “I remember now that there was a deal associated with the battle. I suppose I have to help you all now. Wonderful.”
“Oh. I…won that fight?” Joseph’s nose scrunched up. “You sure?”
“Would you like me to change my mind? I’m still open to the—”
“No, we don’t want you to change your mind,” Isaac interrupted. “Joseph fought well, and it’s only fair that you help us in return.”
Ember shifted uncomfortably. “Are we really going to accept his help?”
“Let’s just give him a chance,” offered Bolt. “We haven’t had him on our side before, and I’m honestly pretty excited to see what that looks like.”
“Well, yeah,” murmured Toxin, “but if something goes wrong…”
“Guys, come on. He wouldn’t do that.” Plasmin walked up to the Fist. “My experience suggests that he’d never go back on his word.”
The Fist scoffed. “I know I won’t. My experience suggests quite the opposite where you’re involved. But now is not the time to pick at old wounds. Now that I’ve established that I mean what I say, what do you want to know?”
“We’ve been looking for answers about this place,” Isaac responded. “I figured you would know — not just because of how it looks, but because you travel between worlds frequently. Fist, where are we?”
“We are in the middle of a dark expanse somewhere in the multiverse. We are unable to leave — I’ve tried. And before you again make the claim that this is my paradise, let me explain to you why it isn’t.” He stared into the blackness above. “There is no life in this space. There are no dreams. There is no rest. There are no elements, at all. The reason this place exists without Xenith is because it exists vacuously, hardly existing in the first place.”
Isaac thought about the Fist’s answer. “If there exist no elements here,” he reasoned, “then wouldn’t the void devour it instantly? There’s nothing to fight back.”
In response, the shadow raised his hand and strained. The blackness around his hand coagulated and formed a mass. The lump pulsated weakly as he stared at it in disgust. “Perhaps you could argue it already has. This darkness around us is no darkness at all. It has no elemental signature that I can detect, and it is choking the life out of this place. I believe Xepakt is the only thing it can be.”
Isaac crossed his arms and listened to the Xenith in the Amulet. Being pure creativity, it could give information, and it wasn’t long before it delivered. Shockingly, it agreed with the Shadow Fist.
“How do we save this place?” asked Riptide, his brow knitted with concern.
Steve shrugged. “This is going to sound harsh, but you all know I stay on the realistic side of things. Should we be focusing on that, or on escape? What in this lifeless void is even worth saving?”
“We have to save this place!”
Startled, all eyes turned to Joseph. He took a few breaths, then shook his head. “Sorry. I…don’t really know why I said that so forcefully. But I feel strongly about this. We have to.”
Isaac found himself thinking much the same way, although he couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. “Okay. Since we must act, Xenith has to be the best way to go, right? It’s the natural enemy of Xepakt, so using it would be the best way to clear it out. In fact…” Isaac summoned Xenith; his arms flashed white as the Amulet shone. “Let’s give it a try!”
Throwing his arms backwards with his hands in fists, Isaac sent a wave of creativity into the void. It radiated off into the darkness, which soon engulfed it. Nothing happened.
“Well, I think there’s a lot of darkness here and not a lot of power in your Amulet,” said Blue. “Not that your Amulet isn’t strong! It’s really, really strong! But it can only hold a bit at a time. If you go about it that way, it’s going to take a really long time! Isn’t the whole world full of this stuff?”
“Presumably,” Isaac replied, “but with all of us—”
“Wait.” Plasmin turned towards where Isaac had sent his wave. “Someone’s coming — someone whose mind I don’t recognize. Stay alert.”
Using his own powers, Bolt started to glow with internal electricity. “What does it sound like?”
“It’s hard to tell.” Plasmin closed his eyes and listened. “This mind moves extremely rapidly, and it seems…broken somehow. I don’t know. I’m just sensing this darkness around it.”
The next to speak was Steve, and his voice was measured, even dispassionate: “How does it compare to mine?”
Plasmin winced, just slightly. “Not the same.”
The group prepared to meet the newcomer. The Pikmin were tense; Ember, Bolt, and Flint were on the front lines waiting for the stranger to appear, with the rest behind them. The Fist didn’t care, as his own confidence in battle removed any danger to himself this situation could bring. But Isaac and Joseph had not broken eye contact since Plasmin’s description of the newcomer’s mind. If this void was populated by their characters, then could this be…?
Sure enough, a glimmer of gold appeared in the darkness. Upon seeing other life besides itself, the glimmer sped up. Ember’s leaf combusted. He stretched out his arms, signaling the other two to stay behind him.
“I’m not waiting for that to come over here and eat us. I’m seeing what it is. Stay back.”
He left the group and approached the spark, which had now grown into a figure. The figure had golden robes that were shimmering with latent power, and a decently sized satchel hanging off of his hip. Looking out from under the cowl was a loosely reptilian face with a large, spherical nose about the size of the figure’s head. Laughing with disbelief, Isaac and Joseph looked from the visitor to each other and back. He was a red Yoshi, and another one of their characters.
The Yoshi stopped and examined Ember in awe, a thousand questions racing through his mind. Ember, leaf still blazing, looked him in the eye. “Okay, listen up. I don’t know if you understand me. I don’t care. If you’re here to eat or kill us, turn around. We’re not interested. Got it?”
With starry eyes, the Yoshi rummaged through the pouch on his hip and pulled out a hexagonal looking glass — a purple lens rimmed with gold, which was larger than the satchel that held it. He pointed it at Ember, and the device came to life, clicking as it read him. Ember immediately engulfed the Yoshi in a torrent of flames. Riptide rushed forward, and Joseph grimaced slightly as he got up, still feeling some aches from the fight. When the fire dissipated, its target was unharmed. His robes were radiant with awakened energy, and his looking glass sounded a cheerful ding. Ember’s attack, which was by no means a weak one, had been completely ineffective.
Ember stood in front of the newcomer, trembling. Riptide came up beside him, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Ember. It’s okay. I don’t think he wants to hurt us. Even if he’s a threat, the rest of us are here to help, too. But thanks for doing your part to protect us.”
To Isaac’s surprise, Ember relaxed. Joseph approached the Yoshi. “Hey,” he offered. “Sorry for the, uh, rather warm welcome. Some of us lead dangerous lives, but that’s all right. I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m— I’m Joseph.”
The newcomer stared blankly, his eyes flitting down to the device he was holding. Then, a shocked look of realization fluttered across his face. His robes went dormant, and words started to tumble out of his mouth. “Oh! Wow, I am so sorry about this. I was so caught up in learning about what was going on here that I didn’t even stop to consider that I was in the presence of intelligent creatures. I’m not often in the presence of intelligent creatures, honestly, because there aren’t a whole lot of them in my world, just animals and monsters and stuff, although there is the occasional villager. And the villagers are nice enough; they’re good to talk to and all, but they don’t know a whole lot about—” He caught himself. “Whoops! I’m rambling. It happens. I haven’t even introduced myself, and already I’m talking your ear off. I should get right to the point. My name is Ace_the_Yoshi, but you can call me Ace. Do you have any idea where we are?”
At this point, the rest of the group felt comfortable approaching Ace. Ember’s leaf smoldered as the fire fizzled out. “He reminds me of Bolt and Blue put together,” Ember muttered to Riptide. “In the weirdest way possible.”
“Hi, Ace!” Blue was already waving. “I’m Blue! And these are my friends! That’s Steve, and that’s Ember who tried to kill you, and that’s Riptide, and Toxin and Flint and Bolt, and that’s Plasmin and that’s Isaac, and that’s also Isaac but he goes by Joseph! Oh, and that’s the Shadow Fist! I suppose he’s a friend now, too!”
“Oh, wonderful,” the Fist chuckled. “Just what I wanted out of all this.”
Ace didn’t respond. He was too busy staring at the Shadow Fist. He lifted his looking glass back up to his face, pointing it at the shade. The Fist instantly teleported behind Ace.
“Absolutely not.” Ace started forcefully upon hearing the shadow’s voice behind him. “I will not submit to a process I know nothing about,” he continued. “Explain what you hope to achieve, and I will make a decision from there.”
Having caught his breath, Ace gladly did so. “Oh, this? This is completely harmless, yeah. The device is called a Thaumometer, and it tells me the aspects of an object or creature that it scans. Aspects are essentially the fundamental magical building blocks that compose everything there is. So when I scan you, the Thaumometer will tell me what you’re made of, and that’s always an excellent first step for research! I’ll give you an example — Ember had Herba, Bestia, and Ignis, which are plant, animal, and fire respectively. Upon a quick scan, I know just a little bit about him, and I can go from there using different research methods! So now that you know it’s harmless, can I scan you? Do you want me to tell you what your aspects are once I do? I mean, assuming that you allow me to—”
“Yes.”
“...Yes to both questions, or just yes to the first question? I did ask two—”
“Both.”
Without further questioning, Ace scanned the Fist. “Here we go. Twenty Tenebrae, ten Alienis, five Perditio, and five Vacuos. In order, that’s darkness, otherness, chaos, emptiness. Wow! I knew the darkness part just by looking at you, but the rest…fascinating. I’ve learned something new! Mind if I scan the rest of you?”
The group assented as the Fist scowled and muttered something about appearances. Ace started scanning everyone, making soft hmms and ahhs as his Thaumometer gave him new information. “You all are like no creatures I’ve ever seen,” he commented. “I still have no idea where I am, but an opportunity to learn is an opportunity to learn, no matter the setting.”
“Where are you from?” asked Bolt.
“Oh, my world is nothing like this one. It’s much more vibrant and living and square. And it’s full of magic, from top to bottom! You just have to know where to look. You see, I’m a thaumaturge — a practitioner of magic; a worker of miracles. All of my abilities have come through discovery, but I still find the discovery to be an end in itself. That’s why I was so excited to meet you all! Like I said, I’ve never seen anything like you.”
“Your…abilities?” Flint’s eyes gleamed. “What can you do?”
“Quite a lot by now, actually. It’s sort of hard to keep track of. My armor I can turn on and off at will, and when it’s on, it provides me with greater regeneration, water breathing, night vision, flight, defense against smaller projectiles, healing from fire, increased speed and jump height…is that everything? I think I hit the major ones…”
Flint just about fainted. Steve came up beside him in case he did. “That’s very impressive, Ace,” he responded. “Blue and I don’t have any special powers, ourselves. The other five Pikmin with green leaves each have an elemental power — so, for instance, Riptide can create water at will, and Toxin a poisonous vapor.”
“Yeah,” sighed Toxin. “Wish I couldn’t.”
Just then, Ace came to Isaac and Joseph. To their surprise, they had different aspects. Isaac’s reading was Humanus, Ordo, Potentia, and Cognitio; Joseph’s was Humanus, Auram, Permutatio, and Sensus. The Humanus part made sense, as they were both human. The combination of Ordo and Potentia — order and energy — was strikingly evocative of Xenith. The aspects for aura and change, then, probably had something to do with Joseph’s musical powers. But why Cognitio for one and Sensus for the other? Why did Isaac have the aspect for mind and Joseph the aspect for sense? Those qualities seemed to fit them both.
“Plasmin can change his shape at will and hear what you’re thinking,” Steve continued. “Isaac has an Amulet that gives him several elemental powers, and the Shadow Fist—”
“Teleportation, telekinesis, shadow manipulation, and proficiency in hand-to-hand combat,” the Fist interrupted. “And if you’d like a demonstration, I’d be happy to oblige.”
“He means a fight,” Isaac clarified.
“Oh. Never mind, then.” Ace put his Thaumometer away and looked around. “Thank you all for the information! I think now it would be best to move my line of questioning to our surroundings. Where are we?”
“We don’t know,” Riptide answered. “All we know is that it’s full of darkness and that we have to protect it. The only thing living here is us, I think.”
“Okay.” Ace pulled paper and a quill out of his bag, then started to write notes. “How do you know you have to protect this area? Why do you have to protect it? I understand the need to protect a world, but there really doesn’t seem to be much world here left to protect.”
“We…don’t really have a reason.” Joseph shrugged. “It’s just an imperative.”
“Got it. Is that why everyone’s still here?”
“Some of us have tried to leave but have failed,” the Fist huffed.
Ace wrote more notes. “Are you protecting it from the darkness? If so, what do you know about the darkness itself? How can we overcome it? Do you have any ideas?”
“None yet,” Isaac replied. “We’ve tried a couple things — light, creativity — but nothing seems to really stick.”
Flint dropped the stone he was fidgeting with. “Hey! Can you scan it with your Thaum…uh…your looking glass thing, your…”
“Thaumometer,” Bolt corrected him.
“I was gonna say that.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Was too!”
The dialogue continued in much the same fashion as Ace pulled out his looking glass again. Pointing it into the void, he shook his head. “It doesn’t look like I can. If we’re talking stuff in the atmosphere, the Thaumometer can only read concentrated substances like Aura Nodes, which are kind of like airborne magical batteries, and they’re essential to Thaumic research, except they take special equipment to—”
A mass of concentrated void landed next to Ace with a sickening squish. “How about now?” the Fist interrupted.
Immediately Ace pointed his Thaumometer at the blob, eager to learn more. Soon after, a reading flickered onto its screen. “Thank you! So, according to the Thaumometer, the substance surrounding us is called Comatose Void. The little bit that you threw has fifteen Vacuos, fifteen Perditio, and three Mortuus.” Ace picked up the coagulated void, completely unfazed by its abnormality. “Just from that reading, I understand a lot better why you have to save this world. This stuff is empty, as the name suggests. It’s chaotic, which is what the Perditio brings out. And it’s deadly — not as strongly linked to death as to the other two, but still clearly linked. Since this seems to be the only substance in this environment, I’d assume that everything that’s normally here is completely smothered by it. But actually, now that I think about it, let me see something…”
Ace slipped the void in his bag and pointed his Thaumometer at the glass below them. Sure enough, the device understood that as well. “Cerebral Glass,” Ace read. “One Cognitio, one Vitreus. Mind and crystal. That’s really interesting, because it tells us something about—”
“Stop.” Isaac didn’t mean to yell, but the word came out vehemently. Deja vu washed over him — hadn’t Joseph done something similar just a little while ago?
“...I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” Ace looked at Isaac with hurt in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to upset you with what I said. I was just trying to make observations, and—”
“Just…give him some space,” said Plasmin. Ace nodded, stepping back a little. Isaac tried to think through all that Ace had said. Why was it affecting Joseph and him so deeply? Comatose Void, Cerebral Glass…from the sound of it, he thought that there had to be something he should know. But what? Isaac stared into the glass and tried to put the pieces together, but the puzzle didn’t crack easily. Why did he feel so dizzy?
“Is your head spinning, too?” asked Joseph. Isaac glanced up; the look told Joseph all he needed to know. Joseph unlocked his phone. “Wonderful. Well, I’ve got an idea. I’m calling for backup.”

Chapter 6: Word of the Wyrm

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Word of the Wyrm

~ X ~

The first few notes of White Palace, a song from the Hollow Knight soundtrack, rang out into the void. Isaac looked at Joseph quizzically. “What are you doing?”
“Trust me,” he explained, “I felt the same thing you did. I want answers, and your shirt made me remember something.”
“How are you getting answers from this song? What, do you think some sawblades would help with that somehow?”
Joseph smirked. “No, but maybe the guy who put them in the White Palace will. Void is a central theme in Hollow Knight. There was a lore tablet in the White Palace about controlling void and the power it had, remember? I feel like if we understand this substance better it'll help us in the long run.”
Isaac remembered. “Right. How did that go again?” Folding his hands in front of his face, Isaac searched his memory banks for Hollow Knight lore. The lines, which he had only read a few times, sprang to mind readily with the music’s guidance.
“Void,” he quoted, “yours is the power opposed. But yours is potential, eternity potential, force that could deny time.”
“Void,” a voice replied, “harness shall be placed upon you.”
The voice was authoritative and knowledgeable, yet frail. The group turned to see its source. Standing before them was a figure slightly shorter than Isaac. The figure was dressed in a white robe and emitted a glow from his form, but most noticeable about him was the fiercely horned crown he wore, connected to the mask he looked out of. He was unmistakable. Somehow, without even summoning the clef, Joseph had achieved exactly what he had envisioned with the music he played. Isaac knelt respectfully.
“Rise,” the newcomer commanded. “I forfeited that privilege long ago. A king with no kingdom deserves no allegiance.”
As Isaac stood, Blue came forward, always his enthusiastic self: “Hi! My name's Blue! Should I kneel, too? It sounded like you didn't like that, but I wanted to make sure.”
It was easy to imagine a smile under the king’s mask. “That will not be necessary, Blue. But I appreciate the sentiment.”
Ace walked up and scanned the king. The others studied him from behind Isaac — except Joseph, who came up next to his twin as he paused the music.
“Who are you?” asked Plasmin.
“To my subjects, I was a god. To myself, I am a failure. But to you…”
“You are the Pale King,” Joseph finished. “The ruler of Hallownest and the Wyrm who opened the minds of his subjects.”
The Pale King’s gaze dropped. “Such memories belong to a past age, which is no more.”
Isaac had so many questions that he hardly knew where to begin the conversation. Luckily, he didn't have to. He and Joseph floated to opposite sides of the King, moved by telekinetic force.
“Enough formalities,” said the Shadow Fist. “These two are a bit too familiar with you, so I'm going to get straight to the point before they mention more things only understood by you three. What do you know about void?”
The Pale King's head tilted slightly. “Are you not constructed of it yourself?”
The Fist’s eyes blazed. “That was not my question.”
“Very well.” The monarch regarded his surroundings, understanding the reasoning behind the question. “Void is an enigmatic substance,” he explained. “When found naturally, it lashes out against anything it can reach, slashing fiercely with its razor sharp tentacles. Void becomes useful when it is coalesced and united under a single will, or when it is placed at the heart of a living construct. It is the natural enemy of light, and it has the strength to overcome it — a fact I attempted to use to end the intoxicating dreams that plagued my kingdom. In this task, however, I was unsuccessful.”
Isaac struggled to apply what the Pale King was saying. Their worlds were vastly different, and their paradigms and principles held nearly opposite implications. If void is against light, he thought, do we need light to remove the void?
Unaware of the implications, Plasmin heard this thought and voiced it. “What if the void is what we need to get rid of? Should we use light for that?”
Left behind was a thick silence. The Pale King looked through Plasmin. “Use light?” he asked, his voice an incredulous murmur. “What are you saying?”
“He means that there’s void all around us, and we need to get rid of it,” Bolt interjected. “The void is messing up this world. So, with you saying that light is void’s natural enemy, we thought that if we had to get rid of void, we could use light for that.”
“Stop. Stop talking, all of you.” The King was shaking. “You have no idea what you seek. You have never seen light. You have never imagined Radiance.”
Joseph stepped forward, his hands in front of him in a conciliatory gesture. “Sir,” he ventured, “I understand your world is greatly unlike ours. I have heard the struggles you’ve faced and the effect the forgotten light has on the minds it infects. I know the Radiance caused a dreadful infection in your subjects, and that you attempted to seal it away by—”
“You understand? Do you? Then you realize all that I sacrificed for nothing?!”
The group shrank back from the Pale King’s outburst. Bringing a single alabastrine hand out from under his robe, the ruler pointed at Joseph. “And yet you dare to even consider attacking your surroundings and leaving this mind open to infection?”
Isaac’s heart jumped into his throat. What did he just say?
The King looked from Pikmin to Pikmin, from shadow to Yoshi. “If you seek to bring light into this place, all of you — all of you — shall have a colossal trial ahead. I am warning you now. Light is fickle and manipulative, and creativity alone will not be enough to cease its ravages.” He looked at Joseph. “How will you defend yourself under the trial of the gods?” He turned towards Isaac. “What will you do when under crimson light you must stay, and all around you are falling into insanity, pleading that—”
Light thundered. The Pale King’s splendor increased explosively; the group fell. Isaac opened his eyes to see one standing with all the authority of a revered sovereign worshiped by his subjects — the authority of a god-king. The monarch fixed his eyes on Isaac and spoke:

A cognizance darkened, by slumber held fast.
Its foe shall be her of the most hated name.
Deep into void shall ability cast
The bearer of latent Xenithian flame.
In ritual battle and strife he shall fight
Through deities allied in holiest light,
And the broken made whole as many form one
Shall awaken the many through severance undone.

The brilliance faded. Isaac sat on the ground in shock. The weight of his sudden realization allowed nothing else. All at once, the Pale King had supplied the missing pieces to the puzzle in his mind, and he had done so in a manner that demanded complete confidence. In all the concern about the void, after all, Isaac had completely forgotten that the King was prescient. He could see the future with absolute certainty.
Plasmin looked from Isaac to Joseph — who was in the same state — then back to the Pale King. “Thank you, sir. I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I can tell these two need some space, so it’d be best if we stood back for a while.”
“I understand. But I must ask for forgiveness myself.” Getting down on one knee, the Pale King looked Isaac in the eye. “I see your road, young one, and understand your plight. My outburst came from assuming our experiences and their outcomes had to be equal.” Gazing now at Joseph, he offered a final warning: “Even so, both of you would do well to remember the whole of what I have said. Do not trust all that appears good.”
All Isaac could say was a whispered quote, barely audible even to the Wyrm in front of him.
The burdened monarch dropped his head. “Indeed.” His form wavered and glowed, and the Pale King dissipated into Essence, the disks of light carrying him as a dream into the void above. Left behind was an echo of Isaac’s whisper:
“No cost too great.”
Isaac and Joseph locked eyes.
Comatose Void. Cerebral Glass. “This mind.” A cognizance darkened, by slumber held fast.
They thought of their powers, which they had imagined. They thought of their characters, which they had written. They thought of the Pale King, whose story and world they intimately knew.
And they thought of two cars that crashed into each other, when crushing destruction enveloped the world and everything went pitch black. The connection seemed so simple, yet so profound and so horrible.
Isaac and Joseph were two facets of the same person: Isaac Joseph. He was in a car accident. And now he was comatose.

Chapter 7: By Slumber Held Fast

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

By Slumber Held Fast

~ X ~

A trillion thoughts descended on Isaac’s mind. The accident. It hadn’t felt too long ago. But how could he know for certain how long he had been comatose? Time could work far differently here.
“Isaac. Hey.” Hearing his mental distress, Plasmin approached.
“Just wait,” Isaac replied.
He didn’t know his physical condition. Did his splitting into two mean something dire? Was it just the way he thought? Could this place be a reflection of death, or worse?
“I know this is really hard for you to deal with.”
“Wait.”
And his family. His amazing, wonderful, caring, terrified family. His parents had to be freaking out. Did his sister come back home for his sake? Isaac knew her studies were very important to her.
“I can hear your mind is—”
“Let me think!”
Isaac’s breathing became quick and shaky. He tried desperately to process a single piece of information — anything that could help him. But all he could do was feel the weight of it. It was beginning to crush him, and Isaac knew what happened when he broke under such weight.
Looking up at Joseph, Isaac attempted to rationalize his feelings. “So. This…this is where we are.”
Seeing Joseph only made things worse. Staring into a mirror while trying to keep himself from shattering only served to form an echo chamber for his emotions. Joseph didn’t respond; his state was just as perilous as Isaac’s.
“Please, Joseph, just give me something.”
Feelings flickered across Joseph’s face that Isaac couldn’t recognize. He still made no reply. Isaac felt the situation’s pressure increase; his mental state began to slip away from him.
“Please, friend! I—”
Crack.
Everything stopped. The sound had come from the ground beneath them. Isaac broke eye contact with Joseph as he, with all the others, looked down.
Carved into the Cerebral Glass was a sizable fault. Wisps of Comatose Void fluttered out of its crooked grimace, joining the gaseous death in the atmosphere around them. Just seeing the crack was deeply unsettling. If Isaac lost control of himself completely…
Moving, breathing, thinking very cautiously, Isaac risked a glance at Joseph, then faced Plasmin. “Okay.” He nodded slightly. “I…”
“Don’t say another word. Just listen.” Placing his hand on Isaac’s shoulder, Plasmin allowed their minds to make contact. Isaac felt Plasmin’s hand tense as he felt the disorder seething in his mind. Then Plasmin began to communicate telepathically, having turned fully gold to better focus.
“None of us knows how long you’ve been comatose,” he began. “But we do know you’re still alive now to fight through. If you’re unsure of the future, do what you can to turn it in your favor.”
Isaac’s breathing began to slow down and smooth out. Plasmin continued.
“I’ve seen this pattern of two personas in all of your self-dialogue. I wouldn’t be too worried about it. The Pale King spoke of a single cognizance, then spoke of severance undone. If this is a bad thing, it’s not harming you too much yet, and it’s only temporary.”
Rational thought began to return to its rightful place over emotion. Isaac relaxed as Plasmin set the last pieces in order.
“I don’t know much about your family — only snippets here and there from your thoughts. What I have heard sounds incredible. Let’s wake up to see them, okay?”
Isaac nodded and opened his eyes. The last opaque tendrils of the crack in the Cerebral Glass healed as he watched. He checked on Joseph, who was also calm; he had heard Plasmin as well. Isaac smiled at Plasmin, who was red again.
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Now, we need to discuss what the Pale King said. There’s a lot to go over, and I’m assuming there are things you know about his prediction that we don’t.”
Isaac nodded, and the group gathered together as Plasmin beckoned them over. All were silent as Isaac surveyed the group. Flint and Ace hadn’t taken their eyes off the glass, and Blue hadn’t taken his arm from around Steve’s shoulders. Ember’s leaf was smoking, and Bolt was glowing slightly; they were ready to spring into action should the need arise. Riptide looked about ready to cry, and Toxin had his eyes fixed on him with a hand on his back. The Fist stared at Isaac expectantly and impatiently. Looking last at Joseph, Isaac could see he was still on the mend himself, but upon making eye contact he raised his eyebrows, signaling Isaac to talk. Heeding the signal, he took a breath, then pushed himself into starting the conversation:
“So.”
All eyes turned; he had the group’s attention. Joseph nodded slightly, encouraging Isaac to continue. “So,” he repeated, “we’ve just had a breakthrough — and, well, avoided one. I swear, all my best puns are unintentional.”
A chuckle floated through the group. “How did that happen?” asked Ace. “Could it be that the Cerebral Glass detected the disorder of your mind and took some of it on to try and calm you down? It has to be related to the mind, after all. The scan showed that for certain. And its name—”
Without looking away from Isaac, Bolt gave Ace a small shock. Looking down at Bolt in surprise, Ace formulated another question, then thought better of it. Isaac smiled.
“To answer your question, Ace,” he resumed, “yes and no. Yes, the glass definitely felt the disorder of my mind. But it wasn’t seeking to correct it. It was reflecting it. Showing it. And now I know why.”
Putting his hand on the glass, Isaac took another deep breath. He still couldn’t believe that what he was about to say was true. “The glass cracked,” he explained, “because we’re in my mind. The Pale King said it himself when he asked if I dared to leave this mind open to infection. That’s what this place is. That’s why all of you are here. And that’s why we have to save it.”
Realization and even wonder permeated the group. Steve broke the silence: “Then why can’t we leave?”
“Self-preservation,” Ember responded. “We’re how his mind is saved. It wouldn’t make sense for us to leave, no matter how much we hate staying.”
“It’s more than that,” Joseph replied. “Isaac and I are comatose. You can’t leave because we don’t have the imagination for it.”
“But if that’s true…” Isaac put his hand up to his forehead in thought. “If that’s true, how did the Pale King show up? He’s not one of our…well, you know.” He wasn’t one of their characters. Isaac and Joseph knew the King far less than they knew the group sitting with them.
In response, Joseph held up his speaker. “We still have some creative power. It’s the only way we’re waking up. And speaking of which, let’s get to the prophecy.”
Bolt saw his chance to take the spotlight. “A cognizance darkened, by slumber held fast. Its foe shall be her of the most hated name. Deep into void—”
“Bolt. Hey. Let’s just take this one line at a time,” interrupted Riptide. “The first line. Is that what we were just talking about?”
The twins nodded. “Looking around here,” Isaac elaborated, “this mind is dark, and it’s comatose — held fast by slumber. Unless that has some enormous second meaning we’re completely missing, I think we can move on.”
“Its foe shall be her of the most hated name,” Joseph said. Looking around the group, he began to laugh. “Y’know, I’m kind of stumped by this one. I don’t think it’s anyone we know, unless someone decided to convince twelve-year-old Isaac that he should probably make just one female character.”
Isaac and Joseph laughed out loud, to the confusion of the group. Regaining his composure, Isaac shrugged. “We might figure that one out later. Just be on the lookout. I don’t know which name is most hated either, and I’m kind of scared to check.”
“The next lines don’t provide much solace,” the Fist pointed out. “Deep into void shall ability cast the bearer of latent Xenithian flame. Any insights, Xenith-bearer?”
“Hopefully…” Isaac shifted uncomfortably. “Hopefully that’s a quick once-and-done thing. However we’re killing this void, it needs to be done quickly before it kills us. I’d rather stay out of deep void, myself. It seems counterintuitive to our end goal.”
“Joseph,” Plasmin prompted, “is there something on your mind?”
Joseph frowned. “Yeah, I just…” He looked up at Isaac. “We need to be careful. We can fight the void, sure, but we shouldn’t run too far from what the King said. We might…I don’t know, end up in the wrong place.”
Isaac’s head tilted slightly. “What do you mean, friend?”
“He told us that light is dangerous, point-blank. I know that applies to his world. Don’t you have the feeling it applies to ours in some way as well?”
Breaking eye contact, Isaac only sighed as he thought. It was Blue who voiced what was on his mind: “Yeah, Joseph, you’re right about that, but I think the next line messes that up. It was about light, and it sounded really important.”
“Yup.” Isaac nodded. “In ritual battle and strife he shall fight through deities allied in holiest light. That’s the one I’m really worried about.”
“What are deities?” asked Flint. “The battle part I get. Sounds cool!”
“Deities are gods,” the Shadow Fist explained. “Beings of immense power and potential. Often they are creators of worlds or even universes. Many are spoken of in the multiverse.”
Isaac bit his tongue. He only knew one God, but that wasn’t a topic for there and then. He knew what the prophecy meant all too well. It invoked a different world he knew, and the idea seemed impossible. He couldn’t bring himself to explain it. It was terrifying…but it appeared to be his only choice.
Plasmin’s expression shifted from mild concern to a deep-seated unease. He leaned in towards Isaac, his leaf glimmering gold.
“Isaac…who’s Xeroc?”

Chapter 8: Calamity Beckoning

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

Calamity Beckoning

– ♪ –

“Dude.” Isaac took a deep breath. “You have got to stop doing the mind reading thing. Just let me say what I want to say when I want to say it, okay?”
Plasmin sheepishly turned his leaf from gold to green. Ember scoffed. “Feels like I have to say that a lot, too.”
“I don’t mean to eavesdrop,” Plasmin explained. “It’s just…it can sometimes be hard to differentiate between physical voice and mental voice.”
“Yeah. Sure. Nice try.”
Blue elbowed Ember, who glared at him. Joseph didn’t want control of the situation to be lost, so he forced out an explanation.
“Xeroc…is someone we’re familiar with from another world.”
“Someone you’ve met?” asked Bolt.
“Thankfully, no. Just someone we’ve heard stories about. Xeroc is an enormously powerful light god. If light is what we’re looking for to combat this void, he’s the way to go.”
Isaac sat forward. “Thank you for explaining. Yeah, considering how specific the Pale King was about this, I honestly think Xeroc is our best bet here. I’m not looking forward to the summoning — heck, I barely even know where to begin — but it’s something we can at least start working towards.”
Going straight after Xeroc still felt wrong to Joseph. The same King who had given the prophecy had looked straight at him and warned him not to trust all that appeared good. Before he could broach the subject, Blue jumped in: “Well, if we’re going to do the summoning, where would we begin?”
“First of all, you’d need a Terminus.” Isaac’s gaze floated upwards as he thought. “It’s a ritualistic artifact; one with the sole purpose of starting that summoning process. The Terminus is the only reliable method of contacting Xeroc, and only one exists — locked away in the deepest layer of the Abyss. Basically, it’s in a deep ocean trench full of deadly, ravenous sea life.”
“But I can’t swim!” Flint complained.
“I know, Flint. But we’re gonna have to get it somehow. Xeroc responds to the Terminus; I doubt that there’s any other way he really respects.” Isaac smirked. “Another ‘he,’” he muttered to himself. “Isn’t that hilarious.”
“Okay, hang on.” Ace stood, his hands open in front of him. “I’m incredibly confused, and not about Xeroc or the Terminus, because I figure I can get more information about those things pretty well. I’m really confused over what you just muttered, and about what you said earlier. You and Joseph seem to assign some significance to this whole ‘he’ thing that I can’t really figure out. Joseph, earlier you said something about ‘creating female characters,’ and I can’t wrap my head around what that means. Does it have to do with writing? Because the only characters I know of are those that I use to form words and sentences. And how does Xeroc fit into all that? When we find a ‘her,’ will we immediately know that it has to be her of the most hated name, as the Pale King said?”
It did have something to do with writing, but not what Ace_the_Yoshi thought. Glancing at Isaac, Joseph could tell neither of them had the faintest clue how to answer Ace’s questions. All of their characters, all their stories, all their pains…how could they possibly explain that, in some way, the two of them were responsible for it all? The thought made Joseph uncomfortable.
So, he just shrugged. “That’s just a statement about the current group in which we find ourselves. Nothing’s wrong with that. But you’re right to point back to the prophecy. That line’s gotta be important.” Joseph’s gaze jerked over to Plasmin; his leaf was still green. His thoughts had gone undetected, thankfully.
“So. Help me understand.” The Shadow Fist’s voice sounded like he very much did not like what he did understand. “You are saying that your only hope of awakening is an artifact down in the depths of a dangerous ocean, and that artifact is used to summon a light god? Am I still required to help with this, Warrior?”
“Uh…yeah. That’s the only Terminus. It—” An idea sparked in Isaac’s mind. “Actually, wait. Hang on.” Now deep in thought, Isaac shut his eyes and began to gesticulate, constructing a mental picture of whatever had inspired him. Joseph couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He knew the process intimately, of course, but it was fun to watch in third person.
“If everyone is here because…yeah, and if you…with that as well, then maybe…” Isaac’s eyes snapped open. “Maybe there’s another Terminus!”
Ace sat back down. “Another Terminus?” he asked. “Where is it? Is it easier to get? Does it act the same way as the one in the Abyss?”
“I believe it does, in every respect.” Isaac looked over at Joseph and smiled. “Friend, you see everyone here. Do you remember Final Vessel?”
“Of course I remember Final Vessel. We wrote it for our high school writing class. It was a story about—” Realization began to set in. “Oh. It was about the Pale King.”
“Yup. Sure was. And the Pale King just recently showed up in this place, which we already established was our mind. So, if that’s the case — if writing that story helped bring him into this mind of ours — then let’s review. What else have we written?”
“Let’s see.” Reviewing his written works, Joseph obviously didn’t want to name out loud any of the stories involving the characters in front of him. He had written seven stories for the Golden Seven, then a four-part narrative called Ace_the_Yoshi’s Guide to Thaumaturgy. Then, years later, he had written Final Vessel — and, he now remembered, one more work. Its name came out as a breathless whisper:
“Godlike Power.”
The story he had named took place in the world of Terraria’s Calamity mod. It featured the tyrant king Yharim, and his initiative to contact an enormously powerful light god. It detailed his success in doing so, and his humiliating defeat at the deity’s hand. But, most importantly for Isaac’s point, it described how, at Yharim’s command, the genius cyborg Draedon and the supreme witch Calamitas had forged a second Terminus. The conclusion was logical. It was sound. And it was deeply unsettling.
“So you know—” Isaac rose to his feet — “you know that there’s another Terminus out there. There’s another Terminus in Yharim’s palace, and while it’s difficult to get, it’s not impossible. We just have to sneak in, grab it, and get out. It’s an environment that we can survive if we don’t get caught. I think we can manage that with all of our abilities.”
“So is that it?” asked Steve. “Do we have a plan?”
Isaac gave it one last thought, then nodded. “Yeah, I think so!”
The group began to rise to their feet. “Hold on,” said Toxin, who had been silent up until this point. “Before we go rushing into things. We didn’t talk about the whole prophecy.”
“And the broken made whole as many form one shall awaken the many through severance undone,” Joseph quoted. “What I noticed is that it’s the only line that actually mentions us waking up. I don’t mean to dump cold water on your whole plan, but…I honestly feel like we should be focusing here.”
“How do we focus here?” Flint replied. “Do we know what it means?”
“Not really, but that shouldn’t stop us from trying. We know what it could mean. We could experiment and move towards it.” Joseph’s voice was more adamant than he meant it to be. “Are you sure — friend, are you sure — that Xeroc is how we go about this?” Exasperated, he let out a sigh. “Stealing the Terminus? Doesn’t that just sound impossible?”
In response, Isaac demonstratively crossed his arms, causing Xenith to flare within him. “All of this is impossible. Ritual battle and strife is the least abstract line of the prophecy, not counting the first. If we want something to happen, we have to try it.”
“Ah, yes. No surprises from the Xenithian Warrior,” the Fist grumbled. “The light deity is our only option. Of course.”
“Hey,” Ace began, “we’re essentially operating from the only information we have—”
Ember shot upright. “No. I can’t believe that. You’re not dragging my friends through this. We’re finding a better option.”
“Ember,” said Blue, “don’t—”
“I really don’t need you to ‘Ember don’t’ me right now,” he retorted.
Bolt smirked. “Ember don’t.”
Ember’s leaf burst into flame, and the group stood at the cue. Riptide stood between Ember and Bolt as he and Blue tried to calm Ember down. Many of the Pikmin began to talk at once, some saying Xeroc should be contacted, others arguing against it. Ace threw his voice into the whirlwind, trying in vain to present his side. The Fist just folded his arms and watched. All the while, the burning in Joseph’s brain increased; too many things were happening at once. But before he could attempt getting a word in, a voice cut through the fray:
“SHUT UP AND LISTEN!”
All conversation halted, and all eyes turned to the Xenithian Warrior. His chest was heaving, and his fingers were twitching from tension. It made Joseph more afraid than he cared to admit.
“Do you know what I think?” Isaac asked, with anger written on his face and woven into his voice. “Let me tell you all what I think. I think all of you are killing me. You are literally killing me right now. I propose a concrete lead, and all we want to do is debate its ethics. All we want to do is chase after shadowy nothings that might probably exist. We—” Isaac took a deep breath, keeping himself from yelling again. “We don’t have time for any of this. In case you forgot, I’m comatose. I am dying. And in case you forgot, this place we’re standing in? It’s my mind. Mine. You are all guests here, and I appreciate your presence. But at the end of the day, I get the final word. So here it is: am I getting a Terminus, or am I never waking up?”
Was he just talking to the others…or was he talking to me, too?
The only sound in the space was Isaac’s breathing. It was even, slow, conscious. Ace’s eyes went wide. “Wait a minute. Tell me if my logic is off here, but we’re trapped in this place for the time being. This place is Isaac’s mind, and we’re trying to save it. We’re trying to save him. So, since we’re trying to save Isaac, if he dies, this place dies with him. And since we’re trapped here, if it collapses, we’re stuck here while it does, and…” He walked towards Isaac. “Yeah. I think I’ve decided. I’m…I’m going to stand over here. I’ll try the whole Terminus thing. It seems like our best lead.”
Steve was the next to follow Ace’s lead, with the other Pikmin filing in behind him. Ember, his leaf now quenched, followed the group. Once they all stood beside Isaac, the Fist huffed.
“I suppose self-preservation doesn’t mean I have to like it. If it’s our only choice…” He teleported, joining the group. “You raise a good point, rambler.”
There was one left behind. Standing by himself across from the decided group was Joseph. He hadn’t moved a muscle.
Isaac extended his hand. “You with us, friend?”
Joseph just stared into the glass. How had it come to this? Why did pursuing this feel so…wrong? Logically, sure, he could admit that they could probably pull the heist off with their combined abilities. However, in order to feel at peace with the decision, he would have to forget the Pale King’s gaze. It stuck in his mind like a briar, and Isaac was starting to press on it.
But no, that couldn’t be. They were the same person! Joseph and Isaac were one; they were both comatose. Isaac’s good was Joseph’s good; he had his best interest in mind. Joseph was just overreacting. He was letting his feelings take control of him. That must have been it.
With a disingenuous smile, Joseph walked over to Isaac. He unlocked his phone and began to look for a song that could grant them entrance into the world of Calamity — Xeroc’s world. He didn’t take Isaac’s hand.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

Chapter 9: Breaking In

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Breaking In

– ♪ –

It didn’t take long for Joseph to find an appropriate song. He selected The Tale of a Cruel World, and the somber tone began playing from his speaker. “This should get us into the world,” he explained. “From there, it’s about finding Yharim’s palace, and…I have no clue where that is, honestly. But it’s in this world somewhere!”
“An entire new world to explore?” Blue looked enraptured. He looked over at Steve, who was not as excited.
“Is this world dangerous?” Steve asked. “If it’s not safe, we can’t spend much time looking around — and, to be honest, you don’t have a lot of time either.”
The answer to Steve’s question was such an emphatic yes that Joseph had to keep himself from laughing out loud. Instead, he paused the song. “Yeah. Makes sense. Let’s, uh…let’s see if we can get a bit closer, huh? That should help.”
He began to scroll through his playlist again, mentally eliminating songs. Nothing unrelated to Terraria or the Calamity mod would work. Any song for a specific boss fight could just conjure that boss, running the definite risk of killing all of them. That left biomes and events, with a few interludes — evoking something like the title screen or credits wouldn’t help, so Joseph eliminated those as well. No event could work, either, as he risked summoning a horde of goblins or a hail of slime or worse. He began to consider if there was a biome where Yharim lived. Thinking back to Godlike Power, Joseph remembered its setting, and the song clicked in his mind. He found it and began to play it.
Lihzahrd began to play, and Isaac grinned. “Clever. Yharim did live here according to the lore when Godlike Power was written, didn’t he? I like the way you think!”
Everyone started to look around. “So…where is it?” Riptide asked.
Making a quick decision, Joseph began to walk. “This way. Follow me!”
The group filed behind Joseph, giving him time and space to think. This was absurd. He had just started walking in a random direction. Why was he doing this? He didn’t even feel the same power that he had when he cast Shine or Lightmare. Sure, the Pale King had shown up just fine without him feeling it, but that gave him no guarantees that it would work a second time. Could walking in some arbitrary direction do anything for him? Maybe he should have waited to really feel the song and summon the clef.
He was so deep in thought that he walked directly into the Jungle Temple’s wall.
Bolt and Flint burst out laughing as Joseph staggered back. He found himself laughing, too. He had found the Temple, after all…even if it was with his forehead before his eyes. Bolt came up beside him and patted him on the back a few times.
“Magnificently done. A stellar performance.” Laughter still shook Bolt’s shoulders. “Can we find landmarks more often?”
“Sorry, friend,” Joseph replied. He knocked on his skull a couple times. “My head’s already messed up. As funny as it is for me to bonk into things, I think it might be best for all of us if I avoided that for now.”
Feigning disappointment, Bolt turned his attention to the structure before them as the rest of the group came up behind Joseph. Pausing the music, he looked at it, too. The Jungle Temple was made of brown brick, and its main passageway stretched ahead of them into darkness. The edifice stretched above them at a climbable slope for several feet and extended down deep into the Cerebral Glass. Ace was the first to enter the Temple’s hall; his armor shimmered, and a bright beam of light appeared in front of him, pointing straight down the hallway’s length.
The group followed Ace into the Temple’s mouth, coming to the door at the end of the hall. It was made of the same brown brick that surrounded it, with a sun design carved into its front. An ochre keyhole showed it was securely locked. Toxin slipped to the front of the group, standing inches from the door.
“It’s a long passageway,” he explained, using his natural X-ray vision to look down the hall behind the door. “It’s all made of the same brick, and I don’t think there are any lights inside. The ceiling is the same height as it is here.”
As Toxin turned, the door rattled. Everyone jumped back. Something hit the door hard from the inside. Isaac crossed his arms as Ember’s leaf combusted. Then, the Shadow Fist appeared in front of the door, facing the group.
“It cannot be opened from the inside.”
Isaac dropped his arms and breathed a sigh of relief. Most of the group relaxed, but Ember went from defensive to angry. He boldly approached the Fist, leaf still blazing.
“Hey. I have an idea,” he spat. “Maybe next time you try something like this, you tell us first. Ever think of that? Or have you never—”
“I don’t remember having to answer to you.” The Fist teleported back into the midst of the group, leaving Ember to seethe in front of the door. Ace turned towards Ember, bending down slightly.
“Um, hi, Ember,” he began. “Trust me, I know how it feels to be startled — I mean, it did just happen; I was right here the whole time and heard the same things as you did, and I hated it, too — so I just wanted to give you advance notice before I walk past you and go to the door to try and—”
“All right already,” Ember replied. “I appreciate the thought, but that’s a bit much.” Ember walked back to the others as Ace approached the door. First scanning the door with his Thaumometer, he smiled confidently, holding up his hand like he was holding a tool of some sort.
“All right. I haven't found something this can’t break yet!” Ace swung his hand towards the door, and a pickaxe appeared in Ace’s hand, with a bright golden head and a silvery handle. The pickaxe made contact with the door, sending a ring reverberating through Joseph’s mind. The door remained intact. Ace retracted his pickaxe, his eyes full of wonder.
“This pickaxe can break bedrock,” he said to himself. “What could this door possibly be made out of?”
“It’s locked,” Isaac explained. “In this world, locked doors and filled chests can’t be broken by anything, no matter how strong.”
“Really? Wow. Why not? What is it about the lock on the door or the items in the chest that increases the hardness of the material to impossible heights? Ichorium is specifically engineered to be unbreakable and enormously powerful, so this pickaxe, being made out of it, should really be able to carve through anything it comes across.”
“Try the wall around it,” Joseph suggested.
Ace turned and applied the pick to the wall next to him. The brick crumbled the moment the pickaxe hit the wall. “Huh. That’s intriguing.” He broke open a hollow large enough to stand in, then held his pick aloft. A green glow crystalized around it, which flashed red, then blue. With two more strokes of the pickaxe, the brick in front of Ace came tumbling down, forming a thirty-foot tunnel that penetrated into the Temple and circumvented the locked door.
The pickaxe vanished upon Ace opening his hand. “Well, I’d love to experiment with this door, but we have a Terminus to get. Shall we?”
Everyone followed Ace around the door and into the Temple. Isaac took the lead. “Okay, everyone. We’re here. All we have to do is make it through these halls safely. Then we can determine exactly where the palace is.”
“This…isn’t the palace?” asked Blue.
“Well, no,” Isaac replied, “but we know that Yharim lives close to here. We were getting as close as we could, then we’d find it from—”
Steve’s eyes went wide. “Isaac, look out!”
Isaac whirled around and saw a reptilian humanoid — a lihzahrd — behind him. It was clearly upset about the intruders in its temple. As Isaac threw his arms into the crossed position, it lunged at him, fangs at the ready.
Before any of them could react, Ace was there. He drew his sword, and with lightning speed dispatched the threat in a few hits. He then put his sword back in his bag, pulling out a clear looking glass with an irregular round shape. Ace pointed the glass at the ground in front of them, and a wall of cobblestone instantly choked the passageway.
If Flint had a mouth, it would have been hanging open. “How in the…did you just…did…”
“I’ve made a lot of powerful stuff,” Ace replied. “I just used my Worldshaper’s Looking Glass to put down a wall while we think. I can just as easily break it down once we get moving.” He stuffed the item back into his bag. “So where is the palace, anyway? Is it at the end of this passageway? Is it somewhere in the middle? Does the passageway branch off at all, or is it just one hallway all the way through?”
“I’d guess it’s at the end,” Joseph conjectured. “That’s the most important area of the Temple, after all. We’ll have to get through the whole Temple in order to reach it. Ace, because of your armor’s light and your combat capabilities, you should lead the way. Isaac, the Fist, and I will—”
“Wait, wait, wait. I’ve got a much better idea.” Bolt sauntered up to the front of the group, pointing to the wall beside them. “Hey Toxin, is there anything behind that wall?”
Toxin walked up to the wall, then shook his head. “It’s solid.”
“Great. So, here’s what we’re gonna do. We broke our way in here, right? Why can’t we tunnel our way through the walls to find this big, important room?”
Joseph’s wounded pride was really hoping that Bolt wouldn’t have a much better idea, but he found himself agreeing. It was much faster and far lower risk. Joseph smirked as he remembered he had given Bolt both intelligence and hubris — a combination that, at times, was quite familiar to him.
“I…suppose so!” Ace said. “But I have no idea where to go, and judging by what happened earlier, if I accidentally break any Cerebral Glass with my pickaxe, the results could be disastrous.” He turned to Isaac. “Do you know where the end of the Temple is?”
“It’s near the bottom. The hallway winds back and forth, but it generally goes downwards. If you dig down you should get really close at least.”
The Shadow Fist walked up to the cobblestone wall. He turned. “Ember. I am now going to teleport past this wall, fly through the corridor, and find the room we are looking for. I will then teleport back to this location, which may cause a small fright to those not expecting it. But you will not be one of those frightened now that I have explained all that I am going to do. Are you quite alright with the whole of what I am planning?”
Ember scowled, and the Fist vanished before he could answer. Ace shifted nervously. “I don’t know about this. I really don’t want to run into any Cerebral Glass. I can’t see where I’m going, so I might break some by accident.”
“Oh!” Blue pointed at Toxin. “He can see where you’re going! Toxin has X-ray vision! All White Pikmin do! He can see through walls, and it’s really cool!”
Toxin gave a slight smile as Riptide looked over. “That’s a good idea, but we should see if he wants to do it first. Toxin, are you okay with this?”
In response, Toxin walked up to Ace. He stared at the Yoshi’s torso for a while. His head began to move in a gradual rhythm. Then, he nodded. “I’ll go.”
Ace was thrilled. He picked up Toxin, grasping him around his middle and carrying him under his right arm. He faltered. “Oh. I’m sorry, are you…okay with this?”
“It’s fine,” Toxin replied. “Pikmin get carried all the time.”
Just then, the Fist reappeared. “Ember. I have returned, as you can—”
“I get it!” Ember yelled.
“The room you are seeking is unmistakable. It is large, with an altar placed in its center. And it is located that way.” The Fist pointed into the floor at a precise angle. “If you are tunneling to find it, the process should not take awfully long. I would recommend having a weapon at the ready once you get there — the room has more of the creatures we’ve encountered, as well as flying serpents.”
Still carrying Toxin, Ace nodded and broke open the wall next to him. “We’ll see you soon!” He lifted into the air, began to tunnel, and was gone.
Realizing their light source had left, Bolt lit up with internal electricity. Isaac raised his hand, going through the motions to summon light from the Amulet. He formed a small orb of light and hung it in midair. Bolt turned off as the Pikmin flocked to the light. Plasmin walked over to the Shadow Fist instead.
“What did you see in that room?” he asked.
“Not much more than what there is to see here,” the Fist replied. “It’s just a far larger space, with statues of the lizard creatures scattered across the floor. In the center, there is an altar with a glowing star shining above it. There did not seem to be any sort of palace entrance, but perhaps the way is hidden.”
Once he finished, Toxin’s voice began echoing up the tunnel Ace had dug: “...went inside the Titan’s Dweevil’s weapons and attacked them. The stuff inside the weapons was what gave the five of us these abilities.”
“Amazing,” responded Ace’s enthralled voice. “What were the weapons made out of?”
“Plasm. Plasmin made them before he became a Pikmin.”
Having discovered a new, captivating line of inquiry, Ace’s stunned silence lasted until he and Toxin reappeared. “Oh,” he said, remembering there were others in this Temple. “Hello, everyone! We found the room! We were attacked by the flying snakes the Shadow Fist mentioned, and Toxin was under my sword arm so I couldn’t defend us, but then Toxin released this poisonous gas and took them out one by one until they were all gone! That made me really curious, and I asked him all about it on our way up. I’m going to have to hear all of your stories some time after this is all over! There’s such fascinating history here that I didn’t even think to ask about.”
Ace set down Toxin, who was clearly pained from having to explain a part of himself in detail that he disliked so much. Plasmin approached the shaft and looked down. “How are we all getting down there?”
“This one can make portals,” said the Fist, jerking his head towards Isaac.
“Well, yes,” Isaac replied, “but I need to get down there first. I can’t make a portal to somewhere I’ve never seen.”
Right as Isaac finished, he was lifted into the air, surrounded by shadow. The Fist lifted into the air as well. “Not a problem. I will just carry you down.”
“I, uh…I didn’t agree to this—”
“You said you needed to get down. I can take you down. I do not see a problem here.”
“Well, yes, but—”
The Shadow Fist flew into the tunnel with Isaac in tow. A few moments later, a violet frame opened on the opposite wall. Isaac was busy suspending orbs of light in midair to keep the reptilians at bay, while the Fist kept watch for any approaching them. Joseph heard several thuds as attacking creatures were thrown hard against walls.
The area in which they were standing was indeed spacious. Behind them stood the Lihzahrd Altar, with a square eight-pointed star of light hovering above it. The area held many statues of lihzahrds, some holding spears. Joseph allowed himself a slight feeling of relief. They had made it through the Temple, and they could now focus on getting to the palace. He saw that the lights were all placed, and the Fist was still; no monsters were spawning. Joseph, with the group behind him, walked through the portal towards Isaac.
Click.
Joseph jumped off the pressure plate under his foot. It was too late. Seeing nothing hurtling towards them from any side, Joseph looked up to see a volley of fiercely spiked balls falling down onto the group. He knew how deadly the traps in the Temple were. If any one of those balls connected, members of the party could die.
Several members of the group sprang into action at once. About a third of the projectiles stopped in midair, frozen by the Shadow Fist. Ace took out of his bag an alabastrine rod with golden caps, and with a turn of his wrist a deep purple focus was placed onto it; he began to eliminate some of the falling balls by striking them with beams of concentrated darkness from the wand. Plasmin rocketed upwards, split into several gold tendrils, and caught many of the remainders. Isaac ran into the midst of the group, crossed his arms, and turned his palms outward, stopping the rest of the projectiles by parrying their momentum.
The sound of heavy, nervous breathing filled the space. “Fist,” Isaac said, “don’t throw them. They bounce.”
The balls Plasmin was holding were engulfed and digested. The Fist set down those he was holding, and Ace destroyed them and the ones Isaac held. “Okay.” Ace took out his pickaxe. “I’m going to find all the pressure plates and make sure that doesn’t happen again. Is everyone okay?”
Those who were relaxed enough to move nodded. Isaac caught Joseph’s eye. He smiled and mouthed four words: I love our characters.
Joseph grinned and replied the same way. Me too.

Chapter 10: Lord Yharim's Palace

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

Lord Yharim’s Palace

– ♪ –

“So who is Yharim, anyway?” Ace asked, pickaxe and Thaumometer in hand. “Evidently we’re taking the Terminus from his palace. Is he someone we need to be worried about?”
“Yes,” Isaac instantly responded. “Absolutely. Yharim is one of the strongest beings I know of. He’s a tyrant king who rules his entire world, and he’s got the strength to back it up. We cross him, and we’re dead if we’re lucky. Guaranteed.”
“Hopefully, we’ll never see him,” Joseph added. “We’ll never see him or any of those closest to him. If we do, yeah, it’s over. But this is the best chance we have, I guess.”
Ace landed, having broken the last pressure plate. Now that it was safe to do so, the group began to wander around the chamber. Toxin walked up to a wall and froze.
“Hey, guys. I think I found the palace.”
Everyone turned towards the wall Toxin was looking through. He moved his head closer to it. “There are guards behind it watching, so those who can go through the wall should do so carefully if they want to scout it out. And in between, inside the wall, is an extremely complicated network of metal. I can’t tell what it’s there for.”
The mechanism inside the wall, Joseph figured, had to be the work of Draedon — a genius cyborg who was Yharim’s smith and right-hand man. Joseph assumed it was for opening the wall into a doorway, and that the guards stationed behind the wall were there to apprehend whoever would walk through that door once it opened. Looking around, Joseph laughed. The wall which formed the palace’s entrance was across from the Lihzahrd Altar; the wall was parallel to the passageway leading into the room. In Terraria, a two-dimensional game, this wall would be located on the computer screen, inaccessible by a player character or any other creature. It was funny how his imagination worked.
“How are we getting in without being noticed?” asked Steve. “I know a few of us can hide ourselves, but what about the rest? We can’t really stay here.”
Joseph, realizing the necessity of their secrecy, unlocked his phone. A song had come to mind, and he wanted to see if it could work. The Fist approached the wall.
“First, remove the guards,” he responded. “Then, open the door. If we have to fight our way through, we—”
“No. Nope. Absolutely not,” interrupted Isaac. “Fist, you’re strong, but Yharim is, like, a million times stronger, and those who work for him aren’t pushovers either. Trust me when I say we can’t fight through this. I’m sorry — I know you love to fight, but this isn’t gonna happen that way.”
At this point, Joseph had found the song he was looking for. It was a remix of the song GHOST by Camellia. The remix was also made by Camellia, and it was made with a certain rhythm game in mind. Joseph wasn’t interested in the game. What caught his attention was the nine plus signs in a row featured in the title. He counted his characters. The Shadow Fist could dissipate into misty shade, and Plasmin could make himself transparent. That left ten — there was one left in the group not covered by a plus. He walked over to Isaac. Maybe he had a Xenithian trick up his sleeve.
“Hey, friend?” He brought his phone over to Isaac. “I can almost get us through. Do you think you can make someone invisible with the Xenith?”
Isaac looked at the song title. Like Joseph, he counted pluses, then people. “I’m assuming we’re thinking the same thing here,” he said. “Each plus represents someone you want to make ghostlike; someone you want to turn invisible. Counting me, you, the Golden Seven, and Ace, that’s ten, and there are only nine here. We can’t leave anyone behind — the Temple’s too dangerous for the Pikmin, and Ace would never pass up this opportunity to learn. I’ll think about the Xenithian option. Maybe I can refract light in such a way that…”
He turned away from Joseph and began to think out loud, moving his mental concepts with his hands. Joseph knew better than to interrupt. Blue came up behind Joseph. “What are you trying to do?”
“Oh.” Joseph showed his phone to Blue. “I’m trying to make us all invisible so we can get through the palace. The title of this song has nine plus signs on it, but there’s ten people I would have to make invisible. Someone wouldn’t be able to disappear.”
“I can carry someone!” commented Flint. “I’m big and strong! I can carry Bolt!”
“Only if I get to shock you a few times.” Bolt had lightning on his fingers and a grin on his face.
“Bolt!” Flint shoved him. “We might get caught!”
You might get caught.”
“Can’t Ace carry one of you?” asked Riptide.
“That depends. Hey, Ace!” Bolt turned to Ace and sent a decent-sized bolt of lightning his way. It connected with a snap. Ace looked over without so much as a flinch.
“Nah, he’s too boring.” Bolt turned back to Flint. “Now, Flint, on the other hand, would—”
Isaac put his arms down. “Hang on. That’s actually a good idea,” he interjected. “Ace, can you carry one of the Pikmin? We’re trying to make everyone invisible, and we only have room for nine in the song Joseph wants to cast.”
“Wouldn’t it just look like that Pikmin is floating through the air?” Joseph replied.
“Yes. Most likely.” Ace looked around the group. “If you’re making nine people invisible, that includes them and everything on them — all of their belongings. A Pikmin is a separate being, so that would count differently from the one you’re trying to hide. Now, if the Pikmin were completely covered by whoever’s being made invisible, it might count. However, I feel like that might be extremely uncomfortable for whoever's carrying the Pikmin.”
A reptilian went splat against the wall. “They’re coming through the hallway,” the Fist announced. “Let’s speed this process up.”
Isaac nodded. “Got it. Ace, do you have anything that could do that?”
Ace began to rummage through his bag. “Let’s see. Worldshaper’s Looking Glass wouldn’t work…I don’t think I have a wand focus for that…there’s my Sanity Checker; good to know where that is…do I have anything else in here?”
As he watched Ace’s arm plunge into his satchel — first up to his elbow, then his upper arm, then his shoulder — an idea sparked in Joseph’s brain. “What about the bag itself?” he asked.
Ace froze. Without another word, he unbuckled his pouch, threw it on the ground, and jumped inside, vanishing. He popped his head out of the bag — an extremely odd sight.
“I do fit in here! I fit well! And by flying, I can stay up here, where I have air! I don’t know how much air is in this bag, and I don’t really want to find out by suffocating. So someone could carry me, and I’d count just as much as any of your other belongings for the purpose of becoming invisible!”
Joseph picked up the pouch, which was surprisingly lightweight for its contents. He buckled the strap around his waist. “Comfortable?” he asked Ace.
“Very much so! The thought did cross my mind that I should do this more often, except it doesn’t seem practical in any way. Though, perhaps it could be a good space to think.”
“Sounds good. So, I just make myself invisible with everything on me, and that will cover Ace. I then make the other eight invisible who can’t do it themselves. Got it. I’ll just—”
As Joseph put his hand on his speaker, he realized the folly of his plan. Echoing electronic music through Yharim’s court wasn’t really the sneakiest thing he could do. Joseph left his speaker where it was, but he realized something. He still didn’t know the full extent of what his powers could do. Could it work using earbuds?
Taking out the case for his Bluetooth earbuds, Joseph looked towards the wall. Plasmin was standing in front of it, with his hand up against the wall. As Joseph watched, Plasmin turned gold, melting into the wall. He then walked back out, a small section of the wall behind him turning gold as he left.
“I’ve made a passageway through the wall,” he explained. “This way we should be able to go through the wall without opening it. I’ve styled the plasm on the other side to look just like the wall, so no one should notice.”
The statement was followed by a telling silence. “You…” Blue’s voice held little of its usual jubilance. “You want us to walk through plasm?”
“Well, yeah, I—”
Plasmin’s sentence stopped dead as he made eye contact with Steve. Through one of the Pikmin he had hurt the most, it struck Plasmin what that meant to them. Walking through plasm would be equivalent to climbing directly into a hungry creature’s mouth — absorption in plasm had meant digestion and death for tens, if not hundreds, of Pikmin before them. This was asking far too much even of those Pikmin who did trust him.
Plasmin’s eyes dropped to the floor. “Hey, it’s okay!” Joseph intervened. “The song I’m casting is called GHOST, and ghosts are incorporeal. They can float through walls. Those who want to use this way still can; in fact, that’ll help me not use as much magic. Could you—”
“Yeah. It’s okay.” Ember scoffed. “He only tried to eat us.”
Flint looked at the size of the opening and shook his head emphatically. Even Riptide seemed hesitant. “Well,” Joseph began, “Isaac and I can—”
Just let it go, Plasmin told him telepathically. Please.
He walked to the middle of the group, not looking at the other Pikmin. “...Okay.” Joseph took a breath. “I at least need you to make yourself transparent, traverse the halls in pieces, and guide us. We have no idea where to go; we need a guide. The Terminus will be under the watch of the dragon Yharon.”
Plasmin silently disappeared. Joseph put his earbuds in and began the song. Hopefully the unease would settle — they would have to trust each other in order to procure the Terminus.
The music began to fade in. As the rhythm started, Joseph began to feel the song. Something was different about this song as opposed to the other ones. This song did not surround him — Joseph felt this song within him. He felt a fire burning in his soul; an internal energy to be released rather than an external energy to be accessed. He knew when this song was going to pick up, and right as it did, Joseph allowed this fire to consume him.
He felt the music’s power blaze into life. With a flick of his wrist, nine creatures turned incorporeal and completely invisible. Despite his limited experience, Joseph was dumbfounded at how easy it was. In the past, he had needed to keep a conscious connection with the song at all times in order to bring about large-scale magical effects. This effect came naturally to him. It was like imagination, although it affected reality. It was like…
It was like Xenith.
The Shadow Fist dissolved, and the nine ghosts walked through the wall, with Joseph stressing to Plasmin with his thoughts that everyone had to remain completely silent. No music, no magic could have prepared Joseph for entering the palace. Stifling a gasp of awe, he entered a vaulted hall that was awash with gold and precious stones. From the scarlet carpeted floor to the exalted arched ceiling, it was gilded but not garish, the opulence of the materials used balanced with the delicate filigree work on the pillars and chandeliers. The guards Toxin had seen stood sentry in front of two enormous statues of Lord Yharim, each of gold and portraying the tyrant in his full armor with his sword in front of him. Each statue stood at least four times taller than Joseph.
Get moving, Plasmin urged. I know it’s beautiful, but your song doesn’t stop for that.
Springing into action, Joseph allowed himself and those with him to float soundlessly through the air, as ghosts would. They moved quickly, flying above and through soldiers, nobles, and officials as the need arose. All the while, Plasmin’s directions brushed against his mind now and again. Left. Take this staircase. Go through the ceiling here. Pick up the pace.
In point five miles, turn right on Yharon Avenue, Joseph thought with a wry smirk. Your destination will be on your left, as long as you don’t get in a horrible accident on the way that renders you comatose.
Hey, chided Plasmin. I need to stay focused too, you know.
While moving, Joseph was dimly aware of Ace peeking out of the Bottomless Pouch and scanning various things with his Thaumometer. Joseph was able to mute the sound of it just fine — he was more worried about his own state. The song had pulled back a bit, and now he felt that the fire animating him was much diminished. GHOST’s magic was coming less and less naturally to him, and left behind was a sluggardly ice that made concentration increasingly difficult. With a shock, he remembered Isaac positing that the music magic could draw on their physical strength. Feeling fatigued, Joseph saw that this internal energy, while powerful, had its drawbacks. Once it was spent, it was gone.
Plasmin, will we be able to make it without going through any more walls or ceilings? Even crystallizing his thoughts into words was becoming challenging.
Yes, he answered. We’re close now.
Warning the others, Joseph canceled most of GHOST’s effects, leaving only the silence and invisibility active. Muting their footsteps would be far easier magically than flying. Sneaking soundlessly through another glorious golden hall, Joseph and his group came upon a doorway larger than any he had seen in the palace, and looking through it, he saw exactly why this area was so spacious. Curled up in the middle of the room was a huge phoenix-dragon. And behind the creature was an artifact: a large chunk of alloyed metal, its eye blazing with fell magic.
Joseph scarcely dared to breathe. They all entered the room, which was more than capable of holding all of them without fear of waking Yharon.
That’s the Terminus, Joseph thought.
Excellent. I’ll envelop it, and we can get out of here. I’m still scattered throughout the palace. Will you be able to hold on for a little while longer?
In truth, Joseph felt more exhausted than he wanted to admit. He continued to push through. If this was what they were doing, then it had to work. There was no way they could turn back now.
I’m almost all here, said Plasmin. Just a few more pieces.
Then, there was movement on Joseph’s person. His invisibility was stretched thin already; what was Ace doing? Almost ready to faint, Joseph focused on covering the Thaumometer’s sound yet again. Whether he misjudged the distance or he was too exhausted, Joseph didn’t know. All he knew was that the Thaumometer clicked and dinged louder than it ever had.
Yharon’s eye snapped open.
Wasting no time, the Shadow Fist reconstituted. He took the Terminus telekinetically, preparing to dash out of the room. With a roar, Yharon shot to his feet and took flight, sending the shadow sprawling with a single fireball. The Terminus clattered to the ground. Turning a tight circle in midair, Yharon blocked the entrance with a towering tornado of flame. The dragon’s fire snuffed out that which was burning in Joseph, and all ten of those invisible appeared in front of Yharon.
He landed, planting his front foot on the Terminus. The Pikmin backed against the wall, terrified; Isaac and Joseph weren’t feeling much better. Plasmin turned opaque, and Ace exited the pouch. The Fist sat up, and Yharon eyed the party, his fury obvious.
“As much as I would love to tear you all limb from limb,” Yharon growled, “your fate is the lord’s decision. I go now to confer with him. If any—”
Another figure appeared in the room with them. It was a wraith clad in a deep violet cloak, with twisting darkness visible behind it. Six purple slits glinted out of the cloak’s hood, which Joseph knew to be teeth, not eyes. It was Signus, the envoy of the Devourer of Gods, another one of those in Yharim’s service. Joseph had a sinking feeling it had been watching them the entire time.
“Excellent. Watch them for me.” Yharon walked out of the room through the fire in the doorway, leaving them with Signus.
Joseph’s horror didn’t allow him to speak, and he felt close to tears. He didn’t move; he barely thought. He didn’t dare look around at his characters — experiencing their fright and grief on top of his would be more than he could bear. All he could do was stare at the floor. How had this happened? How?
Ace began to apologize. Ember snapped at him to shut up. Plasmin had barely rebuilt what was left of himself in the room, and now he was telling anyone who would listen to try and remain calm. Blue started explaining how maybe Yharim would understand Isaac’s plight. The way his sentence trailed off implied Steve had wordlessly told him to stop.
Then, Signus vanished. A figure walked through the fire unharmed, and the sight turned Joseph’s heart to stone. They had a new warden, but it was not Yharim. Yharim did not have a hooded crimson robe, with unnatural darkness obscuring his face and fell magic cascading from his presence. But Joseph knew exactly who did in this world.
And he also knew that her name was most hated among those who opposed the tyrant.
“I rarely get the pleasure of receiving so many as eleven,” Calamitas sneered. “I do hope you all did something very, very wrong. It makes my time with you longer.”

Chapter 11: Her

Chapter Text

Chapter 11

Her

~ X ~

The incineration of kingdoms, unimaginable cruelty, and power second only to Lord Yharim himself flashed across Isaac’s mind as he stood Calamitas’ captive. Unlike the others, he and Joseph knew exactly what the supreme witch was capable of. The rest of the group would find out soon, when they were all wracked with brimstone. Isaac looked back towards the Terminus as it sat on the floor, its scarlet eye leering at them. The ritual still had to happen, right? The Pale King…he had foretold their awakening through a trial at Xeroc’s hand.
Then why was it that, in his mind, Isaac was begging for the void to end this nightmare?
Calamitas nonchalantly looked around the group. Her gaze landed on the Shadow Fist as he stood. She pointed at him, and all his shadows flared, ready to fight back.
“You can teleport quite easily.”
With a twist of her hand, she pierced the shadow with a crimson glow, inflicting a vulnerability hex on him. The Fist dropped to his knees, groaning. His Xepaktrian eyes locked onto Calamitas’ shadowed expression. Grimacing as he fought the pain coursing through him, he forced out a single sentence:
“Do not think…you can fell me…with a single blow.”
This defiance put a smile in Calamitas’ voice. “Oh, I have much more than a single curse in mind for you all. I’ve gotten very good at this sort of thing. Now then…”
Her gaze swept back over the rest of the group. “You’ve seen one thing that I can do. Try to escape, and you’ll see many more. I know none of you can teleport as easily as this one, but if you try, trust me, I’ll know. Come along, prisoners.”
With a flourish, Calamitas turned and left the room, not looking back. The group began to follow — when the flaming tornado in the entrance had died down, Isaac hadn’t noticed. Ace supported the Shadow Fist, who was still glowing with Calamitas’ curse. Isaac felt a hand grip his shoulder, then turned to see Joseph, his expression grim.
They would go through this together.
The witch led her prisoners through the halls of the palace. Isaac no longer found the space beautiful, but horrific. All those in the halls shrank back as Calamitas passed, unease on their faces. None of them would make eye contact with any of those following her.
The area began to lose its splendor as they neared Calamitas’ abode. Either the workers had been afraid to come this far, or Calamitas chased them off for one reason or another — Isaac couldn’t tell. It wasn’t long before the group came to a cavernous room, with occult symbols drawn on the stone beneath and stalactites looming from above. Many dark magical trinkets were placed on shelves on the walls, including a black and red bauble that Isaac recognized from somewhere in Calamity. The heavy stone doors sealed behind them.
“Thank you all for coming,” she began, turning to face her captives. “I trust we’ll get along just splendidly, you and I. Looks like we have two humans, a living shadow, some kind of red lihzahrd, and animate plants. Interesting specimens. I’m sure Draedon would love to have a look at you all, but I don’t think there will be much left of you once we’re done.”
Calamitas paced forward. “A group like yours usually has a leader. So, who is it?”
Silence. For all intents and purposes, the leader of the group was Isaac, but no one wanted to admit it for fear of what would happen to him. Isaac’s own voice was swallowed by his fear. Calamitas cocked her head slightly.
“Are we getting cold feet?” Her hand flared open towards the ground. The stone beneath the group went from a dull gray to a bright red. Pikmin around Isaac cried out and collapsed to the ground, only making the burning worse. Even the Red Pikmin, who were normally fireproof, did so. Isaac, Joseph, and Ace grimaced as the heat cut through their footwear.
“One of you needs to speak up,” Calamitas continued. “You’re making them suffer.”
At that, Isaac surged forward. Joseph started as well, but he did not come forward. “Please stop hurting them,” Isaac pleaded. “I am. I’m the leader. All of this was my idea.”
The stone cooled down. “Good job.” Once again, her twisted grin was easily heard. “Now that that’s established, I would like to know what happened.” She came closer. “Don’t worry, you won’t have to say a word. I’ll find it. I just have to do a little…digging.
It began like a ringing in his head. The ringing crystallized, then sharpened, and Isaac felt Calamitas’ mind press against his own. This type of mental contact was one he had felt multiple times by now from Plasmin, but that was just for communication. The blade in his head began to move, tearing at whatever it touched. She was probing for information.
Isaac clutched his skull, dropping to the ground as a scream forced its way out of him. Calamitas kept forcing the mental probe into his memories, like a shard of glass driving ever deeper into his gray matter. He felt everything she rifled through — who the group was, who he was, what his abilities were, what he had experienced before coming to the palace. He even felt the probe gash into his life before the accident; Isaac watched as Calamitas extracted his interests, his education, his friends…his family. The most agonizing piece of the torture wasn’t the pain. It was knowing that Calamitas was deliberately taking her time and avoiding the reason they had come just to watch him suffer.
Finally, when all his consciousness was torn and bloody, she dissected their time in the Temple and their journey through the palace. The probe retracted, and Isaac looked up to see Calamitas with her hands on her head as well, pacing away from the group. When she turned back towards them, her voice was incredulous, not bearing a hint of pleasure in what had happened or what was to come:
“You tried to steal the Terminus?”
Defeated, Isaac could only nod. She had seen it already.
“You idiot!” Calamitas shrieked. “Do you have any idea what that artifact means to the lord? Do you understand that he cannot let it out of his sight? It is obvious that he’d want you tormented, but I’m frankly surprised he didn’t want to do it himself!”
“Did you…see why he needs it?” asked Blue in a small voice.
“Shut up, plant. It was impossible for me to take pity on you before, and now it is beyond reason. No. Wretches like you do not deserve to live. And do you know what I think?”
Her eyes shone scarlet from inside her hood.
“I think you don’t even deserve to die.”
As Calamitas approached, a new horror gripped Isaac. He knew what she meant by that last line — she was threatening eternal punishment. She absolutely had the power to carry out such a sentence as well; she had done it before. Could even the void save him?
“You’re afraid.”
All eyes turned to Plasmin. Isaac couldn’t imagine why he had said anything. “Afraid?” spat the witch. “Do you think I have any reason to be afraid?”
“Certainly. You’re afraid of Yharim. Deathly afraid.”
Instantly, Calamitas grabbed Plasmin by the throat, slamming him against the stone. “Do not dare to speak the lord’s name within these walls. Do not dare. If you speak another word, slime, I will tear out whatever insides you have and make you watch.”
“Your motivation—”
Calamitas’ other hand glowed red. She plunged it into the center of his torso, then pulled with a scooping motion. A hunk of golden gel fell to the stone with a squish. Plasmin was unaffected. Isaac remembered he had complete control over his form — he must have disabled his pain receptors.
“Your motivation for doing this is fear,” he continued. “It was pleasure, but now it’s fear. We tried to take the lord’s most treasured possession, and now you have to make us pay, or his anger will come down on you.”
Plasmin was dropped to the floor. Calamitas backed away, her movements smooth and controlled. “So you can’t feel pain. Do you think I haven’t seen that before? Everything feels pain, and it needn’t always be physical.”
She scanned the group in front of her. “For example, if I were to hurt…”
Calamitas picked up Steve by the stem. He gasped, terror striking him.
“This one.”
Blue cried out, rushing forward, desperately reaching for his best friend. Calamitas just touched him, and he collapsed, his eyes still locked on Steve.
“You would feel that rather deeply.”
Plasmin tottered forwards, a gaping golden cavity in his gut. “Let him go!”
“Why?” A brimstone flame began to burn in her palm. Steve started to whimper. “I think I might enjoy his pain.”
Her burning hand wrapped around Steve’s chest. He screamed, feeling for the first time what it was like to burn alive.
“Wouldn’t you, Wraith?”
“Stop this, please!” He shouted the words with his voice and his mind simultaneously. Now satisfied, Calamitas threw Steve into the plasm left on the stone. Plasmin ran over to him; Ember pulled him out of the plasm, shooting Plasmin a vicious glare. Blue crawled back to where Steve was.
“Now that that’s dealt with…where were we?”
The fire in Isaac’s heart and mind burned like brimstone. The others needed him not to break, but witnessing this suffering was more than he could bear. He heard heavy breathing nearby. Joseph wasn’t doing as well as he was. Before he could provide any comfort or assurance, Joseph’s breathing increased in intensity; the pace accelerated and the volume rose until a torrent of words broke out of him.
“Calamitas, they’re cloning you. Draedon and the lord are cloning you because the lord doesn’t trust you, and he needs a backup in case you rebel, and I know you don’t trust me and I know you have no reason to believe me, but their head necromancer was just lost, and if you find his soul in the underworld you’ll be able to pull just enough information out of his insane mind to confirm everything I just said. It won’t take long, and if I’m lying, we’re all still right here. Please. Please, Calamitas.”
He crumpled to the floor, sobbing. It took everything in Isaac’s power not to do the same. Calamitas stood deathly still, with a tremor barely visible in the tips of her fingers. The darkness of her hood betrayed no emotion. With slow, rigid steps, she approached Joseph. He caught his breath and looked up, hope in his eyes.
Calamitas extended a hand towards Joseph. With a slight gasp, he offered his own.
Her hand wrapped around Joseph’s neck, and Calamitas lifted him off the floor as she murmured words of dark power. Under Joseph’s feet, the floor opened into a scarlet fissure that belched a choking sulfur odor. Horrified, the entire group scrambled away from the witch, parting to either side and pressing themselves against the cold stone walls. Holding him mere inches from damnation, Calamitas spoke two words, her voice a quavering whisper:
“You’re lying.”
Stay with me. Plasmin’s voice hastened into Isaac’s mind, since emotionally he was dangling by a thread. If any of us can solve this, it’s you. Just stay present.
Isaac held onto himself with a white-knuckled emotional grip. He took a deep breath. “Ca—”
“No words. None. If any of you speaks, I'll let him go.”
Seizing control of himself again, Isaac began to think rapidly. Joseph’s face was scarlet; he pulled at Calamitas’ hand to no avail, the brimstone maw beneath gaping for him. There was only one thing that could save them…but did Isaac have enough?
He approached Ace with hurried yet silent movements. His face was emotionless; he didn’t even seem to notice Isaac, but his robes were still active. Hurrying through the motions, Isaac filled the yellow gem on the Amulet with light from Ace’s leggings. He snuck back to the center of the room behind Calamitas, who was completely focused on Joseph. Making eye contact with Plasmin, he readied the Amulet to receive lightning. He thought one word, praying that Plasmin could broadcast it to the rest of the group.
Help.
A bolt of lightning struck Isaac’s outstretched hand, going straight into the Amulet’s red gem. He switched to fire, then received it from Ember. Next was earth, which he took from Flint.
The veins on Joseph’s head bulged disturbingly, and his hands slipped off of Calamitas’ grip.
Air from Toxin. Water from Riptide. Shadow from the Shadow Fist.
Turning back around, Isaac knew his only hope was that Calamitas had not caught wind of what he was doing. He couldn’t tell if Joseph was conscious or even alive. Utterly desperate, Isaac crossed his arms. The Amulet was now full, and Xenith shone from it. He ran towards Calamitas, readying all the creative energy he could muster.
Her head turned. Her hand opened.
The Xenithian Warrior’s crossed arms made an impact with a radiant flash of creative power. Calamitas had a shield surrounding her, but Isaac wasn’t aiming for anything that shield protected. If he had been shown one thing in this torture chamber, it was that not all offensives were physical. The shield was made of her magic, and her magic came from her mind. And Isaac knew for certain that when Xenith impacted the self, miracles happened.
The next thing Isaac knew, he saw Calamitas with her hand extended towards the pit she had opened. She was staring at her hand like the movement had been made by another. Calamitas lifted her hand, and Joseph rose from the endless fires, seemingly unharmed.
Calamitas dropped Joseph on the stone. He began to cough forcibly, breathing in gasps. She turned towards Isaac, her voice this time showing deep confusion.
“What…was that?”
Finding his mind again, Isaac gave a weak smile. “Xenith. Pure creativity.”
“...I know what your powers are. What did you do with them?”
“I just moved your story forward.” Isaac looked down at Joseph — who was still catching his breath — with gratitude for his bold decision. He had picked a reference point for Calamitas’ story that they could work with, risking immense punishment in the process. “In my world, your story is already written. That story says the good in you still exists. I used Xenith to bring that to the front.”
Calamitas took some time to process what Isaac had said. Isaac looked over the group, seeing some sparks of hope in his characters’ eyes. When he turned back to Calamitas, she was facing the fissure in the floor. With some chanted words and a glimmer of brimstone, she lifted a soul from the underworld. The soul made no sounds besides barely audible whispers, and its tattered form only betrayed a few scraps of who the person may have been in life. Approaching the specter, Calamitas stared into its face. Not long after, the soul flitted back to the underworld, and the gateway closed.
Not a word, not a sound was in that stone room for several minutes. Isaac barely dared to breathe. She had to have seen that what Joseph had said was true. This was the story as it stood when Godlike Power was written. Otherwise, would the Xenith have acted the way it did? Wouldn’t they all be burning already if Joseph was wrong?
With slow, resolute movements, Calamitas approached the stone doors, opening them with a touch. As she walked down the hall, her hand flared. Isaac heard movement behind him and saw Blue and the Shadow Fist get up, the vulnerability hexes removed from them. Isaac watched Calamitas until he couldn’t see her any more. Then, it hit him.
They had survived.
Immediately, Isaac ran to Joseph. He clung to him, and they wept for a while — Joseph weakly so, as he was still recovering. Isaac had no idea how they had made it through. But if they could survive such a horrific trial, then maybe — just maybe — they could awaken. Maybe the King was right after all. Maybe there was hope for them.
Or maybe it was just that Isaac couldn’t bring himself to think of the alternative.

Chapter 12: Scarlet Light

Chapter Text

Chapter 12

Scarlet Light

~ X ~

The party began to revive while Calamitas was absent. Blue had his arm around Steve, and they had started to talk in hushed tones about what had happened. Toxin had stopped staring at the floor and was now comfortable enough to look at others. Bolt was letting a spark dance across his fingers as Flint rolled a pebble across his. Plasmin had rebuilt himself after being eviscerated, and Ace was starting to explore the room they were in. The decrease in tension was palpable, bringing much-needed relief to Isaac’s mind.
Ace approached the far wall of the room, examining the magical items placed on the shelves. “Hey, Isaac, do you know what any of these do?” he asked. “I know you know more about this world than I do, so I thought that you might have some idea of what they might be, at least. I understand that you don’t know everything, though. Even an educated guess would help!”
From his seated position, Isaac looked again at the wall in front of them. He only shrugged. “I’ve seen the black and red one near the bottom before, but I don’t remember exactly what it is. To be fair, my brain isn’t really in the mood to remember stuff like that.”
Ace absentmindedly picked up the trinket. “Ace,” Riptide gently chided, “that’s not yours.”
He looked up and blinked. “Oh. I know. I was just picking it up to look at it. I was going to put it right back after I was done.”
True to his word, Ace simply looked at the item in his hand. He began to pull out his Thaumometer, but he looked at Joseph guiltily and put it back in his pouch. As he scrutinized the trinket, his head jerked and his shoulders tensed. Some of the Pikmin exchanged concerned glances, but Isaac wasn’t surprised by the phenomenon. Sudden migraines happened to be one of the consequences of Ace’s research.
In the shock of the pain, Ace dropped the item, which prompted Flint to walk over and pick it up. Flint looked at the token and threw it around a bit, but he didn’t find it very fun. When Ace’s headache cleared up, he looked down at Flint, who held the item up to Ace.
As the trinket was held aloft, it flared red suddenly. Flint jumped, dropping the item. The Shadow Fist picked it up telekinetically, brought it in a wide arc above the offenders’ heads, and returned it to the shelf.
“And that’s enough of that,” the shadow said.
The bauble continued to glow menacingly, but nothing seemed to happen. Isaac relaxed, but his relief was short-lived. A small spark of light appeared in the air above them. All eyes moved towards the spark, which flared into a swirl of deep crimson. This item Isaac did recognize. In the Calamity mod, these swirls were lore items. They were conduits of information that explained places and creatures in the world. Why was one appearing in this chamber?
After a short pause, the spark spoke. Its voice was commanding, self-assured, and charismatic — almost musical. Isaac would have been intrigued by what the voice had to say in other circumstances, but as it stood he was too afraid for his life. The address was not an explanation or a story, but rather a request.
Greetings, Calamitas. I hear you are enjoying the fear and weakness of those under your care. I quite appreciate it — I hear it, too. I know this is about when you’re done warming up, so I’d like to hear some of what you’re doing to them. I believe I have some stake in the matter, after all, especially since they tried to steal my Terminus.
Isaac’s heart plunged into his gut. This “lore item” was an arcane communication link. And standing behind it was Lord Yharim.
His first instinct was to get out of there. For the brief instant the notion flashed through his head, the idea seemed good — he would get just enough of the elements to create a portal out, and the story in Calamity would continue without them just as it was outlined in the lore. He would have been no coward for it, as anyone could see the absurdity of staying in this situation. Appeasing the tyrant was an impossible task, and he would come down to the cave and likely torture them himself with no hope of escape. It seemed to be the best option. But before Isaac’s eyes could move towards a single elemental source, the plan stopped dead.
The Terminus. It was here, in this palace with them. It was the reason they had come, and the reason they had undergone Calamitas’ torture in the first place. There was no other way to contact Xeroc. There was no other way to get the deity’s attention, thereby banishing the void. The Terminus was the only way.
But if they had to remain here, how could they convince Yharim of what he wanted to hear? They couldn’t fake it — it was a horrific process, and Yharim would certainly know it was false anyway. He knew what true torture sounded like. And Isaac was good at voices, but not to the point of being able to mimic Calamitas’ voice convincingly to the one who heard it day in and day out. There was no way they could satisfy him. It was impossible, unless…
He looked straight at Joseph. He was the only one who could get them out of this mess. Drawing a line straight down his cheek with his pointer finger, he drew a path of a tear for Joseph to see. With this action, he mouthed a single word: Cry.
Joseph hesitated. Isaac wasn’t requesting an action, but a song. It was a dark song; a torturous and deeply emotional song. It was exactly the song that, through Joseph’s abilities, could replicate what Yharim wanted. Isaac understood Joseph’s uncertainty, but they didn’t have time for it. This was their only recourse.
Well, witch? Their fear is nice and all, but I’d rather hear screams. Will I be hearing some soon?
To an ear who did not know the one speaking, the underlying threat would have been imperceptible. As Yharim spoke, Isaac got Joseph’s attention again. Opening his hand, he rubbed it in a circle across his chest, sign language for the next word he mouthed: Please!
Forgetting his reluctance, Joseph stood and unlocked his phone. He began to move frantically through the menus of Spotify with one hand, digging his earbuds out of his pocket with the other. With the song prepared, Joseph pocketed his phone, put his earbuds in, took a deep breath, and extended one hand towards the communication link. With the other hand, he tapped his earbud twice, playing the music Isaac had chosen: Cry by Xtrullor.
As soon as the music began, a flash of white above Joseph’s head signified the music had connected to him at once. The staff appeared, and looking at the clef, Isaac saw it was different from the one present in Shine and Lightmare. The clef was an epsilon whose central point was on the second line from the top. A line came down from the top of the epsilon and pointed steeply downwards, then upwards, reminding Isaac of a heart rate monitor. Isaac looked at the clef quizzically. Whatever was different about it, they didn’t have time to figure out.
“Absolutely, my lord,” said Joseph in his best impression of Calamitas’ voice. Yharim did not interrupt; the magic was working. “Hearing the voice of the one from whom they tried to steal has made the weaklings utterly petrified. I had to take some time to enjoy it. Forgive me the silence.”
Yharim didn’t respond. Isaac could see Joseph struggling to come up with more to say. He had to fill the silence before the drop hit and he could cast the song for real. Thankfully, he didn’t have to think for long.
“Let us go!” Bolt screamed, sounding desperate. “Please, we’ll do anything! We had no idea what we were getting into!”
The other Pikmin joined in as well with cries of terror and anguish. “You didn’t know what you were getting into, did you?” With his hand still extended, Joseph turned towards Bolt, winking at him. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have come here in the first place. Think of that?”
He took another deep breath, turning back towards the open line of communication. “But now…you’re here to stay. You’re here to stay for as long as I want.”
Then, his posture straightened. He made a slight choking sound, then spoke again. He had dropped the imitation completely, and the words seemed to crawl out of his throat instead of him speaking them.
“And I’ve got all the time in the world.”
The staff above Joseph’s head surged; clef, lines, and notes all turned blood red. Joseph’s body tensed from the tips of his extended fingers down to his shoes. He made no further sound, but Plasmin screamed, falling back and scrambling away from Joseph. Isaac didn’t know how to interpret any of this information. All he could think about was surviving long enough to have a chance at getting the Terminus. If Yharim didn’t hear what he wanted, they were done for.
Yet, at the same time, Isaac was nervous. What happened? He looked at the relic on Calamitas’ wall with unease. Trying to communicate, he made eye contact with Plasmin; his leaf was green, and he only shook his head with disturbing fervor. Isaac turned his attention back to Joseph. Cry wasn’t a long song. If Calamitas’ magic was interfering with his, hopefully the music would end before it was too late.
As the song continued, Isaac found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the staff above Joseph’s head. Notes were being crammed onto it at a much more frenzied pace than Isaac had ever seen before. The magic Joseph was channeling was tremendous. All he had to do was replicate the sounds of Calamitas’ torture, right? The magic of Cry would interface directly with that of the communication link, bringing the sounds to Yharim. The tyrant hadn’t said a word, so it had to be working, even though none of them could hear what he did. It was a relatively simple effect. Why was it creating so much magical output?
“Absolutely disgusting.” Joseph still seemed to be regurgitating the words that he was speaking. “Your crime is so heinous that I don’t even get any pleasure from torturing you.” His left arm extended; his left hand flared, facing the ground. “The tortures of the underworld are much more suited for miserable wretches like you. Get out of my sight, and burn for all eternity.”
He paused, relaxing his left arm. “I am sorry I did not give you more, my lord. I could not bear to look at them any longer. Their offense against you was far too great. I pray you understand.”
The staff vanished. The instant the magic ended, Joseph collapsed. Fighting the urge to immediately bolt and check on him, Isaac first looked up and saw that the communication link was closed. A disturbing thought wormed its way into Isaac’s mind. How long had it been closed? Did it close during Cry? If so…did Joseph even notice?
Pushing these questions aside, Isaac ran to Joseph. Dropping to his knees and leaning over him, Isaac gasped slightly. Joseph was unconscious. His face was deathly pale. His skin was cold to the touch.
“Hey. Friend? Can you hear me? Joseph?”
Was he breathing? Of course he was breathing. He had to be breathing. Isaac noticed his hand wandering to Joseph’s wrist. He took a deep breath and allowed it to search for a pulse.
Joseph’s pulse was faint, but present.
Isaac’s head fell onto Joseph’s chest as he let out a shuddering breath. He heard footsteps in the hall and looked up, panicked. Calamitas stood in the doorway with some papers in her hand.
“We have very little time. You still want the Terminus, yes? Actually, don’t answer that — of course you do. We need to move quickly.”
Isaac was still holding Joseph. He was loath to leave him. With a short teleport, the Shadow Fist appeared at eye level with Isaac, shocking him just enough to get him to think.
“At the risk of sounding callous, I urge that we leave immediately,” the Fist commanded. “We have to accomplish our goal before our enemies get any idea of what we’re doing. Now, I would move you myself, but I am still recovering. Get on your feet, Warrior. Now.”
He did rise, standing quickly enough to make him light-headed. Flint walked over to Joseph and picked him up with one hand like he was made of air. “I can carry Joseph,” he said. “I’m good at that. I’m big and strong!”
Bolt high-fived Flint’s free hand as the party rushed out of the cavernous room, with Calamitas in the lead. From Calamity’s lore, Isaac knew that Calamitas had unleashed the lihzahrds’ Golem, allowing it to rampage through the halls of the palace. He also knew that she had taken the documents she was holding from Yharim’s throne room — the tyrant had left to dispatch the Golem. He realized with a start that she was not holding the Terminus. Isaac had expected it to be in Yharim’s throne room as well.
“Hey, uh…where’s the Terminus?” he asked Calamitas.
“Yharon,” she replied. Isaac groaned.
“The dragon is guarding it?” the Shadow Fist asked. “How are we going to get it?”
No response. Calamitas was too focused, and Isaac was still thinking. The Shadow Fist huffed. “Well, any suggestions, witch? You seem to know a thing or two about this area and its inhabitants.”
“I have a name, shadow,” she responded, exasperation plain in her tone. “I will not be belittled by a miserable, powerless intruder to my realm. While apparently there is good in me somehow, I am not good in any stretch of the word. Do not test my patience.”
As soon as she finished, the Shadow Fist teleported into Calamitas’ path. She and the group stopped. It was all Isaac could do not to yell at him.
“Miserable?” The shade’s Xepaktrian eyes burned into Calamitas, and his posture and expression would have intimidated someone of lesser strength. “Powerless?”
“Get out of my way,” she snarled, shoving him aside. The group hurried past him, eager to make up lost time. Not long after the altercation, they reached the doorway to Yharon’s room. Everyone remained to the side, not showing themselves to the dragon lest they meet a swift demise.
“Yharon is standing alert and at the ready,” Toxin warned the others with a whisper. “The Terminus is under his front foot. He knows something’s going on, and he’s not taking chances.”
Hey guys, I have an idea, Ace began through Plasmin’s telepathic mediation. Shadow Fist, I’m going to need you to hold Yharon’s head still. I can give you a power boost with one of my wand foci that—
Done.
The word was spoken with a surprising amount of force. Clearly, the Shadow Fist was anxious for a chance to prove himself.
Toxin, Ace continued, would you be willing to use your poison gas again?
If it means our survival, I’m willing.
Excellent!
Ace took his wand out of his pouch, which still had the Shadowbeam focus placed on it. He looked over at Toxin, who nodded. Ace signaled the Fist, and he teleported in front of the doorway, floating in midair at eye level with Yharon.
A ray of darkest shadows impacted the Fist, and he extended both arms forward. The telekinesis didn’t reach awfully far; what was essentially an umbral muzzle manifested on Yharon. Before Yharon could move, Ace grabbed Toxin and bolted upwards in flight, placing himself between the Fist and Yharon. Isaac watched Toxin send blast after blast of poisonous vapor into Yharon’s nostrils, synchronized with the dragon’s inhalations. He couldn’t help but notice that Toxin was uncomfortably close to Yharon’s fanged beak. He prayed that the telekinesis would hold.
Yharon’s wings flared. With a single flap, he launched into the air, wrenching free of the Shadow Fist’s hold. Before the Fist could refocus, Yharon snapped at Ace and Toxin; Ace darted back out of the dragon’s reach. What followed was an extended game of cat-and-mouse between Yharon and Ace, with the Shadow Fist providing helpful impediments to Yharon’s movement. Yharon didn’t have the space to use his full flight potential, and his fire breathing was minimal, as that would require a deep breath first. Ace stayed as close to the dragon’s beak as he could, zipping back and forth in flight and trying his hardest to remain on the outside of that beak. The Fist teleported behind Yharon and hovered over him, making it easier for Ace to aim the Shadowbeam. Over time, as he inhaled more and more of Toxin’s fumes, Yharon’s movements became more sluggish. Ace and Toxin pressed their advantage. At last, he slumped to the ground with a crash, finally knocked out by the poisonous vapor. Those in flight landed, with Toxin nearly collapsing himself once he was put down. Ace picked up the Terminus and handed it to Isaac, beaming.
With a quick smile and nod, he put the Terminus under his arm and began gathering elemental energies from their surroundings, collecting just enough to get them out. The Pikmin noticed and pitched in, as did the Fist. Isaac crossed his arms and turned back towards the hall. He opened the portal back to his mind…and froze.
Another denizen of Yharim’s court was standing in front of the portal. He was over twice as tall as Isaac, and he looked at the party with an intense curiosity in his metallic face. The fourteen spots placed where his eyes would be were cold and scrutinizing, and Isaac knew his mind was likely making trillions of calculations that very second. In order to leave, they would have to pass Draedon.
“Fascinating,” the cyborg murmured. “What type of creatures are you? Yes, you’re currently holding the Terminus. The lord will not like that. You will not escape. But I have never seen such creatures as you. Are you living plants, products of the Jungle? Related to man eaters and snatchers, perhaps?”
Calamitas pushed past the others and looked Draedon in the face. “Let us through,” she demanded.
Draedon only cocked his head. “In the time it took you to speak those words, Calamitas, I calculated 468,883 possible outcomes for your flight. You act in only twenty-eight, and I do not let you through in any. And, no, there is none where you escape.”
Isaac looked back towards Ace, focusing intently on keeping the portal open. This was very likely only one of Draedon’s recon bodies that they were talking to; it probably wasn’t outfitted for battle. Ace could probably take him, especially if he attacked without warning. He faced Draedon. “They’re called Pikmin, actually. They’re kind of plant-animal hybrids.”
Ace, he thought, can you fight him off?
“Hmm. Pikmin. Are they more animal than plant or more plant than animal?”
A flash of gold; a ringing clash. Isaac didn’t even see Draedon move. His focus was still on Isaac, but in his hand was a sword with a shining chromatic blade. It had intercepted Ace’s Ichorium sword, and now Ace was staring at it with awe.
“You forget that, within these halls, I work on my strongest creations. Were they to malfunction, I would need sufficient weaponry. Attacking me will prove unfruitful.”
Isaac began weighing his options. Before he could figure out an alternate strategy, Draedon straightened. “I must return to my work. It would be inconvenient if I were in the way.”
He sauntered off. Calamitas began to back away. Isaac glanced past the portal, and horror overcame his concentration, closing their escape route.
Walking down the hall with ringing footsteps was a figure standing nine feet tall and clad in resplendent golden armor. Whereas Calamitas’ power was seen through her use of dark magic, this one’s power radiated from him with a palpable aura. The challenger held a sword etched with runes; the air wavered around the blade. Isaac couldn’t move.
Lord Yharim was approaching the party, and he had every intention to take back what was his.

Chapter 13: Tyrant

Chapter Text

Chapter 13

Tyrant

~ X ~

No one in that hallway had to be told who was approaching them. They all knew from the way he carried himself; from the strength exuding from him; from the fear Calamitas showed in his presence. They were standing before the ruler of the entire world. And Isaac had his Terminus under his arm.
Looming now over the group, Yharim stopped, standing with his sword brandished. No one moved. The party stood frozen with fear, and the tyrant with rage barely concealed. The silence was snapped by a single word from Yharim:
“Calamitas.”
She approached him, falling at his feet in terror.
“Is it true that, when I had heard from Yharon of the wretches who had tried and failed to steal my Terminus, I sent them to you, my best and cruelest torturer?”
She made no response. The lord continued.
“And is it true that I see you now present with them, inflicting them no harm and standing idly by as they recapture my Terminus? Are you now one of the wretches, witch?”
He bent down and snatched the documents out of Calamitas’ hand. Paging through them, he asked another question.
“Is it true, Calamitas, that you were holding documents with information on Braelor and Statis, two of my strongest adversaries, which would help their rebel cause greatly should they fall into their hands?”
Silence. Calamitas was shaking. Yharim’s next question was more firm than those preceding it.
“Is it true, witch?”
“...It is true, my lord.”
Yharim’s grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. “It is true. The Golem’s enchantments bore your magical signature, after all. I have seen this moment coming. I knew you were rebelling, but not to this degree. You were aiding these thieves, and now you shall be made an example before them.”
Flames curled and shone around Yharim’s blade. He pointed it towards Calamitas, who had not moved.
“Do not fight back, witch, unless you want our battle to destroy the entire Jungle.”
A gilded streak cut between Isaac and Yharim; he couldn’t follow it with his eye. Next thing he knew, Calamitas was gone. Isaac glanced over the group. Ace was gone, too!
“Bold.” Yharim drew back his sword, unfazed by Ace taking Calamitas to safety. “She will return to me. Do you really think you are making a difference here by whisking her away? I have powers you can’t imagine, boy.”
The tyrant took a step towards Isaac. “Now. That artifact you’re holding is mine. I do not take this offense lightly, as that Terminus is something I have toiled much over. I sent you to Calamitas, and she did not do her job. I will therefore have to do it myself.”
The Fist appeared between the two, suspended in midair. Hurling his arms forward with a shout, he threw the whole group past Yharim telekinetically. All but one landed. As Isaac hurtled past the tyrant, he stopped dead, coming into contact with the flat of his blade. Isaac landed on his back. Yharim stood over him.
The Shadow Fist acted again, holding Yharim’s sword telekinetically as Isaac attempted to clamber to his feet. A single bend of the lord’s arm broke the hold as he set his foot on Isaac’s chest. A ringing clash of force against metal sounded through the hall as the shade came crashing into Yharim from behind. He didn’t even flinch. Reaching behind him, he grabbed the Shadow Fist by the forearm and slammed him into the ground.
It was when Yharim plunged his sword into the Shadow Fist’s gut that Isaac felt impending doom approach.
The tyrant removed his blade from its target. Darkness flitted out of the deep incision in Isaac’s former enemy’s frame. Somewhere beneath the thunder of his heart, he heard quick and light footsteps. Were they still trying to help him?
“Ember, stop!” Steve cried. His voice was close to breaking. Isaac could tell that this was one of the hardest commands Steve had ever needed to give. Lord Yharim raised his sword as Steve expressed what they all knew to be true:
“There’s nothing we can do.”
At that moment, Isaac had one concern: survival. With an empty Amulet and an immobilized body, he made the only reflex that could possibly save him from Yharim. Isaac took the Terminus in his hands, holding it in the path of the tyrant’s sword as it came arcing towards his viscera. Maybe — just maybe — this artifact of Draedon’s design would be strong enough to stop the blow.
The sword made contact. Isaac had forgotten that Calamitas was involved in the relic’s creation as well. The entire world exploded scarlet, and the pain Isaac had felt when Calamitas searched his mind now lacerated his entire body. Past his own scream, he heard those of the group as well. Writhing in torture, he didn’t care that Yharim had lifted his foot. Everything he knew and everything he was burned. For just that moment, he felt exactly what Yharim had intended for him. They all did.
Color and life returned to the space. The last splinters of the witch’s magic evaporated, leaving Isaac hollow from the pain but grateful for the respite. His skin crawled when he saw the raw reddish-brown flesh on his palms and fingers. But his hands were empty. Had Yharim taken the Terminus?
Isaac heard a sound he didn’t know how to interpret. The sound repeated, then repeated again, increasing in frequency. The sound was laughter — incredulous, jubilant laughter coming from the tyrant king. He grabbed Isaac by the back of the collar.
“Sit up, boy.”
Yharim dumped Isaac into a sitting position, showing him exactly what had happened. The lord held two pieces of metal which were once an artifact. He had severed the Terminus completely.
“It’s ironic that what you sought to steal is now a powerless ruin, but that is not the point. You see, I kept this artifact by my side, closely guarded against miscreants like you. Was that because I treasured it so much? Not exactly. I thought destroying or discarding it would have some…well, unsavory consequences.”
He dropped the halves to the ground, cleaving one of them in two with a single stroke of his sword. “Now, however, that exact thing has occurred with no repercussions. I know it is preposterous to think of a man like me not being free in the world he rules, but the destruction of the Terminus has freed me. It has liberated me from constraint, and now I own the world I rule. So I thank you for your insolence — it has had such a wonderful side effect.”
Isaac made a cautious movement backwards only to see the tyrant’s sword inches from his face. “Now, now. You haven’t evaded your sentence. I may not inflict as much pain upon you, but you have still defied me to my face. I shall remember this day, but you get no rewards. You get no clemency. Don’t push your luck.”
Yharim looked over to Yharon, who was still unconscious. He took a few steps towards the dragon, but Isaac wasn’t paying attention. He wasn’t thinking about his fate, either. He was hearing whispers. He was hearing whispers all around him, echoing from every corner of the great hall. Isaac couldn’t make out what they were saying at first, but as they increased in fervor and volume, he could hear they were all saying one word:
“Tyrant.”
The tyrant turned; he heard the word as well. Striding back to the middle of the hall, he searched the space but saw no whisperers. The voices continued, overlapping each other with short bursts of sound, still the same word: “Tyrant. Tyrant. Tyrant!”
Then, silence. Isaac heard the rustling of metal on the floor. His gaze jerked over to the floor beside Yharim. The broken Terminus was beginning to stir. The metal shuddered and rattled, shaken by unseen hands. The voices spoke again, this time in unison; their whispering tone replaced by a singsong mockery:
“Oh, tyrant…”
The pieces of the Terminus crashed together as brilliance thundered through the hall. Behind his closed eyes, Isaac’s mind was in stupefied disbelief. He knew to whom those voices had to belong. There was no other choice. They all belonged to one being, and it was the only being Yharim feared.
Xeroc had come.
“Hello again, tyrant! Did you miss Us? It’s been a little while since Our last little chat with you. And normally We would only do so under the auspices of Our ritual, but these are…exceptional circumstances.”
The light cleared. Opening his eyes, Isaac saw the Terminus whole again and floating in midair, animated by a fulgent halo surrounding it. The halo was representative of Xeroc’s eye — the deity truly was present in the hall. And Yharim was trembling from head to toe.
“You see, this all began when Flint here used Calamitas’ Blood Relic — quite by accident, We know, but he used it nonetheless. As per the relic’s use, We turned Our gaze to Our world. However, when We did so, We found that all We saw was the Lihzahrd Temple and your little palace. That palace held beings We neither knew nor created! Now, isn’t that curious?”
Isaac looked over his group. The reactions around him were a mix of terror and wonder; sometimes both were present in a single individual. He knew that he was feeling a healthy dose of both, and he didn’t dare to believe that this would end well for them yet.
“Well,” Xeroc continued, “then the witch came back, and this little band of adventurers decided to try again to procure Our artifact. Their plans were going well up until this point, actually! They were able to fool you into thinking Calamitas was still doing her job, even though none of those sounds you heard was real. Well…actually, in a sense they were very real, but for the purposes of this explanation, they were not. You know the rest, more or less. That’s not important. What is important is what We heard you say upon severing Our Terminus. You own this world? You? Tell Us, tyrant, are you the strongest being in this universe? Did you form this world from the dirt to the sky? Hmm?”
Yharim gave no response — his head was bowed, and his body still shook. Xeroc laughed, a sound altogether incomprehensible yet overflowing with mirth and derision. “Good answer, tyrant! We do like you. It’s just that We have to remind you of a few things sometimes, lest you think too highly of yourself. Now then, We do have a few more questions, but not for you.”
Light surrounded Isaac, lifting him to his feet. Despite trying so hard to contact the one who now wanted to talk with him, Isaac still felt panic grip him. What could Xeroc want to ask him?
“Oh, calm down, creature. We’re not puppeting you, We just want you to stand. We’ve taken a glance at your memories, but tell Us — what do you want with Our Terminus?”
Ordering his thoughts, Isaac looked Xeroc in the eye. “I think…I think I’m supposed to complete your ritual to wake up.”
Xeroc didn’t respond immediately. “You want to complete Our ritual to wake up. First of all, you look plenty awake to Us. Second, do you really think you are anywhere even close to strong enough for Our ritual? Either you greatly overestimate your own abilities, or you have no idea what We require of those who want an audience with Us. This audience is free, by the way!”
Isaac was struck speechless. He knew that the ritual in Calamity involved a boss rush — a fight against more than forty enormously powerful enemies. Since he was from a different world, he had expected to have a different version of the ritual; a boss rush against foes tailored to him. More than that, the fact that Xeroc didn’t even believe he was comatose stunned him. The Pale King had made it so clear! If Xeroc had seen his memories, hadn’t he seen the prophecy?
“Oh right. Of course, how could We be so ignorant? The prophecy was so abundantly clear. Surely that means everything you’re saying is totally correct! Some bug said it was true, after all!”
Isaac thought he saw the Terminus glare at him. “Listen to Us, protozoan. We don’t care what you heard or what you remember hearing. Has it ever occurred to you that kings can be strikingly incorrect? Just look at the monarch next to you. Is this world his, or is it Ours?”
In a sense, the world was Isaac’s. The sole reason that any of this was possible was their presence in Isaac’s mind. But saying that, or even fully thinking it, could put them in the worst trouble yet.
“Well, We do know where you came from, and We think you should be heading back there. We’ll even speed it along — you shall leave Our world, and you shall never come back. And lest you try something like this again, We just want to leave you with one question…”
The light around Isaac intensified, surrounding his characters as well. The entire space began to glow as the Terminus shone.
“Who do you think you are?”
And everything went pitch black.

Chapter 14: The Outcast

Chapter Text

Chapter 14

The Outcast

~ X ~

Darkness embraced Isaac. The light around him shriveled, dropping him to his feet. Isaac’s legs were too weak to take the impact; he fell onto his backside, feeling the cold Cerebral Glass catch him. Isaac stared at his charred hands. Everything, from their entrance into the Jungle Temple to Xeroc’s rejection of them all, entered into his mind simultaneously. Staring at Joseph’s unconscious form, he was honestly surprised that he didn’t cry, or scream, or feel…anything. In order to vent his emotions, Isaac needed to have emotions in the first place. But all that was left behind inside him was a gaping, yawning void that could swallow him whole without a second thought.
Was this what death felt like?
Isaac glanced over his characters. There was no one that was strong. Even the Shadow Fist still lay on the floor, presumably dying from the wound Yharim had given him. Isaac felt no different — he was dying, too. The void was unmaking him, bit by bit, piece by piece. As far as he knew, by now Joseph could be—
Taking a deep, pained breath, Isaac’s gaze jerked down to the glass. No. He refused to even think of that. Isaac had felt Joseph’s pulse, however faint it was. If Joseph died, it would break him; there would be nothing left. As long as Joseph was alive, they still had a chance.
That being said…Isaac didn’t want to look back at Joseph. He knew how badly he himself was doing. Joseph was unconscious; he was doing worse. Isaac just sighed. He didn’t want to watch it happen.
A soft thump in front of Isaac brought his focus back to his surroundings. Ace_the_Yoshi had landed in front of him. The Yoshi’s eyes widened as he looked around at the group.
“Oh my. Wow. Oh my goodness, um, okay, things are…pretty bad. I have no idea what happened, but it doesn’t look pretty. I need to help, but I don’t have any health or regeneration potions. What would I do in this scenario if I didn’t have access to— Oh!”
Ace snatched his wand out of his pouch. Extending the wand and turning his wrist, a circular display of foci appeared in front of it, allowing Ace to replace the Shadowbeam focus with the Mending focus — a small orb on the tip that pulsed reddish-pink. His gaze flitted around the group, the size of the need paralyzing Ace. Upon seeing Isaac’s hands, Ace rushed forward and held out his wand.
“Here. Take this. Your hands are…really messed up. Like, a lot. Can you hold this? Would it hurt? It’d probably hurt. I don’t know how else to cast it, though. Can I…wait a second.”
The orb of the focus glowed a warm red. Ace brought the focus next to Isaac’s hand; nothing happened. Making a few quick deductions, Ace reached out with his left hand, wrapping it around Isaac’s forearm. Isaac instantly felt healing energy flowing into him. His body tensed, and he began to feel an intense itching in his hands. Gritting his teeth, Isaac gave a dark grin even as he mentally fought the scratching irritation. He had felt worse.
The itching stopped. Isaac examined his hands, slowly closing and opening them. Running his fingers along his palms, he felt the sensation of touch without any pain. His mind still burned, and he still felt empty, but having functional hands would help a lot. Isaac pointed to the Shadow Fist.
“He needs help more than I do.”
Upon seeing the Fist, Ace let out a cry of surprise. He immediately switched to his Shadowbeam focus and began pumping the Fist full of darkness. Isaac knew he’d be fine soon enough.
Isaac again stared at his empty hands. Just moments ago, he had been holding the Terminus with a portal open leading back to where he now sat. Yharon and Draedon had waylaid them for just long enough. Was it all pointless? All of the effort, the secrecy, the torture, the hurry, the fear? What did the future hold for him? For all of them?
“Hey. Lihzahrd.”
He knew that voice. Isaac looked up, falling back onto his hands from shock. What he saw confirmed what he had heard: walking towards them was a hooded figure clad in ornate robes that were colored a deep red. How and why could Calamitas be here with them?
Calamitas walked up to Ace, who turned. “Where did you take me?” she asked, her tone demanding an explanation.
“Oh! Well, I don’t think I was the one who took you here. The whole light thing wasn’t me. It just sort of happened. But yeah! Welcome to Isaac’s mind. It’s so dark and dreary because Isaac is comatose, and all this darkness that you see isn’t actually darkness but Comatose Void, and it’s killing him slowly.”
“...Right. None of that makes any sense, but of course it doesn’t. I’m surrounded by intelligent plants in the middle of nothing.”
Ace gave a huge grin. “I love it when things don’t make sense! That just means that you can find the sense they do make by—”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up before I burn your tongue out of your head. I’m tired of hearing your voice.” Calamitas turned to Isaac, who had sat up. “You. Boy. Is what he says accurate?”
Isaac put his thoughts in order. “Well, I’m sorry to say this for several reasons, but yes. It is.” He let out a gravelly sigh, frustration evident in his tone. “This is the reason I needed the Terminus. Light can beat void, Xeroc’s a light deity, we contact him with the Terminus and the ritual. No Terminus, no ritual, no Xeroc, no light, no awakening. It’s that simple.”
Calamitas shrugged. “Well, look on the bright side. Dying is better than what I had in mind for you all.”
Isaac only closed his eyes and sighed again. Ace retracted his wand, turning his attention to the Pikmin. The Shadow Fist groaned and sat up, only to stand bolt upright upon seeing Calamitas. His scowl and tense posture spoke volumes.
“What, exactly, is she doing here?”
She looked his way, disinterested. “Truth be told, I’m not entirely sure. Everything just started glowing, and then we landed here.”
The Fist folded his arms pointedly, not taking his eyes off Calamitas. “I think I know what happened,” Isaac began, wanting to launch an explanation before things escalated between the two of them. “Essentially, after Ace got you out of there, I used the Terminus as a shield against Yharim’s—”
Calamitas tensed. “Against the lord’s,” she corrected.
“Right — against the lord’s attack. It broke after that. That combined with the blood moon Flint caused by accident and everything with my comatose mind got Xeroc’s attention. After I talked with him, he booted me and all those with me out of his world.”
“Oh! Of course, that makes total sense,” Ace interjected, with one hand on Riptide and the other holding his wand. “I was holding onto Calamitas, flying her out of the palace. No one really tried to stop us, since everyone in that place is afraid of Calamitas and knows what she can do, so I would’ve gotten out pretty quickly, except I kept getting lost even with Calamitas giving me directions—”
Trying to give you directions.”
“Yeah, giving me directions.” Riptide perked up, and Ace moved to Bolt. “But then after a little while I started glowing, and we all ended up here. From your account, I think that Xeroc transported me here, and since I was still holding onto Calamitas she was ejected along with me. It would also explain why we were so far away from the rest of the group when we landed.” Ace jumped back upon receiving a small shock from Bolt. Moving his healing efforts to Blue, he looked at Isaac with a tilt of his head. “Why did Xeroc kick you out of his world? I thought once you got the Terminus you were good. But from what you said, the Terminus broke. Did that make Xeroc mad?”
“No. It…” Isaac grimaced, cursing Xeroc’s rejection. “That wasn’t the problem. The problem was Xeroc saying I was…too weak for the ritual. I mean, yeah, the ritual in that world is way out of my league, but I’m not from that world! I’m from my own—”
“You do know Xeroc was right, though,” Calamitas interrupted. “You were in his world, under his rules. And his rules state a certain order for the ritual — whatever that is, I don’t know, but you seem to.”
“No one asked for your opinion,” growled the Shadow Fist. “We’re all trying to survive here. Do you still have a problem with that?”
“Whoa. Hey.” Plasmin walked up to the Fist. “That was a little unwarranted, don’t you think?”
Bending down, the Fist looked Plasmin in the eye. “No.” He stood up straight, giving Calamitas a cold stare. “It wasn’t.”
To Isaac’s surprise, Calamitas actually laughed. “There are many who hate me, shadow. Get in line.”
This response made the Fist smirk. “Yes, your name is most hated, isn’t it?”
“That’s enough.” Steve’s voice couldn’t command any of those involved in the exchange, but it still held authority. “We need a new plan that doesn’t involve Calamitas’ world. Isaac, you said that the only two copies of the Terminus are in that world?”
“Yup. No way around that one. The original is in the Abyss, which is also Xeroc’s domain, and the second doesn’t even exist any more. Sure, that one was a facsimile, but making it required the combined genius and raw magic of Draedon and—”
Isaac’s thought stopped dead in his tracks as he realized who was standing in front of him. “Calamitas.” He got to his feet; he almost couldn’t believe what he was going to say. “If we have Calamitas with us…could we make a new Terminus?”
“Oh wow, can I help?” Flint eagerly ran up to Isaac. “I make a lot of stuff. And we have Plasmin here, too! Plasmin’s even better at building stuff than I am!”
“That won’t work.” Calamitas shook her head; the Fist huffed. “This creation is not made of dirt, stone, or even a standard metal. The alloy Draedon forged was made specifically for this task. It had to be nigh unbreakable and fully absorb enormous amounts of magic. To this day, I’ve seen nothing else like it.”
After a moment’s silence, Toxin’s small voice piped up: “I think I have. There are only a few things I can’t see through, and the Terminus was one of them. A lot more of them were in your world. All the rest, Ace owns. I really have to strain to look through him, and some of his gear is completely opaque, like his tools, for instance.”
“Toxin, everything around us is new,” Ember replied. “I wouldn’t say this is special just because you can’t see through it.”
“Ember…he’s got a point.” Isaac began to pace. “Ichorium fits Calamitas’ description exactly. Unbreakable? Yes. Holds enormous amounts of magic? Check. It was made for this. I couldn’t think of a better material. Yes, Draedon’s way smarter than all of us put together, and he had the perfect solution — but it was the perfect solution for his world. We have more than that at our disposal. Ace, can you—”
Oh. Ace was kneeling over Joseph, holding his wand with his palm on Joseph’s forehead. Isaac thought it’d be best to let him finish. What he was doing…it seemed more important at the time than what Isaac had to say.
Ace looked towards Isaac. “Oh! Sorry, I wasn’t listening. Did you need something? I’m still doing the whole healing thing. Joseph’s taking a little bit. I hope he’s okay!”
Isaac didn’t want to say anything. Blue walked up to Ace. “We need Ichorium! How much do you have? We’re making a new Terminus!”
Ace dropped his wand, making Isaac groan internally. “You…want to make a new Terminus? That’s…that’s amazing! Yes, of course it would require Ichorium; it’s an artifact used to contact a deity, so it’s going to require a gargantuan magical signature, and Ichorium admits that! Wow, okay. This is brilliant. Well, I don’t have any spare Ichorium on me, since Ichorium is hard to make, and all of my Ichorium was used in my tools and gear, and I obviously don’t want to deconstruct any of that. I could go make some! I can get back to my world really easily, actually. I’m not sure how I’ll get back, but I’ll figure it out! I’m good at that.”
Ace picked up his wand as Riptide walked over to him. The focus he attached to it was light blue with a white base. “Ace,” Riptide began, “are you sure that—”
The thaumaturge held his wand aloft; rays of cyan light pierced the void. The group’s entire surroundings shifted to the blocky world of Minecraft, but Isaac barely noticed. He only saw Joseph’s eyes flutter open.

Chapter 15: Cries of the Damned

Chapter Text

Chapter 15

Cries of the Damned

– ♪ –

Even though he had woken up and the world around him had changed, Joseph could still hear the screaming.
It lacerated his mind. Slaughtered the silence. Flayed his thoughts. Mauled his emotions.
The last moment of peace he remembered having was when he was being strangled by Calamitas. Then, she opened her hand, and he fell. Everything was a blur after that. He had been brought out of the underworld, sure, but spending any length of time in a place of eternal torment left deep gashes in the mind. He couldn’t even remember anything that had happened after Calamitas let him go.
Joseph grimaced, placing his hand on his head. He grunted slightly. He could tell waiting for the screaming to stop would be an endless task. As he opened his eyes again, he saw Isaac’s face over him, with worry written all over it.
Joseph’s gorge rose.
“Hey, friend.” His voice was soft and compassionate. “It’s good to see you awake. How are you feeling?”
The last thing Joseph wanted was to say how he was actually feeling. In order to do so, he would have to vocalize the screaming in his mind. As appealing as that offer was, he didn’t want Isaac asking more questions.
“I’m…extant,” he muttered.
Isaac’s brow knitted. “That bad, huh? I’m sorry to hear that.” Mentally, Joseph kicked himself. Of course Isaac knew what that meant.
Isaac looked around, not knowing what to say next. Blue came over, which relaxed Joseph somewhat. “Yeah, you don’t look good,” he said. “We’re here for you, okay? Can you sit up?”
Joseph mentally pushed against the screaming, attempting to shove it into a deeper recess of his mind. Only meager success resulted — the wraiths had their claws deep in his gray matter. Those around Joseph backed away as he attempted to sit up. Only then did his brain realize he was physically exhausted. He muttered a minced oath. Of course I can barely move, he thought, making a concerted effort to differentiate his self-dialogue from the shrieking underneath it. Figures.
All Joseph could do right now was try to think. He was curious as to why seeing Isaac made him feel revolted, but that line of reasoning only made the howling louder. So he turned his attention to his surroundings. The sky above him was bright blue, with cuboid clouds lazily floating across it. If he craned his neck a bit, Joseph could see the lip of a wooden roof behind him, made of tan planks. The squares and straight lines were a dead giveaway. They were in Minecraft.
Wait — Minecraft, of all places? Joseph’s sheer confusion almost made the disembodied voices in his brain shut up for once. He had just come from Terraria, sure, but still. He was in Minecraft!
“...Why the heck are we in Minecraft?”
The wind rustled through the trees; an indistinct conversation nearby showed that Flint, Bolt, and Riptide were exploring the surrounding area. Joseph’s question was met with no response at first. Was there something they didn’t want to tell him? He remembered his revulsion and began to feel suspicious. Was Isaac hiding something?
“...Yeah. I’m…not sure myself.” Isaac took a breath. “Essentially, after you passed out, we tried again to get the Terminus and failed. We discussed a plan B, and to that end Ace tried to go back to his world by himself, but in doing so he brought us all here. We’re not sure why that is. Any ideas, Ace?”
“Oh! Yes, actually. I was just deep in thought about that exact thing, so I wasn’t quite listening to your conversation, but when you asked me a question directly it got my attention. Here’s what I’ve come up with. Basically, we’re all in your mind, right? We’ve established that already. Some of us have tried to leave with no success. So, when I used my wand focus, the connection was made between me and my world, drawing us together. Since I can’t move — I’m stuck in your mind — my world was what moved, and the focus brought my world to you! And since all of you are here, all of you ended up in my world, because my world permeated Isaac’s mind and all of you are there, too. Normally the focus only transports me, because I’m able to move, but in this case I wasn’t, so it looks like all of you were transported even though it was my world that moved. Does that make sense?”
“Not really,” replied Flint. “Could you maybe explain it again?”
Ace opened his mouth to oblige Flint’s request. “Actually,” Ember interrupted, “I’m sure it’ll make more sense as we stay here. I have something more important that I gotta ask. What’s gonna try and kill us?”
“Oh, good question! During the day, this world’s actually pretty safe! Just make sure you stay on the surface and out of dark places. Also stay away from the Obsidian Totems — they spawn Furious Zombies no matter the time of day. The night especially is when things get rough. All sorts of monsters show up: zombies, skeletons, creepers, spiders, endermen…are those all? Those are the main ones…yeah! Basically, at night time, just stay inside and you’ll be fine! My house is right over here; you’re all welcome to stay for as long as you need to.”
“Okay,” replied Steve. “So it’s actually a lot like our world. Dangerous nights, relatively peaceful daytime so long as you stay above ground. In fact, it might be safer!”
“It’s also quite similar—”
That voice. The last words Joseph had heard before the screaming began were hers. Joseph shouted and sat bolt upright, his distress giving him strength to move. Standing a few blocks away from him was Calamitas.
“...to my world.”
Over his fearful breathing, Joseph noticed Calamitas’ tone of voice falter, just slightly. Was she…concerned? No, that was impossible! She was their torturer, their foe. She was the one who had put the screaming into his head in the first place. However, at the same time, Joseph wasn’t hearing those screams with his ears. He wasn’t left to burn. Had she…?
“You don’t remember what happened after I dropped you, do you?” Calamitas sighed. “Well, everything you said turned out to be true. They were cloning me, and that necromancer knew all about it. And now here I am, helping you. I’m still not entirely sure how it all happened.”
“Neither are we,” Toxin commented, “but we’re grateful.”
“Yes, absolutely! We really do need your help here.” Ace gave Calamitas a warm smile. “You probably know a lot about how the first Terminus was made, so you’re going to be instrumental in our creation of the second Terminus.”
The screaming reached a fever pitch. Joseph locked eyes with Isaac.
“What?”
“Okay, so I understand that you’re getting updated on a lot of stuff really fast; everything’s coming at you hard.” Isaac’s voice was frenetic as he tried to calm Joseph down — as he tried to placate him. “While you were out, we failed to get the Terminus, but we survived because Xeroc intervened! And now that Calamitas is here with us, we have the tools and resources to try again. We talked about it, and we decided it’d be the best way to go about waking us up.”
You decided,” Joseph muttered.
“...Huh?”
Even so, both of you would do well to remember the whole of what I have said, rang the Pale King’s voice above the howling wraiths. Do not trust all that appears good.
Joseph hauled himself to his feet, shambled into Ace’s house, and slammed the door. A second Terminus? After all the King had said? After all the hellish torture they had been through in the palace? Was that all Isaac ever thought about?
And still, in Joseph’s mind, the voices continued to—
“Shut UP!”
Clutching his head, contorting his face — anything to end the nightmare. The annihilation was now both within him and without, the void in his mind even stronger than that which was smothering his consciousness. He had become a microcosm of his comatose self. Because of their time in the palace, Joseph was now being devoured alive from the inside out. And Isaac? Isaac wanted to stay there. He wanted Xeroc still. His master plan was to welcome the Radiance into his mind.
The apparitions took a breath, leaving space for a single thought before all was drowned once more in agony:
Isaac and I are no longer the same.

Chapter 16: Nightfall

Chapter Text

Chapter 16

Nightfall

~ X ~

Isaac stared at that closed door for an eternity.
He had never seen Joseph like this. Sure, seeing him awake took a huge weight off his shoulders, but…he wasn’t the same. Isaac remembered Calamitas’ tortures and his stomach churned. What had happened to him? To all of them? Was he still talking to the same Joseph?
“So, are we all going to stand here and stare at the door,” asked the Shadow Fist, “or are we going to get moving towards doing what must be done?”
“Good point. Let me do some preliminary research.” Ace pulled a book out of his pouch; it was leather bound and studded with jewels. The book was full of pages, and even though the amount of pages appeared much more dense than that of a normal book, it was not bloated. He began to page through it, a proud smile on his face.
“What’s that, Ace?” asked Blue.
“Thanks for asking, Blue!” Ace closed the book and held it out for all to see. “This is my Thaumonomicon. It is quite literally my life’s work. Everything else that I’ve made is nice too, sure, but the real treasures are in here. It holds all of my research, magically collating the notes by category and device. This book…well, it’s why I carry a sword.”
Isaac wasn’t listening. He knew what Ace’s Thaumonomicon was, of course; another train of thought was diverting his attention. Isaac felt himself drawn towards the door. If Joseph wasn’t on his side, it was him against the void, alone. The one, already broken, would be fragmented still more, furthering the severance and making awakening nigh impossible. Yet, at the same time, Isaac couldn’t help but imagine all the ways it could go wrong. The look in Joseph’s eyes when Ace revealed the true purpose of their time in Minecraft…it was betrayal. Perhaps them meeting again so soon afterwards would make the splintering worse. He would have to work more on the Terminus first and let him see the progress made. Joseph had always had his reservations about the project, and Isaac couldn’t blame him. Isaac was worried, too. He wasn’t looking forward to battle or strife.
“Isaac?”
Isaac’s eyes snapped back into focus. Plasmin was in front of him, his leaf golden and his face showing deep-seated worry. He had screamed, Isaac remembered, when Joseph started truly casting Cry. Did he know something about the ordeal Isaac didn’t? His ability to listen to the mind was unsettling and even annoying at times, but it brought them insight they all needed.
“Okay, here we go!” Ace chirped. “This recipe is as good a place to start as any. I should really have it memorized by now, but y’know what? I do like paging through my Thaumonomicon. It reminds me of all I’ve accomplished. So! To make Ichorium, we’ll need Ichor, which comes in batches of eight. One batch requires a Nether Star, a Nether Shard, an Ender Shard, and a Diamond, as well as thirty-two Humanus Essentia, thirty-two Lux Essentia, and sixty-four Spiritus Essentia. Essentia is essentially —” Ace chuckled at the unintentional pun — “it’s essentially an aspect melted down into liquid form, and it’s used for arcane Infusions and alchemy.” He turned the page. “From there, I can take three of the Ichor, one more Diamond, and one Thaumium Ingot, and make an Ichorium Ingot! I estimate that we’ll need five Ichorium to get a chunk big enough, so I’ll need to make two batches of Ichor, which—”
“Um…Ace?” Riptide was looking nervously at the sky. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but as a Pikmin, I can’t help but notice that night is on its way.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” replied Steve. “Let’s get inside.”
The Pikmin filed into the house. Plasmin took one more look over his shoulder at Isaac before he entered. Calamitas followed them; Ace shut his Thaumonomicon and was not far behind. Isaac looked into the house and took a deep breath. “You’re staying out here, I’m assuming?” he asked the Fist.
“It’s either inside the lit house or outside in the night. I do not fear whatever monsters this world has to offer.” He folded his arms, leaning up against the house’s front wall. “The night is my element. I’ll be fine. Unless you want to fight alongside me, you go inside, and keep that Amulet well-stocked for if I get bored.”
Isaac smirked. “Will do, friend. Thanks for the reminder!” He clapped the Shadow Fist on the shoulder, earning a look made of equal parts disgust and confusion. Another deep breath, and he stepped into Ace’s house, closing the door behind him.
Joseph wasn’t there — at least, he wasn’t on the first floor. Isaac knew the house’s measurements by heart. The space in the first floor was four blocks tall, with the left wall nine blocks deep and the back wall ten blocks across. The house was in an L shape, measuring five blocks across on each end; the front door was set in the middle of one of these ends. With one block being about three feet to a side, the house was already rather crowded, but there was a decent amount of space to move around.
The first floor was one room, with Ace’s Research Table and Arcane Worktable against the back wall. A staircase set in the floor in front of the left wall led down to Ace’s artificial cave system; there he housed his item storage, his Essentia, his Infusion Altar, and anything else for which he needed extra space. A column of water led to the second floor of the house, which was just the space under the roof. Ace was standing behind the waterfall, flipping through his Thaumonomicon.
“Okay, well, I don’t keep anything up on the second floor,” he was saying, “but if you want to explore and you can’t swim I understand! I’ll just make one of these. It’s called an Arcane Levitator, and you can use it even if you can’t swim. That way, you can get up to the second floor without drowning! I’ll get on that right away. I just need to make Nitor, which shouldn’t take long.” Ace started to move towards the stairs, but then an idea hit him. “Y’know what? I’ll make beds! I’ll make beds, and I’ll put the beds up on the second floor so that everyone can sleep there. My bed is down here, but I don’t ever use it. Sleep is a waste of time that I could spend researching and learning.”
Ace ran across the house and bolted down the stairs. Thankful that the Shadow Fist hadn’t heard Ace’s views on sleep, Isaac took a seat on Ace’s bed. Was Joseph on the second floor already? Or was he somewhere in the caves and tunnels Ace had dug? The house only had one entrance and exit, so he couldn’t have left the house another way. The night was too dangerous for that anyway.
The regular impacts of pebbles against the wall broke the silence in the house. It was a favorite fidget of Flint’s when he got bored. Ace came back up the stairs, and reaching into his Bottomless Pouch, he pulled out the items necessary for the Arcane Levitator. He arranged them on the Worktable, and with a touch of his wand and a flash of yellow and green, the items arranged themselves into the Levitator, which Ace placed beneath the waterfall. A quick block of cobblestone and a flick of his pickaxe removed the water flow. Ace stepped into the space above the Levitator and floated upwards, laughing.
“I’ve never made one of these before! I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner, honestly. Swimming up the waterfall to get to the second floor could be a hassle, but then again, I never went up there, so it makes sense that I never changed anything about it. This is fun! You should try it out!”
Blue was the first to come forward and float on the device. Bolt approached it eagerly, but hesitated. He looked back at Flint. The pebbles against the wall were becoming rocks, and their impacts grew louder and louder. Bolt turned to face his friend.
“Hey, Flint. You good?”
“I have to get out of here.” The statement was quick and nervous; it didn’t interrupt the stones that were now being hurled at the wooden wall. “I’m trapped. I need to get out. I can’t move.”
Plasmin guiltily dropped his gaze as Bolt walked up to Flint, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not trapped here, Flint. You’re not trapped in the Onion at night, are you? You’re safe here, and there’s plenty of space to—”
Flint shoved past Bolt and barrelled out the door. Steve didn’t skip a beat. “Flint!”
He stopped dead, staring into the night. Steve approached the doorway as the Pikmin exchanged nervous glances. Ace had just described how dangerous the night was. Flint was a good fighter, but was he in any condition to defend himself should something approach?
“Get inside and stay inside,” Steve ordered, an anxious tremor in his voice. “I understand. I’m scared, too. But it’s far more dangerous outside. You and I both know that.”
His mind torn, Flint put a hand up to his head. He came into the house, sitting in the corner nearest the door without closing it. And those inside the house got their first look at the night outside.
It was eerie and dark. Not a star was in the sky, and not a creature was in sight. The whole surface seemed to be suffused with a menacing glow, tinging the darkness with latent malice. Something about the malicious dusk made Isaac’s head fill with a dull ache as he stared into its depths. This was not a normal night.
Half out of a protective instinct and half out of curiosity, Ace ran out the door. Looking up into the sky, his face betrayed his awe. Immediately, he pulled out a quill and began to scratch drawings and notes onto a piece of paper.
“You all have to see this.”
Ace didn’t take his eyes off the aerial phenomenon. The Pikmin stayed inside; Steve made eye contact with Flint and shook his head. Calamitas crept through the door, peeking her head outside. Isaac had never seen her so cautious. What could possibly make someone of her power act this way?
Calamitas looked up into the sky. Staring into the night, the witch stayed deathly still. Isaac had a sinking feeling that, if he could have seen her expression, it would have been one of horror. All at once, she turned and rushed back into the house, then grabbed Isaac tightly by the upper arm.
“Outside,” she commanded, dragging him through the yawning doorframe. “Now.”
Isaac stood on the grass in front of the house, the icy night air forming goosebumps on his skin. He didn’t need Calamitas giving him another order. He followed Ace’s gaze and looked into the sky.
The moon hung large and square in the night, not a star beside it. It was this sight which plunged panic like a blade into his heart. The moon was blood red.
“Does either of you know why this happens?” Ace asked, his excitement revealing complete ignorance about the situation.
“Yes. We do.” Isaac couldn’t look away from that moon. It glared at them like a radiant eye tearing through the atmosphere.
“Xeroc is watching.”

Chapter 17: Scrutiny

Chapter Text

Chapter 17

Scrutiny

~ X ~

Just a few moments ago, the red moon had saved Isaac from Yharim’s wrath. Now, it leered at him, dooming his plan to fail. Xeroc had made it clear: Isaac was not to attempt to contact him again. Isaac had been counting on the Ichorium Terminus to smooth that part over — he had wanted it to be a symbol of his respect, his dedication, his desperation. But if Xeroc knew they were trying to forge a faux Terminus, it was all over. Xeroc would come down and halt the process instantly, and Isaac would likely spend his last waking moments in insanity. There would be no leniency; there would be no questioning. Xeroc had already made up his mind.
“Oh, wow! Xeroc is who we’re trying to contact, right? This is great!” Ace looked up at the blood moon and waved enthusiastically. Calamitas immediately grabbed Ace’s forearm, looking him dead in the eye.
“Ow. Ow, okay, I understand, maybe not the best course of action, but I really like this arm—”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” she articulated. “Do not play games with Xeroc, lihzahrd. That is how you lose your sanity, and all of us with you.”
“Okay. I got it. I’m sorry.” Ace’s voice sounded more desperate; Calamitas let him go. “I would like to hold on to the little I have left. I know the danger now. I’m sorry.”
“Well. It would sound like contacting the light deity is a bad idea,” commented the Shadow Fist. “Big surprise. Do you actually have a ‘plan B,’ Warrior, or were you lying to your twin earlier when you said that’s what you were here for?”
Having completely forgotten the Shadow Fist was there and feeling in full force the sting of his remark, Isaac took a moment to compose himself. He hadn’t been lying to Joseph, no. The first plan was to steal Yharim’s Terminus; the second was to make their own from Ichorium. They had the same end, sure, but they were different means to that end. Whether or not Joseph himself saw it that way was not a question to be answered then and there.
Once he recovered, Isaac began to think. How could there possibly be a plan B like the Shadow Fist meant it? There was no prophecy B. “In ritual battle and strife he shall fight through deities allied in holiest light” — that’s what the Pale King had seen in their future. The Terminus plan was the clear interpretation of that line. They had all the pieces in front of them. How could they turn back now?
Isaac took stock of those pieces, beginning to put them together mentally. The goal was the Terminus, of course. To get there, they would have to create Ichor, then Ichorium. The Ichorium would be combined together, then filled with Calamitas’ magic like it was in Godlike Power. It really was a simple operation. Knowing Ace, it could likely be completed over the course of a day or two. Could it be done under Xeroc’s watch?
Looking up at the blood moon, Isaac actually had to keep himself from laughing. Of course it could be done! Just because Ace was making Ichor and Ichorium didn’t mean that Xeroc would know they were attempting to forge another Terminus. Xeroc was a light deity, of course, and that information would have been available at a glance to him through their minds. However, this was a blood moon, not a full theophany. Such a manifestation would put Xeroc’s halo in the sky like it had in Yharim’s palace, and like it would during the ritual. Xeroc was only partially present in this world, and his attention was likely diverted — after all, he had his ancient enemy Noxus to look for in his own universe. Isaac breathed a sigh of relief. The plan could still continue.
“How about we talk inside?” Isaac turned towards the door, eager to be sheltered from the scarlet moon. Even though he had a plan, the sinister night was still unnerving. “It’s…safer.”
Ace, Calamitas, and Isaac began to enter the house. Isaac took a look over his shoulder as he went inside, then another. Was something else following him? There must have been something behind him. The Fist was staying outside, showing no signs of unease. Trying to shake the feeling of being followed, Isaac closed the door behind him as they entered, checking and double-checking that it was shut.
Taking a deep breath, Isaac made eye contact with Plasmin. It was strange to see him afraid; he knew how capable Plasmin was in battle. Xeroc was bigger than all of them, and they all knew it.
Okay, everyone. Isaac hoped Plasmin was willing to be his messenger despite his unease. New information: Xeroc sees us. He’s watching. I don’t mean to worry you all, but it’s true, and it’s going to change how we go about this.
Eyes went wide all throughout the house. Plasmin grimaced, putting his hand up to his head. Then, he turned completely gold. One at a time! he shouted, the words echoing off the walls of Isaac’s mind. When he reassumed his Pikmin form, he glanced around at the other Pikmin, then sighed, guilt once again worming its way into his mind.
Hey, Isaac thought, looking directly at him. It’s okay. We’re all stressed. Want me to explain what we’re going to do?
Plasmin nodded. All right, Isaac began. So. Xeroc’s watching, and the blood moon shows that. Because it’s just a blood moon, he can’t see everything, which is why we can communicate like this and why we can still work towards the Terminus. Ace, you can still gather the materials for Ichor and Ichorium tonight; Xeroc probably won’t know why you’re getting those materials together. He also won’t be watching during the day — only during the night. The Shadow Fist is staying outside, which is good, since he can guard the house. Hostile creatures are more aggressive during a blood moon. Since it’s a new phenomenon, there’s nothing outside tonight, but if this continues we’re going to need the Fist’s help. Isaac knocked on the wooden floor. Here’s hoping it’s the only one.
The room was silent for a few breaths, then Ace raised his hand. The group looked towards him, and Plasmin transmitted his thoughts to them. Okay. So, essentially, you’re saying that I can still make Ichor and Ichorium, but I can only go that far because anything more than that would reveal what we’re doing to Xeroc, which is a problem because of how we were kicked out of his world. However, I can make more explicit Terminus progress during the day, because there won’t be a blood moon then. Can Xeroc see through solid blocks? If we’re inside or underground, we’re sheltered from the light of the moon.
I don’t know,
Isaac replied. I’d assume he can. We should act like he can, just to be safe.
I have a question,
interjected Plasmin. Do you think the Shadow Fist will be okay outside? He looked towards the door; the Fist didn’t come barging in, so he continued. I know he fights really well, but he’s not invincible. From what you said, he might have a lot on his plate. What do you think?
I could certainly assist him if the need arose,
Calamitas said. If we had two guarding the—
The Fist manifested in the middle of the group, making several of them jump. From his posture, he didn’t look happy. And he was standing inches from Calamitas.
“Listen to me, witch. I am not—”
Hey! Plasmin stepped between the two, glaring up at the Fist without fear. Let’s keep the conversation telepathic. If Xeroc’s watching, he’s probably listening too, and I don’t care how offended—
“I will say what I want to say in the manner in which I want to say it.” With a tense sweep of his arm, the Fist moved Plasmin out from between him and Calamitas. “Now then. Perhaps, witch, you should consider that I am not the hapless speck you think I am. The night welcomes me, and I welcome it. I have powers and capabilities that you have never seen, and I know how to use them. I do not need your help. Do you understand, or do you need a demonstration?”
She didn’t laugh this time. “You can go back outside now, shade. You are playing with fire in more ways than one.”
“Fire? I’m not afraid of being burned.” The Fist’s head turned, his Xepaktrian eye branding Isaac. “And I think whatever you’re threatening will burn us all less than what the Xenithian Warrior has planned, anyway.”
Isaac slammed his arms into the Xenithian call sign, gnashing his teeth. His Amulet was still empty, so nothing happened; he didn’t care. The Fist watched him for a little while, then vanished with a faint smirk. Arms still crossed and fury still raging, it took a survey of the group — of Steve, of Riptide, of Toxin, of Blue — for Isaac to let the comment go. With a deep sigh, Isaac dropped his arms and sank to the floor.
Is he always like this? asked an exasperated Calamitas.
Yes, responded Isaac and Plasmin in tandem.
Let’s get back on track, Bolt suggested. What’s our next step?
It sounds to me like Ichor and Ichorium are our next step.
Ace opened his Thaumonomicon. After that, we can make the chunk, and then Calamitas can tell us how to make it into a Terminus!
That part of the operation is something she can take care of,
Isaac explained. So, once we have the chunk, we just give it to Calamitas, and she’ll fill it with her magic. The Ichorium is all we need.
That sounds short!
Blue, ever the optimist, was even daring to smile. And you said we can make these resources tonight. We should have what we need in no time!
Calamitas scoffed. Arcane constructs are never that simple.
This one might be!

Steve patted Blue on the shoulder. Never change, Blue. You’re usually wrong about these things, but we all wish you weren’t. Never change.
Are we good to start, then?
Isaac was getting antsy. Simple or not, we’ve still got a lot ahead of us. It’s probably going to take a couple days at least. We need to start as soon as possible.
In response, Ace ran down the stairs, heading to his Nether portal. Isaac, to his dismay, was left with space to think. He didn’t have Blue’s optimism on his side — his brain tended much more towards Steve’s realism. The facts, as he saw them, weren’t pleasant. The deity he was trying to summon was against them. If the Shadow Fist continued to antagonize Calamitas, it would tear the group apart from the inside. The collection of materials would be a long process, and Isaac had another sinking feeling in his gut that there would be several complications. Remembering the red moon, Isaac shuddered, feeling terror’s faint footsteps as it stalked through his mind. How long had Ace been gone? Would he be coming back? Hopefully he would come back soon. The Nether was a dangerous place.
Isaac grimaced, giving his head a vehement shake. This night was going to be a long one.

Chapter 18: Paradigm Shift

Chapter Text

Chapter 18

Paradigm Shift

– ♪ –

The crackling of fire and the breathing of bellows had soothed the screaming somewhat, and Joseph was able to sort through his thoughts with relative ease. He was in one of Ace’s underground rooms, sitting on top of his Infernal Furnace. The furnace was a cubic structure three blocks on a side that Ace used to smelt items. Arcane Bellows attached to the sides of the construct were pumping away all on their own, feeding the ever-burning fires inside. The space was warm and isolated — just what Joseph needed. Ironically, the fire of the furnace had helped to assuage the fires of mind, for which he was extremely grateful.
His thought patterns seemed to follow the same loops whenever he attempted to reason out everything that was going on. Screaming. Isaac was making a Terminus. Why was Isaac making a Terminus? More screaming. Joseph had no say in this. But he couldn’t have said anything; he was unconscious. Why was he unconscious? Still screaming. It was something that he didn’t remember — something that had happened with the first Terminus. And now Isaac was making a new one. Why was he making a new one?
Joseph wanted to probe deeper into the parts he didn’t remember, but the darkness it left behind in his mind disturbed him. The closer he got to that void, the closer he came to pondering the time he spent in the underworld, and the louder the shrieks became. Once, he had tried to force his way through it. His head still hurt from the attempt.
Fortunately for Joseph, the shadows around him began to wind together, and someone appeared next to him who knew darkness inside and out. Joseph was shocked to see him, and not simply because he appeared without warning. The Shadow Fist was willingly choosing a room with some lighting, however minimal it was, over the night outside.
“Hey, Fist,” he ventured. “What’s going on? I’d expect you’d be outside in the night.”
The Fist didn’t make eye contact. “...I trust you not to tell another living soul when I say the night unnerves me in this time and place.”
Joseph just about fell off the furnace. Something deeply wrong must have been happening for the Shadow Fist, a being made of darkness and even Xepakt, to be unsettled by the night. There were precious few things the Fist feared, and most of them were conceptual — failure, not making an impact on the multiverse, and the like. The monsters of Minecraft were well within his ability to handle.
“You want an explanation, of course.” The Shadow Fist faced Joseph now, his expression grim. “Brace yourself. You are not going to like it, but you have a right to know.”
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Joseph was a bit surprised at the question that came to mind. He didn’t care to try and stop it. Maybe asking it would lighten the mood a bit.
“What did Isaac do?”
It worked; the Fist actually chuckled. “Good question. You are…somewhat correct, but not entirely. I wish it were that simple.” He sighed, and his expression steeled again.
“Because your twin knows what this means, I am going to assume that you do as well. Joseph, there is a blood moon.”
Insanity. Xeroc’s gaze. Hordes of monsters, light radiant and maddening, and everywhere and everything screaming, screaming—
“No, no, no, WHAT?!”
Joseph fell to his feet off the corner of the furnace and down the makeshift stairs around it, each three-foot drop jolting his frame. He paced out of the room with hurried steps and short strides. Everything was going wrong. He felt his world come crashing down around him. All was void and radiance. What was Isaac thinking?!
The Shadow Fist appeared in front of Joseph, sending him backwards with a start and a cry. The Fist took him by the shoulders, looking him dead in the eye.
“Warrior. Listen to me.”
Joseph barked out a wickedly sarcastic laugh. “Nah. I’m not the Warrior. The Xenithian Warrior’s the one who decided—”
“You look like him. You talk like him. You think like him. You act like him. And if I were to ask you your opinions on my goals, you would give all the same answers as him.”
Well, you got two out of five.
“Just because you play songs to activate your powers instead of crossing your arms does not mean you are different from him. Perhaps you are, but not in the ways which matter. Warrior, I am asking you to listen.”
Oh, we’re different, all right. Learned that one the hard way.
“I do not need to remind you that you are fighting to awaken. You hate my goals, but take a lesson from me. I do not ever lose sight of my goals, even against enormous odds; you must not, either. This night will be arduous, and perhaps the next, and so it may be for the rest of our time in this realm. But this will not kill you. You will not let it.”
Yeah. Maybe the screaming will. Or my light-obsessed other self. Xeroc’s too high and mighty.
“Now, then. It is the other Warrior’s plan to still go ahead with constructing this—” He caught himself. “Well, I cannot say exactly what the plan is under these circumstances. We must keep the details away from listening ears. But know that it has not changed.”
Of course it hasn’t.
“I hate his goals just as much as you hate mine. If I am being honest, I think they will have the same ends as what you say I fight for: annihilation, void, and the like. I know I cannot convince him, but I believe you can.” His grip on Joseph’s shoulders tightened. “Act as a mirror, Warrior. Be his conscience. He is leading us down a dangerous path, but he is not yet too far gone. You just might save us all.”
Joseph had no response to that. It was…good advice. Sound. Brutally difficult to implement, but promising once suffered through. Could he ever get through to Isaac? He hadn’t listened to him even when they were the same. Now that they were so different…did he have a chance?
“Think it over. Do not speak to him without first thinking it through and preparing your argument. You will most likely only have one shot at this, and you have to make it count. Do you understand?”
The voices in Joseph’s head wordlessly screeched that it couldn’t be done. In the end, Joseph acquiesced if only to prove them wrong. He nodded, just about ready to cry.
All this…just to wake up.
“Very good.” The Shadow Fist dropped his arms and heaved out a sigh. “Well, I had better get outside. They’ll be expecting me through the front door.” He shot Joseph a slight glare. “I was outside the whole night, from the time the cursed moon went up until it went down, yes?”
“Of course, Fist. I never saw you.”
He smiled a little. “You never did. Now then, you are against a clock, but even still — take your time with this. Make him believe you. It is within your power.”
“Okay. I’ll do that. Thank you, Shadow Fist. I needed to hear that.”
With a curt nod, the Fist vanished. Joseph focused on his breathing, processing the shade’s command. With the right presentation, the right argument…Isaac might finally relent. He hadn’t even thought of that as a possibility, but it had to happen, if the Pale King was to be believed. Joseph was skeptical at best about the prophecy at this point, but he thought about it anyway. “The broken made whole as many form one” had been his only hope in this entire mess. Could it be that the King had seen exactly what the Fist was suggesting when he spoke this line? If it wasn’t, Joseph couldn’t imagine what he did see.
But…wait a minute. What if the Fist’s suggestion wasn’t the entire fulfillment? What if it was only the first step towards that end?
Joseph began to pace again, the cadence of his walk much more focused. Fragments of an alternate plan began to germinate in his mind. They were just pieces, just rudimentary ideas — but they were something. They were something that didn’t involve Xeroc, at all. And they were something that showed real promise when considered as a whole.
But the linchpin of the plan was the perfect song.
Unlocking his phone, Joseph didn’t have to look far. High on his Ranked playlist was a song so obvious it practically hit him over the head. Joseph laughed out loud, pocketing his phone. It could absolutely work! He just had to make a convincing case, which would take a lot of thought and practice — but he had time. And once he put the case together, once he presented Isaac with the plan together with the song…he might actually take it.
A confident grin spread across Joseph’s face. Hear that, screamers? I’ve got another idea to wake us up, no Xeroc required. Yeah. It’s happening. Deal with it, clowns.

Chapter 19: The First Night

Chapter Text

Chapter 19

The First Night

~ X ~

“Steve, are you okay?”
“Yeah, Blue, I’m fine.” A pause. “Thanks.”
“Is it daytime yet?” Pebbles were still regularly impacting the wall. “I want to go outside!”
“No.” A glance through the wall, then back down at the floor. “It’ll be a little while.”
“Just, everyone, try to remain calm.” His leaf was green. “Night will be over before—”
“Easy for you to say. You thrive at night. We Pikmin don’t.”
“Ember, that was harsh!”
“I know, Rip. That’s why I said it.”
Isaac groaned and rolled over in Ace’s bed. Sleep was already impossible due to his frayed nerves, but his characters’ constant conversation and bickering made it doubly so. It would have surprised him if he had found five minutes where the house was silent.
That being said…they needed to do this. They were Pikmin, and they were awake at night. Those statements did not go together. All of them were nervous; all of them understood how dangerous the night was, and they all felt Xeroc’s gaze on top of that. Isaac felt it most acutely, but the Pikmin were affected. Isaac couldn’t ignore that.
Grimacing and rubbing his eyes, Isaac sat up. He blinked heavily a few times, trying to chase the sleep from his mind. Now that he wasn’t actively trying to sleep, the events of that night began replaying in his head again. Isaac saw himself, over and over, grinding his teeth at the Shadow Fist and attempting to summon the strongest power he could. He allowed himself to think more deeply on that event, if only to try to distract his brain from creating alternate scenarios that were often much more violent.
Why did I get so mad?
Sure, the Fist had struck a nerve. Isaac’s hope of wakefulness wasn’t something to poke at. But shouldn’t he have been expecting comments like those from him? He hated light — that was kind of his thing. The light was his enemy. It tore into him at every opportunity. So Isaac’s plan to summon Xeroc, a massively powerful light god, would obviously rub him the wrong way. Xeroc was pretty much the Fist’s polar opposite.
At this point, Ace flashed through the room, running up the stairs and flying out the door. Words tumbled out of his mouth: “I’m off to the End.” He appeared and was gone in half a second. He never had put those beds on the second floor.
“And I think whatever you’re threatening will burn us all less than what the Xenithian Warrior has planned, anyway.”
It was that sentence. That one. What the Xenithian Warrior had planned was awakening. The fact that the Shadow Fist would so quickly judge Isaac’s plan as completely worthless and even dangerous was really hypocritical. Didn’t he rail against those who did the same to his objectively destructive plans? Couldn’t he have had the self-awareness to at least give Isaac’s plan a chance?
Remembering his previous conversation with the Fist, Isaac got Bolt’s attention, then set his Amulet to receive lightning. Bolt obliged, as filling Isaac’s Amulet meant he got to try to shock him. Isaac knew the easiest thing was to just let it happen. After the lightning gem was full, Bolt got Ember’s attention, and the process continued through the seven elements, with Isaac taking light and shadow from his surroundings. He was grateful that, this time, the process was a lot less desperate than it was in the palace.
The spat between Calamitas and the Fist was aggravating, but maybe she could set him straight. She seemed largely unaffected by the blood moon — it was a common occurrence in her world, after all. One of the Pikmin — was it Blue? — had asked her about sleeping, but she just snickered and gave a terse reply about not needing much sleep since her mind was in darkness all the time. Still, Isaac hoped she got some rest at some point.
He hoped they all did. The process couldn’t take that long, but Isaac still felt a little queasy about it. How long would they have to stay here? Would Xeroc be watching them every night? Could it be possible that he saw them even during the daytime? With Xeroc being a light deity, the sun could be their enemy just as much as the moon.
He crossed his arms and took a deep breath, grateful to feel Xenith again. The action pushed the worries from his mind. Maybe he was just paranoid.
The Pikmin didn’t seem as concerned as he was, but they didn’t know Xeroc as well. That didn’t mean they weren’t worried, of course. Generally speaking, the atmosphere inside the house was one of fear and unrest. Even Blue, whose optimism was unmatched by any of them, wouldn’t leave Steve’s side, staying in constant contact with him. Fortunately for Isaac, his brain was really good at absorbing atmospheres like a sponge, allowing his mind to steep in the fear and unrest around him. This absorption and his burgeoning paranoia made for a truly delightful evening.
The small snap of a spark broke the silence, and Bolt began to chuckle. Flint, the one affected, playfully knocked him to the ground, and the two began to wrestle — an activity in which Flint had an obvious advantage. Ember just rolled his eyes and looked the other way.
“Don’t hurt each other,” Steve cautioned, the monotone timbre of his voice showing just how many times he had watched this happen.
Isaac looked towards the door. The night outside had been eerily quiet; he hadn’t heard a single groan, rustle, or rattle. He was sure that the Shadow Fist didn’t mind the lack of incidents, but Isaac knew that he would’ve preferred to fight. After all, he hadn’t gotten a proper battle since his sparring match with Joseph.
Joseph. Oh my goodness, Joseph—
In a flash of violet light, Ace appeared in roughly the same space Isaac occupied, shoving him to the ground. First checking his hands and knees for splinters, Isaac looked back at Ace. His eyes were wide, and his hands were up to his mouth, aghast.
“Oh! I’m so sorry about that! I had no idea you’d be sitting on my bed. I always end up here when I come back from the End, and I came back just now, which is why I just appeared out of thin air and landed on my bed. But I got the Ender Shards! And that’s all we need besides Essentia to make Ichor! As far as Essentia goes, the only thing I need for that which I don’t already have on hand is Rotten Flesh, which the Shadow Fist should have collected plenty of by now. So, as soon as I get that, we can go ahead and make some Ichor! I’m so excited! I haven’t made Ichor in so long, and it’s wonderful to be making it again, especially for such an important purpose. Let’s get to it!”
Ace sprang up and opened the door. The first few orange rays of the sun were poking past the horizon. Isaac crept outside to see no moon in the sky, and a weight lifted off his shoulders. Xeroc had left them. They had survived their first night under the red moon.
“Good morning!” Ace chirped to the Shadow Fist. He did not return the greeting. “Thanks so much for guarding the house. I’m going to need the Rotten Flesh you got. I’m assuming it’s at least a stack— um, at least sixty-four, since Isaac said the blood moon brings lots of monsters. I only need that much for the Ichor, but I’ll take as much as you have!”
The shade’s face twisted with disgust. “Are you telling me that you harvest the flesh of your foes?”
“Some of them!” Ace was completely oblivious to how insane he sounded. “Zombies in particular. It just kind of drops onto the ground. Rotten Flesh has certain useful properties, the greatest of which in my opinion being that it’s a reliable source of Humanus Essentia.”
Isaac didn’t think he had ever seen the Shadow Fist speechless before. “I don’t think I will ever understand you,” he finally mumbled before shuffling into the house. The Pikmin came outside, basking in the rising sun and photosynthesizing at last.
“Well, if the Shadow Fist didn’t get any Rotten Flesh…” Ace looked around. “I’m going to have to go get some. I can go to the Obsidian Totem nearby that spawns Furious Zombies. I grew quite familiar with it when I was making candles for my Infusion room! Once I get that, I’ll make the Ichor, and then I can just make that into Ichorium with my Diamonds and…wait a minute.”
Ace began to rifle through his Bottomless Pouch. “Do I have any Thaumium? I don’t have any Thaumium, do I? I wouldn’t keep loose Thaumium on me. That doesn’t make sense. So I’ll have to make some. That requires Praecantatio Essentia, which I can get from Moss Stone…okay.” He closed his pouch, putting it back on his hip. “I need someone else to go after the Furious Zombies. Any volunteers?”
“Flint would love to,” Bolt suggested. Flint didn’t contradict him.
“No, Flint would not love to,” reproved Steve. “We need to eat. We can’t waste our energy on fighting, and I don’t know what a Furious Zombie is, but I don’t think we need to. It doesn’t sound safe. Flint, stay here.”
“I can go.” Calamitas walked out of the house into the midst of the group. “I’ve been getting a headache from the pressure of having so many people around. I’d prefer the undead at this rate. I’m curious if your world can come up with some actually well-constructed undead — the shambling hordes that inhabit my world are barely passable.”
“Okay, great!” replied Ace with a big smile. “I’ll show you where the totem is, and then I’ll get some Moss Stone, and then I’ll come back and show you the way back to my house. Would you—”
“No. I will walk.”
The witch and the thaumaturge left, with Ace leading the way. “Bye!” yelled Blue. “Be safe! Don’t burn down anything important!”
Ember turned. “Really, Blue?”
“Really,” Bolt fired back. “Shut up, I’m trying to photosynthesize.”
“Hey, Bolt.” Ember glanced at Riptide with a smirk. “That was a little harsh, don’t you think?”
“Me? Harsh? Never.

Chapter 20: Joseph's Plea

Chapter Text

Chapter 20

Joseph’s Plea

~ X ~

Once the Pikmin had gotten their energy back, they decided to explore a little, with Steve’s permission and under his guidance. Before they left, Plasmin surreptitiously put a small drop of plasm back at the house so that they could find their way back. Isaac wanted to go with them, but there was too much to do back at the house. He needed to be present to help with the Terminus. So, the Pikmin left, and Isaac stayed outside, enjoying the warm weather and sunlight.
He hadn’t felt sunlight since the accident. Isaac found himself getting choked up. He had missed the sun, and Minecraft’s square one did just as well as the round one back home. Isaac sat down on the grassy earth — he had missed grass, too — and allowed himself to think of home for a while. Of taking walks, and going out to eat with his family, and playing with his dog. It was all so wonderful, so bright, so good. The place where he was sitting had its good things, too, but he didn’t belong here. This wasn’t his home.
He saw gold and crimson robes on the horizon. With a smile, Isaac stood. They were one step closer.
The smile quickly faded as Ace and Calamitas brought the fetid stench of Rotten Flesh with them. Isaac tried to breathe through his mouth, but the odor penetrated his defenses and he gagged prodigiously. He couldn’t wrap his head around how the two of them seemed completely unaffected by the smell.
“Okay, guys, I understand we need this stuff, but can you put it away for a little while?” Isaac shuddered; his stomach trembled, and he tried his best not to vomit. “It smells like death.”
“Actually, death has a much different smell,” Ace pointed out. “This is distinctly Exanimis — undeath — not Mortuus. But I get where you’re coming from. The smell was a lot for me to get used to as well.” He shoved the pile of zombie meat into his bag. “And that’s all we need! I just have to assemble everything, melt down all the Essentia-bearing items, and then get the Ichorium chunk put together! No problem. Want to come with?”
Isaac took one more deep breath of the fresh air outside. Then, he turned and went back into Ace’s house, beginning to think and to plan as he walked down the stairs and towards the Infusion room. Once the Ichorium was ready, Calamitas would fill it with her magic, and the Terminus would be formed. Once Xeroc saw the homemade Terminus, it was really anyone’s guess what would—
He froze. Isaac got his first look into the Infusion room. The room itself was exactly what he expected: four tendrils of stone sprouting up out of the ground and pointing to the Runic Matrix, a block of stone etched with arcane sigils slowly turning in midair. Around the Altar were twelve stone pedestals, three across on each side running parallel to the Altar, with a central pedestal right below the Runic Matrix. He knew the layout well — he had built it when he played Thaumcraft. But everything in the room faded into the background.
For the first time since their arrival in Minecraft, Isaac came face to face with Joseph.
No one moved. No one spoke. Isaac hardly breathed. He was right there, sitting on the central pedestal of the Infusion Altar. It was an obvious statement. They both knew Ace needed that pedestal clear most of all to do any sort of Infusion. No Infusion, no Ichor, no Terminus.
Before Isaac could get a single thought in order, Joseph gave a weak smile. “Good. I was hoping I’d find you here. It’s, uh…been a hot minute, huh?”
Isaac started to nod. “Yeah. It has.” An awkward pause. “How are you…doing?”
Joseph snorted. “I don’t think you want to know the answer to that question. That’s not why I’m here.” Closing his eyes and taking a cleansing breath, Joseph stood.
“Isaac, we need to talk. I know what’s going on with the blood moon, and I’m sure it’s not affecting you well. I know it’s not affecting me well, and I know we’re very similar. So if you could just listen to me for a little while with an open mind, I’d really appreciate it. Deal?”
Immediately, Isaac’s defenses rose. Joseph had practiced this. He had been rehearsing this speech over and over, both in his mind and out loud, in preparation for this very moment. Isaac could tell from the way Joseph had constructed the argument, from the inflections of his voice, from the speed at which the words came out — from everything. He had an innate sense of it. He knew Joseph like he knew…well, himself.
But if Joseph had been rehearsing this speech, he really had something to say. He wanted to tell Isaac something huge; it could be something that would change the course of their time in Minecraft. Would it change for the better? Isaac didn’t know. But he remembered his frustration with the Shadow Fist the night before. It wouldn’t be right to not even give Joseph a chance without first hearing what he had to say.
“Okay, friend.” Isaac’s voice was just above a whisper as he walked down the stone stairs and into the Infusion room. He was on Joseph’s home turf, and he knew it. His confidence was slim. “What is it?”
Deep, resolute breaths. “Thank you.” Joseph put the last pieces into order in his mind, climbing over the row of pedestals between them in order to better face Isaac. Then, sentence by sentence, idea by idea, he began to construct his argument.
“Isaac, you know exactly how I feel about the Terminus. You’ve known ever since the word first left your mouth after the prophecy was given. You know that I think it’s a bad idea, and you know why. But I know we have a tendency to fixate, so I understand why you’ve been going after it so hard, especially with that one line of the prophecy sounding so clear. For the moment, I want you to set that line to the side, and I want to bring our attention elsewhere in the prophecy.”
Joseph put his hands on Isaac’s shoulders. “Please, please understand that I’m doing this for our good. This isn’t a personal vendetta, friend. This is me trying to awaken just as much as you are, the best way I know how. As clear as Xeroc seems, I don’t think it’s the best way. It’s a promising way, but it’s not a way that fits us. With that in mind, the prophecy. I want to focus on another line. I think you know which one.”
Of course he did. “And the broken made whole as many form one shall awaken the many through severance undone.”
Dropping his arms, Joseph smiled, with warmth and compassion on his face even if there was pain in his eyes. “Yeah. That one. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I really hope it happens soon. I finally have an idea of how it could work. You had wanted to focus on the line before it because that one was more concrete, so I took the time and effort to make this line just as concrete as the previous.”
He reached into his pockets and pulled out his weapons: the phone and the speaker. “Remember all the way back when the prophecy was first spoken, and we exchanged that glance? That glance that said, We’re the same person? I’d like to bring that back. I’d like to make the broken whole. I want to make us whole — to make Isaac Joseph whole. I want to kill the severance between us and let the void die with it, and here’s how we do that.”
To Isaac’s disbelief, Joseph extended the items in his hands, his eyes full of tears. “Take them, Isaac. Leave this place and go back to our mind. Channel every last spark of Xenith in that Amulet, and shatter that—” He looked away, laughing. “Whew. I swear, the ‘getting super choked up’ part of this wasn’t planned.” He faced Isaac again as the tears started to run down his face. “Go shatter that void into a quintillion pieces. It’s going to work. It has to. And if you open our phone, I can show you exactly how I know.”
Still somewhat reserved, Isaac took the cue. He reached out and placed his finger on the phone, still leaving it in Joseph’s hand. The phone read his fingerprint and unlocked, letting the crux of Joseph’s argument appear in full force. It was a single song — one in the top ten of their Ranked playlist.
“Isaac…we literally have a song called Awaken.”
Isaac’s world came crashing down around him. Had he been blinded by light this entire time? It all seemed so obvious, so promising, so elegant. Isaac began to wonder if he could even use Joseph’s music powers, but he quickly discarded that train of thought. Of course he could. They were the same person. All Isaac had to do was embrace that, and this nightmare could end.
They would awaken.
His hand reached out towards the phone, his heart pounding. Could it be that they were just a few moments from waking up? It had to be. Light beckoned in Isaac’s mind, only it wasn’t the sickening radiance of a capricious deity. It was real light. Creative light. Awakening light.
He heard a knock on the stone behind them.
Isaac turned. Standing sheepishly behind the twins was Ace_the_Yoshi, carrying four jars. One was filled with yellow fluid, one was filled with peach-colored fluid, and the last two were filled with gray fluid. He lifted his hand to wave, but thought better of it when one of the glass jars started to shift.
“Hello!” he called, quickly readjusting his hold. “Um…sorry to interrupt. These just finished melting down into Essentia. I was just going to place them down and get the items ready for the Ichor Infusion. If you were using this space, I can wait for a little while, but I do have everything ready, so whenever you’re ready I can do the Infusions and we can start making the Terminus. Just to let you know.”
“Thank you, Ace.” Joseph’s voice was measured and restrained. Isaac recognized this voice; he could hear the fury burning behind it. “You don’t need to do that right now. Isaac needs some space and time to think.”
“Okay! Thanks for letting me know. Whenever you want the Infusion, just call! I’ve got the Diamonds ready, too, and the Thaumium. Basically, at this point, in order to get the Terminus I just have to make the Ichor.”
“Thank you, Ace.”
When Isaac’s head turned back towards Joseph, he saw him staring back with an intensity that scared him. Joseph’s fingers were claw-like around the phone and speaker, and everything from his shoulders up was tense. Gone was the peace and winsome beckoning of a well-constructed argument, and in its place was bitter anger against anything that would upend or contradict the plan that was being presented.
Was this what they were becoming?
Isaac looked at the offer before him again with fresh eyes. Ace had worked so hard on this Terminus. It didn’t feel kind to throw away all of the resources and time he had put in. And, besides, wasn’t Calamitas with them for a reason? He didn’t want everything he had done in the Temple and everything Joseph had done in Yharim’s palace to be for nothing.
Suddenly, he understood. Breathing a sigh of relief, Isaac’s hands went back to his sides. He smiled sweetly. “Thank you so much for this, friend. I really appreciate all the thought you put into this and how you made sure to contact me. I’m so glad we talked. You’ve provided a wonderful safety net. I’m going to—”
The thought stopped dead in its tracks as Joseph’s face fell. He looked shattered, like he had been made to watch a loved one die.
“You…you mean…you’re still going to make the Terminus?”
Isaac couldn’t respond right away. The only word that came out of his mouth was in, and that’s all Joseph needed.
“Haven’t you striven enough?!” Joseph’s voice was likely several times louder than he intended. “Haven’t you fought tooth and nail already to try and appease Xeroc? You’ve battled. You’ve fought to earn his favor. It’s not happening. You’ve fulfilled that part of the prophecy. It’s time to move on!”
“Yes, Joseph, I have! I know that. But the Terminus is so close; it would be foolish of me to not at least try now that it’s at our doorstep. If that fails, then I can—”
“Stop.” Getting his voice under control, Joseph just shook his head. “Just stop.” He gazed into Isaac’s very soul. Isaac could hear his breathing — it was short, rhythmic, panicked. He was moments from breaking.
“This is going to work. The void is what’s weakening us. The more of it you destroy, the stronger you’ll get. It’s an exponential curve. By the end of the song, we’re awake — guaranteed. Can you guarantee me Xeroc will work? Because I can guarantee you this will.”
“Friend…can’t I just try the Terminus? I just want to try it. That’s it. And besides…” Isaac demonstratively crossed his arms. “I—”
Tech hit the floor. Hands gripped his forearms. His face tortuous with rage, Joseph ripped Isaac’s arms out of the crossed position, taking several steps towards him. Isaac backed up, his heart and mind racing, fear seizing him with a grip even tighter than Joseph’s.
Then, it stopped.
Joseph looked at his fingers as they dug into Isaac’s arms. He saw Isaac’s wide eyes filled with tears. His hold relaxed, and his arms dropped. Once again, no one moved, no one spoke. Then, without a word, Joseph picked up his phone and speaker from off the floor, pushed past Isaac, and walked out of the Infusion room.
Everything went pitch black.
That light beckoning in Isaac’s mind…gone. His arms still ached, and his heart was burning. He had never seen himself like this. He knew he was capable of strong emotions, with anger being one of them, but watching Joseph turn that fury on him was horrific. Now that they had rejected each other, only darkness remained. And if there was only darkness, Isaac would have to summon light on his own.
“Ace?” Isaac’s voice was numb, reflecting the sheer disbelief still present inside. “I think you can go ahead with that Infusion now.”
Ace immediately entered the room and placed the jars on the wall. He began placing items on the pedestals. Isaac hardly cared that it was happening. One question had not left his mind, and it was going to break him if he let it.
What have I become?

Chapter 21: Beginning of the End

Chapter Text

Chapter 21

Beginning of the End

~ X ~

With the tap of a wand, the Runic Matrix shimmered and began to glow. Hums and whispers emanated from it as gaseous Essentia poured out of the jars on the wall. Even though Isaac knew the Infusion was marked as high instability, both he and Ace had total faith in the ritual successfully completing. From writing Ace’s story, which he had based on his own playthrough of the Minecraft mod, Isaac also knew that Ace had layered almost two thousand candles under the stone on which they stood. Each flame helped to mitigate the instability of the process, and with all of them combined, instability was a non-issue. They were free to watch the Infusion occur…and to think about what had just happened. Even though instability events were dangerous and sometimes costly, Isaac would have liked to have something else to think about.
“Look, if you’re the same, he’ll understand, right?” Ace sat next to Isaac on the stone step outside the Altar. “He’ll understand your thought processes because they mirror his own. I think the two of you will get along just fine in time, and I also think that when he sees the Terminus he’ll be much more supportive. It’s one thing to hear about something you’re making, and it’s another entirely to hold it in your hands! After all, when Joseph did that in presenting his plan, you looked like you were ready to take it.” The items on the outer pedestals began to dissolve into the one in the center as Ace sighed. “I’m…really sorry about interrupting that, by the way. I had just gotten everything ready, and to be honest, I completely forgot the two of you were in there until I came back in and saw you. I got so invested in getting the Infusion ready that that’s all that was on my mind.”
The Infusion completed, leaving a radiant golden substance on the central pedestal — like plasm, except glowing with creative potential. Moving quickly and fluidly around the Infusion Altar, Ace collected the substance, put another Nether Star in its place, then replaced the outer items and began the second Infusion.
“I don’t know, dude.” Isaac sniffled, then swallowed. “He was so…desperate. It was like that plan was our only hope. I don’t think he’ll want to offer it again if Xeroc rejects us…and if not, then the last thing I’ll ever know is not being able to forgive myself.”
“No. It can’t be your fault if it fails. There’s no way. If this fails —” Ace looked up at the skylight, even going so far as to activate his armor and fly up for a better look — “If this fails, I’ll blame Xeroc until your mind collapses with me in it!”
The corners of Isaac’s mouth turned up slightly despite his tired and broken state. “Thanks, bud.”
“Of course!” Landing in front of Isaac, Ace sighed with appreciation. “For me, this process never gets old. The way everything combines together to make something totally new is incredible! And their synthesis is so much stronger than their parts, especially in Ichor’s case.”
It wasn’t long before the second Infusion completed. Ace took the Ichor off the central pedestal, admiring it for a little while before putting it in his bag. Isaac stood up, then stomped the floor a couple times. “I guess making almost two thousand candles paid off, huh?”
First, a blank stare. Then, Ace guffawed. “You know, I guess it did!” His face scrunched up in thought. “Wait a minute. How did you know I made that many candles? They’re all underground, and the entrance to the space is covered with Ethereal Platforms, which look completely identical to the stone around them. Did you fall down by accident? I wouldn’t want that. How’d you get out?”
Isaac really didn’t want to get into the author-character discussion at this time — or any time, really. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s go make some Ichorium, huh?”
Ace didn’t need to be told twice. He ran past Isaac with armor still active, blazing up the stairs. Isaac followed at a much less energetic pace. After the Ichorium was made, where would he be? What would he be? Only time would tell — only time, Xeroc, and void.
By the time Isaac made it up to the top of Ace’s staircase, he took panting breaths and had aching muscles. He lamented the fact that all of Ace’s ascents used whole blocks and not stairs. The three-foot jumps were a breeze for Ace, but for someone without his abilities they were quite tiresome one after another.
Isaac shuffled over to Ace’s side to see that he had already made the Ichorium. He watched Ace put the five bars into a plus shape and add a flash of magic from his wand. The ingots formed together into a chunk eerily similar to the Terminus Isaac had held so long ago. Ace held it up, looking at it with obvious satisfaction.
“Okay, here it is! It’s finally coming together, and I’m so thrilled to see it happen! All we need now is the magical signature that’ll get Xeroc’s attention.” He turned towards Calamitas. “This is your part of the process, right?
She took the chunk of Ichorium. “I’m going to need some space for this. If something goes wrong, I wouldn’t want to burn your house down. To say I’ve grown attached to it is an overstatement, but anywhere is better than a cave with no lighting.”
“Okay, I’ve got you covered! I’ll just dig out a large room. It won’t take long at all; my pickaxe is extremely capable. Here, this way!” Ace vanished down the stairs. Calamitas gave an exasperated sigh as she followed. Isaac watched them go with bated breath. The Terminus was mere moments away. The next phase of his awakening would start soon, and he hoped he was ready for it. He had no idea who Xeroc would have him face for the ritual.
“Warrior.”
A small shock grew into terror as Isaac saw the Shadow Fist looking daggers at him. He was fully facing him, his chin down and his fists clenched. Isaac knew that posture — he couldn’t think of what, but he had done something very, very unfair, and there was little that made the Fist more furious.
“What did you do to him?”
A flash of scarlet light burst out of Ace’s basement. Isaac’s attention shifted to what was happening downstairs. The Fist didn’t immediately demand Isaac look back at him, so Isaac hoped he had gotten his point across. Calamitas soon floated up the stairs with a touch of magic, the chunk of Ichorium in hand. Behind her was a bedraggled Ace, who was sporting some burn marks on his nose even though his armor was aglow. Isaac was disturbed to see the Ichorium not sporting the Terminus’ eye.
“Well, yes,” Ace was saying, “but my armor does give me better regeneration, even if it doesn’t protect me from your particular brand of fire magic. I learned something from this experience, and that makes it worthwhile to me!”
Calamitas dropped the Ichorium on the floor. “The metal rejects my magic.”
“What?!” Isaac ran over and picked up the chunk of Ichorium. It looked just as flawless and promising as when Ace had first formed it — not a scratch, not a burn, nothing. “It rejects your magic? How? Why? It’s Ichorium!”
“That’s exactly why. The amount of magical energy already in this artifact is impossible to ignore. In addition, that energy is pure and is tied to the powers of this world, making it the exact opposite signature of mine.”
“Well. That is unfortunate,” the Shadow Fist drawled. “Oh, Warrior, is there anything we can do now to effect your awakening? Perhaps, if you have garnered any other ideas recently to this end, now would be a wonderful time to set those ideas in motion.”
The shadow was still glaring at him, and he spoke each word like a projectile. Somehow, Isaac hadn’t realized at first that he was talking about Joseph. He squirmed a bit under the Fist’s gaze. He knew now.
Feeling markedly uncomfortable, Isaac couldn’t stop his mind from wandering back to their conversation. Remembering a detail of that time, inspiration struck. Maybe he could still awaken!
“Hey, Ace?” Isaac held out the Ichorium. “Is it possible that an Infusion could allow the Ichorium to accept Calamitas’ magic?”
Ace’s eyes lit up, and he snatched the Ichorium. Right as he did so, Isaac was slowly turned by telekinetic force to face a livid Shadow Fist.
“Wrong answer.”
The Fist slammed Isaac against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He floated in close to stare him down as he gasped for breath. At that moment, the Pikmin returned. Upon seeing the spectacle, one of them ran from the group, the green of his leaf melting into gold.
“Fist! Put him down!”
His stare snapped over to Plasmin. “Put him down? Really? You attempted to devour me for far less.” The shade’s face turned back towards Isaac’s. “He is endangering every one of us. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I am sick and tired of it. Perhaps…I should teach him a lesson, as I taught you.”
“If I’ve been taught one lesson,” Plasmin continued, “it’s that even the worst perpetrators deserve a second chance. Even after my most horrific crimes, I was shown kindness. I was spared, again and again, even though I deserved to die. Can’t you take the same chance on Isaac?”
“I do not take chances, Wraith. I made that mistake when I decided to work with you. When you inevitably betrayed me, I did not spare you. Look at how well that turned out for you.”
Plasmin was at a loss for words. Isaac was still getting his breath back; thinking was easier than speaking. Plasmin spoke for him: “If Isaac worsens, we all worsen with him.”
“I’m not going to kill you, Warrior.” Once again, he looked Isaac in the eye. “Well, not yet, anyway. I think you don’t appreciate the magnitude of the mistake you’ve made, and if you keep pursuing this infernal—”
“All right, shadow. I tire of this charade. It is time for this to end.”
Calamitas walked coolly towards the Fist. From her tone of voice, everyone in that room could tell she was not used to being disobeyed, and she was not going to start then. Landing slowly, he turned, almost mechanically, to face Calamitas.
“Put the boy down.”
“What a shame.” The Fist just shook his head. “You know, witch, I had thought that you were on my side in this whole debacle. When you failed to fulfill your part of creating this infernal object, I almost ventured some optimism. Now that you are defending the main advocate of our downfall, I am none too pleased.”
Isaac found himself to be more afraid now than when the Fist had first taken hold of him. He could see Calamitas calculating; weighing her options. She had said she didn’t want to burn the house down. Isaac hoped she stuck to that desire.
“Listen, construct,” she began. “I am the only one who can actually bring this to pass. I am here because I am seeking some kind of freedom from the lord and some kind of atonement from my past mistakes. Do not slander me for what you think my role is. And your role? You guard our house at night, but you are indolent during the day. I don’t know who you think you are, but I know I’m not afraid of the sun.”
The Shadow Fist smirked. “No. Just the moon.”
Her palms ignited with brimstone. Calamitas took a step towards the Fist, and—
“Everyone be QUIET! I’m trying to think, I’m trying to research, and having you all bickering in my house is really getting on my nerves! If you have a bone to pick, take it outside or upstairs or downstairs or anywhere else that’s far away from me and my Research Table! Isaac has given me an incredible lead that I would love to follow, but in order to do so I need time, I need space, and I need silence! Nobody is fighting in here, nobody is arguing in here, and nobody is even talking in here! I won’t have you in my house and in my world messing with my research, because I’m used to silence, and silence is what I am going to get until I have these notes written! So quiet!”
And quiet there was. For all the tension in the room and all the insults thrown, there was no one in that house who had expected Ace_the_Yoshi to snap. The thaumaturge let out a gruff sigh and went back to poring over his Thaumonomicon. The Fist vanished, dumping Isaac on the wooden floor. The fire in Calamitas’ hands died down. Everyone began to breathe again.
The only sounds in the house for a while were the scratching of Ace’s quill and the flipping of pages. Taking deep breaths, Isaac tried to get a little more comfortable on the wooden floor, experiencing meager success. Eventually, Ace looked his way.
“Hey, Isaac?” His voice was back to its usual curious and energetic tone. “I’m at a roadblock in my research. You know more about Calamitas’ world than I do, so could you look over what I’ve written so far? I think it could help a lot if I have someone to talk to as well.”
Isaac got to his feet and hobbled over to Ace’s Research Table, still aching from being thrown against the wall. Looking over Ace’s shoulder, Isaac saw handwritten notes covering several pages — to his surprise, Ace’s penmanship was excellent; far better than his author’s handwriting. One page in particular caught Isaac’s attention. It had five aspect symbols drawn on it: Lux, Ordo, Alienis, Instrumentum, and Praecantatio. They were arranged in a hexagonal shape, with a sixth seemingly missing in the top right. It looked just like the research notes in Thaumcraft, and Isaac instantly knew what the problem was.
“Ace, I think you’re missing an aspect — like, there’s one you haven’t discovered yet.”
“Y’know, I thought that too, but I really don’t think so. It feels like I’ve scanned everything I’ve ever seen! And in all of my travels, the forty-eight aspects I’ve found are the only ones that have ever shown up. I just feel like, if I were missing an aspect, I would have found it by now.”
“Well, we’re working with a lot of new stuff here,” Isaac pointed out. “What you’re trying to create isn’t originally from this world in the first place. It would make sense for there to be something new.”
Ace’s head snapped up from his research notes. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out his Thaumometer and pointed it straight at Calamitas, whom he scanned. She didn’t seem to care. The reading showed Humanus, Praecantatio, Spiritus, Mortuus…and a fifth aspect. This aspect was of a blood red coloration, and its icon looked like a world on fire. Ace gave a huge grin.
“That’s it! There is a new aspect!” Ace flipped to a page near the front of his Thaumonomicon, then drew the aspect’s symbol there. “It’s a combination of Alienis and Lucrum — of otherworldliness and greed. It must be tied to Calamitas’ magic somehow. Of course! The whole process was one in which she played a key role, so it makes perfect sense that studying her brand of magic more deeply is required for this Infusion. I should’ve thought of that, and it probably would have occurred to me eventually, but I’m glad I asked you for help, because we don’t have much time. Okay. Back to it!”
He placed the new aspect where it belonged on the page, then began to write furiously, drawing more aspects and making connections between them all the while. Isaac was enthralled by the process. He had never seen Ace more focused, more confident, more pleased. This was his element.
“I need a link between the two worlds,” he told Isaac. “Any ideas?”
“I’d say a Diamond is emblematic of your world while providing some of the strength and magical focus required. As for Calamity…” Isaac remembered how the developers of Minecraft had been inspired by Terraria’s boss summoning methods. “Try a Wither Skeleton Skull. There is a definite necrotic bent to Calamitas’ magic, and that item will help nicely with weaving that into the…”
“It’s night,” Toxin murmured. “Blood moon again.”
Isaac’s heart sank. He had known, deep down, that there would be another blood moon, but there was a big difference between that and hearing it confirmed. “Into the project,” he sighed.
Ace was only fazed for a moment. He nodded, then wrote more notes. “Hyperenergetic Nitor should help provide the light required to get a light deity’s attention. And for sending that signal…” Ace flipped through his Thaumonomicon. “Ah! A Magic Hand Mirror! Very good. And the extra Ichor that I have on hand will help everything bind together.” The quill scratched against the page. “But the whole problem was that the Ichorium didn’t accept Calamitas’ magic. Maybe the Essentia could help with that — let’s look into that. We’ll need the most of our new aspect, of course…and I think I’ll name that aspect T— uh, I’ll name it after what we’re making. Alienis for its otherworldliness…Lux for light…Ordo because of the orderly process and because of who we’re contacting. Perfect.” He groaned. “But that doesn’t solve the problem! The Essentia just gives magical qualities. Even if I can find Essentia of our new aspect, we’re right back where we started. How can I translate from one type of magic to a completely different—”
Inspiration and horror struck Ace in equal measure. “Oh. Oh no. It’s the perfect solution, but…” He sighed, put a few finishing touches on his research notes, gathered them up, and placed them in a stack on his Research Table. The topmost page was the Infusion recipe.
“...Maybe I should explain a little. Isaac, one of the items we need is a Primordial Pearl, and…oh. Do you…know what a Primordial Pearl is?”
His expression spoke for him. The Primordial Pearl was quite possibly the most difficult resource to obtain in Thaumcraft. It required finding a cultic altar, opening a gateway to a pocket dimension, and fighting your way through that dimension. Isaac was sure Ace could do it, but it would likely take a long time.
“Yeah,” Isaac breathed. “I’ve…heard of it.”
“Where? The Primordial Pearl is only found in the Outer Lands, and the Outer Lands are only known by those extremely deep in thaumaturgical research, to the point of near insanity. How could you possibly…”
Isaac shook his head. “Not important. There’s likely stuff we can still do tonight, so we have to get moving.”
“Okay. That’ll be…something. But, once we get the pearl, this should work! All of my research is cohesive and complete. We just need to follow the recipe!”
Ace turned to face the others. “All right everyone! I made some notes on how to build the thing we’re building—”
“You’re getting a little close,” Ember growled. “Be careful.”
“I know! All I’m saying is that I figured out how to do it. And it’ll take a little while yet, but we can start the process now, like Isaac said. In fact, I’m going to go downstairs and do that. See you all shortly! If there’s any way you can help, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Ace took his Thaumonomicon and opened the back cover. He laid his research notes within the cover, and with a shimmer they bound to the book’s spine. He shut the book, deposited it in his pouch, and vanished down the stairs. Looking around the house, Isaac sighed. Ace still hadn’t made those beds.
He sat back down on the wooden floor. Everyone was making themselves as comfortable as they could, even as the light of the red moon filtered into the room under the door. Isaac put his head in his hands. It was going to be another long night.

Chapter 22: Alone

Chapter Text

Chapter 22

Alone

~ X ~

The second night began much like the first. Paranoia dug its claws into each mind; it didn’t take long for Ember to start glaring at Plasmin and for Blue to cling to Steve. Ace was in and out of the house — first he needed more wood, then he went back to the End. He didn’t talk about what he ultimately needed from these errands; he was in too much of a rush for that. Since they were without Ace’s research notes and without thaumaturgical knowledge, those in the house couldn’t do much to help. Isaac just wished there was something he could do.
Soon after Ace left the house, a dull ache entered Isaac’s mind. Isaac clutched his head as his heart started pounding, his vision narrowing. Whispers danced at the edges of his sanity. And just as quickly and cryptically as it began, it stopped.
Isaac felt like he knew what had just happened, but he couldn’t place it. The thought was on the tip of his subconscious. He looked around the room to see if anyone else was experiencing similar symptoms. No one showed any signs of mental pain except one. Isaac noticed that Calamitas’ hand was up at her head as well, and she seemed to be staring into the wooden floor. She had mentioned that the crowding of the house gave her a headache, but this felt different. Isaac caught himself staring; he didn’t look away quickly enough to avoid Calamitas returning his stare, venom behind the darkness of her hood. Whatever she was going through, she didn’t want Isaac asking any questions.
His attention didn’t linger with Calamitas, because there were noises outside. They were the sounds of combat: groaning zombies, rattling skeletons, hissing spiders and creepers. Isaac heard them through the door. The sounds would begin, get louder, and then stop. Isaac was grateful that the house’s defense was in capable hands. The night made the Shadow Fist strong.
After a little while, Ace entered the house and went directly downstairs. Isaac got up to follow him, but unease in the pit of his stomach made him stop at the top of the stairs. The last time he had run into Joseph was down in that basement, and it had ended terribly. He wanted to know how he was actually doing, but he couldn’t predict how Joseph would react to seeing him again, or even how he would react to seeing Joseph. The whole severance thing was a real problem.
Ace zipped back up the stairs, laid some items on his Arcane Worktable, and crafted something with a flash of blue and gray. As he dove back down the stairs, Blue laid a hand on Isaac’s arm. “Hey, Isaac, are you okay?” he asked. “Is there something you need from downstairs?”
“No, I’m…I’m good.” He edged away from the stairs and sat back down. If Joseph was downstairs, Isaac hoped he wasn’t getting in Ace’s way or trying to stop the Terminus from being built. That wouldn’t be safe for him — Ace was uncommonly strong, and his actions could turn erratic and dangerous if he were to be interrupted. It was better for all of them if the Terminus’ creation could continue without another hitch. The sooner it was finished, the sooner they were gone.
Or…Isaac could find Joseph and take his phone and speaker, and they could leave right now.
The thought wouldn’t leave the back of his mind. After the Ichorium had rejected Calamitas’ magic, Joseph’s alternate plan had been nagging him. But could it even work? Isaac had never cast a song before the way Joseph did. And, for all the time they had spent in his mind, they still knew very little about how his powers actually worked. Isaac knew there were two staves — one with an alpha, and one with an epsilon — and that each staff’s magic functioned based on notes that were placed on it. Besides that, he didn’t know much else. He was sure Joseph knew more, but would he be willing to tell him, or would he be in so much of a rush to enact his plan that he would overlook something important? Isaac couldn’t overlook the time Joseph’s use of the epsilon staff went wrong in Calamitas’ cave. For all he knew, Joseph’s plan could end up being even more dangerous than the ritual. At least he knew the Amulet through and through.
“Okay!” Ace came back up the stairs. “I think everything downstairs is automated. I’ve never worked with that many Essentia Tubes and Hoppers before. This setup might be there to stay, for all I know, but I do like having manual control over everything that goes on down there just to make sure that it all comes out right, so I don’t know which I’ll choose. But I’m not here to explain how melting down items into Essentia works!”
He got some fresh paper and ink out of his bag, then sat down on his Arcane Worktable. “A while back, Toxin explained to me how his powers work, and he gave me a little bit of information on how he got them. From that moment on, I’ve been really curious. I’d like to hear your stories! All of you, from beginning to end—”
“You are not hearing mine,” interrupted Calamitas.
“Wasn’t planning on it. I was talking to our Pikmin friends! All eight of you are so close with each other, and I would love to know how it all came about.” He took a quick look around the room, then offered a sheepish grin. “If…you’re okay with that, that is.”
Flowers and leaves bobbed back and forth as the Pikmin exchanged glances. “Well, our story’s a long one,” said Bolt. “Some of us, by Pikmin standards, have been alive for an extremely long time. There’s a lot to tell. Do you have time?”
“By my calculations, I have to obtain 264 Alienis, 96 Vacuos, 96 Tenebrae, and 64 Iter. Melting it all down is going to take a long time. This should also help to distract from what’s going on outside. I’ve got plenty of time!”
“In that case…” Steve stood; the rest of the Pikmin looked up to him. “This story starts with me, so I should be the one to begin telling it.”
“Steve,” Blue asked, “are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Blue.” He reached down and patted Blue on the shoulder. “What happened to me is part of our story. I’m okay with telling it. I’ll be alright.”
Blue nodded, and Steve, standing resolute, turned towards Ace. “Of all of us here,” he began, “I was the first Pikmin created. Every so often, visitors come to our world. We call them Captains, because they lead and direct us. Captain Olimar was the first to arrive, and I was created near the beginning of his first visit to our planet.” He chuckled. “He actually gave me my name. I don’t know what ‘Steve’ means or why he called me that, but it stuck. And I’ve been Steve ever since.”
“I was next to be made,” Bolt commented. “Then Riptide and Ember, then Blue, then Toxin and Flint.”
“And then Plasmin!” said Flint.
“Yeah.” Plasmin rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m…an exceptional case.”
“I appreciate the commentary, everyone,” replied Steve, “but if we keep it up this way we’ll never get the story done. We’ll get to each of us in turn, and I’ll let you all tell your own stories, but right now I’m telling mine. Please don’t interrupt, okay?”
The group assented. “Thank you,” Steve continued. “Yes, Bolt, you were next to be made, then Riptide. They were both made while Olimar was on our planet, having us help him find the missing pieces of his ship. We made it up to the very end; only one ship part was left. That part had been swallowed by an Emperor Bulblax — one of the largest and strongest creatures we knew of at the time. Olimar led us to go fight it and get the ship part back.”
Blue put his hand on Steve’s arm as he went on. “For context, Pikmin are at the bottom of the food chain in our world. Most creatures just eat us on sight. Others are territorial and kill us in other ways — crushing, burning, drowning, electric shock, you name it. Pikmin lives are generally short; like Bolt said, we’ve been alive an unusually long time. This Emperor Bulblax…it was as vicious as they come.”
Steve closed his eyes. “Olimar led us, one hundred Red Pikmin strong. During the battle, I saw countless friends of mine devoured and crushed. Eventually, it got to the point where we had to retreat. When the dust settled and we got out of there…I was the only survivor of that group.”
He sat back down, and Blue put his arm around him. “I stayed in the Red Onion — the Red Pikmin’s home base and the place where more Red Pikmin are made — for a very long time after that.” Steve opened his eyes, making eye contact with Bolt. “This is where your part of the story begins.”
“Thanks, Steve.” Bolt got to his feet, basking in everyone’s attention for half a second before resuming the story. “The Yellow Pikmin were the next ones called — one hundred of us. We had quite a few losses, but we were able to finish what the Reds started. We killed the Emperor Bulblax and brought back Olimar’s last ship part. He left soon after that.” With a smirk, he took a slight bow, then sat. “Riptide, you’re next!”
“It didn’t take long for word to get around about what happened to the Red Pikmin,” Riptide said. “And Steve, broken as he was, didn’t leave the Red Onion until Olimar came back. Knowing this, I took it upon myself to bring a pellet from a Pellet Posy over to the Red Onion, which it could convert into a Red Pikmin seed. The Pikmin that grew from that seed was our friend Ember.”
“Rip explained to me everything that happened,” Ember replied. “I rebuilt the Reds, and while I did that, I made a promise, to our species and to myself.” He gave Plasmin a dirty look. “I promised that no threat to our survival would be allowed to take us down, so long as I’m alive to help it. If something tries to kill us, it’s me or it.”
“I made a promise, too, that day.” Riptide’s voice was soft; compassion and sadness were written on his face. “When faced with the cruelty of the world, I vowed to be kind. I vowed to show kindness to defy the pain and terror the world throws at us. Ember and I, we have very different promises that we keep in very different ways, and sometimes it puts us in sharp disagreements. But the heart of it is the same — we won’t let our world break us, no matter what.”
“C’mon, Rip.” Ember gave Riptide a light punch to the arm. “If you keep talking like that, you’re gonna make me think we have something in common. Cut it out.”
“Of course.” Riptide smiled at him. “Fire and water. Total opposites.”
“Fascinating. This all makes so much sense.” Ace put another piece of paper filled with notes down on his Research Table. “What happened next?”
“What happened next was that I was made!” chirped Blue. “Well, actually, some stuff did happen between where we left off and me being made. But, as far as our story goes, me being made was the next big thing!”
“Olimar came back to our planet,” continued Steve, “and when he called me out of the Onion, I obeyed. One day, I brought a Pellet Posy’s pellet to the Blue Onion, and the seed that came out…well, it changed my life forever, and very much for the better.”
“I was that seed!” Blue beamed. “I met Steve, and he explained to me how big and scary the world was, and my first decision was to explore and see everything I can! Then I poked a suspicious flower, and that got us into a deep cave, and we almost died there, but we made it out!”
“There was another Emperor Bulblax in that cave.” Steve shook his head. “A smaller one, but the same creature. Neither Blue nor I would have survived without the other.”
“We’ve been really, really close ever since! Like, pretty much as close as two Pikmin can be. Steve told me everything that he had been through, and though there was a lot there that was dark and terrible, he said I was the brightest ray of sunshine he had seen in a very long time! He had also said when we first met that he didn’t want me to be snuffed out so easily, and then I said the same thing to him in the cave, so that’s important, too! And—”
“Now, now, Blue,” chuckled Steve. “Let’s stick to our history as a group, okay? We can tell Ace all about our relationship another time.” As Blue gave a quick nod, Steve looked back over at Ace. “Flint and Toxin were made soon after, and before long the seven of us found ourselves in the deepest cave we had ever seen. At the bottom of that cave was the creature Toxin told you about.”
“Yes, yes, right!” replied Ace. “It was called a Titan Dweevil, and it was like a massive spider with weapons. Each of them had a different elemental signature — fire, water, poison, and electricity. That’s what gave Ember, Riptide, Toxin, and Bolt their powers when they crawled inside the weapons and dismantled them there, right?”
“Right!” replied Bolt. “From there, it was easy to take the Dweevil down. It was left defenseless; we just whacked it with our leaves until it was dead. We didn’t even know we had elemental powers until quite a bit of time had passed.”
“But I’m confused.” Ace looked up from his notes. “That explains the four of you, but Flint has powers, too. There wasn’t a weapon corresponding to earth that—”
“Crystal.” Flint spoke the word in a near monotone. “Trapped there for a long time. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t get out. Made of the same stuff as the weapons. Gave me earth powers.”
“Thankfully, another Captain came along and got Flint out of there.” Bolt shot Flint with a small spark. “I’d be so bored if he wasn’t around, honestly. And he makes me feel really smart.”
Flint threw a pebble at Bolt’s head and missed. “Are you saying I’m dumb?”
“Good idea! If I wanted to say you’re dumb, I’d—”
“Let’s stay on track, everyone,” admonished Steve as Bolt gave Flint a wink. “After the five of them found out about their powers, we faced off against a creature that we would end up facing several different times. That creature…”
Steve’s sentence tapered off as Plasmin stood. “That creature was the Plasm Wraith.”
“Plasmin, it’s okay,” interjected Riptide. “You don’t have to go into this if—”
“I’m a part of this story, too — both who I was and who I am.” He gave a sad smile. “And I thought we weren’t going to interrupt each other.”
“...You’re right. Go on.”
Plasmin faced Ace, the gold of his leaf glimmering in the torchlight. “The Plasm Wraith was an incredibly versatile and terrifyingly powerful creature, and it hated the Pikmin species with everything it had and everything it was. It saw Pikmin as so far beneath it that the idea of the species surviving and thriving filled it with rage. Yes, it formed the weapons the Titan Dweevil had, and it was the one that imprisoned Flint for a time. But giving these Pikmin elemental powers was by no means a purposeful gift. The Wraith did everything in its power to eradicate the species; to make sure they never got off the ground. It wanted them to be commodities, essentially. Playthings.”
“We’ve all been touched by the Plasm Wraith in one way or another,” said Steve. “The five of them the most, but encountering the Wraith has changed all of us. In fact, that’s why our group is sometimes called the Golden Seven among the other Pikmin — because of our encounters with the Wraith, and because of its involvement in giving the elemental powers in the first place.”
“The Seven fought the Wraith and won,” Plasmin continued. “The Wraith tried again later, even going so far as to try and devour the Onion. By this time, the several different Onions in the area — Red, Blue, Yellow, and others — had merged into one, and the Wraith knew that swallowing it would put an end to the Pikmin species completely in that area. The Seven were able to hold it off then, too.”
“Wait a minute. Hold on.” Ace looked at Plasmin’s leaf, then at Plasmin, then back. “Plasmin, you’ve always seemed different from the others. You have certain abilities that are unique, like the whole telepathy thing and what you did to the door of the palace. You mentioned who you used to be. Are you implying that…”
“Congrats, Ace.” Ember held out his hand towards Plasmin. “You’re looking at the Wraith now. You can probably see why I don’t trust him, but let’s keep going to erase all doubt.”
Blue shook his head. “Ember, Ace is not looking at the Plasm Wraith any more than I am looking at a pellet when I see you.”
“We’re not interrupting each other, Blue.” Ember’s gaze locked onto Plasmin as his leaf began to smoke. “Go ahead. What happened next?”
After a brief pause, Plasmin’s leaf turned green, and he walked forward, past Ace and all the others. “Plasmin,” asked Blue, “where are you going?”
“I don’t want to tell this part of the story if I’m in a hostile environment.” He looked back at Steve, then dropped his head. “Someone else can. I need some time.”
Plasmin stepped into the Arcane Levitator and ascended to the second floor. Just then, Ace gasped. “Oh! Plasmin! Like plasm Pikmin! That makes so much sense!”
“I came up with that,” Bolt chimed in.
No one wanted to resume the story. Eventually, Isaac cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose I can tell this part of the narrative,” he said. “I was there, after all. This is where I come into the story.”
“You were there?” Ace stared at Isaac with wide eyes. “How?”
“Xenith. I knew about the Pikmin and their world, and I wanted to visit. But anyway, back on track.” Isaac stood, then grunted as he discovered he was still aching. “The Wraith had kidnapped the Seven, trapping them behind crystal. When I showed up, I was able to get them out of there, and we defeated the Wraith together. However, unbeknownst to me, someone had followed me to the Pikmin’s world. Soon after his loss, the Plasm Wraith met the Shadow Fist.”
Plasmin came back down, walking past the group without a word and going downstairs. “The Wraith had no idea what the Fist was, of course,” Isaac continued. “He— um, it, rather — wanted the Fist out of its way, so it proposed an alliance. The Fist had seen the Wraith’s strength and respected it for that, so he assented. As part of the deal, the Fist eventually returned to the Pikmin’s world and challenged the Seven.”
Plasmin came back up the stairs, carrying a block in Winged Pikmin form. He floated back up the Arcane Levitator and sealed the entrance with the block. Ember’s leaf began to smoke again. “What does he think he’s doing?”
“I don’t know,” Isaac replied, “but Ace doesn’t have any windows and we’re certainly not opening that door. Some of us need to breathe here. Please keep the smoke to a minimum.”
Ember folded his arms. “Fine. I’ll keep it under control, if only for Toxin’s sake.”
“Thanks,” replied Toxin. “I try really hard to keep my friends breathing.”
“And you do a great job of it,” Riptide encouraged him.
“Anyway, the Fist returned, and he fought the Seven head on,” Isaac continued. “As is the Fist’s custom, he started the battle off by just seeing what the Seven were capable of, not going all out. This really upset the Wraith, as it expected the Fist to just eliminate the Seven. Infuriated, the Wraith attacked the Fist. The Fist proposed that they call a truce and part ways, and the Wraith pretended to accept, then used that feigned acceptance as an opportunity to attack. In short…the Plasm Wraith double-crossed the Shadow Fist.”
Looking towards the door, Isaac lowered his voice. “Now, the Shadow Fist has a very strict code of fairness. So, when the Wraith double-crossed him, it shattered that code, making the Fist absolutely furious. And that is when the Fist does go all out.”
Isaac waited for Ace to finish writing his notes before he continued. “Ace,” he said once he was done, “do you remember or have on you what aspects the Fist is made of?”
“Oh! Yes, I can find that information.” He pulled out his Thaumonomicon, then flipped to one of the first pages. “Let’s see here…ten Alienis…five Perditio…twenty Tenebrae…five Vacuos. That’s all. Is that what you were looking for?”
“Yes, it was. The Tenebrae and Alienis make sense, as he’s an otherworldly being made of darkness. But the Perditio and Vacuos are interesting. They’re the aspects for chaos and emptiness, and when taken together they represent Xepakt, the opposite of Xenith. You see, the Shadow Fist is primarily animated by a small spark of pure destruction, and he only taps into it in the most dire or the most intense circumstances.”
“Really?” Ace was writing furiously now. “I never would’ve guessed that! Why didn’t he ever mention it?”
“Because he doesn’t even know it’s there. If you ever mention it to him or challenge him on it, he’ll immediately accuse you of judging on appearances and hold you in disdain for it. But you can see it when you look into his eyes.”
“Let’s keep going,” Steve said. “What happened next?”
“Much like I cross my arms to access my Xenith, the Fist crossed his arms to access his Xepakt.” Isaac held his left arm horizontally, with his hand clenched in a fist; he held his right arm vertically, with the fingers flared and tense. Out of respect for the Amulet he wore, he held his arms several inches apart in front of him. “And with that Xepakt, he forced the Wraith into Pikmin form, in order to teach him a lesson.”
“That’s pretty much the end of the story,” Steve finished. “Some time after that happened, Isaac and the Fist ended up fighting in our world again, and Plasmin got caught in one of Isaac’s beams. Before then, what the Fist had done prevented him from changing his form at all. After that, he got all of his abilities back, but fortunately for us, he elected to stay in Pikmin form. The seven of us have different views on Plasmin, but…I, for one, think he learned his lesson rather well.”
Ace put the finishing touches on his notes, gathered them all up, and gave a satisfied sigh. “Well, thank you so much, everyone! I really appreciate you all taking the time to tell your story. I didn’t know Isaac and the Fist were so involved in it! I’ve learned a lot, so thanks for the opportunity to do so!”
He put the notes in his bag. Something outside pounded on the door, just once. Everyone in the house flinched except Calamitas. Was the Fist already overwhelmed? The Pikmin’s expressions ranged from tense to disturbed; none of them was used to their place of rest being under attack.
Toxin looked away from the door and glanced up through the ceiling. His eyes locked on something in the attic. Scrambling to his feet, Toxin alerted the group with a single word:
“Wraith.”
There was not a single Pikmin in that room who didn’t react with fear. They all jumped to their feet. Ember’s leaf combusted. Riptide went straight to Ember’s side. Bolt jumped in front of the others, glowing with internal electricity. Flint started to back up, glancing at the door. Blue stood directly in front of Steve, quivering. And Steve just stood motionless and nearly expressionless, memories of pain and terror flickering past behind his eyes.
“Ember.” Riptide’s hand was on his shoulder now.
He brushed it off. “Don’t you dare defend that thing now.”
“What’s it doing?” Bolt was taking care not to touch anyone.
“I don’t know.” Toxin hadn’t moved.
“Everyone, can we stop and think about this instead of reacting?” Blue took a few steps forward. “For all we know, he—”
“We don’t have time for optimism,” Ember interrupted. “I can get in there, but I need backup.”
“Ember!” Riptide tried to turn him around and was shoved back.
“Flint, get over here,” Ember ordered.
“But it’s so cramped up there!” Flint complained.
“There’s no need for this.” Blue looked back at Steve, then to the other Pikmin.
“You burn your way in and I follow you?” Bolt stepped to the side; Ember came up beside him.
“Yeah. Riptide, make sure the fire doesn’t spread.”
“Wait, wait, wait. Guys.” Isaac, still on his feet, was walking now towards Ember and Bolt. “Come on. There’s no way Plasmin is doing anything nefarious up there. Let’s think this through. Plasmin—”
“Shut up.” Ember didn’t even look at Isaac as he spoke. “You don’t have the right to talk to us about this.”
Isaac knew what Ember meant: he was human, and they were Pikmin. He was a visitor to their world, and they had fought to survive each day there. But these characters were themselves visitors to Isaac’s mind, so he didn’t shut up.
“Ember, I understand enough. Back off. It’ll only make things worse.”
“Thanks, Isaac, but Ember’s right,” commented Blue in a kind voice. “We can handle this. Please don’t get involved; you don’t have to. It’s okay.”
“Since when were you on his side in this sort of thing?!” Blue was taken aback by this comment, but Isaac was too incredulous to care.
“Isaac, in case you missed it, we’re Pikmin.” Bolt’s tone of voice made it sound like he was explaining a simple truth to someone of minimal intelligence. “We have to stick together. That’s where our strength comes from. You’re not a Pikmin, so please stay out of this.”
“Quit acting like I don’t understand what’s going on here! I know what he’s done to you all, I know how you’ve fought him again and again, and I know how he’s changed!”
Ember whirled around, fury in his eyes. “How dare you. How could you possibly understand anything from our story?”
“BECAUSE I WROTE YOUR STORY!”
Everything stopped. Ember’s leaf extinguished. Bolt stopped glowing. All eyes turned to Isaac.
He came to realize what he had just said. What he had just asserted. What that meant for every last Pikmin in the room. The author was surrounded by his characters, and they all knew what he had put them through. They all knew that he had done it to them.
Isaac made a brusque turn and rushed to the stairs. He didn’t care any more if Joseph was down there. He had hurt Joseph less than all those around him.
All it took was a single glance at Steve.
The tension of all their time in Minecraft, his regret over Joseph and the Pikmin, how the Shadow Fist had treated him and Calamitas…it all boiled over. Isaac plunged down the stairs, sobbing, not caring to lower his voice or try to hide it. No one was going to follow him anyway. Not after all they had been through at the tip of his pen.
He turned into the Infernal Furnace room, climbing around to the back of the furnace. His mind began to wander through his stories, making a running tally of all the pain he had caused his characters. Each addition to the list added a weight to his back and whipped another stripe into his conscience. Could he ever face them again? He loved each of them; he was so proud of them all. Would they ever realize that? Could they?
Isaac groaned as he continued to cry. He had not felt this alone since he had first woken up in the void. And the one who would understand that feeling that best was the one he had alienated personally, with his own actions. Not for the sake of plot or story. He had done that one himself, and so by himself he would stay.
He was alone, with only the void to keep him company.

Chapter 23: Enigma

Chapter Text

Chapter 23

Enigma

– ♪ –

A good safety net? Really?!
As the second night began, Joseph was still in disbelief. The screaming hadn’t stopped, of course, but neither had Isaac’s insanity. Sitting in Ace’s unfurnished top floor, he groaned, resisting the strong urge to slam his head against the wood. He could hear much of what happened downstairs; he had appreciated the Fist defending him earlier that evening. But he had always had a gut feeling that the Terminus would have complications. To hear that it required a Primordial Pearl, of all things…it was somehow worse than he expected.
He had been so kind. He had been so understanding. He had put on a smile and a warm tone of voice. He had tried so hard to present a plan that would actually work. And Isaac just brushed it aside. Why wouldn’t he listen?
It was the Amulet.
Every time Isaac wanted to get his way, he crossed his arms. It was his way of putting Joseph in his place. I’m the Xenithian Warrior, it said. I’m the embodiment of creativity; the culmination of the stories we’ve been writing for years. All you have is a writing prompt that you thought was cool and never touched except in disconnected daydreams. Which of us do you think has the upper hand in this situation?
Sure, he had gotten mad — mad to the point of lashing out. But it felt really, really good. The tighter his grip was on Isaac’s arms, the quieter the screaming became. It was as if the wraiths had been calling for blood the entire time, crying out with ravenous voices just waiting for the Xenithian Warrior to stumble; to fall.
There was still a part of him that was disturbed by these thought patterns. There yet remained some scrap of conscience within Joseph that knew he shouldn’t lash out that way at anyone, much less himself. How long would that part of him stay alive before it, too, was devoured alive by the beasts it wanted to tame?
Joseph didn’t know, but he was getting tired of holding them back.
There was movement in his peripheral vision. Snapping back to reality, Joseph shot to his feet, charging towards the hole in the floor. The intruder was a Pikmin — red, with a leaf, and backing up at his approach. Plasmin.
Joseph glared at him. “I’m not your project,” he growled, guarding his mind from scrutiny as best he could. It’s not like there’s much else besides the screaming anyway, he thought, unable to help himself.
But Plasmin’s leaf was green. Unless he was hiding something, there wasn’t a fleck of gold on his figure. He was looking up at Joseph with his palms out, standing motionless.
“I just wanted to get away from what was going on down there. I was also wondering how you were doing…but it looks like I have my answer. Should I leave?”
“No,” Joseph blurted out. Was that guilt seeping into him? “You can stay. I…”
Joseph sank to the floor. He opened his mouth, then closed it, remembering they could hear him downstairs. They couldn’t hear Plasmin’s telepathy, but telepathic communication was impossible due to the interference filling his thoughts. Looking around the attic, Joseph spotted a corner block in the ceiling. He got up and walked over to it, then remembered that it was open to the night air like the rest of the ceiling. He didn’t want to see the infernal moonlight — or, rather, he didn’t want the infernal moonlight to see him.
Turning, he saw Plasmin was gone. Had he left after all? Joseph shouldn’t have been so quick to accuse. But, soon after, Plasmin floated back up into the attic as a Winged Pikmin, placing a Greatwood Planks block in the space above the Levitator. The wood was a darker shade than the Oak Wood Planks around it, making it conspicuous for easy removal. Morphing back into a Red Pikmin, Plasmin sat down, and Joseph sat next to him.
“I appreciate that, Plasmin.” Joseph actually allowed himself to smile. “I guess you don’t even have to be mentally listening to read my mind, huh?”
Plasmin responded with a weak smile of his own. “I knew what you wanted. But, if you’re okay with it…I don’t see you as a project, but I would like to listen.”
Joseph nodded. Plasmin closed his eyes, and his leaf slowly melted into gold. He winced, his mind now open to the torrents of turmoil filling Joseph’s head. He had forgotten how horrific the screaming was to a silent mind — he had almost started to get used to the screams. When Plasmin’s eyes opened…he just looked sad.
“I hate those sounds. I hate them because I caused them. They’re such an awful reminder of what I was…and what I could become.”
“Would you let Toxin say the same thing?” Joseph knew his characters just as well as any author, and he wasn’t going to let this one slide.
“Toxin has a good heart. Even when he was fighting me, he was meticulous. He took extreme care to never let a single cloud of poison anywhere near his friends. Because of that, he’s never done anything evil, and we all know he never could.”
“Then what about you? I’d argue you have a good heart, too, friend. You’ve had to develop one, sure, but you’ve succeeded. I know you have.”
“Then why does the Fist still call me a Wraith?!”
Joseph started a bit. Hearing Plasmin yell wasn’t as shocking as hearing Ace yell, but he wasn’t expecting it. Plasmin changed his hand to gold, staring at the substance he was truly made of.
“He always goes on and on about not judging by appearances. Sometimes I still look the way I was, but I never act that way. I can’t. But he still treats me like I would, even though he’s the one who could and would destroy an entire world. He’s explained his goals to me. Everyone besides him knows what they’d actually do. I…” He let his hand fall, dropping his head. “All I want is for him to call me Plasmin. Just once. That’s who I am.”
As he shook his head, Joseph couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. “Sorry. It’s just…that is so him. That’s the Shadow Fist to a T.” He made eye contact with Plasmin. “Plasmin, the first thing you should know about the Fist is that he’s a hypocrite. That was the intention of the void that twisted him together — that he’d be a mockery of those who fight for what is right. He thinks he knows himself, but he doesn’t. He has complete confidence in his goals, when his goals would have disastrous, destructive results. And his favorite accusation to those who would challenge him has always been judgment by appearance, even though judgment by appearance is completely valid in his case.”
Joseph reached out and took Plasmin’s hand. “The Fist doesn’t think that he’s judging by appearances in your case. In his mind, he’s judging by experience — experience with the Plasm Wraith. You double-crossed him, and that’s all he can think about. He hasn’t forgotten how much it hurt or how frustrating it was. He doesn’t want to. He’s made up his mind about the Plasm Wraith, but because he’s so focused on his hurt, he hasn’t even met Plasmin yet. He hasn’t taken the time to get to know him. He never thought Plasmin would exist, but he does, and I think you can still prove that to him.”
No reply. Plasmin took his hand back. Joseph had never seen him like this. “Hey, what’s going on, friend?” He scooched a bit closer to the disturbed Pikmin. “I thought you had accepted both your natures.”
He looked over with a half-smile. “When did I teach you to hear thoughts?”
“Oh, trust me, I wasn’t using telepathy. The screaming makes that impossible. The screaming makes a lot of things impossible: sleeping, focusing, sanity, happiness—”
“It’s Steve.”
Immediately Joseph’s brow knitted, and he leaned in towards Plasmin. “What do you mean?”
The plasm on his form morphed back into plant matter. “Do you remember when I stood up to Calamitas?”
It was a bit close to the memories the specters didn’t like, but Joseph remembered. “She tortured Steve just to hurt you. Do you feel bad about that?”
“That’s a big part of it. But the main thing is…” His gaze fell to the floor. “When we were out this morning, Steve pulled me aside. He asked me why, out of the entire group, I had wanted him not to get hurt most of all. It took me a long time to respond, and when I did, I had to tell him that I couldn’t bear to see any more harm come to him because I had done so much damage already.”
His eyes moved back up towards Joseph’s; he could’ve sworn he saw tears in them. “I saw how hurt he was, and I pushed that as hard and as far as I could. I broke him beyond repair for fun. For fun, Joseph. He was my pet project, and I knew exactly what I was doing. Now…he’s my friend. My leader. In order to survive, I have to look what I did to him in the eye every single day. Living with this reminder, then having Ember and the Shadow Fist treat me like I haven’t changed…it makes it hard to know who I am.”
Severance. Plasmin was speaking of severance between two parts of himself. Joseph didn’t feel so great any more about blowing up at Isaac. What was he doing to himself?
“Plasmin…who you are and what you’ve done are two very different things, even when you embrace the things you do. Who you are is Plasmin, a Pikmin through and through, and even a protector of other Pikmin. What you’ve done…well, I don’t think I need to tell you about that. Even when you were the Plasm Wraith, you did those things, but they were different from you. How much more now that you’ve changed! You’ve changed permanently, and for the better. You’ve learned, you’ve survived…you’ve lived. That doesn’t mean the things you’ve done didn’t happen. It means you are no longer someone who would do them again.”
“You really think so?” His eyes closed again as his leaf formed back into plasm. “I…needed to hear that. Thank you.” There was silence in the air, just for a moment. “Where does that leave you?”
Where did that leave him? He knew now that the voices in his head were crying out for blood. Did he believe any of what he just said? Would he become something horrible just for a moment’s peace?
Slowly, with difficulty, Joseph brought his pointer finger up to his temple. He tapped it a few times — no, he told himself, I’m not going to tap any harder than this. His hand fell back down into his lap.
“Right here. They’re all right here. Whatever I do, it doesn’t stop, but there is something that makes them just a little quieter. What satiates them is pain — Isaac’s pain. I talked to him earlier, and it didn’t go well. I blew up at him, and I hurt him, and the screaming quieted down a little as I did so. I can’t stand listening to them, and now that I know that there’s something that makes them hush just slightly…” Scenes flashed through Joseph’s mind — intrusive, violent thoughts that made his head jerk, as if they were pounding against the walls of his skull.
A golden tendril pressed up against his head, right where his finger was tapping.
And yet the screams are not who you are.
He turned. Standing next to Joseph now was a golden figure with a somewhat humanoid shape. The arms sloped out from where the head was located, with a hole placed in the center of the head extending all the way through. Plasmin had taken the form of the Plasm Wraith — and yet, he was still Plasmin.
I took hundreds of lives while wearing this form…and yet, I changed. Part of it was forced, but much of it came from what I learned. I think you can learn before you have to be forced. You’ve already taken the first step by talking to Isaac. That’s good. Now try it again. Work on accepting him, and if you can’t do that, just start by being able to look at him.
An image of the Formidable Oak, a landmark of the Pikmin’s world, flashed through Joseph’s mind. This was my home, Plasmin continued. I isolated myself here for my whole life, only leaving to hunt. Once I became a Pikmin…I learned what it was like to live with others, and not just that, but to live with others like me. It changed me — permanently, and for the better.
Plasmin coalesced back into Pikmin form. He smiled. “It’s a bit crowded down there, I’ll admit. But I think it’s good just to be present. I think it could help.”
“...Could it?”
“Absolutely. Just try it. Try living, for one day. Please.”
Joseph recognized that statement. Riptide had said it to a newly formed Plasmin to bring him into the Onion. Because of those words, Plasmin had survived his first night as a Pikmin, which was longer than the Shadow Fist ever intended for him. It was an apt quotation, and it had the intended effect. Maybe…Joseph isolating himself up in the attic or down with the furnace wasn’t the best idea for them all.
And if he had to face Isaac…he’d do it. He didn’t care how many times he had to talk to him. It could be two times, seven times, twenty three times — it would be worth it. They needed to be whole. They needed to awaken.
A smile played at Joseph’s lips. “Why is it that everyone’s coming to me for help? First the Shadow Fist — don’t tell him I said that — and now you. I’m the most messed up one out of all of us!”
“Maybe that’s why. You’re going through a lot. We’re all stressed out, and we need to help each other. And for those of us who don’t like Isaac’s idea, well, you’re the first one who comes to mind for help.”
“Oh. Do you not like it?”
Plasmin sighed. “Xeroc freaks me out. He reminds me too much of me — or, y’know, the Plasm Wraith. All powerful, uncaring, plays with his prey…maybe that’s another thing that’s been weighing on me.”
“It’s weighing on all of us, friend.” He let out a wry laugh. “I think if you were to interview any of the nameless, faceless voices in my head, they’d say the same thing.”
Suddenly, Plasmin made eye contact with Joseph. “What do you mean?”
Joseph heard Isaac yell something from the floor below. He shook his head. “Well,” he began, “if these voices want Isaac to get hurt so badly, they clearly—”
“No, not that. The ‘nameless and faceless’ part.”
Joseph was at a loss for words. “Well…I don’t know these specters. They’re just inhabitants of the underworld that I was dropped into, yet they decided to live in my head ever since.”
To Joseph’s shock, Plasmin’s eyes widened substantially. “You mean…you mean you don’t recognize the voices?”
Louder they screamed. They clamored to be heard. They clamored to be known.
“I should get back down to the lower floor.” The cadence of Plasmin’s voice was much faster than it had been. “Maybe you should follow!”
“...Okay, Plasmin.” Joseph walked over to the Greatwood Planks block and hit it a few times. The block moved into his hand with a pop, and he placed it down next to the opening. Plasmin exited the attic, and Joseph was left alone.
Alone…with the voices.
Was he supposed to know them? Did they really want to be known, or were they just trying to goad him closer, salivating as they shrieked?
Joseph took a deep breath, letting it fill his body from head to toe. Then, he stepped into the Arcane Levitator’s space, feeling the invention render him weightless.
Maybe he should spend tonight with those he knew.

Chapter 24: Truth and Reality

Chapter Text

Chapter 24

Truth and Reality

~ X ~

All Isaac had been looking for was a place to hide from his creations, but he found the movement of air and fire around him to have a calming effect. The pain endured, but the tears had stopped, and Isaac sat silently with the five words that had changed his relationship with his characters forever. He had never wanted them to think of him as their author, as their creator. How could he possibly explain to them that their backstory, which he had written, broke his heart, too?
“Oh! Can I help you with something?” Ace asked someone in the Essentia room. “I didn’t see you follow me down. Are you here because you want to help with the Essentia process?” A short pause. “Ah, got it. I didn’t see where Isaac went, but I know he’s down here somewhere. He’s either in my Infernal Furnace room, or by the Infusion Altar, or in my storage room, or…I really hope he didn’t go to the Nether.” Another pause; Isaac wished he could hear who Ace was speaking to. “Okay, sounds good! Now then, I’m going to finish up the Essentia process. I’m really close to having that finished!”
Please let it be Joseph, or Plasmin, or Riptide, or anyone I haven’t hurt too terribly much. Just let it be someone I can look in the eye. Let it be anyone but—
Climbing over the stone around the furnace, a Red Pikmin caught Isaac’s eye, then sat down next to him. He had a large white flower attached to his stem. Isaac put his head in his hands. Sitting next to him was the one whose story had hurt him the most.
Anyone but Steve.
Neither of them spoke a word for a few minutes. The time felt like hours to Isaac. All he could think of was all the other Red Pikmin in Steve’s battalion being devoured and crushed; of the permanent damage done to his mind as a result; of the Plasm Wraith reveling in this damage and doing everything it could to poke at it and make it worse…and of him imagining and writing these events.
“Soon after you left, Joseph and Plasmin came down.” Steve was speaking just loud enough for Isaac to hear. “Ember and Bolt were too stunned to do anything to Plasmin. Joseph asked where you were, and no one answered. Ace came down here to work on the Terminus, and I followed. That’s about it.”
This news only hurt Isaac more. Joseph had been looking for him, but none of the Pikmin could even say he went downstairs? He had thought the severance was bad before, but now…
“I think we’re all just…confused,” Steve continued. “And scared. This time has been hard on all of us for different reasons, and seeing you break — even if it’s just a little — scared us. I don’t think we know what you meant about writing our story. As the leader of the Seven, I felt it was my responsibility to check on you, and to get some answers.”
A deep sigh. “Steve…I don’t know how to answer that. I just can’t. I can’t. There’s too much to explain, too many horrible things that happened to you and to all the others, and…” The thought trailed off.
“Can you just start by looking at me?”
It was a simple request and a good starting point, but that didn’t make it easy. Taking a deep breath, Isaac lifted his head out of his hands. Slowly, sadly, his head turned just enough for him to look at Steve.
He looked…concerned. Worried. Isaac had expected him to look afraid, or even numb. Steve did want answers, but he was genuinely concerned for Isaac’s well-being. That made Isaac feel just a little better.
“What’s going on?” Steve asked.
It took a while for any words to come out — or maybe it just took a few seconds. Isaac couldn’t tell. “What I’m about to explain…it’s the reason you all woke up inside my mind in the first place, and it’s the reason I know so much about you all, even more than what we’ve experienced together.” Isaac took some more time to get his next statement in order. “Before I explain, just know that what I’m about to say doesn’t make me think any less of you. I don’t feel like I’m above you, especially when we’re together in a context like this, okay?”
Steve nodded. Isaac let out a long, shaky breath. “Okay.” Steeling himself, Isaac spoke the answer out into the air like he was removing a splinter from his mind. “Steve, in my world, you and the rest of the Seven and Plasmin and Ace and the Fist are characters of mine, featured in stories I wrote from beginning to end. Everything that happened to you and the others is part of the plot, and it’s there because I came up with it. There. That’s what I meant.” He buried his head in his hands again, finishing his thought with two words:
“I’m sorry.”
The truth was out. Isaac was the author, and all the others — with the exception of Calamitas — were his characters. He had no way of predicting their reactions. Isaac never was the type of author to control his characters’ actions; he much preferred the method of placing his characters in the story and allowing them to act, so long as they more or less stayed within the plot. He knew them so well, yet he knew them so little. And they knew him even less.
When Isaac looked at Steve again, he saw that he was collecting his thoughts. He needed to take some time to process what Isaac had just claimed. Isaac understood. He could take all the time he needed.
“So…everything?”
“Yeah. Everything.”
“I see.”
The Infernal Furnace did little to quell the roaring silence in the room. What was Steve thinking? His terse response hadn’t helped Isaac’s nerves any.
“Hey, Isaac?”
“Yeah?”
“I know it was made quite clear that you’re not a Pikmin, but do you mind if I give you some Pikmin advice anyway?”
Isaac smiled, just a little. He made eye contact with Steve. “Sure, friend.”
“As you know, Pikmin lives are short. We see death every day, and each of us react to it differently. Some lash out against it, like Ember. Others recoil and hide from it, like I did. Still others reach out in kindness like Riptide, offering a hand of acceptance to the beasts that attack us, hoping that somehow they’ll understand. But regardless of how any Pikmin reacts to our trials, I give the same advice. I tell all the other Pikmin around me not to focus on the evil and horrific, but on the good.”
Steve’s gaze turned distant as he gently reached into the past. “I spent far too much time focusing on the horrors I had seen. They were all I saw; they were all I knew. Once I started to move on, they didn’t go away, but they lost some of their grip on me. I was able to see what was good in the world, and there is nothing better for a mind scarred by the horrific.”
The Pikmin reached out his hand towards his author’s shoulder, then drew it back. “Isaac…hearing that did hurt. It was difficult, and it’s going to take some time before I can fully trust you again.”
“I understand.”
“But I don’t want you focusing on all the terrible things I’ve been through, because you know what? Those weren’t the only things you wrote. I want you to think about some of the good things now, and I’ll help you find the first one, because I know the first good thing is always the hardest to find.”
Steve stood and peered around the furnace. “Come on in!” he shouted. When he sat down again, there was a slight smile in his eyes. And soon, bounding over the stone with unmatched exuberance came a Blue Pikmin with a big white flower on his stem. The Pikmin wriggled his way between the two; they barely fit on the step.
“Isaac…you gave me Blue.”
“And you gave me Steve!” Blue chirped, wearing a huge smile. “I can’t believe that you wrote such an amazing and cool friend, and then made me his best friend ever! You didn’t have to do that, but you did! And that’s awesome! Thanks!”
Speechless, Isaac just stared at Blue. Had he really created someone this incredible? Of course he had. He created Blue because Steve needed him.
Blue turned to Steve. “Steve, look! I made Isaac so happy he can’t even talk!”
“You tend to have that effect on people,” Steve replied.
“Yeah, I do! I know I do, because I’ve done it to you! A lot!”
Steve gave a full smile at last. Isaac found himself thinking now through the good things he had written. They were definitely harder to find, but Blue was such a strong start that he couldn’t help but find more. He remembered that all seven of the Pikmin had survived throughout his entire narrative. He remembered Riptide’s kindness, Ember’s strength, Flint’s excitement, Bolt’s gregariousness, and Toxin’s care. He thought about the Plasm Wraith becoming Plasmin, slowly but surely changing from the Pikmin species’ biggest threat to one of its most capable protectors. It wasn’t a complete list, and sure, even the joys weren’t perfect. But it was real. Reality was not perfect, and it featured the good and the bad. Isaac decided he should start to focus on both.
“Isaac,” Blue continued, “so many times I’ve run into Steve, and he’s hurting a lot. He’s thinking about all the awful things that actually happened to him. Do I tell him those things didn’t happen? No! Do I tell him just to forget about it and cheer up? Of course not! I tell him that brighter times are ahead, and that sometimes we need to make it through the bad stuff to get to the good. When he asks me how I know, I give him one of my big smiles and say I don’t have to know! I just have to trust that there’s goodness ahead somewhere, and then look at that and fight for it. Now I want you to do the same thing, Isaac! Just because we’ve been through bad things doesn’t mean that’s all we’re going to experience. You don’t have to feel bad, because there’s good ahead! Okay?”
“Okay, Blue,” Isaac said. “Thank you. Thank you both. I really needed to hear all that. You two have helped me so much. And, no matter what happens, I want you to remember one thing…”
Isaac stood, then turned around and knelt to face the two Pikmin. “No matter what you’re going through, no matter what’s happened to you, no matter what will happen…just remember that, even in the midst of it all, your creator loves you very much.”
Blue sprang forward, enfolding Isaac in a hug. Isaac returned the embrace, laughing. He didn’t know how he had made a character this optimistic and this joyful, but he wasn’t complaining.
“We love you, too!” Blue yelled, passionate as ever. Over Blue’s shoulder, Isaac saw Steve staring at the embrace with both gratitude and pain, hoping that sometime soon he could be a part of it.
“Yeah,” Steve said. “We love you too, Isaac.”

Chapter 25: Joseph's Curse

Chapter Text

Chapter 25

Joseph’s Curse

~ X ~

The tension in the room had abated noticeably by the time Isaac came up the stairs with Steve and Blue behind him. Upon seeing the Shadow Fist in the room, Isaac understood why — it was daytime. He and Calamitas were the only ones in the room, and no doubt they were thrilled to have each other for company. Isaac assumed the Pikmin were outside photosynthesizing.
Joseph wasn’t in the room. Isaac turned to Calamitas. “Where’s Joseph?”
“He’s on the second floor,” she responded. “Got overwhelmed. The others were starting to ask him questions about what you said. Good job with that, by the way. You handled that very well.”
“Oh, wonderful,” the Fist grumbled. “What did the Warrior do now?”
“I don’t think he wants to talk about it,” answered Steve, “and I’m not comfortable with hearing about it again right now anyway.”
“Yup.” Isaac pointed at Steve in agreement. “That.”
Just then, Ace came up the stairs. “Okay, everyone! I—” He looked around the room. “Where is everyone?”
“They’re outside,” Isaac replied. “How’s the Terminus coming along?”
“It’s going well!” Ace held up a stack of gilded eye charms. “I finished making these Eldritch Eyes when I was just downstairs, and now I’m going to find another Crimson Cult altar and perform Apertis Oculus. That’ll gain me access to the Outer Lands, where I can get the Primordial Pearl that we need. I just wanted to come up and update you all before I leave because I’m going to be away for a long time, since first I need to find a new altar, then I need to get all the way through the Outer Lands, then I need to kill whatever holds the pearl. Thankfully, at that point, I can just use my Celestial Gateway focus to—”
“Well, it sounds like you should be on your way.” The Shadow Fist opened the door without even looking at it. “Out you go, then. Have a nice trip.”
“You’re right! Thanks, Shadow Fist!” Ace smiled at the Fist, then stared into his Xepaktrian eyes for some time. His expression melted into one of intense interest.
“...Can I help you with something?”
“Oh! No, it’s fine. I wasn’t really—”
“You’re welcome, I suppose, if that’s what you were after.”
“Nope! Not at all! Wasn’t after anything. Bye, everyone!”
Ace’s armor shone, and he zipped out the door. Through the open door, Isaac saw it was raining outside. The other Pikmin were once again sitting on the ground, taking in what little sunlight they could. Blue and Steve walked outside, and Isaac followed them, worried.
“Hey, guys. I just want to—”
“What’d you write this time?”
Ember’s words cut like a knife. “Ember,” Steve chided, “we’re not going to talk any more about that. Isaac and I had a good conversation about it, and I don’t want to hear a bad one. Let him talk.”
Collecting himself, Isaac resumed. “I just wanted to give a warning. Since it’s raining outside, there’ll likely still be monsters active.”
“Yeah, okay.” Bolt sat back, folding his hands behind his head. “We can handle that.”
Thwip!
An arrow thudded into the front of Ace’s house. Isaac immediately used the Amulet to start building an earthen cover. “Hey!” Flint complained, jumping to his feet and starting to build alongside Isaac. “That’s my job! You’re taking all the fun.”
“Well, you can help reinforce it as the rain takes it down.” Isaac stepped out of the wall as Flint finished it up. “I’ll be inside, friends.”
A few of the Pikmin wished him goodbye as he reentered the house. Isaac wasn’t necessarily looking forward to spending quality time alone with the Fist and Calamitas, since he highly doubted it would go by without the Fist saying something stupid just to get on Calamitas’ nerves. However, Isaac’s attention was suddenly diverted as he noticed the anvil at the head of Ace’s bed.
Sitting on the anvil were Joseph’s phone and speaker.
Isaac glanced around the room again. Joseph wasn’t there. He looked back down at the anvil. Joseph was making an obvious statement by leaving those items where Isaac could easily get them: the offer still stood. Isaac didn’t even have to talk to Joseph to make it happen. Joseph was making it as easy as he possibly could for Isaac to ditch the Terminus.
But…no. He couldn’t. He had to keep going — for Ace’s sake, yes, but also for his own. Isaac had overseen the creation of the Terminus from the very beginning up until this moment, a period of time that was quite long by now. All of his work, all of his pain, his battling, his strife…it couldn’t go to waste like that. Isaac was going to see the Terminus through.
Isaac walked further into the house, sitting on the floor near the stairs. He wanted to be there when Ace got back. It couldn’t be that long, right? With all of Ace’s abilities, he should have been able to make quick work of the Outer Lands.
“Ah. Brilliant,” the Shadow Fist huffed. “I get to spend the day with my two least favorite people. Aren’t I the luckiest creature in the realm.”
As if to ease the Fist’s plight, a visitor arrived in the house. Isaac only saw long, spindly black legs and a narrow torso before he hastily averted his eyes to the floor. An enderman had teleported into the house, no doubt looking to escape the rain.
The enderman screeched and made the mistake of charging at Calamitas. With a whoosh, a hiss, and a final wail, the creature became ash. Calamitas looked over at Isaac. “Do you happen to know what that creature was?”
“Yeah. It was an enderman. They hate water; it burns them. They also attack you if you make eye contact with them, which I assume you did.”
“Hm. Well, if it was trying to avoid getting burned, it did a rather shoddy job of it.”
Isaac grinned. “Yeah.” His expression turned pensive as he remembered the Fist’s quote about being burned. “Calamitas…what do you think about the whole Terminus plan?”
The Shadow Fist groaned. “And, to top it all off, you pick one of my least favorite conversation topics. Brilliant. Just brilliant. I—whatever. I’m done.” And he vanished.
Calamitas just shook her head. “He is so petty and so dramatic. What does he have to gain from it?”
“I guess it’s entertaining, in a way,” Isaac replied.
“You and I must have very different definitions of entertainment, child.”
“Well, I knew that.” Isaac gave a wry smile. “I, for one, don’t find torturing people entertaining.”
The witch took in a breath to give a rebuttal, then shrugged. “Fair point.” Folding her arms, she thought for a bit. “In regards to the Terminus…you have better reasons for constructing it than the lord did. I still don’t think your plan is going to work, but it’s good to be away from him. It’s how I can put up with you all.”
“Huh.” Isaac furrowed his brow. “If you think it’s going to fail, why are you helping us construct it?”
“I suppose it’s because I have a little to gain if it works and everything to lose if it fails.”
“That’s grim.”
She just laughed. “Welcome to my life.”
Isaac caught his eyes floating back towards the phone and speaker on the anvil. “Do you think Joseph’s plan would be a better idea?”
He felt Calamitas’ mind brush up against his; thankfully, the process didn’t involve the cutting pain it had when she had first looked through his memories. “I couldn’t say,” she concluded. “Joseph is…to put it bluntly, broken. He’s desperate, even more so than you are. He may think this idea to be a lucid one, but I don’t think it is. Your predicament will likely require much more than a single song.”
“That’s what I thought. But…what do you mean about Joseph being broken?”
“Something’s gotten its claws into his mind. He’s cursed.”
“Like you?”
The question slipped out of Isaac’s mouth before he could stop it. Calamitas glared at him from behind the darkness of her hood, then sighed. “Yes. Like me. How do you know all this?”
“It’s not because I wrote your story.”
“Good.”
“It’s because, like I said before, your story is already written in my world. I’m very familiar with your world and its inhabitants. And I know that part of your story is that, after you leave the lord, he curses you, compelling you to return to him.”
Isaac listened to the rain against the roof as the two of them were silent. “Don’t tell me any more,” Calamitas replied with her voice hushed, even diffident. “I have thought for a while that nothing good can come from knowing the future, and the conflicts between you and Joseph have only proven that point.”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. Joseph’s cursed? With what kind of curse?”
Calamitas looked up towards the opening in the ceiling. “All I will say at this time is that the curse is tied to his abilities. If you want more information —” she made pointed eye contact with Isaac — “talk to him yourself.”
Isaac shrank back a little. “What…what do you mean?”
“You cannot shirk your demons, boy. You must stare them down and confront them face to face, or they will flay you alive. The two of you are inextricably linked, so you will have to face him. You cannot avoid it. Do not hide, or it will be far worse for you in the end.”
“...Why are you giving me advice?”
“Because you remind me of when I was younger in a disturbing number of ways. You say you know my story? Then do not end up like I did.”
The door opened. One by one, the Pikmin filed into the house, even though there was still daylight outside. Calamitas immediately turned, wanting to show no one she had been talking to Isaac one on one.
“I could’ve taken it out!” Flint complained.
“Did you miss the fact that those creatures explode?” asked Bolt.
“Volatile Dweevils explode. Bomb rocks explode! Lots of things—”
“It was standing right there,” Steve responded. “Right in the middle of us. If Ember hadn’t been next to it, we’d be gone, just like that. All of us. When I said we’re coming inside, I meant it.”
“Well, yeah, but…” Flint looked up at Isaac.
Isaac wasn’t having the author-character discussion again. He turned and went down the stairs. Meaning to convey to Calamitas that he needed to think about what she had said, he was only able to make some vague hand movements as he walked down into Ace’s artificial cave system.
He paced for some time. Isaac knew the phone and speaker were still waiting for him on the anvil upstairs. Yet, with what Calamitas had said about Joseph being cursed, Isaac found himself extremely hesitant to enact any sort of plan that utilized Joseph’s abilities. What if a curse sank its fangs into him, too? In that case, Joseph’s plan would likely fail, and on top of that, he would be in no condition to complete the ritual. All routes to awakening would close at once.
Isaac pulled on the string aside his neck, pulling the Amulet out from under his shirt. Looking at the talisman, he smiled. The Amulet never cursed him; it never failed him. Xenith was incapable of destruction; it could be twisted and subjugated to destructive ends, but the energy itself was pure creativity. And it couldn’t fall into the wrong hands as long as Isaac was alive — after all, as he had written, no one but the Xenithian Warrior could remove the Amulet from him. The Amulet was fully reliable, and most importantly, it was his. Joseph’s music was too risky.
Isaac tucked the Amulet back into its hiding place. Could he talk to Joseph, then, about their powers, and maybe figure out what was going on with whatever curse he had? Maybe they could forge some kind of compromise.
Or maybe Joseph wouldn’t listen. Maybe he would focus on his plan and his plan alone, fully and finally cutting all ties with Isaac. Maybe Joseph would reject him. Maybe he would turn his back on all of them…because of Isaac.
At that moment, Isaac stopped pacing, as he had made a decision. Mentally, he placed Joseph’s phone and speaker back on the Arcane Levitator, letting them float back up towards the one to whom they belonged. Isaac would focus on the Terminus and the Terminus alone. Whatever curse Joseph had was something Xeroc could easily take care of, and if not Xeroc, then Isaac when they were awake. Isaac didn’t need to talk to him right away — his work was too important. He would talk to Joseph later, with the Terminus in hand.
How blind he was.

Chapter 26: Insanity

Chapter Text

Chapter 26

Insanity

~ X ~

When Isaac crept back up the stairs, the atmosphere in the room had shifted from a neutral setting to one of deep unrest and unease, showing that night had come again. Calamitas’ hand was back up to her head, and she was gripping it with a greater intensity than before. Despite her struggle, Isaac was relieved that she was too focused on her curse to ask about him talking with Joseph. He did notice Joseph’s weapons still sitting on the anvil. Isaac thought about sending them physically up to the attic, but he decided that that was too bold of a statement. Such an explicit rejection of Joseph’s idea could cause him to snap.
Isaac sat on Ace’s bed, mentally preparing himself for a third night under the red moon. The Pikmin had even more reason to be paranoid due to his slip of the tongue the previous night — whether Isaac liked it or not, they now knew that the cause of all their pains was in the house with them. Isaac supposed that they had already had that in Plasmin, but with him it felt different. They had gotten to watch Plasmin grow and change, but Isaac was unpredictable. He was new to them all over again, and it showed. Isaac saw that Ember was keeping just as close of an eye on him as he was on Plasmin. One wrong step, one threatening word, and he might have to act quickly to keep himself from being incinerated.
An impact on the door resounded through the house as Isaac’s head started to throb. The whispers surrounding his mind were much louder now, beckoning him into madness’ vacuous embrace. Isaac squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth and suffering through. It would all be worth it. He knew it would all be worth it. The Terminus was almost complete. The Terminus was coming, and wakefulness with it. His pain would not be wasted.
The door opened, shutting just as quickly. Bolting to his feet, Isaac saw that Ace had returned. He looked just as scared as Isaac felt — his arms were pressed close to his body, and he was wringing his hands up by his chest. Ace’s arms dropped to his sides as Isaac breathed a sigh of relief.
“Sorry to scare you.” Ace gave a half-hearted chuckle. “It’s positively furious outside right now. And I just got back from the Outer Lands, which…wasn’t pleasant. I’ve never seen Taintacles that size before in my life, and I really never want to again. But I got the pearl! Here, take a look.”
Ace dug the Primordial Pearl out of his pouch, holding it out a short distance so Isaac could look at it. The pearl had a rainbow of hues dancing across its surface, and every once in a while it would pulse, sending shockwaves through the very fabric of reality. After a few seconds, Ace snatched the pearl back and deposited it in his bag.
“It’s the rarest artifact in the entire world, as far as I can tell, and I’ve explored and seen a lot, so if there’s something rarer I haven’t found it yet! Though, I guess it’d make sense for me to not have found something rarer than a Primordial Pearl, given that the pearl is so hard to find. But I think that—”
Ace’s eyes snapped down to the floor, and he screamed. Frantically reaching into his inventory, he brandished his sword as his armor blazed to life. Isaac scrambled back, gesturing to the others that they should stand back as well. Ace began to swing his sword wildly, aiming for precise targets only he could see. He launched into the air, hitting his head on the ceiling. Looking now at the wall next to him, Ace slashed a couple more times, putting deep cuts into the wood. Then, he dove out the door, leaving it wide open.
For the first time since the first night, Isaac got a glimpse of what was outside. Through the coagulated darkness, Isaac saw hostile creatures — dozens of them, swarming. Many of the creatures were captivated by Ace’s house and the stench of pure life emanating from it. Isaac heard a rasping shriek and even saw a phantom flying across the sky, which to Ace’s world was an anomaly — based on the version of Minecraft Ace’s world was set in, phantoms should not have been present, as they weren’t introduced until several major updates later. Flitting between the mobs was a streak of purplish black which killed any creature it touched. The Fist was fast, and he was fighting to the best of his ability, but he wasn’t fast enough. A spider scuttled into the house, then pounced at Isaac.
He only had time to cross his arms. The spider was inches from him before a violet flash knocked it against the wall next to him — a flash not of shadow but of Pikmin. With a whoop, Flint jumped on top of the spider; it only took a few hits before it was squashed. Isaac smiled as Flint stood up, but the smile quickly died, as Isaac heard a sound woven through the nightmares of all those in Minecraft: a creeper’s hiss, directly behind him.
Isaac turned just in time to see the Shadow Fist come shooting into the house, driving his fist into the creeper’s head and eliminating it instantly. He slammed the door shut and held it closed telekinetically. Darkness was pouring from the Fist, effusing from numerous scratch, bite, and puncture marks adorning his form. He looked more exhausted than Isaac had ever seen him.
“I was seriously hoping it would not come to this.” Monsters began to beat against the door; the Fist’s scowl deepened. “As strong as the night makes me, there could be hundreds of feral creatures out there. I find it highly unlikely that we will survive this night if I face the hordes alone. I would ask the Yoshi, but he seems mentally compromised. Is there a competent fighter who will join me in defending the house?”
“I’ll go!” volunteered Flint.
“No, you won’t,” Steve ordered.
No one else spoke up. The Fist made a slow sweep of the room with his eyes. Despite the telekinetic hold, the door was starting to move as the hordes pounded against it.
“Well?” the Fist challenged.
Isaac heard a deep sigh behind him. He turned to see Calamitas take a step forward. Before she could take another, shadows surrounded her. Stunned, Isaac saw the Fist’s other arm extended towards the witch.
“Not. You.”
“Are you kidding me?!” Isaac cried. “Calamitas is far and away the best fighter here! She’s volunteering to help you. How can you pass this up?”
“Do you think I care about her strength?” growled the Fist through gritted teeth. “I believe I made myself quite clear — I do not want her assistance. I will take anyone else. Anyone. How about you, Warrior? Would you like to do something good for once?”
“Can’t you set this feud aside for one night?” Riptide just sounded sad, distracting Isaac for a moment from the rage boiling in his head. “Nothing good has come of this, and nothing good can. If we fight each other, we’ll just tear each other apart! We all have to work together in order to survive!”
“Look at me, Riptide. Do I look like a Pikmin? I don’t operate by your rules. I don’t need to, and I don’t want to, just like I don’t want the witch assisting me outside.”
“I think I’ve learned what you are quite well.” Calamitas’ voice burned like brimstone; only Isaac recognized the undercurrent of pain behind it. “You are a petty amalgam of dimness that does nothing but squabble and whine. I’m honestly floored that the others keep you around.”
Slowly, tensely, the Fist’s telekinesis relaxed. Calamitas looked the Fist dead in the eye as the door remained still. Isaac had to keep himself from tackling the Fist as the two combatants stared each other down.
“Is that so?” The Fist stood up straight; his chin lifted and his arms folded. “Well, this petty amalgam of dimness says the witch is not going outside. And if she wants to…” The Fist’s arms languidly formed his sign for shadow. “She’ll have to go through him and prove her words correct.”
That was all Isaac could take. Risking immolation, he walked between the Fist and Calamitas. “Hey, Shadow Fist?” he asked. “Aside from the annihilation of my universe, that is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had. Knock it off.”
The Fist just laughed at him. “You’re a fine one to talk about dumb ideas, War—”
Arms crossed, and this time, Isaac had the Xenith to back it up. Throwing his fists out in front of him, Isaac hit the shade with a Xenithian Beam, throwing him into the door. The Fist rushed at him in retaliation; arms crossed again, Isaac parried the blow with a twist of his arms, then closed his fists, readying a counter. Something large and hard crashed into him from the side, sending Isaac hurtling to the floor. It was Plasmin in Rock Pikmin form, who was now on top of him. As Isaac still tried to cross his arms, he heard Plasmin scream a single word into his mind and into his ears:
“ENOUGH!”
The cry shattered Isaac’s concentration, and shock replaced his will to fight. His arms dropped to the floor. It was clearly the Shadow Fist who was in the wrong in this situation. Shouldn’t Plasmin be treating him accordingly? Instead he had turned on Isaac, his author. What had he done to deserve this treatment?
Plasmin stared Isaac down. “The Shadow Fist has been protecting us every night, enduring the cursed darkness and fighting off more creatures than any of us have ever seen. He doesn’t need you fighting him as well. And he’s asking us for help. You and I know he never does that! If you want to fight, follow him outside and use your Xenith against stuff that’s actually trying to kill us!”
He had no response. Plasmin was totally right, of course, as much as Isaac didn’t want him to be. “Okay,” Isaac wheezed, nodding. “You’re right. Can I breathe now?”
“Oh.” Plasmin sprang off of Isaac, morphing back into a Red Pikmin. “Yeah. Sorry.”
Isaac sat up to see the Shadow Fist staring at Plasmin in disbelief. He didn’t even seem to notice Calamitas shove past him as she went to the door. Upon opening it, she found the exit sealed by cobblestone — Isaac had forgotten Ace was outside. Calamitas nonchalantly raised her hand to the stone, then blasted an opening into it large enough for her to walk through. She left the house, and Ace came back in, closing the door with a haunted expression written on his face.
“Did…did any of you, uh…see any spiders? Like…little transparent purple ones?”
Those inside shook their heads with concern. “...Right,” Ace concluded. “Didn’t think so.” He pulled a blue and gold object out of his pouch, holding it to his head. “I’m really starting to think that Taintacle gave me some more Warp…yeah, it did. I have a large amount of temporary Warp, and that’s made the old sticky Warp and permanent Warp all flare up. Ugh.” He lowered the object and opened his pouch.
“Wait.” Isaac felt a little stupid for even asking what was on his mind, but he knew Ace wouldn’t begrudge even a stupid request. “Ace, could you…hold that up to my head and tell me what it says?”
“Oh, this?” Ace held up the object he was about to put away. “This is a Sanity Checker, and it detects Warp. I see no reason why you should have Warp of any kind, but if you do it would be fascinating! It’d be awful, but fascinating. Awful for you, but fascinating as well because it could be— right. Sorry.”
Ace placed the Sanity Checker against Isaac’s temple. His eyes closed, then flew open. Unable to help himself or even to speak, Ace ran around the house, using the Sanity Checker on everyone present. The Fist promptly vanished; he wasn’t going to have another one of Ace’s trinkets judging him on appearance. Having completed his circuit, Ace rushed back to Isaac.
“You all have temporary Warp. All of you. I don’t know how it’s possible, because Warp is the consequence of thaumaturgical research — the magical twisting of the mind into insanity that this type of knowledge naturally provides. None of you have done any thaumaturgical research to my knowledge, but you have all incurred some level of temporary Warp, and all the same amount. I believe I have the Warp, too, but it’s hard to tell given how much Warp I already have, and I do still think the Taintacle gave me some as well.” Once again, Ace pulled paper and ink out of his bag. “Do you have any ideas about why this is happening?”
Isaac knew instantly. “It’s the blood moon. According to Calamity lore, Xeroc’s gaze gives all the beings under it a mild form of insanity. The main way that that manifests is in the moon itself — it’s not actually red, but it appears that way to us.” He sighed. “Well, that would explain the headaches I’ve been having.”
“If it’s a consequence of the night, it’ll be over soon! And Warp can actually be rather beneficial. It can tell you things you otherwise wouldn’t have ever known. There’s definitely some knowledge that only makes sense to the slightly insane, after all. But…” Still writing, he gave a scoffing laugh. “I say that, but I’m more than just slightly insane by now.”
Shaking his head, Isaac trudged down the stairs and walked into the Infusion room. Looking through the skylight, he saw the red moon at its zenith. As he stared at the bloody eye, Warp seized his mind, and he suffered through the migraine. Isaac knew then that he had to finish the Terminus as soon as he possibly could. Ace had completed the hardest part of the process, which was the Primordial Pearl. All that was left was a few more items, a splash of Essentia, and a couple more Infusions. Anything he could do to speed the process along…anything to end the blood moons. He wouldn’t spend another night under Xeroc’s eye, and no one would prevent that — not Xeroc, not the Fist or Calamitas, not even Joseph.
Isaac climbed up and sat on the central pedestal under the Runic Matrix, watching the night sky. At the first hint of dawn, he would talk to Ace, and they would get this artifact finished, because there was no other option. Isaac was going to make a Terminus or die trying.

Chapter 27: Event Horizon

Chapter Text

Chapter 27

Event Horizon

– ♪ –

“Dude, honestly, it’s not that big of a deal. Just talk to him. All you have to do is try talking to him. He’s going through a lot, too, but this is important. You have to end this.”
Joseph’s legs were starting to get tired from pacing, but it helped him think, as did talking to himself. The volume of his self-dialogue was hushed — he didn’t know how Isaac would react to hearing it, or any of the others — but he always liked vocalizing what he was thinking about. Besides, he could barely hear his thoughts anyway. No, the screaming hadn’t stopped.
The screaming…his curse. It was linked to his powers? What did Calamitas know? Joseph still couldn’t remember exactly what had happened after she dropped him into the underworld. He had a feeling she wouldn’t tell him — another reason he needed to talk to Isaac. He knew she wouldn’t explain anything she knew until Isaac and Joseph finally broached the subject. Clearly Isaac wouldn’t initiate, so it was up to Joseph.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Joseph continued. “He doesn’t want to talk to you. Okay, so you try again. Eventually he’s going to talk, especially if you keep trying. And you don’t even have to talk about the really tough stuff right away. You can just talk about your powers and try to get that figured out. You still don’t really know how they work anyway, so it would help to have some guidance as well.”
As Joseph turned at the end of his short circuit, Ace came up the Arcane Levitator. “Oh!” He waved. “Hello, Joseph! I was just here to place those beds that I had been wanting to place. I just remembered them now. There’s been a lot on my mind, and I really did want to place the beds down this whole time, but I just forgot. That tends to happen sometimes. I really hope we don’t spend another night here, but I have to prepare in case it does happen.”
“No worries, Ace.” Joseph watched as Ace placed bed after bed, struggling to fit all thirteen comfortably in the attic’s tight space. The finished product left little to no space upstairs for anyone to move, and reaching some of the beds required climbing over others.
“Ace…first of all, the Shadow Fist isn’t going to need a bed. And don’t you have your own bed downstairs?”
Ace’s expression was blank; he looked around, and the lights came on. “Oh, yeah! I guess I did double-count myself.” He removed two of the beds, making most of them accessible without needing to pass over others. “Does this work?”
“Honestly, Ace, I don’t think you really need beds up here any more. We’ve gone on for long enough without them, and hopefully we’ll be out of here soon. I just need to talk to Isaac…”
Ace turned and left the attic. Joseph sat on one of the beds, finding it surprisingly comfortable after only having wood and stone to relax on for so long. Ace came back up the Levitator, pointing down through the floor. “He’s in the Infusion room. Wanna go talk to him? It’s a pretty short walk.”
Mention of the Infusion room made Joseph queasy for a few reasons.”Y’know what…I think I’ll pass for now. I need to talk to him, but…well, anyway, tell me if he moves.”
“Okay! I guess I’ll remove these, then, if they’re not going to be needed.” Ace broke all the beds except the one Joseph was using. “Oh, I also brought these.” He produced Joseph’s phone and speaker from his pouch, offering them to Joseph. “I saw them on my anvil and remembered they were yours. I don’t know if you moved them for some reason, but I brought them up for you in case you wanted them.”
He had moved them, but Isaac had never taken the offer, of course. With Ace holding the phone and speaker out to Joseph, however, he found himself thinking. He knew how much Ace loved to research and to learn, and he knew precious little about how his powers actually worked. What if he could have Ace help him find out?
He took the implements. “Thanks, Ace. While you’re here, I was thinking. Would you like to help me learn how to use my powers? I figure that it’d be a…” Joseph just started to laugh at Ace’s starry-eyed expression. “That’s a yes, then?”
“Yes. Absolutely. I mean, the only thing I’m working on right now is the—” He clapped a hand over his mouth. “Nighttime. Blood moon. Right. Maybe it’s better if we leave that project until the morning. That’s yet another reason why this is a good idea! And I already mined out a big room for when Calamitas tried to— Ugh, this is so frustrating. I won’t say any more. Let’s go!”
Ace floated down the Arcane Levitator. Joseph followed with much more caution. Down on the first floor, he noticed the Pikmin staring at him. Why did he always get stuck with the consequences of Isaac’s actions?
Joseph went down the stairs, then followed Ace straight ahead into his Enchantment room. Rustling pages greeted him as the Enchantment Table perked up at their approach. Joseph turned right, climbed over the bookshelves, then walked through a narrow stone hallway which opened up into a spacious stone room. The room was cuboid; Joseph estimated that it had to be about ten to fifteen blocks to a side. It was well lit with torches placed on the floor and on the walls.
“Okay! Here we are!” Ace pulled some paper and his Scribing Tools out of his bag. “I figure this room should give you a great amount of space to create whatever magical effects you want to have happen. You have to choose a song for it, right? Which song do you want to use?”
Joseph turned back towards the room’s entrance. “You said Isaac’s in the Infusion room, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Can you seal the entrance?”
Ace cocked his head slightly. “Why would you need that? The Infusion room is a good distance away from this one; you’re not going to hit him with anything from here. Is it related to the noise level?”
It was related to his powers. If his curse was tied to his abilities, and the screams wanted Isaac to suffer…he didn’t really want Isaac hearing the music. It might put him at risk somehow.
“Just…close it, please.”
Ace blinked a few times, processing Joseph’s request. Then, he padded over to the room’s entrance and placed two cobblestone blocks to close it up. Joseph figured three feet of stone should be enough to block the sound, and Ace could just as easily break it when they were done.
“Thanks, Ace.” Joseph unlocked his phone and began to scroll through his playlists. “Now, then, let’s see what we’ve got here.”
Joseph didn’t want something huge. He wanted a song he could use to explore, and only to explore. He knew there were two sources of power: one from without, and one from within. He would need a song with two distinct parts in order to properly test both.
Just as he was pondering these conditions, his eyes alighted on the perfect song. It was called Arcana, so it was linked to magic by virtue of its name. Joseph remembered it had the two parts that he needed — the first part was longer and lighter, but still powerful; the second was darker and more impactful. They would map well to the external and internal power sources, respectively.
“Okay, I got it. This song’s called Arcana, and I chose it because it should fulfill all the requirements I have for testing my powers here. Ready?”
Ace sat cross-legged on the stone. “Absolutely! From the moment you said its name, I could see why you chose it. Go ahead! I’m excited!”
Joseph nodded and began the song. It started off small, then quickly began to build. At once, Joseph felt potential surrounding him. He grinned. It’s been too long, he thought. Then, he reached out and let the music diffuse through him.
He felt the connection explode into being. It felt just as incredible as he remembered, if not more. Arcana brought a feeling of inspiration and possibility, like he was on the heels of a breakthrough in answering an age-old question or making a discovery in some academic field. Ace stood. “Okay! So there’s a staff above you, and it looks like…” He quickly sketched it onto the page he was holding, then showed it to Joseph. As he had expected, it was the staff with the alpha wrapped around its central line. “Like this. I’m assuming this represents the source of your power, and that it’ll show you what you have done and what you can do by the notes placed on it. If you could use this song somehow, I’ll watch and see how it changes.”
“Okay. There’s something coming up that I can work with. My powers follow the ebb and flow of the music, after all.” Reaching back out to the energy surrounding him, Joseph formed a small orb of light in midair — his first magical effect, and the easiest for him to replicate. Ace perked up.
“There’s a note on the staff! It’s placed right at…F. Is that an F? I think it’s an F. I guess it depends on—”
“Whoa, whoa, wait. Slow down. Ace, when and where did you learn to read music?”
“Oh, I’ve done a lot of reading on all sorts of different subjects. My research takes me all over the place, and some villages have surprisingly well-stocked libraries!”
It still didn’t make sense to Joseph because there were no musical instruments in Minecraft, but he let it go. Everything Ace had said so far was information he and Isaac had already discovered. He was here to break new ground.
“All right. Well, I knew all that already. I’d like to get a few questions answered.” He let the orb scatter into stars as the song mellowed. “For starters, where does this power come from? Where is it sourced? I mean, I feel it coming in from outside, but where outside? It just seems to surround me.”
Arcana began to build again. Ace took a breath, but Joseph held up his hand for him to pause. “Hold that thought,” he said. “Let’s explore this by direct observation.”
Focusing on the song, Joseph raised his speaker. He was grateful that the room was empty and made of stone; the music reverberated off the walls and enveloped Joseph, making it much easier to feel the energy around him. He only had a few seconds until the drop hit, so he needed to come up with something to do with the song’s abilities. Theoretically, a song like Arcana would do anything the caster wanted it to do, as it had no distinct theming around its melody or name. The potential of the song combined with the thrill of using his powers again gave Joseph an idea.
The drop hit, and Joseph pulled on a new energy he knew was there. A small star came into being — not of light, but of Xenith. Joseph gasped. He could tell the difference because of how it moved and shone, radiating different hues across its surface. It took some serious concentration to keep the Xenith present in that space, and Joseph hoped that the staff was filling with notes.
Ace first scanned the Xenith. “Joseph, that’s…wow! I thought only Isaac could make this stuff!”
Joseph forced down an acerbic response. “What’s going on with my magic?”
“Oh, yeah.” Ace glanced over Joseph’s head. “Lots of notes on the staff. They’re being placed at a pretty constant rate. But I’m honestly more interested right now in what you made.” Ace’s robes glowed, and he started sniffing the Xenith that Joseph was shaping. Joseph smirked. He knew Ace was searching for its aspects. Normally, the Goggles of Revealing built into his armor would have revealed that information by sight, but for Ace they revealed it through smell. It was a quirk in the interaction between Ace_the_Yoshi’s Minecraft skin and Thaumcraft’s gear that later became a detail in the story he wrote. Going from excited to slightly confused, Ace turned his nose to Joseph’s speaker. Taking a deep breath, his jaw went slack.
“Switch to fire!”
It seemed a strange request, but Ace knew what he was doing. Joseph released the Xenith back into the fabric of reality, then sent a jet of fire out of his speaker. Looking back over at Ace, he saw that he was holding his wand. Ace pointed the wand at the speaker and drew it back, like he was pulling something out of the speaker. An ethereal strand of orange energy flowed from the speaker to the tip of Ace’s wand as he began to laugh.
“Joseph, your speaker’s an Aura Node! It’s a centralized point of concentrated magic in the atmosphere. This clearly tells me that your abilities take the magic around you and translate it through the music, bringing about the effect you want. That’s incredible!”
“Wow, okay. Thanks, Ace! Now then, let’s switch gears.” Joseph stopped the fire, then turned his attention inward, pointing the speaker towards himself. He tried to think of the music filling him; of it igniting the potential inside instead of that which was outside. He felt his existing connection sever as the source of his power changed.
“New clef.” Ace drew it on the page and showed it to Joseph. It was an epsilon connected to a jagged line. “Did you change your power source?”
“Yes, I did. This power feels like it’s internal instead of external. It’s what I used to sneak us into the palace. It feels a lot stronger somehow.”
“Okay, give it a shot!”
Closing his eyes and focusing again, Joseph drew his speaker closer to his body and extended his right hand towards the wall. He attempted to internally source some magical effect, but he couldn’t come up with a single idea. There were no ideas inside him — all he heard was screaming. But Arcana was steadily building to its second drop. He had to do something. An effect had to come out. He had to bring something from inside him out into the world. Joseph’s breathing accelerated as he began to panic. The shrieks grew louder, and the drop hit.
A beam thundered out of Joseph’s hand, pointed at the far wall. The beam was raven black, and it twisted and writhed as it devoured the stone in front of it. Joseph cried out, attempting to get his magic and himself under control. He knew this substance. Somehow, by pure force of terror and anger alone, he was creating Xepakt, and he was creating a lot of it.
“Joseph…are you okay?” Ace’s eyes, for the most part, were fixed on the staff above Joseph; every so often they flitted down to check on him. Joseph couldn’t respond without screaming himself, even as the void screamed out of him.
Then, a switch occurred. Joseph couldn’t tell the reason behind it — maybe it was because the song lost some of its intensity, or because he was getting used to casting a Xepaktrian Beam. Whatever the reason, all of a sudden…Joseph felt control. He felt some modicum of mastery over the void coming from him and the void within him. Just for that part of the song, he felt himself subjugating the destruction that had enslaved him for so long.
And, boy, did it feel good.
Joseph used this period of time to angle the beam to the side, directing it away from the hollow it was eroding — he didn’t want to break into any caves. He was able to lessen the beam’s intensity, then make it pulse to the beat of the song. He didn’t feel full control over the Xepakt, but it was far more control than he had ever felt since waking up in Minecraft.
The song ended, leaving Joseph equally grateful and disappointed. Use of the internal clef had left him light-headed and panting for breath, but he otherwise felt fine. In fact, he felt more than just fine. The screams weren’t as loud. They had gotten a chance to express themselves instead of being locked in their echo chamber, and without any harm to Isaac or anyone else. Joseph let the catharsis wash over him like he was walking out into springtime weather.
“...Wow,” concluded Ace. “That was really impressive.” He finished up his notes and put them in his bag. “I learned a lot about your powers! Here’s what I got: essentially, you have two clefs, which I’ll call the Aura Clef and the Mana Clef. The Aura Clef takes latent power from around you and actualizes it based on what you’re picturing and the structure of the song. The Mana Clef takes power from within you and weakens you as a result, but it’s the stronger of the two by far. You placed a decent amount of notes on both clefs, but neither filled up. I hypothesize that when the Aura Clef fills, your magic will simply stop, as there’s nothing left in the atmosphere to fuel the music. When the Mana Clef fills…well, knowing that it takes from your strength, that could be a lot more dangerous. Don’t fill that one.”
A memory resurfaced. “What about those songs where neither Clef appeared, like when I summoned the Pale King or the Temple?”
Thinking for a bit, Ace took his notes back out of his bag, rifled through them, and nodded. “Those songs are likely of little to no effect, but seeing as we’re in your mind right now, they echoed across and caused you to think up what you needed to find. That’s what brought in those other things — you knew about them, and you were able to encounter them because you played the songs.”
Joseph nodded. “Okay. Thank you so much for this opportunity, Ace. You can—”
He felt madness seize his mind, squeezing and wringing it as whispers surrounded him. Joseph knew from overhearing the earlier discussion that they all had Warp, and of course he was no exception. Mentally cursing Xeroc, Joseph squeezed his eyes shut, but then his eyes flew open as one of the whispers touched his consciousness. It left behind two words in its wake:
Calco Vita.
The headache vanished, leaving Joseph with the message. He remembered Ace’s quip that some knowledge only made sense to the slightly insane. He knew that he couldn’t leave the room until he understood what Calco Vita meant.
“Hey, uh…Ace?” Joseph’s head was spinning; the message continued ringing through him, over and over. “What does Calco Vita mean?”
“Calco Vita? It’s Latin. It means ‘I trample life.’ Why?”
Joseph shook his head; of course Ace knew Latin. “I think…I think strange whispers just revealed a secret to me. I got those words during a Warp headache.”
“Really?” Ace was intrigued now. “Pay attention to those. They’re important. What do you think it means?”
“I…”
Did he know? He couldn’t know. He had never heard that phrase; he had no idea what it meant…right?
“Oh! I got it!” Ace pulled out his research notes again, then scratched some more notes onto the page. “That’s the red staff.”
“The red staff? What do you mean?”
“Right, you probably didn’t notice it. When you cast that song in Calamitas’ cave, the whole staff turned bright red. I thought it had something to do with the Blood Relic Flint used at the time, but now I don’t think it did, especially with what we’ve experienced with the blood moons here.”
No, that wasn’t right. He didn’t cast any song in Calamitas’ cave. He had never cast Cry. Why would he cast Cry? It was a dark song; a torturous and deeply emotional song. Such a song could—
The screaming picked up again.
“I…didn’t cast Cry, Ace.”
“Oh. Was that the name of the song? I didn’t know; you never said.”
The voices surrounded him, shouting on every side. For the first time, Joseph realized they were not screaming at him. He knew because they had grown tongues. The shapeless figures in his head had drawn close enough to him that he could tell what they were saying.
“Well, assuming it is…yes, you did. Don’t you remember? You cast Cry in the palace. We needed to distract Yharim, and you stepped up to do it.”
What did we do?! What did we do to deserve this?
Help us! Someone! Anyone! Can anyone hear us? Please!
You think you can burn me? I’ll burn you alive for this!

“No…I…I didn’t…”
Slowly, slowly…they grew faces.
“What happened to me?!”
Cry. Power. Mana. Change. Voices. Horror. Agony. Screaming. Screaming. Screaming—
A visceral shout wracked Joseph as he fell to the ground, his mind spiraling into deepest, darkest terror. The curse was linked to his powers; it was linked to Cry. It had come upon him when the magic took control of him, working its will using him as a vessel. A song of the Calco Vita type would cast the one playing it, using the Mana Clef like a parasite, draining the life from the magician. He had survived the casting, but what had it left behind?
“Whoa, Joseph!” Ace ran up to him. “Can I—”
“Get me out of here!”
Immediately, Ace broke the cobblestone over the entrance. Joseph sprinted out of the room, stumbling as he ran, tearing up the stairs and throwing himself into the Arcane Levitator. Hyperventilating now, all Joseph could do was replay the exhumed event over and over in his mind. The horror of the screaming had increased a hundredfold, because now he saw who was screaming, and now he saw its purpose.
But it was when he allowed himself to think back before Cry that all he was feeling condensed into a frigid razor’s edge.
His expression went blank, and his breathing became slow, precise, controlled…murderous. Murderous? Yes, murderous. Joseph remembered now. He saw the one standing behind it all.
He saw a line drawn down his cheek, and a hand rubbed in a circle across his chest.

Chapter 28: Terminus

Chapter Text

Chapter 28

Terminus

~ X ~

A ray of sunlight pierced the Infusion room. Isaac snapped awake, jumping down to the floor. Walking with long strides, he left the room, turned, and climbed up the stairs to the first floor. He saw Ace at his Research Table, writing some notes.
“Morning, Ace,” Isaac greeted him. “We can get to work on the Terminus now.”
“Okay, sure! Just give me a second.”
Isaac waited about that long. Seeing Ace’s Thaumonomicon on the Arcane Worktable next to him, Isaac reached out to pick it up. Ace instantly dropped what he was doing and grabbed the book, clutching it to his chest defensively.
“Don’t…don’t touch that.”
“I just wanted to see the notes for the Terminus. Can I help you make it?”
“Yeah, sure. I just…have to finish up what I’m writing here.”
Isaac sighed. “Isn’t there a way you can copy your research notes? Could I have a copy to use?”
“Well, yes, but that requires having the completed research note in hand. I’ve already put those notes in my Thaumonomicon. I can’t just take them back out. I’m not going to tear pages out of the book. I don’t know if they’d bind back to the spine again.”
“Then could you copy the book?”
“I could, but…” After some thought, Ace ran downstairs, then came back upstairs and crafted a bookshelf. He tapped his wand to the block, and it collapsed into a single tome: another Thaumonomicon. Ace placed the new Thaumonomicon on his Arcane Worktable, surrounding it with paper on three sides and placing his Scribing Tools above it. The items changed the book into a Tome of Knowledge Sharing, which Ace held aloft. Strands of light moved from his Thaumonomicon into the tome, filling it with all that Ace had learned. Isaac reached out to take the new book, but Ace lowered it and put it on his Research Table. He wasn’t done.
Ace opened the book and methodically began tearing out pages, one by one. Looking over the stack he had compiled, Ace nodded, then closed the tome and pulled out his wand. Picking up the torn book, he looked from the book in his hand to the book still under his arm, then back again, then back a third time and a fourth. He placed a focus on his wand, then looked between the books another time, then another. Convinced of which book was which, Ace tapped his wand to the book in his hand, and it burst into flames. He put his wand away and patted the stack of research notes.
“Everything you need is right here.”
Rather perturbed, Isaac took the notes. He had really underestimated Ace’s paranoia. “Thanks,” he muttered as he went back down the stairs.
He looked through the notes. Ace had given him a copy of the Ichorium Terminus’ recipe, as well as copies of the notes on the Magic Mirror, the Magic Hand Mirror, Nitor, and Hyperenergetic Nitor. Enclosed were also lists of all the items Ace had found that had any given aspect. Isaac appreciated how meticulous Ace was — he could get to work quickly and not need any help.
The first thing Isaac found to do was the Magic Mirror Infusion. It required three Gold Ingots, an Ender Pearl, Mirrored Glass, and some Essentia. To start, Isaac could at least get the gold and the pearl. Knowing Joseph wasn’t downstairs to stop him, Isaac wandered through Ace’s artificial cave system, looking for his storage room. It wasn’t connected to the Essentia room outside the Infusion room, or to the Infernal Furnace’s room. Walking into the Enchantment room, Isaac saw three hallways branching off of it. He could see that the hallway in front of him held Ace’s Nether Portal, so he tried the right passageway. The room he found was empty and spacious; Isaac knew that it was the room Ace had dug for Calamitas when the chunk of Ichorium was first made. Seeing a deep crater on the far wall, Isaac reminded himself yet again not to cross Calamitas. He certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of whatever caused that.
Exiting the barren room, Isaac took the hallway in front of him and found Ace’s storage room. The chests were placed in columns, organized using signs. Isaac took the three Gold Ingots from the chest labeled “Ores, Bars, and Gems,” as well as one Ender Pearl from the Mob Drops chest. Walking back to the Infusion room — why in the world did Ace have to have these two rooms so far apart? — he placed the items on the side pedestals exactly as the recipe stated. Looking at the note again, Isaac noticed that Ace had the recipe for Mirrored Glass on the back of the sheet, so it was back to the storage room for Quicksilver and a Glass Pane. Ace had no glass in his Crafted Materials chest, but he had sand in the Natural Resources chest. Isaac took six sand to the Infernal Furnace, dropping it in the top and receiving the glass it spit out the front. He then took the glass and the Quicksilver up the stairs to make Mirrored Glass at the Arcane Worktable.
He barely noticed that there was anyone else in the room. Isaac’s pace of work was fluid — not like a river, but like a breaking dam. He threw the glass onto the Arcane Worktable, then placed the Quicksilver next to one of the panes it produced. Without looking over, Ace tapped the table with his wand, forming Mirrored Glass with a green and orange flash. He continued to write. What was he researching? What could possibly be so important? Isaac knew it wasn’t more important than the Terminus.
Whatever. Isaac plodded down the stairs. That’s why I’m working on this right now and not him.
Putting the Mirrored Glass on the central pedestal, Isaac looked again at the recipe. From the symbols drawn on the bottom, he could tell that the Infusion required Iter, Tenebrae, and Permutatio Essentia — eight points of each. The Essentia counts made Isaac think that it’d be an easy Infusion, but that thought soon vanished when he saw the wall of Warded Jars Ace kept in his Essentia room. The jars were unlabeled, with the color of the Essentia inside as the only guide to what type of Essentia they contained. Isaac saw a jar with inky black fluid in it, but he had no way of telling whether it held Tenebrae or Perditio Essentia; the colors were too similar. He certainly didn’t want to open it, as he had no idea what would happen in that case.
But he couldn’t stop working. The time he had was all too finite, and each night brought the group closer to tearing itself apart. Isaac began to pace. If he couldn’t tell what Essentia was in each jar, he couldn’t do any Infusions. He needed to be absolutely assured that each Infusion would complete without a hitch. How could he tell the type of Essentia in each jar without opening it?
Isaac took the jar with the black fluid. It looked like Tenebrae, but he couldn’t tell. If he took the wrong Essentia type, the Infusion would halt and instability events would begin. He couldn’t risk the process failing, so he needed a surefire method of identifying each Essentia type. He needed to know he had what he needed. Was there something that could tell him?
He rifled through the notes Ace gave him. Nothing of the sort was in those pages. He didn’t have Goggles of Revealing or anything with the same functionality. He glanced through the aspect list again, and an idea hit him like a creeper’s blast. Placing the jar back on the wall, Isaac hastened to Ace’s storage room. He took two Gold Ingots, one sand block, and two Fire Shards from the Ores, Bars, and Gems chest. Next, he went to the Infernal Furnace and smelted the sand into glass; he then took all the items back to the Crafting Table in the corner of the storage room. He placed the items down in a plus shape with the glass in the center, the Fire Shards along the vertical, and the gold across the horizontal. The items combined into a Thaumometer. Isaac held up the looking glass, satisfaction welling in his chest — as well as gratefulness that he remembered some of Thaumcraft’s basic recipes. With this, he could make some real progress.
Isaac returned to the Essentia room with a spring in his step. He pointed the Thaumometer at the first jar he saw, and it cheerfully told him the jar’s aspects: one Aqua. The jar had a gray fluid inside it; Isaac had expected the Thaumometer to read some level of Ordo, Motus, Metallum, or some other gray aspect. Every jar had the same reading, which told him absolutely nothing.
Could he transfer the Essentia into some other item that would have a reading? Searching again through his thaumaturgical memory banks, Isaac remembered another item: the Glass Phial. Once again, Isaac went back to the storage room and picked up some sand to smelt — three this time. The glass together with one clay made eight phials. Isaac kept all eight with him just in case. There was no way he was making unnecessary trips to the storage room.
Isaac entered the Essentia room and picked up the jar with the gray fluid. He saw a small indent in the lid, and he discovered that the indent fit the mouth of the phial perfectly. He tipped the jar upside down with the phial attached, and the phial filled with Essentia even though the lid was on. He placed the jar down and set the phial on the stone floor, then pointed his Thaumometer at the phial. It started to scan…and kept scanning…and didn’t stop. The device kept clicking, but it never gave the ding that signified it was done. Confused, Isaac filled another phial with Essentia and attempted to scan it, but he had the same problem. He tried jar after jar until he found one that worked. That jar, Isaac found, was filled with Perditio Essentia, the phial’s reading coming up on the Thaumometer as eight Perditio. This reading only had a primal aspect, which left Isaac with a single conclusion. He groaned. The Thaumometer wasn’t going to allow him to get readings of compound aspects unless he discovered them through scanning. Why? As much as he hated to admit it, Isaac could find no other explanation than Thaumcraft’s game mechanics. He was in the world of Thaumcraft, and he would have to play by its rules.
It took far too long for Isaac to scan everything he needed. Isaac found the process of rediscovering each aspect to involve a complicated web of dependencies, which was unveiled after he had exhausted Ace’s Essentia wall. Going through chest after chest, he found he couldn’t get the simpler aspects from the items he expected to give them, since most items had several aspects. It took a long while of rummaging through Ace’s chests, paging through the aspect list, and scanning item after item, coming up empty again and again. At long last, Isaac was able to take a phial of Essentia from every jar on the wall and have his Thaumometer tell him what the phial held each time. He was also able to scan a piece of flint in Ace’s storage, revealing the absurdly complex Instrumentum aspect. Before he left the storage room and went back to making the Terminus, Isaac took a stick and some iron and made himself a simple wand so he could start the Infusion process without Ace’s help. Then, taking four Quicksilver for Permutatio Essentia and crafting some rails for Iter, he walked back to the Essentia room again.
On the way out, he ran into Ace in the Enchantment room. Ace saw the Thaumometer and wand in Isaac’s hand, then gasped in awe. “Isaac…did you make those?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. I’m…that makes me so happy. I’m so proud of you, Isaac. I remember being exactly where you were, still learning, still discovering — I mean, that’s not to say I’ve stopped learning and discovering, but still — and everything was so new and so exciting to me, and…wow. I could cry. I really mean it.”
Ace regained his composure. Isaac only noticed that he was blocking the way out. He tried obviously peering over Ace’s shoulder, but Ace didn’t get the hint.
“I’m going to the Nether to get the Wither Skeleton Skull we need,” he continued. “I’ll be back soon. Keep researching and keep learning! It leads to incredible places and amazing discoveries, and it does exact a bit of a cost, but it’s worth it in the end! Okay. We haven’t got a moment to lose! I’ll see you soon!”
He finally left. Isaac strode back into the Essentia room, inspecting Ace’s Alchemical Furnace. It looked just as he expected it to look — Ace must have removed everything else he put around it to automate the process two nights before. There was plenty of coal fueling it, so Isaac put the Quicksilver into the slot on top. The furnace began melting the items down, producing an Essentia slurry that it fed into the two Arcane Alembics on top of it. Isaac pointed his Thaumometer at the lower alembic, but once again it only gave the aspects of the alembic, not those of the Essentia inside. With a prodigious sigh, Isaac decided he didn’t want to mess with using phials this time. He would have to guess what Essentia was in the alembics.
The smelting process and the trial and error of placing jars resulted in more waiting. Juggling jars for Metallum, Permutatio, and Venenum Essentia, Isaac found it took far too much time for the eighth point of Permutatio Essentia to drip into the jar. Placing the rails in the furnace next, he tried to collect Metallum Essentia from the lower alembic, then Iter — but a couple extra points of Venenum Essentia still left over from the Quicksilver trickled into the empty jar. It took even more time for Isaac to drain the Essentia into the existing jar of Venenum using Ace’s Essentia Funnel. Isaac took the jars of Permutatio and Iter and placed them in the Infusion room, along with the jar of Tenebrae that Ace had already prepared. Lastly, he took his new wand and tapped the Runic Matrix. The Infusion began, and Isaac was too busy waiting for it to be over to be awed by the process. After the Runic Matrix took the Essentia, it occurred to Isaac that the Magic Mirror could simply stay on the central pedestal for the next Infusion anyway, so he didn’t need to be there to take it once it was done. He left the room, kicking himself for the waste of time.
Taking some sugar cane, some iron, and some redstone, Isaac made the compass and map required for the Magic Hand Mirror. He placed those items and a stick down on the auxiliary pedestals in the Infusion room, then took the empty jars and put them back on the wall in the Essentia room. It was back to the storage room for flint, then back again to the Essentia room to melt it down to get Instrumentum Essentia. Isaac’s legs were getting quite tired.
More waiting for the smelting process. Sixteen points of Instrumentum Essentia dripped into the jar, one by one by one. Isaac raced back into the Infusion room, placed the Instrumentum jar on the wall, and started the second Infusion. This one he had to sit and watch, since the item had to be moved after it was made. Isaac’s knee bounced and his eyebrows stayed low. This Infusion seemed to take much longer than the previous one.
As soon as the Magic Hand Mirror sparked into existence, Isaac snatched it off the central pedestal and threw it onto one of the side pedestals. At long, long last, it was time for the final Infusion: the Ichorium Terminus. All of his work was finally going to pay off.
Isaac met Ace in the Essentia room. He was holding a soot-colored skull which was a good deal larger than a human’s. The macabre sight unnerved Isaac, but Ace had no problem whatsoever with holding the skull, of course. “Hey, Isaac!” he said. “Find out anything new recently? Did you set up a Research Table and an Arcane Worktable anywhere? I’d love to help guide you along as you start learning!”
Isaac gestured towards the Infusion room. “Hand mirror’s done.”
“Oh, wonderful! That’ll save us a lot of time. Here, let me put down the stuff I have.” Ace walked into the Infusion room, placing down all the remaining items required except the Hyperenergetic Nitor. He then passed by Isaac, who followed him into the Infernal Furnace’s room. Ace activated his armor and stuck his hand directly into the open front of the furnace, then pulled it out like it had just been immersed in lukewarm water, not scalding lava.
“I put enough cobblestone from my Black Hole Ring into the furnace to make all the Chiseled Stone Bricks we’ll need for the Ordo Essentia,” he explained. “I’d appreciate it if you could stay here, collect the stone, and craft it into the form that we need. You can do that by putting it in a two by two square in the crafting grid and then doing that again with the yield. I’ll be smelting the rest of the items we need for Essentia and trying to figure out where we’re going to get Terminus Essentia. I certainly don’t think we can melt Calamitas down into Essentia, and even then she wouldn’t give enough, so that's a dead end for a few reasons, even though she’s the only place I’ve found this new aspect.”
Isaac snorted. “I’m sure the Fist would appreciate it if you could, though.”
Ace half laughed, half groaned. “Yeah. You’re right. I think we’re all a bit sick of that.”
He returned to the Essentia room, leaving Isaac to wait once again. The furnace spat out stone blocks with regularity but not haste. Isaac began to count them, then stopped once he realized he had missed several at the start of the process. After an eternity, the furnace stopped. Isaac gathered up the stone, all but sprinted to the storage room, and crafted the Chiseled Stone Bricks. He took them to Ace in the Essentia room, who was pacing around deep in thought about the Terminus aspect.
“I brought the bricks,” Isaac announced. Ace stopped in his tracks and approached Isaac, who handed him the Chiseled Stone Bricks. Ace promptly took them over to the Alchemical Furnace and began collecting Ordo Essentia.
“So, do you have any ideas as to where we can get Terminus Essentia? I was originally thinking that we could go get some stuff from Calamitas’ world, but then I remembered Xeroc doesn’t want us back there, so that removes that possibility. Nothing in my world has the Terminus aspect as far as I know, and since I don’t know about it yet, I highly doubt it’s renewable. Any thoughts?”
“Not really. Trust me, I want to get this done just as much as you do, so if I get any ideas I’ll tell you right away.”
“Got it. It really is a shame that the Ichorium doesn’t accept Calamitas’ magic. Otherwise she could just infuse it direc—”
Ace lit up with inspiration. His armor glowing, he zipped out of the room, then returned in a flash with Calamitas at his side. She spoke a curse — but not an arcane one. “Could you at least give a warning next time, lihzahrd?”
“Sorry. I get excited. So! Isaac, I’ve found the solution to our problem!” Ace stepped between the two, pacing a tight circle and gesticulating excitedly. “Calamitas is the one who made the Terminus a Terminus, right? It was her magic that was instrumental in creating this artifact in its first incarnation. She is our source of Terminus after all! All she has to do is present her magic, and the Runic Matrix should translate it into the form needed. Yes, it’s not Essentia, but Calamitas is powerful enough and practiced enough to give a magical signature so strong that it’ll give the concentration the Runic Matrix needs!” He stopped, a huge grin on his face. “It’s the perfect solution!”
“Wonderful.” Isaac entered the Infusion room. “Let’s get to it.”
“Isaac, wait.” Calamitas followed him into the room; he turned to face her. “I am not familiar with this particular ritual, but the one thing I know about every arcane ritual no matter the type of magic is that no such process is ever short.” She pointed up to the skylight. Isaac stared into the orange evening sky with unease. What was Calamitas saying?
Ace came into the room, looking up as well. “Oh! Of course. It is a bit late, yeah. If this Infusion carries over into the night, that could be a big problem. No worries! We’ll just do it in the morning, bright and early. Perfect! I’ll just grab the stuff off the pedestals.”
He made a move for the central pedestal, only to be blocked by Isaac. “Ace…what are you doing?”
“Well, we’re not doing this tonight. If Xeroc sees all this set up, he’d put together the pieces right away.”
The words struck Isaac like a death sentence. If they didn’t complete the Infusion that night, they would have to stay in Minecraft. He couldn’t survive a fourth night under the red moon. None of them could.
“No, Ace.” Isaac stood resolute, staring the Yoshi down. “This is happening. Daylight is fading, so we had better get on it. Start the Infusion.”
Calamitas hastened towards Isaac. “What do you mean, ‘this is happening?’” she challenged, confusion and even distress in her voice. “I know you know exactly who you’re up against. Do you want to invoke Xeroc’s wrath?”
She was invoking Isaac’s. “That’s not going to happen. Infusions don’t take as long as you think they do. We’re running out of time!”
“We’ve already run out, Isaac. Trust me, night comes quickly, and Infusions like this one take a good amount of time — more than we have. I’m sorry.” With those words, Ace edged around Isaac, reaching for the central pedestal.
Isaac reached into his pocket. He only had an instant to do what he must. He had some say now in thaumaturgical proceedings, after all. Isaac threw his wand into the air, then slammed his arms into the crossed position. With Xenith, he grabbed the wand telekinetically, hurling it at the Runic Matrix.
Time seemed to slow as Ace watched the Iron Capped Wooden Wand, enveloped in violet creative energy, hurtling towards the Runic Matrix, growing closer, closer…
Isaac’s wand struck the Runic Matrix, and immediately it gave a hum, indicating the Infusion had begun. Ace stopped dead in his tracks. “Isaac, did you just—?!”
“Calamitas, now!”
Her hand was forced. Calamitas extended her arm, which glowed deep red from shoulder to fingertip. Crimson vapor began pouring from it into the Runic Matrix. Ace’s hypothesis was correct, as Isaac knew it was. The Terminus was coming into being. All of his work was going to pay off.
It was then that Isaac noticed two missing jars on the wall and one missing item on the pedestals. He wasn’t scared. They had time.
The Runic Matrix drank its fill of Terminus and began to partake of Alienis. Calamitas lowered her arm, staring at the Infusion and barely daring to move. Ace was in the Essentia room, fumbling with his jars. He bolted in and placed one on the wall — Ordo. Soon after he placed the jar, it began to drain. Next in the Infusion to be absorbed was Lux Essentia, which Ace was still using to make Hyperenergetic Nitor. Starting to feel pressed for time, Isaac looked up and saw twilight. He called upon his Amulet, throwing earth at the ceiling and covering their ritual from any prying eyes. Ace had almost two thousand candles. The drop in stability was negligible, and it was a small price to pay for time.
The jar of Ordo emptied, and there was no jar of Lux. The Infusion came to a screeching halt. The Runic Matrix began to twist erratically, violet lightning crackling out of its core. One of the bolts struck the Primordial Pearl, removing it from its pedestal. Using Xenith, Isaac grabbed it telekinetically, replacing it. Ace flashed into the room, placing the jar of Lux and the Hyperenergetic Nitor. The Lux began to drain. Calamitas was breathing heavily, a faint tremble in her fingertips. The jar emptied. The Primordial Pearl began to dissolve into the Ichorium. The matrix flared; a bolt of lightning crashed into the Diamond, and it melted into sickly purple Flux Goo with a gurgle. Isaac instantly teleported to Ace’s storage room and rifled through his Ores, Bars, and Gems chest for a replacement. He teleported back to place it, and Ace was there, covering the Flux Goo and Flux Gas left behind with cobblestone. The Ichor flew into the Ichorium as well. Ace broke the cobblestone above them to restore the symmetry of the room. Three items were left. The matrix whispered louder. Calamitas was still shaking. Two items. Ace landed. Lightning flashed. One. Isaac approached the central pedestal, reaching out towards the item sitting on top of it…
The eye of the Terminus exploded into being. The Infusion was complete.
Isaac took hold of the Terminus, clutching it closely to his chest. He turned around, visibly shaking. None of them moved as Isaac held the Terminus. Then, slowly, Calamitas began to walk forward.
“Do you have any idea, boy, the forces that you were just—”
A golden flash. Isaac found himself on the ground, and Ace_the_Yoshi had his knee on his chest. The thaumaturge had his Awakened Ichorium Sword laid directly across Isaac’s throat. There was not an ounce of pity or a shred of emotion on his face.
“Never. Do that. Again.”
Isaac’s heart nearly stopped. He nodded, terrified out of his wits. Ace stood after a time, and Isaac got to his feet, still clutching the artifact. The others turned and curtly left the room.
Isaac got his first good look at the item in his hands.
After so long…after so much pain, so much battling, so much strife…it was his. Wakefulness was in his hands. He stared at his Terminus as it stared back at him. Then, he left the Infusion room, not looking back.
It would all be over soon.

Chapter 29: Stained, Brutal Calamity

Chapter Text

Chapter 29

Stained, Brutal Calamity

~ X ~

Isaac emerged from the basement with his Terminus in his arms. The others were waiting for him; everyone was inside. The responses of the Pikmin upon seeing his Terminus ranged from awe to relief. Flint, of course, was the first one to come up and stare at his artifact.
“You did it! You made a new Terminus! How’d you do it?”
“A quick Infusion. I’ll tell you about it later. We need to get out of here before nightfall.”
That was a sentiment Flint understood. He backed up as Isaac thought of ways they could escape Ace’s world. He remembered his Amulet. “I could probably—”
“Isaac,” Ace interrupted, “give me the Terminus.”
Isaac reflexively hugged the artifact to himself. “Why?”
“It was made in my world with my resources at the risk of everything I own. It’s mine.”
Looking at Ace, Isaac began to think he should comply with the request. He still had his sword drawn, and Isaac knew that, in this emotionless state, Ace wouldn’t blink at removing one of his arms to get his Terminus. He wasn’t going to ask again.
Reluctantly, Isaac let his arm fall, then handed his Terminus to Ace. He snatched it and looked around. “We need a way out of here and back to Isaac’s mind,” he began. “The way we got here was through me using my Celestial Recall focus, which is linked to the Celestial Gateway I have placed in front of my house. I don’t know of any kind of anchor to Isaac’s mind that we could invoke. Do you, Isaac?”
“I could probably make a portal back.” Isaac crossed his arms, then realized the Amulet was empty. Frequent use of telekinesis and teleportation during the crafting process had taken their toll. “I’m going to need a refill, though, if you all wouldn’t mind.”
Bolt didn’t even try to shock Isaac this time — they were all too anxious to get out. As Isaac kept filling his Amulet, he noticed the Shadow Fist glance at the door. He looked back towards Calamitas and jerked his head towards it.
“Oh, what, am I your personal bodyguard now?” she accused. Isaac felt immense exasperation; he and some of the others couldn’t help but groan out loud. Besides the blood moons, the feud between the Fist and Calamitas was the most aggravating and demoralizing part of being in Minecraft.
“Call it what you want,” the Fist replied, not even bothering to make eye contact. “Night is coming soon, if it isn’t here already. You seemed ever so eager to help us last night. What’s keeping you from doing the same tonight?”
“This is your job. You’re the one who constantly boasts about the night making you strong, yet you act like everything is so awfully hard for you.” She stuck an accusatory finger in his face. “You know nothing. Now get us out of this world, or stand aside and let another do it for you.”
“Nothing?” The shadow looked down at her, his Xepaktrian eyes burning. “I know what it’s like to be misunderstood everywhere you go by everyone you meet. I know what it’s like to have to fight to get what you want, to get what is best for all, while those who claim to know what that is keep it out of your reach.”
At that moment, Calamitas cried out, her hand gripping her head. Yharim’s curse was in full force tonight. “You, however, do not,” resumed the Shadow Fist, taking no notice of her pain. “Undoubtedly you have had everything handed to you on Yharim’s silver platter. You know nothing of strife.”
Her hand dropped to her side, slack. She made no reaction. Isaac’s Amulet was now full, and he was left reeling from the sheer stupidity, the sheer ignorance of what the Shadow Fist had just claimed. Calamitas’ entire family had been crucified before her eyes. Her brothers had been twisted and deformed by her own necromancy in an attempt to bring them back. The atrocities she had committed under Yharim’s orders weighed on her mind, even as his curse drove it to its limits. The witch Calamitas knew strife better than any other in that room.
The shadow had the audacity to wear a smug smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?”
And all Hell broke loose.
With an unholy shriek, Calamitas unleashed a torrent of brimstone, plunging the Fist against the back wall. Those in the room recoiled; the Shadow Fist gave a roar of agony that could no doubt be heard for miles around. No one could possibly stop her; all they could do was watch. Something clattered to the floor next to Isaac, and he didn’t even care to check what it was. After an eternity, she relaxed, and the Fist crumpled to the floor. With a quavering voice, she made a single statement:
“That is what I have been through.”
Silence ruled the space. Then, the Shadow Fist began to stir. He started to heave himself to his feet, moving as if he were standing in a floodlight. He stood up straight.
And he began to laugh.
The laugh was dark, cynical, raucous. The entire space dimmed as the Shadow Fist expressed his bitter jubilation. “Finally,” he said. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for that. Thank you, Calamitas.”
His arms threw themselves into the sign for shadow as the darkness in him blazed. “Now I have an excuse.”
The Shadow Fist moved faster than Isaac’s eyes could track him. He heard an impact and saw the Fist pointed like an arrow in midair, his fist striking a scarlet shield surrounding Calamitas. The shield was unmarred, and the witch unimpressed.
“Well. Couldn’t leave it well enough alone, could you?” She turned and looked over her shoulder at him. “Fine. Let’s settle this — now.”
“What? No, stop!” Isaac tried to grab the Fist, but he vanished, reappearing outside. Calamitas walked out the door, and Isaac sprinted outside to see the witch and the shadow now facing each other. No hostile mobs were in sight — they had already gotten a taste of Calamitas’ magic, and they didn’t want to risk getting another. The witch’s eyes glowed red from inside her hood.
The rest of those inside were now outside, piling up behind Isaac. “You know, shadow, I can’t imagine why you’ve been asking for this.” The door closed behind the group as Supreme Witch Calamitas lifted into the air, an unfathomable amount of dark magic concentrating around her. “Do you enjoy going through Hell?”
The magic exploded off of her, and skull-shaped clumps of brimstone began to fall from the sky above. The Shadow Fist began to teleport erratically, placing himself wherever it was safe. He sent some dark projectiles of his own, but they passed straight through Calamitas, not even attempting to leave a mark. More brimstone began moving towards the Fist from behind Calamitas. He suspended himself in midair, flying through the gaps, teleporting when necessary. Isaac noticed that, although he didn’t want to show it, he was struggling to avoid getting hit. The horizontal assault continued as the vertical attack resumed. The Fist’s movement became much quicker as he veered from one safe spot to another. He looked front, then up, then front again, straining to keep track of all that was against him.
One of the skulls connected. The Fist instantly fell to the ground in a heap. The attack didn’t stop; more brimstone was progressing towards the shadow. A flash of white and gold streaked out from behind Isaac and cut through the attack, then a burst of mulberry engulfed Calamitas. The brimstone vanished, and Calamitas, Ace, and Toxin fell to the ground.
Ace was in a coughing fit. Toxin started apologizing profusely; Ace just shook his head. Isaac ran over to them and checked on Calamitas — obviously, she wasn’t dead, but Toxin’s poison had knocked her out. Ace was hacking, Toxin was still apologizing, and the house was humming. They were all going insane.
Next, Isaac went to the Shadow Fist, who was still on the ground. He looked like he was barely alive. Isaac knelt down and was about to chastise him for getting into the fight in the first place, but he couldn’t after hearing the Fist speak:
“One…hit…”
And as the words left his mouth, Isaac’s gaze pierced Ace’s house. All else stopped. The house wasn’t humming; that wasn’t a hum. It was music. What Isaac had interpreted as a hum was a song, and it was a song that he recognized.
Isaac bolted to the house and crashed through the door. The sight that greeted him there made his blood boil. There, on the ground, lay his Terminus. And standing over it, his speaker pointed towards the Terminus, was Joseph. The song playing was Ego Death, and there was only one thing that song was good for.
He was going to destroy it. Joseph was going to destroy the Terminus. Everything Isaac had worked for. All he had done. All he had accomplished. He was going to destroy Isaac’s hope of wakefulness with a single song.
Everything went pitch black.
Somewhere behind Isaac, there was screaming. Somewhere in that house, Pikmin were crying out desperately for him to stop. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Hands reached for him; arms locked around his shoulders, pulling him off of his doppelganger, restraining him.
How dare they.
Isaac kicked and struck his restrainer, but Ace’s Ichorcloth armor protected him well. Isaac couldn’t cross his arms; all it did when he tried was fling the blood on his forefists onto the walls. Yes, his twin’s blood was on his hands. He would keep hitting him. He wanted to. He needed to. He had to protect what was his. But Ace wouldn’t let him go. Ace was dooming them all.
The clone stood, wiping his blood off his face. His expression was twisted into a mask of apoplexy, as if he could slaughter Isaac through eye contact alone. He couldn’t speak, but his head snapped down to face Plasmin.
“We fight outside,” Plasmin relayed with a small voice.
Isaac nodded. Too hastily? Not at all.
Ace hesitantly let Isaac go. Took him long enough. Isaac took a measured step towards his copy, then another. He demonstratively crossed his arms. This cursed, misguided imitation of himself didn’t stand a chance in a fight, and Isaac wanted him to know that. And if he grabbed his arms again, they could start their fight right then and there.
The clone simply left. Isaac dropped his arms and followed him. What tune would he choose? Challenger? Showdown? Rivals? Isaac didn’t care. He had creativity itself on his side. As he stood and faced his copy, a new interpretation of that fraud’s favorite line of the prophecy came to mind.
Perhaps severance undone didn’t look like combining or aligning the two of them. Perhaps it had never meant that. Perhaps it meant that there could only be one.
And, between the two of them, Isaac thought it was quite obvious who deserved that spot.

Chapter 30: Calco Vita

Chapter Text

Chapter 30

Calco Vita

~ X ~

Isaac’s twin unlocked his phone, pulled up a song, restarted and paused it, and put the phone away after turning the volume back up. Keeping his speaker in his right hand, he pointed it at himself and his left pointer finger at Isaac, who crossed his arms. The battle had begun.
From the first surge of sound that emanated from the speaker, Isaac recognized the song. It was not one he had expected. The song was called 322, and it was very likely the most intense song on his playlists. Clearly the clone was going all out.
A black tendril snaked out of his extended finger. Isaac stared it down, unmoving. He knew exactly when it would strike — he knew this song just as well as his opponent. He would parry it as soon as it did.
But his opponent knew him, too, and that was why the tendril struck before Isaac expected it to. It pierced straight through his mind, stabbing out the other side but leaving no visible wound. At that moment when Isaac thought the tendril would have attacked — that moment when 322’s melody first began — a twist of the hand brought information through the tendril, bombarding Isaac’s mind with images and feelings.
He was in Calamitas’ cave in Yharim’s palace, his arm extended towards an arcane communication link. He felt the magic of Cry, the song he was casting, coursing through him, radiating from somewhere inside him. Then, he felt the magic change, and suddenly it began to devour him. The song had left his control, and it was now casting him, using him for its own ends like a wax candle set alight. The song Cry belonged to a category known as Calco Vita — songs that trample life; magical parasites.
In addition, the song’s effect brought something else into his mind. He heard screaming, and not just any screaming, but the screaming of voices he recognized. He heard Blue begging for mercy. Flint crying out to be heard by someone, anyone. Ember roaring promises of revenge. And all the rest added their voices to the tortured chorus. With each voice, he felt Cry sink its teeth deeper and deeper into his heart. And he didn’t know it then, but those voices would never leave him. They would become a part of his psyche, forever pleading with him to end their suffering.
Why all of this? How had this agony come about? He now saw himself as if in a mirror, drawing his finger down his cheek, rubbing his hand in a circle across his chest. “Cry. Please!”
And how did he respond to the summons? He did it. He went and cast the song, because he had made the fatal mistake of trusting himself.

The tendril vanished. Returning to the battlefield with fresh eyes and a broken heart, Isaac found himself face to face with Joseph, the one he had condemned. To Isaac’s shock and horror, Joseph crossed his arms, his left arm horizontal with his hand in a fist, and his right arm vertical with the fingers flared around his speaker. A sigil like a trident with crooked prongs blazed before the sign, signifying that Xepakt — void; pure destruction — was under Joseph’s command. Right before the first drop hit, Joseph murmured three words, his voice as low and bitter as the song behind it:
“You deserve this.”
The staff above Joseph’s head surged, and a raven black beam of annihilation exploded out of Joseph’s left hand as he extended it towards Isaac, his guttural scream matching the one that played in 322. It was all Isaac could do to raise a Xenithian Shield, but even that was struggling to exist within the destructive onslaught. Isaac ran to the side; the beam followed him. Hairline cracks appeared in his shield. His Amulet, which he had just filled, was running out of power. Crossing his arms and shooting them upwards, he tried to teleport behind Joseph, but he felt the void around him cancel the movement. The shield broke.
Isaac collapsed. Xepakt surrounded him on all sides, crushing him. He couldn’t move; all he could do was scream. He had experienced mental torture when Calamitas had looked through his memories, and he had experienced physical torture when the first Terminus had broken, but this was a torture far more excruciating than anything he had ever been subjected to. Calamitas only reached his mind, and the brimstone from the Terminus only wracked his body. Xepakt seized his whole self: body, mind, and heart. He couldn’t think about anything else; he couldn’t feel anything else. All he could do was feel exactly what Joseph wanted him to feel — exactly what Isaac had put him through. It burned like acid and stung like a best friend’s betrayal.
The drop finished; the void left him. Straining to even move, Isaac looked up at Joseph, a cold sweat on his forehead and a tremor in his frame. He tried to talk, to reason with this angel of death, but no words came out.
“That’s how it felt when you chose Xeroc over all of us,” Joseph said. “You threw us all away to make your Terminus. It was all you could ever think about. Do you have any idea how frustrating that was?”
He tried again to speak, voicing two words in a piteous moan. “Please…Joseph—”
“My name is Isaac, and it’s about freaking time you started using it!” His voice was raw by this point; his expression was desperate, and his eyes full of hateful tears. “I’m done being an accessory to your story. I’m done being a side character! This is my mind, too!”
Joseph lifted into the air. “I’ll prove it,” he cried. For reasons unknown to him, Isaac felt himself being regenerated by the song’s magic. The second drop hit.
A vortex of swirling blues and yellows surrounded them as Joseph sent a ring of red shockwaves crashing around the arena. Running and diving forward to avoid them, Isaac realized he recognized this scene — Joseph was making a reference. He was pulling on something only they understood, proving that they were alike. He threw glass beakers filled with water at Isaac, who was able to pick one up and put its contents into his Amulet.
For the next section of 322, Joseph appeared as a twisted specter of scarlet flame. Fire ballooned around him, issuing outwards in loose columns of fireballs. Isaac dodged and absorbed what he could. He wasn’t used to seeing this attack in three dimensions.
Crackling with violet energy, Joseph took control of portions of the ground, bringing them flying up and crashing down. While doing so, he sent lasers and energy orbs towards Isaac, who found them to be made of light. The Amulet was almost full.
Joseph surrounded himself with legions of fish, making a much more niche reference, but one that Isaac still understood. Some of the fish attacked Isaac, and he fought them off with physical force, wanting to save his Amulet for 322’s last drop. When he turned his attention back to Joseph, he saw the swirling creatures had woven a complex electrical web. Quickly calling on his Amulet, Isaac absorbed as much of the cosmic thunderbolt as he could; the rest arced through him with exploding force.
Isaac dropped to a knee as his muscles relaxed. Stumbling and almost falling over, he got back on his feet and saw Joseph walking towards him, his speaker now in his left hand. His pace was even and he wasn’t rushed. Isaac backed away, still struggling to keep his feet under him. Joseph got within melee range and raised a knee to kick. Isaac made the mistake of falling for the feint, blocking downwards with both hands.
A fist struck his face, and he fell backwards, crashing against the dirt. Through his watering eyes, Isaac saw Joseph staring down at him, and the blood moon scrutinizing them both. No one else was in sight.
“Doesn’t feel so great, does it?” Joseph stamped his foot down on Isaac’s chest, making air wheeze out of him. “Just wanted you to see how it feels to be me.” He reached down to the side of Isaac’s neck, pulling on the string he knew was there. Isaac’s breath caught in his throat. The Xenithian Amulet was now in Joseph’s hand.
“And now…I’m gonna see how it feels to be you.”
Joseph pulled. The string slipped from the back of Isaac’s neck to the back of his head. He felt the Amulet straining to keep itself whole in Joseph’s grasp. Then, Isaac’s link with the Amulet severed, and an ivory blast seared his vision.
When his sight returned, Isaac saw Joseph staring at his right palm. Even 322 seemed to be reeling. What had happened? With an effort, Isaac sat up and saw Joseph’s hand was empty. What had happened to his Amulet?
Joseph’s eyes bored into him. “What…what did you do?”
He didn’t sound angry. Joseph’s voice had a quaver to it that Isaac hadn’t heard since he had rejected the alternate plan in the Infusion room. Isaac simply shook his head. Had he done something? He couldn’t tell.
322 began to build once again. Joseph’s left arm raised; his speaker dragged him into the air. Isaac could only watch as Joseph pointed himself skyward, the crimson light of the moon matching the bloody tint of the staff above his head. The song continued growing. Joseph hung in midair, suspended like a marionette, his body tense and unable to move. The song kept growing, and then the final drop hit.
Radiance roared before Isaac’s eyes as Joseph let out another vehement cry. This scream wasn’t guttural like the first; it was high-pitched, frenzied, desperate — broken. From his outstretched arm came a colossal beam of white light pointed up into the air. Joseph was trying to fight the void. He was trying to produce a gigantic quantity of Xenith all at once…and he was failing.
“I refuse to die!” Joseph’s voice was an unearthly shriek. The beam’s diameter increased. “All I want is to wake up! Is it really so much to ask?!”
The light continued pouring into the night sky. Against the alabastrine backdrop shone the red staff, with the epsilon clef at its head. Isaac could see its end: a thick double bar line. And the notes were coming closer.
“Do you hear me, Xeroc? This is my mind, not yours! I don’t have to play by your rules!”
And the notes were coming closer.
“This plan was supposed to work! I was supposed to make the broken whole!”
And the notes were coming closer.
“I can’t die! I won’t—”
322 placed the final note onto the staff. The beam collapsed, and Joseph fell — down, towards the earth, landing hard. The final notes of 322 rang out into the darkness, and Minecraft melted away, like a dream engulfed in a deeper unconsciousness. Comatose Void surrounded Isaac, and Cerebral Glass upheld him as he tried to pick up the pieces.
The whole time, Joseph had been silently suffering, and it was Isaac’s fault. It was no wonder he didn’t tell him — he felt marginalized enough as it was with Isaac making all the important decisions. And every time Isaac denied him a chance to speak, every time he brushed him aside, he was pouring salt on the wound.
Isaac crossed his arms. Nothing happened. Now that the fight was over, it hit him: the Xenithian Amulet was broken. Isaac had seen how much Xepakt Joseph was allowing to course through him; when he tried to take the Amulet, it couldn’t handle being held by a void-gripped hand. Isaac’s only source of power had splintered. How was he going to awaken now?
How were they both going to awaken?
Still enervated, Isaac shambled over to Joseph. “Hey. J—um…Isaac. Are you okay?”
He put a hand on his shoulder. “Can you hear me? Isaac? Are you awake?”
Isaac remembered how Joseph had collapsed at the end of Cry. He didn’t wake up for a long time after that. Like before, he was deathly pale, and his skin was cold to the touch.
Isaac’s hand began to wander to his wrist.
“Come on, Isaac. The Amulet’s broken. You’re our only hope here. Your music is all we’ve got. I need you to wake up, friend.”
He looked over at his wandering hand. It was positioned correctly, with two fingers on the wrist. Isaac thought he had gone to the wrong place. He hadn’t.
“No. That’s not—no. It’s there.”
He moved his hand to the side of Joseph’s throat, placing the two fingers right under the jawline. They gave the same information. And Isaac saw in his mind with dreadful clarity the clef over Joseph’s head as it received its last note.
“He has no pulse.”
It came as an incredulous murmur at first. Hearing the words began to stir his emotions; he continued searching for a pulse, going from neck to wrist to neck to wrist. Nothing.
“No, no, no, he has no pulse, he has no pulse!”
His emotions swelled. Isaac began to hyperventilate as he grabbed onto Joseph’s body. He heard a crack; he barely noticed the fracture in the Cerebral Glass below him. He didn’t care. Why would he, when he was holding his own corpse?
“He has no pulse! He has no pulse!”
The words were screams now. Another crack formed in the glass. Then a third. Then a fourth. Isaac had lost Joseph, and before he lost himself all he could do was shriek two words:
“He’s dead!”
And the glass shattered.

Chapter 31: Meltdown

Chapter Text

Chapter 31

Meltdown

~ X ~

Isaac’s thoughts were deep and black and dark. Now, he was going to express them.
Falling endlessly into the black, Isaac screamed, sobbed, gasped. His mind was a black hole of terrible hysteria. All thinking was gone; only terror remained, and pain beyond words. He had murdered himself — slowly, torturously — and now he would never awaken.
Isaac clung to Joseph’s body as he used his last living moments to wail. Even with the Amulet, he couldn’t raise the dead. And now even that was destroyed, shattered like his own mind had been, broken like Joseph after casting Cry. So the meltdown continued. Because the only way to express what he was feeling, the only way to show the heartless void around him all his heart and all his soul, was this one. Rational expression failed him, just as he had failed himself.
Waking up here, being conscious within his mind even while he was unconscious without, had given him a chance to survive being comatose. And what had he done with that chance? He had left it on Ace’s anvil, and now he had lost it. Joseph was dead and he was dying; they were gone, gone, gone forever.
“Isaac, your feather.”
Gasping with surprise, Isaac felt his eyes snap open. In front of him, falling with him and looking him in the eye, was the witch Calamitas. The shock of hearing the statement she made was just enough to allow Isaac to grasp some semblance of rational control. She was referencing the game Celeste. It was one of Isaac’s favorites, and it was also one of the references Joseph had made during 322. Not only that, but Calamitas had called the feather his — Isaac used this part of Celeste in his own experiences often, and Calamitas knew that. How did she…?
Mind reading. Right. Between her and Plasmin, Isaac couldn’t get any privacy, could he?
But his emotions were still controlling him. So, as Calamitas had instructed, he used the feather. It was a trick to get one’s breathing under control, and one’s emotions with it. Per the game’s instructions, Isaac closed his eyes and pictured a feather — just one large black feather. And he began to breathe.
“In, and out,” Calamitas coached him. “Your breathing keeps the feather afloat; breathe too quickly, and the feather falls. You have been hurt, greatly hurt, but now is not the time and here is not the place to express it. You are still in danger. Now is the time to act.”
Breathing in, the feather floated down; breathing out, the feather rose up. Isaac filled his lungs to bursting with each inhalation, letting the air out through pursed lips until it felt like his entire chest cavity was constricting. Each cycle served to calm him down just slightly. He still felt Joseph in his arms, and the feather did nothing to lessen the grief, but him screaming about it, while cathartic, was not helpful or constructive. Calamitas was right — he was still in danger, but that could change if he were to act.
But…could it? The Amulet was shattered and Joseph was dead. What was left for him?
Isaac pushed the doubts out of his mind, letting nothing impede his feather’s flight. The feather meant safety — a return to sanity, normalcy, and maybe even some hope of waking up. The meltdown had ended, and now Isaac was breathing slowly and evenly, with the feather reaching shorter highs and shallower lows. As he recovered, a soft sound of shimmering crystal surrounded him, and he felt his descent begin to slow. Eventually, the feather flitted to a stop, and Isaac felt Cerebral Glass under his knees again. He gave one more long exhale, then opened his eyes.
Calamitas was still kneeling in front of him. “Calamitas…” Isaac’s voice was husky and subdued, but he knew she could still hear him. “Why did you…why did you help me?”
“Remember when I said that you remind me of myself in a disturbing number of ways?”
“Yes, but…”
She sighed. There was a moment’s pause. Then, her hand raised, and she took a hold of her hood, pulling it back. The darkness around her face melted away, and Isaac saw no monster, but a young woman. She had ashen skin, amber eyes, white hair flowing down into her hood, and two small pearly horns jutting out of her forehead. A scar ran just below her eyes like a crack in rock, going across the bridge of her nose from one cheek to the other. As he stared at her, Isaac saw a human being. He saw one who had suffered deeply; one who had borne the brunt of life’s misfortune unlike any other. And, even though her heart and conscience had been seared time and time again by her own brimstone, Isaac saw that, somehow, in some way…she truly cared.
“I helped you because I know what it’s like to lose everything.”
“...Thank you.”
Putting his head down and seeing Joseph’s body again, Isaac just groaned, putting his head on Joseph’s chest. He started to wonder how long the Cerebral Glass beneath him would last. Was it doomed to shatter again? Was he doomed to die?
“Now that you’re in control of yourself,” Calamitas resumed, “you’ll listen to what I have to say. The first thing I need you to do is let go of him and stand.”
It took full rational focus for Isaac to remove his arms from under Joseph. He stood, weakly, shakily. Calamitas was also standing, and facing her, Isaac found it strange that he was almost a head taller than she was. He felt so small and so lost with Joseph and the Amulet gone.
“Isaac, I need you to know that death is not the end.”
Rather than bringing a spark of hope, this message only brought confusion. “Well…yeah. I know that. ‘We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed—’”
“No, no, I’m not talking about your religious beliefs. I’m talking about right here, right now. What is the type of magic I’m most proficient in?”
It didn’t take long for Isaac to find the answer, and it knocked the breath from his lungs.
“Necromancy.”
Raising the dead. Bringing up that which had fallen. Calamitas was offering Joseph a second chance — and Isaac with him.
“Exactly. I know he’s dead; I’m not denying that. I’m saying that I can bring him back.”
“Do it. Please, Calamitas. I need him. I can’t—”
“First, I have to warn you: he will not be the same. I am the best at what I do, but this magic has hard and fast limitations. I know you know what happened with my brothers, and while I was young and inexperienced at the time, you are better off using that as a portrait of what he will look like than imagining him alive. He will not be dead, but he will not be alive, either. Do you understand?”
Biting back an immediate yes, Isaac forced himself to think about what Calamitas was claiming. Joseph would return…but he would be different. Much different. Isaac knew he wouldn’t act the same or think the same; he probably wouldn’t even look the same. How would his powers change as a result of the process? Would they be any better off having him reanimated?
And yet…it was his only option. He had no Amulet, and there was nothing else left. Isaac realized that he hadn’t seen any of his characters since 322 ended, either — they, too, were casualties of his fractured mind. Isaac only had one choice, and whatever would come of it would come.
“I understand, Calamitas. This is my only option, so I’ll take the consequences.” Isaac backed away from Joseph’s body. “Do your work.”
“Very well. Before a raising is done, it is customary to first practice chiromancy on the affected to see how the process will turn out.” Calamitas walked around Joseph, then approached Isaac. “Since you two are virtually the same, I figure it is best if I were to do that on you instead of him. May I see your hand?”
Isaac held out his right hand to Calamitas, stretching it open for her to read. Calamitas took his hand in hers and began to scrutinize it. “Hmm…yes. Good. This line represents a reversal of fate.”
He didn’t see the knife. With a flash of metal, Calamitas slashed a line from the heel of Isaac’s hand to the base of his middle finger. Pain arced all the way up to Isaac’s shoulder; his arm tensed as he grimaced and groaned, but Calamitas’ grip kept his hand in place.
“And that line means that only charlatans read palms.”
Putting the knife back in her robe, she took out a phial and began collecting the blood running off Isaac’s arm. “In a way, what I said was accurate,” she explained, “if you were to replace palmistry with bloodletting. For the process to work, it requires blood, and if you can get the blood of the one you’re trying to raise, that works best, especially if there’s a good amount of life in it. You’re the perfect candidate.”
“I get it, but sheesh, Calamitas. Couldn’t you have cut my arm instead of my palm?”
“The more pain in the wound, the more powerful the blood.” She shrugged. “I don’t make the rules of magic.”
“Wonderful.” Isaac’s hand was throbbing. “I’m so thrilled.”
Once the phial was full, Calamitas took a strip of fabric out of her robe and bound it around Isaac’s hand. Dipping a deep black quill into the phial, Calamitas began to inscribe occult symbols and shapes on the Cerebral Glass below Joseph. To Isaac, the whole process just felt…wrong. It was all too dark, too evil — it reminded him too much of what Joseph had shown him about Calco Vita. But, again, it was his only option. So he just watched, a dull sting in his hand and anxiety in his heart. Would this work? Would it really all be worth it?
Calamitas put the last few finishing touches on the inscription. “All right, that’ll do it. I’m keeping the rest of your blood, by the way. You have no idea how many spells require it.”
“...I’m sorry, you needed to tell me that because?”
“I didn’t know if you’d want it back.”
“What am I supposed to do with it, put it back in my knife wound?”
“Actually, if you were to—”
“Y’know what? Forget I said anything. Let’s just get this over with.”
Calamitas placed candles at auspicious places around Joseph, then looked over everything one last time. Isaac shuddered, wanting to look away but feeling like he couldn’t. He didn’t want to be doing this, but it was his fault anyway — if he had wanted to avoid something like this, he should have treated Joseph better while he was still alive. Now he was dead, and Isaac’s only recourse was necromancy. If it didn’t work, he stayed dead; if it did, Calamitas would raise something Joseph-like that wasn’t Joseph. Isaac’s heart ached more keenly than his hand. Would he ever get the chance to say he was sorry?
The witch closed her eyes and spread her hands over the cadaver. The time had come for the ritual to begin.

Chapter 32: Necromancy

Chapter Text

Chapter 32

Necromancy

~ X ~

The candles around Joseph set alight with an eerie scarlet flame as the blood on the glass began to glow. Calamitas started chanting primeval curses — arcane ones this time — as Joseph lifted into the air. Isaac felt sick watching the process. It was all such a mockery of life, like the process itself was taunting and deriding him for how callous he had been to Joseph. It was fitting, for the result would be nothing but a mockery of the one he had killed.
As the ritual continued, Isaac felt a chill begin to wrap around his lungs, like he was submerged in cold water. He shivered, and as he moved his hands to his arms he felt resistance. He felt pressure. He could feel the void around him. It was reacting to the process, coagulating — perhaps the necromancy was even feeding it. Isaac’s breathing was becoming more and more labored, and his vision became blurry and unfocused. What was Calamitas doing to his mind?
Joseph’s body was rigid, and Isaac was having difficulty staying upright. Calamitas didn’t stop. Could she? Could this process be stopped? He needed it to finish; whether it ended successfully or not, Isaac needed it to end. Rather than raising him, the necromancy was killing him.
The void constricted like a python preparing to swallow him whole. Isaac couldn’t focus any more; he could barely even think. Then, his knees buckled. Isaac crashed into the Cerebral Glass, feeling void wash over him as everything went pitch black…

xszkgvi ∅

ivhfiivxgrlm~

I found myself sitting a good distance away. I took a step forward. Then another.
“Hey. Friend?”
I tensed.
“Hey, protagonist. Save the world yet?”
“...Not without you.”
“Whaddaya mean? You’ve got Xeroc, don’t you? What would you need me for?”
“Everything.”
I sighed. Was I even going to listen? I needed to get through to myself somehow.
“I know I don’t even have the right to ask something from you…but, the people we both care about are in danger and I can’t do this alone.”
I chuckled bitterly. The reference was not lost on me.
“Yeah, you’re right. You do deserve another good punch to the face. You gave me a few of those earlier, and I’ve only returned one.”
I couldn’t help but smile, even though I was serious.
“Look, we’re at rock bottom. There’s no point in fighting.”
“Do you think you’re going to placate me by quoting things we both enjoy?!”
I looked away. It was hard to see myself like this.
“...No. I quoted that because we’re in the same situation. In foolishness, I cast you aside, and I learned the hard way that I couldn’t do it without you.”
“Did you come upon this enlightenment through more meditation on that line of the prophecy you’re so slavishly devoted to?”
I couldn’t help but wince. It took a little while to come up with a response.
“I’m willing to try a different way.”
“Took you long enough!”
I got up and stuffed my phone and speaker into my hands. As the speaker made contact, a familiar pain shot up my arm. I grimaced, trying not to let the pain drive me to my knees. I didn’t notice, but only turned and sat back down.
“Go be player one. I’ll just be here, dead. It’s a little boring, but it’s not so bad. I’m sure you can find the perfect song to accompany all your daring adventures.”
Those words resonated with me. We did have a song…didn’t we?
“Welp, I’ll be here. Go ahead. Have fun. Next time you look in a mirror should be interesting.”
I didn’t respond. The idea that was forming in my head…could it really work? If it didn’t…no, it had to. I couldn’t focus on worst case scenarios any more. I needed to act.
I unlocked the phone and began to search for a song. It didn’t take long to find. Upon seeing the song, I teared up. It was a song that promised true change; one that promised atonement, and one that could make the broken whole.
It was a song that promised resurrection.

Isaac pocketed the phone, and his chosen song began. It faded in slowly, mentally preparing him for what was to come. If they still had any hope of waking up, it was this song. He needed to make things right. He had hurt Joseph deeply, and he had to address it if he ever wanted to see his world, his friends, or his family again. If they were to awaken, it would be through severance undone.
From the very first swell of sound, Joseph recognized the song. Hearing it made his heart drop into his stomach. He shook his head in wounded disbelief. “Really?”
“Friend, please just—”
“Out of the two thousand songs on our playlists, you chose that one?”
The first note of Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter rang out into the darkness. Isaac didn’t know what to say; once again, tears sprang to his eyes. “I had to.”
“You had to? You had to have our song to be the one accompanying your escapades? Haven’t you betrayed me enough?”
“This isn’t betrayal, I promise.”
“Do you really think—” The thought died in Joseph’s mind. He just sighed, too hurt to even cry. “You know what? Go ahead. Just…forget me.”
Wiping his tears, Isaac focused inward as the song’s percussion came in. His plan hinged on a single substance: Xenith. If what he wanted to happen was going to happen, he was going to need creativity again. Isaac set the speaker down — gingerly because of his wound — and crossed his arms. He took a deep breath…and he started to pray.
Joseph could hardly stand to listen to the music surrounding him. He had always felt that Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter was a song that transcended the others on his playlists. It didn’t just have meaning because it sounded exciting or because it was tied to a good story. It was his favorite song — and, more than that, it was his song — because it had a way of reaching beyond his phone’s screen when he listened to it. It sounded like him. He couldn’t explain exactly how or why, but it did. He knew Isaac felt the same way, but couldn’t he have chosen any other song? Why did he have to ruin this one?
Please. We need this. We need this to survive. In mercy, in grace, let us live.
Joseph resisted the urge to look behind him. He didn’t want to give Isaac the satisfaction. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder what Isaac was preparing. He hadn’t left yet. Joseph had assumed he was preparing this song to try and awaken. What was Isaac getting at? Was he just trying to twist the knife?
Xenith is creativity, and creativity comes from You. It always did. I’ve abused this gift horribly. Please forgive me.
This was Joseph’s darkest low. It felt out of character for Isaac to dig in his heels and abuse that. Joseph had seen it from him when they fought in Minecraft, but this time it felt different. Maybe it was the music still around him, but Joseph started to question his earlier pessimism, if only just slightly. Isaac said he was willing to try a different way. From the way he spoke, it could almost seem like he was offering an olive branch. Could Joseph dare believe that, or would it send him into even darker depths?
You’ve made me alive once before. You’ve done it twice, actually. And that second time, You promised life eternal. You promised resurrection. You made me something new, and now I’m asking You to make me new again.
What was Isaac planning? Why had he pulled up their song? Why not Awaken?
Please, Lord. I…
He wasn’t actually being kind to Joseph…was he?
Isaac opened his eyes. He had felt the warmth flooding his arms, and as he stared at them he let out a shuddering breath, tears spilling down his face. His arms were wreathed in white flame that flickered and shone as he moved. The Xenith wasn’t an accessory to him now. It was in him, radiating through his whole self — and Isaac knew for certain that when Xenith impacted the self, miracles happened. He looked straight up, grinning from ear to ear. Thank You, he mouthed.
Even with the questions, Joseph didn’t want to look behind him — if he did, it could confirm that he was wrong. All he could do was hope. All he could do was dream. All he could do was pray.
Focusing the energy given to him, Isaac took a deep stance. He reached out towards that part of himself he had thrown away so long ago. Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter was about to pick up. It was time to awake, and to rise from the dead.
The song gave four clicks: drumsticks tapping against one another to set a new, faster tempo. And, at that moment, Joseph felt something in his very soul ignite with power. His head whipped around, and he stared at Isaac in disbelief. “What—”
It began with a ray — a bright white ray from Isaac’s extended hands to Joseph’s core. The bright streak flashed from Isaac’s palm, and as the music continued to grow, it blossomed into an explosion of creativity, as the white flame poured from Isaac’s arms into Joseph. Isaac felt the creative power draining. He had come to terms with that. He wanted the new energy to leave its old Warrior and crown a new one, restoring the voice Isaac had torn away, giving him a chance to fight meaningfully for his own mind. Isaac had had more than enough of the spotlight. It was Joseph’s turn to play the leading role.
Now fully facing Isaac, Joseph fell backwards and caught himself with his hands as Xenith began to flood him. He felt pure creative force filling him from head to toe. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening to him. Why was Isaac doing this? Why was he doing this for him? Isaac had ignored his plan for the most part, yes, but now Joseph clearly saw that he wasn’t innocent in this, either. He had let the screams win. He had tortured Isaac with intent to kill. Isaac’s response? Mercy. Grace. Even self-sacrifice. Joseph had surrounded Isaac with Xepakt, and what Isaac did in return was fill him with Xenith. It just didn’t make sense!
Isaac forced the Xenith out of his hands, sending it into Joseph harder, faster, more, more. All he wanted was for the creativity to drown out the screaming in his head, even if that left the former Xenithian Warrior with nothing. He didn’t need powers any more. He didn’t deserve them.
The last of the fire on Isaac’s arms raced across the link between them as all of the instruments except piano cut out of Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter. The section of the song wasn’t over, so Joseph knew that Isaac wasn’t done. He was following the contours of the song, just like Joseph did every time he used his own powers. Isaac dropped his arms. Joseph just stared.
“Friend,” Isaac began, “why is this our song?”
“...Because it sounds like us.”
“Exactly. We looked at the title and realized that all four words applied to us.”
Isaac crossed his arms again as the percussion came back in, and the pearly flames began to dance around them again. “Remember Ace’s readings of us? I had Cognitio, and you had Sensus. I’m the Thinker and the Walker — I plan and pace. You’re the Dreamer and the Scatter; you feel out your ideas through music and sing along the whole time.”
Feeling the Xenith reach its maximum, Isaac extended his hands towards Joseph again and started sending what he had accrued. “It’s a classic dichotomy. Mind and heart. Thoughts and emotions. Thinking and feeling. And it’s a dichotomy that drove us apart. That dichotomy is a lie, and I want this to prove it.”
Joseph understood what he meant. “Of our powers, the Xenith is the more rational one. It requires focus and planning as opposed to just feeling it out. By giving it to me…you’re making sure that one of us has both parts.”
“Exactly.” With that word, the Xenith left Isaac completely as the song slowed. “If we’re to awaken, it’s through making the broken whole, right?”
Joseph stood. “Right.” He stood in awe for a moment. Then, he ran forward, almost tackling Isaac in a hug. He squeezed as hard as he could, and Isaac returned the favor. “Thank you,” he breathed.
“Of course, dude. This power wasn’t from me to begin with, so…”
“Still appreciate the gesture,” Joseph replied.
“And hey.” Exiting the embrace, Isaac knelt down and picked up the speaker, then took the phone out of his pocket. “I believe these are yours as well, protagonist.” He handed them to Joseph, who took them. “You’ve got a lot of awakening to do, so go shatter that void into a quintillion pieces…for both of us.”
“You want me to have both powers?”
Isaac just shrugged. “Wasn’t that the plan?”
“Well, yeah, it was, but…”
Joseph sighed; Isaac could tell he was enjoying the music. As he listened, he raised the hand not holding his speaker, and one of Joseph’s clefs flickered into being — the one he had used to cast Lightmare. Then, as Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter picked up again, he pointed the speaker at Isaac and began to place notes on the clef.
By means of the Aura Clef, Joseph took hold of the latent magic around Isaac and began to weave. He took the song in his hands, circling and positioning them to the beat. Why would he need both powers if it left Isaac with nothing? They were the same person, after all.
Isaac felt energy crystallizing around him, guided and molded by Joseph. The music was surrounding him, and a latent power formed around him, living through the music that was still playing. By Joseph’s direction, it was beckoning him to reach out and join it.
The musical abilities suited Isaac — he had shown that with the transfer just now. Joseph knew he was aware of the risks, and he trusted that he’d be careful. Isaac would certainly use the Clefs better than he did, and if he ended up casting any Calco Vita song by accident, Joseph would be right there to end the casting however he could.
Now that it was surrounding him, Isaac saw it was obvious: the musical powers were Xenithian, too. They were motivated by creativity, but in an emotional way. The power the music held was given by how deeply they felt about it, and the clefs just served to connect that to the outside world. Sure, some songs could tap into destructive emotions — there was nothing Xenithian about a Calco Vita song. But he had been a fool to judge the Amulet as superior just because he knew it was explicitly Xenithian.
The Aura Clef was beginning to fade from Joseph, so he switched to the Mana Clef. Using the Xenith that filled him, he drew the Aura Clef above Isaac’s head. Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter provided him with five strong notes, and he used them to place the five lines that would hold the notes that gave the songs their power. The full Clef shone above Isaac’s head. “Can you feel it?” Joseph asked.
“Definitely.” Isaac took a mental step towards the power surrounding him, and at once it filled him. Being in connection with Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter felt like…well, it felt like when Joseph gave him a hug. It felt like finally looking in the mirror and smiling after weeks of not meeting his own gaze. Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter felt like severance undone.
“Okay, excellent. I’m going to send the Mana Clef to you now, which is gonna take both of us. It’s so intrinsically tied to me that I can’t send it alone. Are you ready?”
“I guess. How can we both cast using the same song?”
“Simple. I take the melody, and you take the rest. I’d say we know this song well enough to do that.”
“Got it.” The song took a breath, then began to accelerate. Isaac reached out towards Joseph as he reached out to him, and Isaac pulled on the thread he knew was there. As he rode the rhythm and harmony of Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter, he felt a fire start to ignite within him.
With each note on the Mana Clef, Joseph sought to unravel the structure of the Clef itself, bringing his powers through the music in strange self-referential loops. A wisp of magic formed between Isaac and Joseph, and the wisp became a line, and the line became a ray. The song continued to move faster and faster, and Joseph poured himself through the communication link — only, this time, it was by choice.
Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter’s tempo reached its zenith. The melody Joseph used was now just one sustained note, the bright beam between the twins holding the sustained pitch. As Joseph had done his part of the casting, Isaac had seen his Mana Clef glowing brighter by the second. Now, it shone above him radiant and bright, glowing with pure energy ready to be accessed. By means of the music within and without, Isaac took a hold of that Clef, instantly feeling a new connection forged.
All at once, Joseph felt his link to the song sever, and he closed his open hand. As Thinker Walker Dreamer Scatter sounded its final chord, the Aura Clef rose, and the Mana Clef appeared under it — both Clefs were emblazoned above Isaac’s head in a Grand Staff. The song faded away, and the Clefs with it, all of it going back down into Isaac: the new bearer of the musical powers.
As the Clefs faded, I was awestruck. In the end, I had not expected that kind of a response. I had expected myself to keep both powers, but I willingly volunteered one just so I wouldn’t be left powerless.
“Thanks to you, too!”
“It’s my pleasure. Thank you again, friend. You were the one who started it, after all.”
I chuckled. It was good to see me smiling again.
“Well then, I believe we have some void to kill. Shall we, Xenithian Warrior?”
“Let’s do it.”
I crossed my arms. The new energy began to build and to glow. The white flames shone across my arms, then extended into my whole body, bathing me in creativity. My surroundings changed from black to gray to white. I offered my hand, and I took it without hesitation…
And somewhere, far away, my eyes opened.

Chapter 33: New Life

Chapter Text

Chapter 33

New Life

– X –

A deep breath. Slowly, Joseph sat up, the events of the void-within-the-void still echoing through his mind. He crossed his arms, and yes, they glowed white. Joseph just shook his head. The whole thing had felt like a dream, and not even a very vivid one. But here he was, truly resurrected. The transfer of powers had truly been made. He was the Xenithian Warrior now — the main character, for better or for worse. The plot, if there was one, was in his hands.
He looked around and spotted Isaac a decent distance away. He smiled, but the corners of his mouth didn’t make it very far up his face. His wave was slight as well, with his forearm staying still and just his hand moving. Between the two of them, Joseph noticed some objects on the glass…were those candles? He looked around and confirmed they were candles, but in doing so he noticed some kind of cultic circle drawn on the glass around him in a red substance that looked very, very much like blood.
Joseph shot to his feet, clutching his hands to himself like he had found a centipede on him. “Aah, hey, what the heck—”
“I was just about to say something similar.”
Turning, Joseph saw Calamitas behind him. His first shock was that her hood was down. His second shock was the expression it revealed — it was, in a word, hostile. Joseph took a step back.
“What are you? Some kind of demon? Whatever you are, I’m not convinced. I’ve seen plenty of creatures masquerade as a perfect raising only to wreak havoc once they’re trusted. I don’t know what you are, but what I do know is this: a perfect raising is a chimera. It is impossible.”
“You might be right,” Isaac replied, “but…well, let’s just say he and I know Someone who specializes in the impossible.”
Joseph gave a huge grin. “Couldn’t have said it any better myself.”
“Not buying it.” Calamitas looked Joseph in the eye, standing inches from him with brimstone in her glare. He felt her mind press against his own. “What are you?”
“It’s me. It’s Joseph. I’m back…somehow.”
“...Really.”
Joseph shifted uncomfortably. Calamitas had been trying to reanimate him — likely with Isaac’s help. He had better think quickly if he didn’t want to be deanimated. Fortunately for him, Isaac piped up: “Hey, wait. I thought you wanted…?”
“Dude, come on.” He turned his head slightly, not daring to turn his back on Calamitas. “You just gave me everything you had. Keep your dang name. You’re Isaac, I’m Joseph. All right?”
“Okay. I’m just saying…you kinda made it a point—”
“I don’t care that I made it a point. I’m making another point now.”
“You said ‘freaking!’”
“Oh my word, so what if I said ‘freaking,’ I had a lot going on in my—”
He stopped. Silence. There was silence. Joseph didn’t speak a word.
“Friend,” Isaac began, “are you—”
“Shh.” Joseph just stood and listened to the hush. It was a sound he had missed for a very, very long time. He blinked, and tears spilled down his cheeks.
The screaming had stopped.
Was it because he had died and come back to life? Was it because there was Xenith in him now? Or was it because Isaac had shown him grace? Joseph couldn’t tell, and he frankly didn’t care. All he cared about was the silence in his mind. He could hear his thoughts again. He could breathe again. He could live again.
Isaac was still looking at him; Joseph knew he was concerned. So, to answer the questions he hadn’t asked out loud, Joseph tapped his head a couple times, then laid his pointer finger over his lips. A smile spread over his face as he began to laugh. It was over. His curse was lifted.
Ignoring that Calamitas was still in front of him, Isaac ran up to Joseph, and once again they hugged. They were both laughing now, rejoicing over his newfound freedom. Because of 322, Isaac knew exactly how painful the screaming had been, so they both understood how wonderful that silence was.
“Did…something happen between you two after you passed out?” asked Calamitas.
“Yes, actually,” Isaac explained, still holding onto Joseph. “We entered a deeper level of void, talked about what had happened, switched powers…and came back to life.” He chuckled. “Resurrection, Calamitas. I tried to explain it to you earlier, but you interrupted me. ‘The trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed.’ Of course, this resurrection’s only a faint shadow of that one — we’re not imperishable yet. But the only reason this one’s possible is because that one has already been earned for us.”
The witch was speechless. “Of all the strange and impossible things I’ve seen in this void…” She turned, leaving Joseph alone physically and mentally. “Well, go ahead. I don’t think asking more questions will prove fruitful for me. Right now, I’m more interested in my candles than I am in you.”
Joseph examined the spell circle Isaac had run through to get to him, seeing breaks in the lines from his footprints. “Are you sure you want that on your shoes?” he asked Isaac.
“It’s fine. It’s mine, anyway.”
“It’s—” Joseph broke the hug, holding Isaac at arm’s length. “It’s yours?”
Isaac held up his right hand, a strip of crimson fabric bound around the palm. “Yup. At the time, I was convinced my only recourse was—”
“Wait. Hold on.” Joseph put his hand up to Isaac’s face. He stretched the skin around his eye, inspecting it closely. The skin around Isaac’s eyes was peppered with small red dots — the marks of capillaries that had burst under extreme internal pressure. And there weren’t just one or two; tens of the dots surrounded both of Isaac’s eyes. Joseph knew only one scenario that would cause that amount of internal pressure.
“You had a meltdown.”
Isaac’s face formed a compassionate smile as Joseph dropped his hand. “Yeah. Quite a bad one, too. But can you blame me? You were dead, friend. Dead. With you gone, there was no way for me to wake up, and…”
Joseph enfolded him in another hug. “I’m so sorry, friend.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” Breaking the hug, Isaac’s expression turned more serious. “In a way, I guess I deserved it.”
“Isaac. Hey. Stop it with that. Maybe you did, but stop. You’re not the only one at fault here.”
“Um, okay, let’s review, shall we? I wanted the Terminus so badly that I told you to cast Cry. I ignored you when you came to me and avoided you when you didn’t. I threw you away in pursuing my own plan over and over again, and when you threatened that plan I tried to beat the crap out of you.”
“And how did I respond?”
Isaac broke eye contact. “...Well, you were the one reaching out, and I—”
“No, no, no. How did I respond?”
He sighed. “With 322.”
“Yes, with 322. I tortured you, and I tried to throw you away, too, by stealing your Amulet. And it’s a good thing that didn’t work, isn’t it? Because, friend, I don’t know if you know this, but I had every intention of killing you with that last drop.”
Isaac made eye contact again as his eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Yeah. So I have a new idea. Why don’t we both just apologize to each other, forgive each other, and then try not to beat ourselves up about it, huh?”
“That’s easier said than done.”
“Need I remind you that we both literally died to that life and were raised up into this one?”
No immediate response. Then, Isaac chuckled. “Please do.”
“We both literally died to that life,” Joseph explained, “and were raised up into this one.”
He nodded. “Okay. That…thanks.” A deep breath. “Joseph, I’m so sorry for ignoring you, for…striking out on my own and acting like I was better than you, when your powers were often just as creative as mine. I…yeah. That’s about it.”
Joseph gave a genuine smile. “I forgive you, friend. And…I’m sorry for allowing my hatred to fester, and for letting it get to the point where I lashed out instead of communicating.”
“I forgive you, Joseph. Now, let’s focus on what’s next, all right?”
He could do that. They were back in his mind — well, back in their mind — and the void was still all around them. There were two methods they had come up with for destroying it: Xeroc’s ritual and casting Awaken. The ritual would be brutally difficult in whatever form it took, even if Xeroc let them attempt it in the first place. However, it was a guaranteed success once suffered through. Casting Awaken, on the other hand, would be much smoother, but it required them first getting a foothold and then leveraging it. Destroying that first piece of void would be the hardest part of the Awaken plan by far.
Focusing back on Isaac, Joseph immediately knew which plan Isaac wanted. He was carrying a lot of guilt over how he handled making the Terminus, even still. He’d want to go for Awaken. It didn’t take much weighing of his options for Joseph to come to the same conclusion. Awaken was sourced in their creativity and made full use of their powers. It didn’t require an outside force to approve what they were doing. And it’d be much easier…if it worked.
“Okay,” Joseph concluded. “I think Awaken’s next.”
Isaac breathed a sigh of relief. “I was hoping you’d say that. Let’s get that started, shall we?”
Gingerly stepping over the blood on the glass, the twins left the spell circle behind, with nothing but the glass under them and the void around them. Isaac pulled his phone and speaker out of his pockets. “So, do I give these to you, or do I use them?”
“No. Use them. They’re yours.” Joseph crossed his arms, and the charge began to accumulate. Warmth flooded his arms, and the warmth turned to heat, and the heat began to burn. He broke the connection when it started to hurt. Clearly this would be more challenging than he anticipated.
“It…it hurts. Why does it hurt? It’s Xenith.”
“Well, it seems to me that this is a more potent and up-front presentation of Xenith. It’s stronger. It hurts because of the higher concentration, and also because that kind of power can’t be used flippantly.”
“That makes sense.” Joseph’s brow furrowed. “How’d you come up with that so quickly?”
He grinned. “We’re writers, remember? This was our idea in the first place. Now then…” Isaac unlocked his phone, gave a quick few scrolls, then made eye contact with Joseph.
“Ready?”
Joseph called upon the Xenith once again.
“Ready.”
“Oh, there you are! I couldn’t find you anywhere, and I’ve been looking for you for ages—”
Ace_the_Yoshi manifested between the two in an aureate streak. “Oh. I’m interrupting again, aren’t I? Do I do that a lot? It feels like I do that a lot. Maybe my timing’s just bad, or—”
“Ace, it’s fine.” Joseph dropped his arms. It was good to see one of his characters neither afraid of him nor furious at him. “What do you need?”
“I, um…” At this, Ace did begin to show some unease. “I need to show you something.”
He pulled out his Thaumometer and showed it to Isaac and Joseph. “When I was trying to scan the Terminus, this happened. Now, it isn’t a glitch, since my Thaumometer has never failed to give accurate readings of whatever it’s scanning. So my conclusion…”
Joseph’s heart sank. The Thaumometer was showing the reading for Comatose Void. It felt like just a few moments ago when the Shadow Fist had had to coagulate the substance in order for the Thaumometer to read it.
“...My conclusion is that the void is concentrating.”
Joseph locked eyes with Isaac.
“We’re running out of time.”

Chapter 34: Sciamachy

Chapter Text

Chapter 34

Sciamachy

– X –

He hadn’t been aware of it before, but Joseph now felt the void around him, brushing against his arms and neck with icy tendrils. The high volume of void surrounding them brought a new level of urgency to their discussion…along with a worrisome development. Joseph steeled himself, but Isaac spoke first.
“Okay. Time is short, but it’s a good thing we’re talking about what we’re talking about, huh? That’s no problem. Let’s get to it.”
Joseph looked away. “Isaac…we can’t.” His gaze was far away, and his countenance sad. “That plan only works if you can get a foothold. With the void concentrated like this…it’s impossible. Awaken would either need to be longer or have a stronger start.”
“Oh.” Isaac’s mind started working. “But that— that’s okay! We can just cast Awaken multiple times! Each time we do it, it’ll work better, and it’ll kill more void! Eventually it has to work, especially with both of us working on it together!”
“No, friend. You can only cast a song once — I’m sure of it. Otherwise you could just find a powerful song and spam it, and the whole system collapses into one song. We wouldn’t write something that’s so poorly designed and obviously broken.” He sighed. “Plus, the music magic is sourced in emotion, right? And the more times you listen to a song in a row, the weaker those emotions become until you couldn’t care less about the song. Therefore, the more times you cast a song in a row, the weaker it becomes until it does absolutely nothing. Awaken isn’t going to work.”
“But…but if we can’t do this plan…”
Joseph didn’t like it, either. “We have to contact Xeroc and try the ritual.” His old plan was feasible before, but now a boss rush was their only option. And Isaac’s face fell.
“Hey. Friend, hey.” Joseph put his hands on Isaac’s shoulders. “It’s okay. I know using the Terminus is hard for you, but you don’t have to do that anymore. That’s not your job. You gave me the Xenith, and I’m more than willing to use the Terminus and take on Xeroc’s ritual.”
“You’d…do that?”
Joseph laughed, giving Isaac a small shove. “Of course I’d do that, dingbat! You put a lot of work into that thing, and we need it now more than ever. And I seem to recall just having forgiven you for all the stuff that would make me hesitant to do that. Don’t quote me on this, but I’m pretty sure that just happened, like, two minutes ago.”
“Man.” Isaac just shook his head with a smile. “You just don’t let someone feel bad, huh?”
“Nnnnnope.”
“All right, fine. You win. But if we’re going to do this — if we’re really doing this — we need everyone’s support. I won’t have you going into a boss rush without an audience rooting for you. I’ll go find the Pikmin. You see how the Fist is doing. He fought Calamitas, and she did a real number on him.”
“Ah, yes, as opposed to doing a complex number on him.”
“Dude—”
“Yeah, yeah. I heard the commotion on the first floor before it happened. I’ll check up on him. Thanks, friend.”
“Absolutely.” Isaac pushed the word through his laughter. “Thank you.”
They parted ways, leaving Ace where he was. Joseph had honestly forgotten he was there. He kept walking straight into the black, goosebumps forming on his skin as the annihilation around him caressed it. This was still his mind, so if he needed to find one of his characters, he could and he would. And it wasn’t long before he did.
The Shadow Fist was seated on the Cerebral Glass, with his legs crossed and his arms resting on his knees. Joseph approached slowly, then sat down next to him. “Hey, Fist,” he ventured. “Good to see you.”
The Fist looked over and crossed Joseph’s arms telekinetically. When they glowed white, he huffed. “Can’t you just…leave me alone for a while, Warrior? I would prefer to be alone at this time.”
Joseph had no immediate response. He looked over at the Fist, his brow knitted. “What’s going on? That doesn’t sound like you at all. If you want someone gone, you tell them to leave, you don’t ask them. If they refuse, you make the shadow call sign or throw them telekinetically or something. To make a request…it’s out of character. What’s wrong?”
“Why, do you think Xeroc can fix it?”
“Oh. I’m Joseph. Isaac and I switched powers because I died and—” Joseph waved his hands. “Whatever. Long story. I’m not here to talk about what’s up with me, I’m here to learn what’s up with you.” He scooched closer. “So what’s up?”
The Fist stayed silent, trying to ignore Joseph. Joseph didn’t move. He could stay for as long as he needed to, since there was no sound sweeter to him than the quiet in his mind. Eventually, he noticed the Fist scanning his surroundings, making sure there was not a soul within earshot. He finally sighed, his head turning towards Joseph.
“You really are persistent, aren’t you?”
“I’ve had to be, and the tendency hasn’t gone away yet.”
“Fine. You win, Warrior. Take my secrets.” Another period of silence as the Fist forced himself to speak the words in his mind. “I fought Calamitas.”
“...Yeah. Isaac told me. I heard everything that happened between you two on our last night in Minecraft — well, everything before you went outside.”
“Then why did you ask?” His voice was developing an edge now. Joseph wasn’t fazed.
“Because I’ve never seen a fight affect you this way,” he continued. “You love to fight, and when the battle’s over, even if you lost you still keep your head held high. Your head isn’t held very high right now, and I’d like to see that change.”
“Good luck with that.”
And, once again, there was silence. Joseph soaked it in, waiting for the Fist to speak. After some time, the Fist groaned. “Look. I don’t know what else you’re looking for. I told you what’s on my mind. I told you what happened. What more could you want? I fought Calamitas. You can probably imagine how that went. Of course I’m sour. Now leave me alone — and yes, I am telling you this time.”
Something clicked in Joseph’s brain. “Oh. That makes more sense. When you fought Calamitas, did you lose quickly?”
“If you really think I need you rubbing it in—”
“I just want to know.”
“Yes. Yes, I lost quickly. I took a single hit in her opening volley, and it nearly killed me. So yes, you could say I lost quickly. Congratulations, Warrior. You have your answer.”
“Oh, wow. I’m…really sorry about that, Fist. That must have been really demoralizing for you. But, I gotta ask, why did you want to fight her so badly in the first place? It seemed like you pushed her buttons every chance you got. Heck, you said it yourself — you thanked her for giving you an excuse.”
“...Ah. Right. You were unconscious for the beginning of the story. I had forgotten.” The Fist’s voice lost its harshness, and he relaxed a bit. “Perhaps I was a bit overzealous, then. Forgive me. Allow me to recount all that occurred from my perspective.”
Joseph and the Fist turned to face each other. “This happened soon after you lost consciousness,” he began. “Calamitas came back, and we all left to claim the Terminus. On the way there, she told us that the dragon had the Terminus again, and I asked how we were going to get it. When no one responded, I asked her specifically. Now, the manner in which I asked — as I’m sure you can imagine — was not the most respectful. My tone was acerbic, and I used the epithet ‘witch’ in place of her actual name. She did not take kindly to this remark, as again, I’m sure you can imagine. She replied in kind, saying that she had a name, and then she told me she would not be belittled by a miserable, powerless intruder to her realm. I challenged her on that statement, she brushed me aside, and you know the rest.”
With this information provided, the pieces started to fit together in Joseph’s mind; he looked down towards the glass to assemble them all. For the Shadow Fist, battle was not just a hobby or a way to see who was physically or mentally stronger. Battle was the final arbiter — the authoritative answer on who was right and who was wrong in a matter. The Fist had wanted a fight with Calamitas so badly because he wanted to prove her wrong, and he had failed miserably. And in his mind, if he had failed the battle, it meant that what she had said about him was correct.
But what could Joseph do about it? Tell the Shadow Fist he wasn’t miserable or powerless? While it was true, he would never believe it after having squalor and weakness branded on him by a brimstone skull. And he’d never accede to a battle to prove otherwise as long as his self-confidence was shredded. Maybe with the right song…but Joseph didn’t have that ability any more. He had the Xenith, which the Fist hated by nature. All he could do was try to talk to him. Where could he possibly start?
He had talked with the Fist before, in Minecraft. His confidence was the reason Joseph was able to pitch the alternate plan to Isaac in the first place. The Fist had even used himself as an example in convincing him to not lose sight of what he was fighting for. Joseph made eye contact with the Fist once again. He knew exactly where to start.
“Hey, Shadow Fist. What are your goals again?”
His eyes narrowed as their Xepaktrian flames blazed. “So that’s what you’re doing? Pushing your ideology when I’m weakest? Do you hope to convince me now that I’ve reached an emotional low?” He sighed; his voice just sounded disappointed, even hurt. “I only hate what you fight for, Warrior. Do not give me reason to hate you as well.”
“I won’t push back in any way. If I do, take me out. Make me feel it. I’ll deserve whatever’s coming to me.” He held out his hand to shake. “I promise.”
The Fist glared at Joseph’s proffered hand. “Very well.” He begrudgingly took it, and they shook. “I will remind you of what happened to the last one who shook my hand before you. Do not dare to double-cross me, or what happened to the Wraith will happen to you.” Closing his eyes, he exhaled, the shadows within him swirling and shimmering.
“My goal is rest. I am the Shadow Fist, darkness incarnate, and darkness brings rest. The majority of creatures sleep during the night, and those who do not still take their rest in dark places. Every living creature needs rest and takes its rest when it can, and if one cannot, there is something afflicting that one so that it cannot rest. All of these truths are known intrinsically by every living creature.”
The passion in the Fist’s voice began to steadily increase. “But existence is full of unrest, of busyness and stress. Rest is robbed from those who need it, leaving them unable to do what they must in daylight hours. This unrest stems from chaos, from destruction seen even at the elemental level. You see, the elements themselves cannot rest. Light and shadow, fire and water, electricity and wood…in their current states, they do not and cannot coexist. I intend to change that. By separating the elements, allowing them to find themselves before they find each other, they can join forces in full and vanquish annihilation once and for all. That is my goal. That is why I exist, and that is what I am here to accomplish. And I intend not to let you…”
It trailed off. “It’s okay,” Joseph said. “Finish the statement.”
“...I intend not to let you stop me.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Shadow Fist. I was hoping you’d have the same response you always have.” Joseph opened his hands and began to construct his argument. “A while back, you told me never to lose sight of my goals, offering yourself as an example of one who had such focus. How come you’ve lost that focus and let yourself lose sight of your goals? Working towards something like that…well, the elements themselves are going to fight against it because of their warlike tendencies, not to mention people like me who misjudge it entirely. By accepting that you’re miserable and powerless, you’ve rendered yourself unable to reach what you’ve been striving towards your whole existence. Is that really what you want, Fist?”
The Fist was quiet, crafting a response. Joseph wished he could know what was happening in his mind.
“What I want and what is true are often very different. My work towards my goals is a good example of this fact.”
“So that’s it, then? You’re just giving up?”
“I am not giving up!” He paused. “I just know that reaching my goal will be far more of a challenge than I had anticipated.”
Checkmate. Joseph couldn’t keep a grin from spreading across his face. “Oh. Got it. You’re saying I’m weak, then.”
“What? No! That’s foolishness, Warrior. I’ve fought you many times, and your versatility and tenacity are my strongest opposition.”
“Then how come your determination and strength are mine? If you’re a miserable weakling, I must be, too, if I have such a hard time winning against you sometimes. That’s the only option — unless, of course, you’re neither miserable nor powerless, which is what I think.”
The Fist’s ideals of fairness began to clash against what Calamitas had led him to believe. “Well…the others can see it, too. Just a short time ago, the Wraith defended me from Isaac when he attacked. I know what he thinks of me, but I didn’t know he thought less of me than Isaac.”
“What? No. Fist, that is a hundred percent wrong. First of all, the Plasm Wraith didn’t do that. The Plasm Wraith would never do that. Plasmin did that. And he did that because things were getting out of hand — because Isaac blew up and no one needed the two of you fighting. He was defending you, but not because you’re weak. He defended you because we needed you. He defended you because he respects you. And he was also defending the rest of us from the situation escalating any further.”
“Oh. But then…” He shook his head. “Never mind. We are getting off track; the one you mentioned is not part of our consideration. What you’re saying is that, since I provide you with such difficult battles, I am at least your equal. Since I would not say you are powerless, I therefore cannot be either.” The Fist sighed. “Logical as ever, aren’t you, Warrior?”
“Totally!” Joseph said with a bounce. “What can I say? I’m a thinker. Can’t help it.”
He waited for a response from the Fist, but didn’t get one. “So what do you think?” Joseph asked. “Do you agree with me?”
“It makes sense to my mind, but I don’t believe it yet.”
Joseph jumped to his feet. “Okay. Let’s prove it. Right here, right now.”
The Fist just looked up at him. “Huh?”
“What do you mean, ‘huh?’ I wanna fight! Come on, let’s go.” Joseph started bouncing on his toes. “I’ll let you attack first, even. Go ahead. Let’s do this.”
His only response was to screw up his face a little. “Warrior, when have you ever been this exuberant to fight? Now you’re acting strange. What are you planning?”
“Um, I don’t know, fun? Confidence? A distraction from the feedback loop in your brain? Plus, the Xenith is working differently from what I know, and I’d like an opportunity to test that out. It’ll be just like our first fight here — except I won’t waste your time with all the buildup.”
He did crack a smile at that. “Well, I suppose I’ve never been one to say no to such an offer, have I?”
“You’re usually the one making it.”
“All right, all right.” The Shadow Fist stood. “You’ve convinced me. We will fight, you will learn your powers, and I might get some self-confidence out of it if I’m lucky.” Making the sign for shadow, he shaped a small ball of darkness as Joseph crossed his arms. “Let’s see what you’re capable of.”
The Fist threw the projectile at Joseph. He had several options, but he decided on a shield. Opening his arms with his palms inward, the energy that he had built up crystallized into a translucent jade shield, and the ball collided harmlessly against it. Everything besides how the Xenith accumulated was the same, it seemed.
“Now try something different.”
Joseph started. In true Shadow Fist fashion, the voice had come from behind him. Quickly crossing again, the shield collapsed back into energy; he turned and twisted his arms to parry the blow he knew was coming. With a scarlet flash, the shadow’s fist stopped a short distance from his head. Now curious, Joseph turned his palms back inward, turning the countered momentum into Xenith. The white glow returned to Joseph’s arms and began to grow again.
The Xenith was getting hot. Joseph didn’t want to get to the point of pain while he was just learning, but he didn’t want to lose what he had accumulated, either. He had never thought of a way to keep the charge and drop his arms, but there should be one. He decided to come up with one — after all, a purely creative force wouldn’t be very limiting on his ideas. Joseph slid one of his arms down and grabbed his other forearm, and with a pulse, the Xenith stopped charging. He dropped his arms and the glow stayed on them.
“I’ve never seen that happen before.” The Fist took a closer look at Joseph’s arms. “This new manifestation of Xenith is interesting, to say the least. How did this come about?”
“I broke the Amulet.”
“You— I’m sorry, you broke the Xenithian Amulet? Isn’t that my job?”
“Long story! Back to fighting!” Taking a step back, Joseph extended his fists straight out in front of him, sending the glow on his arms out in the form of a Xenithian Beam. Caught somewhat off guard, the Fist was thrown back a short distance before teleporting above the beam. He responded with a dark beam of his own; Joseph crossed and threw his arms upwards without charging, and he teleported a short distance forward, just under the beam.
The Shadow Fist landed. “It seems to me like you’ve learned the basics. Let’s get to the fun part. Maybe I’ll even try to get some self-confidence from it. Ready, Warrior?”
Joseph smiled, crossing his arms. “Ready.”
“Excellent. Let’s see how your altered powers handle a tried and true attack.”
Taking hold of Joseph telekinetically, the Fist threw him high into the air. Still crossed and charging, Joseph relied on the light from his arms and the reflection in the glass beneath him to parry at the right time, which froze him in midair. At once the Fist was to his right, his arm locked and loaded for another attack. Joseph turned his palms inward — feeling significant pressure and heat from the amount of Xenith that entered his arms — then closed his fists and ripped his arms downwards, unleashing a Xenithian Blast. Joseph landed on the glass and scrambled to his feet as the Fist went flying.
The Fist teleported back. “That is quite likely the strongest blast I’ve felt from you. Clearly I should be more careful with what I give you. But I can manage.” And he vanished, dissipating into the darkness.
Arms crossed. Joseph had no idea which direction the Fist would be coming from when he attacked, but he knew how to find out. Pulling down to lock his charge, he asked a mental question: Where is he?
The energy on Joseph’s arms flashed gold, and the Xenith provided him with information. The Fist was on his right.
With a quick portal, the Fist crashed harmlessly into the glass. Joseph sent a wave, but the Fist was now behind him; he turned and blocked, then countered with a kick, then followed up. Then he was in the air again, and the Fist was in front of him; a parry and a counter shot him back into the glass as Joseph landed. A beam of shadow from the front, which Joseph blocked with a shield; a projectile from behind soon after, which hit. Joseph teleported, sending a Xenithian Beam. He didn’t expect to see the Fist cutting through it, crashing into him and sending him down to the glass.
By this point, the Shadow Fist was laughing out loud. As he tried to catch his breath, Joseph couldn’t help smiling, too. The Fist had found himself again. He knew he was strong. Joseph could see it written all over him.
“Excellent work as always, Warrior. This has been exhilarating.” The Fist offered Joseph a hand. “Would you like to stop here for now? I believe you still need to wake up, if I remember right.”
Joseph took his hand and stood. “That’s a good idea. Thanks, Fist. And hey! It looks like you got your self-confidence back.”
“I suppose you could say that.” He pointed at Joseph. “But this will be the only time I am glad about a ploy of yours working, understand? Don’t come to expect it.”
“I’d never dream of it.” Joseph turned to leave, then stopped. “One more thing…just something I wanted to say. If you’re just as strong as you’ve ever been, and Calamitas defeated you so quickly, I think that says much more about her power than about your lack of it.”
“...Hm.” His head lowered a bit in thought. “I never thought of it that way.”
“Something to think about.” Joseph began to walk back into the void. “Well, see ya. I’ve got some void to kill.”

Chapter 35: An Author's Love

Chapter Text

Chapter 35

An Author’s Love

~ ♪ ~

“So are you going to see the Pikmin?”
Isaac turned to see Ace walking beside him. “Yeah,” he replied. “If I can, I need to make amends before the ritual. You?”
“I’m just following you, really. This place is so dark and creepy and weird after being back in my home world, and it’s starting to get to me a little bit, especially since my Warp was flaring up again back home and I have no idea how it would affect me here. I’d like to be with someone, if I can.”
“Sounds good.” Isaac stopped. “Hey, Ace…I’m really sorry about endangering your world. Activating the Runic Matrix was reckless of me. It shouldn’t have happened.”
“Oh. It’s alright!”
“No, Ace. It’s not alright. It was wrong, and I need you to forgive me.
Ace paused. “Okay. I forgive you, Isaac. To be fair, it did all turn out okay in the end.” He took the Terminus out of his bag. “We still have this, and we’ll use it when it’s time to use it. Sure, it was made in my world with all my stuff, but I’m not going to use it because I don’t want to have to go through whatever ‘ritual battle and strife’ means. That’s up to you! Also, with the blood moon affecting us all like it did, who’s to say if we would have made it through another night? The worst could have happened before we would have had the opportunity to make the Terminus.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Thanks for letting us stay in your world, Ace. We had some rocky nights, to be sure, but there’s no way we could’ve gotten this far without your resources and without your help.”
“Rocky nights…right. That reminds me.” He put the Terminus back in his bag, then looked Isaac in the eye. “Isaac, there’s something that I’ve been intensely curious about, and in all the furor of making the Terminus and surviving the blood moons and stopping you from attacking Joseph, I never got a chance to ask it. My Warp’s been crazy, too, and that doesn’t help with my memory or my focus. My question has to do with what you said during our second night. You told Ember that you wrote his story. Can I…ask what you mean by that?”
Isaac sighed. He had been dreading that question. “Sure, Ace,” he responded. “Everything that the Pikmin said about what they had gone through was all stuff I had written. They were characters in my stories, and now that I’m here in my mind, I’m meeting those characters face to face.”
“I thought so. That leads to my next question, which is the one that’s more pressing on my mind. It might sound crazy, but I think you know by now that I’m more than a little crazy myself, so I’m just going to go ahead and ask it.”
“Go ahead, Ace.”
“...Did you write my story, too?”
First, Isaac was quiet. Then, he nodded. “Yeah. I did. I wrote that story, too, from the moment you made your first wand all the way through your trip to the Outer Lands and your discovery of Ichor. Of course, that doesn’t mean I look down on you in any way. Absolutely not, especially when we’re talking face to face like this.”
“So all those times you brought up female characters…you were talking about us.”
“Yup.”
Stunned silence. Then, Ace whipped out his Thaumonomicon, rifling through it. “Isaac, I have so many questions. There are so many different avenues in my research that I could have taken that I just didn’t because they were too complex, but I felt like they had utterly astounding truths at the end if I were to just put in the time and resources. But I know I just don’t have the time, I…” He closed the book. “Teach me, Isaac. You wrote my world. You wrote my story. You wrote me. I’ve been searching my whole life for—”
“Ace. Ace. Hey.” Isaac took a few deep breaths, encouraging Ace to do the same. “I understand you’re extremely excited and very curious, but I need you to listen to me for a second.”
“I just…I just want some answers. Can you tell me some answers?”
“Ace, why would I do that and take away from you the joy and exhilaration of finding those answers yourself?”
The thaumaturge was taken aback. “Because…huh. I never thought of that.”
“Exactly. Ace, I’ve seen you do research. When you were first pursuing how to construct the Ichorium Terminus, I watched you work. You’ve never been more yourself than at that moment. For me to tell you everything that you could possibly want to know…it would be cruel. It would be cruel, because I would be robbing you of that process. I would also be robbing you of the growth that you experience during that process, and the satisfaction that comes when it’s over. I can’t do that to you, Ace. I wouldn’t, and I couldn’t.”
“But then…what can you do? Now that I know you wrote my story, how does that change things between us? How does that change the research I’m going to do? It’s such a huge piece of information that it has to have some kind of effect. All the fundamental truths that I’ve learned and paradigm shifts that I’ve experienced have done that.”
“Well, I hope it doesn’t change things between us too much. Like I said, I don’t look down on you because you’re my character. You’re brilliant, Ace, and you’re extremely tough. So what I can do is encourage you. I can tell you to keep learning and keep researching. You know I’m your author, but you also know there’s a much larger multiverse than you ever thought. That’s something else you learned during this time. I’d encourage you to look into that.”
“I will! Thanks, Isaac.” Then, he started walking. “I just remembered you wanted to go see the Pikmin. They’re this way.”
“I appreciate it, Ace.” Soon enough, the Pikmin came into view. “I’ll go talk to them.”
Before approaching them, Isaac took out his phone and speaker. Rather than pulling up a song, he set them down on the Cerebral Glass. He couldn’t actually regain their trust if he was affecting their psyche to do it. Such an attempt would be a breach of trust in itself; it would be manipulative and false. No, it would just be Isaac — no music, no Xenith. Just an author and his characters.
Isaac started walking towards the group, his gait resolute and his breathing steady. The first one to react to his approach was Ember, which came as no surprise to Isaac. He jumped to his feet and stood between Isaac and the group, leaf blazing and arms outstretched. Isaac stopped.
“Hey, Ember.”
“Look,” he snarled. “I don’t know which one you are, and frankly, I don’t care. If you try to hurt any of my friends, you’ll be unrecognizable by the time I’m done. Back off. I don’t care what you think you can do to me. I don’t care what you’ve written about me or what you think you will write about me. I’m not scared of you.”
“Okay.”
“...Okay? What do you mean? What do you think you’re doing?”
Isaac sat down. “If you’re gonna burn me, I only ask that you make it quick.” He demonstratively crossed his arms. Ember flinched, but nothing happened. Not even a spark of Xenith appeared. That power wasn’t his to wield anymore.
“I can’t do anything about that, Ember,” he continued. “I gave up the Xenith, and in order to use the music powers Joseph gave me I’d need my phone and speaker, which are back there. If I tried to run back and get them, your fire would reach me before I could reach them.” He dropped his arms and closed his eyes. “Your friends are safe, and there’s nothing I can do about it. If you think it’d be best to burn me, go ahead. I won’t stop you. I can’t.”
The silence that followed was telling. Isaac had made himself a non-threat. If he felt he had to, Ember could end him, right there, right then. So Isaac just waited, confident in Ember’s character. And the light flickering in front of his closed eyes faded away.
Isaac opened his eyes to see Ember still standing in front of him. There were tears in Ember’s eyes; deep confusion and even wonder were etched into his face. He was devastated. With a single gesture, Isaac had touched his very soul, and he had done so to make him feel safe for the first time since they had woken up.
Ember collapsed to the glass, shuddering under the crushing weight of his relief. Riptide walked up beside him, putting his hand on his back. He looked over to Isaac.
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Thank you for keeping your hope alive. That doesn’t happen easily.”
Riptide shook his head. “No. No, it doesn’t.” He smiled back down at Ember, who was starting to calm down. “But it’s worth it anyway.”
“What’s the plan now?” asked Flint, walking up to Isaac. “Are you doing the first plan? Or are you doing a different plan?”
“The first,” Isaac said with a sigh. “The Terminus is our only option now. That’s why I’m here, actually. I came here because Joseph and I can’t do this alone. We need all of you.” He smiled sadly. “So, I’m here to say sorry.”
Ember got up, and the rest of the Pikmin crowded around Isaac, who encouraged them to sit down. He looked at each one of them with gratitude in his eyes and love in his heart. “I’m so sorry, friends. I’m sorry for ignoring you, and for acting like I was the only important one in our story. I’m sorry for lashing out at you; for taking the trust you had in me and shattering it…breaking something I don’t know if I’ll ever get back. If you will still hear me, I want to talk to you guys specifically about what I said.”
Once more, Isaac surveyed the Pikmin around him. “Do you know why I wrote your stories? Why would anyone make characters, put them in plots, give them conflict and relationships…what’s the point? Is it just so that there can be drama and angst? Is it so that I can watch you get hurt and revel in the pain? Goodness, no. A story that only exists for the suffering of its characters is no story at all. So why?”
“Oh! Is it for the good things we feel?” Blue asked. “Is it because the bad stuff makes the good stuff feel so much more good?”
Isaac smiled. “In a way. But I don’t write just so that I can get to the good scenes. My friends…”
His eyes filled with tears. “My friends, I write for all of you.”
Curious now, the Pikmin leaned in. “In a sense, you could say the narrative is a gift that I give to you all,” Isaac continued. “Both the good and the bad. The good is a gift because it’s so refreshing and joyous, and even the bad strengthens and grows you like nothing else. And so I write for you. I write because you’re strong. I write because you have given me so much. I love your stories, and I love you. I can’t bear to let you go.”
“So…the trials we’ve faced are your way of being with us?” asked Bolt.
“Well, yes and no. You could say I was there in the trials because I wrote them, but I’d never want my presence with you to only be associated with the horrible things you’ve endured. That’s what I’m trying to prove: that I can be with you without there being pain. I want to prove to you all, as much as I can, that I’m here because of love. That you’re here because of love. My love, for you.”
“You were…there somehow?” Riptide cocked his head slightly. “Could you tell us how?”
“It’s because I knew the plot. I didn’t write the trials, then stop, leaving you there. I kept going, and you got through. And now you’re here, and you’re all so close with each other…I love you all so much, and I’m fighting to keep you alive just as much as I’m fighting for myself.”
A slight silence preceded the next question. “So, if you’re the author…” Toxin’s voice was diffident; Isaac leaned in to hear him better. “If you’re the author…what does that make us?”
Isaac smiled. “I’m so glad you asked, Toxin. If I’m the author, what are you? Are you just my characters? Puppets of mine that I can drag through whatever evils I wish? No, far from it. I would never treat you so terribly. My time here has shown me that you’re something much more than that. All eight of you are something really special.”
He stood and walked back a short distance to see all of the Pikmin more clearly. Once again, tears blurred Isaac’s vision.
“You’re a part of me.”
The Pikmin exchanged glances with each other, processing what Isaac had just said with hushed awe. “Each one of you is a part of me,” Isaac began. “When I was writing these stories in the first place, the only reference I really had was myself, because I was writing for myself.” Isaac chuckled. “Maybe that’s why I never made female characters. But that’s besides the point.”
The author approached his characters, sitting back down. “Steve: logical, level-headed, realistic. And Blue: energetic, exuberant, and always hoping for the best. Ember is fiercely loyal and fiercely protective, and Riptide is fiercely kind and forgiving, not wanting to see harm come to anything. Toxin hates what his mind tells him he’s capable of doing, but his heart of gold wouldn’t let a single one of those thoughts come to pass. Bolt is bright and stays close to his friends, and Flint loves to have a good time, and can’t stand being confined or sitting still. Plasmin has done terrible things, but he’s been changed, and he’s growing even if he still feels guilt. You see, even if it’s just in part, I share all of these traits with you. And I’m not identical to any one of you, either — for example, I’m not a natural leader like Steve, and I’m not an optimistic juggernaut like Blue — but that’s because you’re not me, and I’m not you. Each one of you has a piece of me, though; I’ve shared myself with all of you. So your stories are my stories, and your experiences my experiences.” He crossed his arms and smiled, his tears now running down his face. “I’m a dreamer, and you guys are proof of it. That’s what creativity is all about.”
Now that Isaac had finished, Blue piped up: “What’s a juggernaut?”
Bolt almost jumped in, but he deferred to Isaac, who let his arms lower back down to his sides. “It’s something that never, ever, ever stops.”
Steve put his arm around Blue, who was beaming. “That’s right.”
“So…even though you’ve been through awful experiences, I want you all to know that I truly care about you, in the good times and the bad. I need you eight, and Ace and even the Shadow Fist. I am so sorry for losing sight of that. To wrap this all up, I’d like to ask you one question myself…”
Isaac got up, walked over to his phone and speaker, and brought them to the group, taking a seat again. “I know we don’t deserve it, but can Joseph and I have your support for the final stretch of this journey?”
Each Pikmin’s eyes turned to their leader. Steve rose, taking slow and measured steps towards Isaac. Stopping in front of him, he turned back towards Blue, who nodded. Steve faced Isaac again. He reached out and, gently, with care, placed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. Isaac gasped.
“We’re with you, Isaac. Thank you for focusing on the good. We needed that, too.”
Footsteps behind him. Isaac saw Joseph, Ace, and the Shadow Fist approaching the group. “Thank you, Steve,” he said with a grateful smile. “Now I think it’s time.”
Isaac stood and faced Joseph. Ace pulled the Ichorium Terminus out of his bag and handed it to Joseph, who took it reverently. Staring into its eye, Joseph took a deep breath. Then, he made eye contact with Isaac.
“Ready?” Isaac asked.
The Xenithian Warrior nodded and raised the Terminus high.
“Ready.”

Chapter 36: A Welcoming Smile

Chapter Text

Chapter 36

A Welcoming Smile

– X –

The Terminus flashed. Motes of light began to fly to it from all directions. Joseph kept the artifact held high, grim determination in his very soul. All those around him were looking to the Terminus — some with expectancy, some with fear, and some with the same determination Joseph felt. He had to admit he was afraid, too. But fear was something that could be overcome; defeated. His determination wasn’t. He had no limits, and he was going to prove it.
A sinister red glow enshrouded the Terminus as the magic continued to build. Then, with a roar, the power released, and a brilliant flash enveloped them all. When the radiance dissipated, left behind was a gigantic gleaming halo splitting the void, its gaze fixed on Joseph. Several voices, each one all too familiar, addressed him in unison.
“Hmm? Oh. It’s you again.”
Joseph lowered the Terminus, dropping it to the glass. “Yeah, it’s me. You know who I am, and you know what I need. I won’t waste your time by asking for it. Let’s get to it.”
“And why should We have changed Our mind?”
“Don’t you care about the prayers of the needy?” Joseph spat. “Isaac and I have been doing all we can to contact you ever since we woke up in this lifeless place. Why turn us away after we’ve fought for so long?”
“You call the construction of this mockery fighting?” Xeroc was unwavering; his tone was acerbic and his words cutting. “It looked more to Us like running and hiding, repeatedly. We saw you in that other world, you know, and what We saw offended Us greatly. Do you all really think that We were unable to see what you were doing during the daytime? Even during the night when Our gaze was apparent, you assumed your minds were hidden from Our sight. Are We blind? We knew you were making another Terminus. We were only watching to see you tear each other to pieces, and here you are, not in pieces. We’re not impressed.”
“It’s called resurrection, Xeroc, and it’s my greatest hope — my only hope.” Joseph crossed his arms. “Who’s first? I’m excited to see how your ritual will work, since I’m from a different world and all.”
“Okay. We will ask again, infant. Who, exactly, do you think you are to make any demands of Us?”
Isaac walked up beside Joseph, who pulled his arm down to lock the charge. “You wanna know what we are, Xeroc?” he asked. “You wanna know why we’re so stubborn? Wanna hear why we’ve been working so hard for this?”
“Oh, please.” Joseph could just about hear Xeroc rolling his eyes. “Enlighten Us.”
“With pleasure.” Exchanging a glance with Joseph, Isaac stared down Xeroc’s eye. “We’re creators, too. We’ve created characters and stories; we’ve breathed life into our own narratives. I’d even go so far as to say our creativity has a divine source, and it’s from One far stronger and far greater than you. So now we’re asking you, from a couple of creators to another. How about we give your ritual a shot, huh?”
Joseph grinned and high-fived Isaac as they waited for a response. “That response is so asinine We barely feel the need to address it,” Xeroc rejoined. “It’s like a gnat asking favors from a dragon because they can both fly. You’re comparing yourselves to Us now? Really? You think that what you have imagined could possibly hold a candle to the world We’ve shaped?”
“I think so!” Blue yelled. “My friends are so cool! And I’m cool! Your world is cool, too, even if I didn’t get to see much of it! So yeah, I—”
“No, plant. Isaac is not right. Joseph is not right. You are not right. Your friends are not right. We are right; We alone. We do not care what you think. It does not matter in the slightest. Here is what is true: all of you combined do not have the might to even draw near to Our ritual. Now then, We hope you are aware that you are testing Our patience. Would you like to find out what happens when you anger a god?”
“I’ll bite,” retorted Joseph. “What happens?”
“Insanity, if you’re lucky. Excruciating pain — and that for a very long time — if you’re not. And We don’t think you’re very lucky right now. So, tell Us, protozoan. Are you willing to roll the dice? Or will you finally leave Us alone, escaping the torture you rightly deserve?”
“If the torture involves a boss rush, I’m all for it.”
Stunned silence. Joseph hoped he wasn’t showing how nervous he actually was. He was putting on a brave face for the Pikmin, for Isaac, for Ace, and even for the Fist. They needed him to be strong right now. He was their only hope of survival.
It started with a chuckle. The chuckle became a laugh, and then Xeroc was howling with laughter, filling Joseph’s mind with incomprehensible tones. His eye shone with merriment, and then he was calm.
“Well! You have all the bravado that We seek, even if you have none of the prowess. Congratulations, creature! You have explicitly asked for torment. Good job! That is something We can easily provide.”
A sound like a rush of wind flew through the space. “How about this: We conjure up the most cruel and cynical beast We can dredge up from out of your mind. If you win — which you won’t — good job! When you don’t, you get the torture you asked for: a bloody death wracked with pain. Does that sound good to you?”
Once again, Joseph crossed his arms. “Bring it on.”
“Very well. We expect you to turn in a perfect performance!”
And then…there was nothing. Xeroc’s eye continued to stare him down, but nothing walked out of the void. What was Xeroc planning? Was this just a bait and switch? Was Xeroc going to start laughing again, then brush them all aside — or worse? The fire in Joseph’s arms was less uncomfortable than the pit in his stomach. Why keep them all in suspense?
“Wow, what is this place? I’ve never seen anywhere like this before!”
It was not the voice of a monster. It was the voice of a child. Something about it — the bubbly personality, the over-the-top cheerfulness — ignited something deep in Joseph’s mind. He dropped his arms. Who was behind him? What had Xeroc done?
He slowly turned…and then he saw. And Joseph’s blood ran cold.
Standing in front of him was what appeared to be a young girl; she saw Joseph turn and waved effervescently with a welcoming smile. She was dressed in a pink shirt topped with purple, a pink skirt that was torn at the edges, lavender leggings, and brown boots. The ends of her brown hair were tinged with a hot pink coloration as bright as her irises.
“Well, it’s good to meet you!” she said. “My name’s Betty!”
“No.” Joseph took a step backwards. “No, it’s not. It never was.”
Concern crossed her face, and she lowered her arm. She began walking towards Joseph. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her tone of voice caring and compassionate.
And then the illusion fell.
With a tilt of her head, Joseph’s eyes were opened, and he saw what the creature in front of him actually looked like. The whites of her eyes were an unnatural fuschia, and her grin was too far up her face. Strands of melted flesh stretched across her mouth, bridging over teeth that were pointed and razor-sharp. She was not a human. She was not a monster. She was a wicked spell wearing a corpse. And Joseph could not keep himself from screaming.
“Are you afraid?”

Chapter 37: The Black Beast

Chapter Text

Chapter 37

The Black Beast

– X –

Joseph was afraid.
He knew exactly who was standing across from him. This story of his had started with Glitchtale, and now, for better or for worse, it would end with it, as Xeroc had invoked the main antagonist of its second season. Her name was Bête Noire — literally meaning “black beast,” it was an idiom for something particularly hated or despised — and she was essentially made to be an incarnation of fear itself. Joseph knew her story, her personality, her world…and her abilities. She was as powerful as she was sadistic. Xeroc had chosen brutally well.
“You should have seen the look on your face,” Bête mocked.
Joseph crossed his arms, shrinking back a little despite himself. “I…I can beat you.” His voice sounded far less brave than he would have liked. “I know your weakness.”
“Yes, you know a lot about me, don’t you?”
He hastily broke eye contact, but it was too late — she had already read his memories. “It doesn’t matter what I know—” He shook his head, then tried again — “what you know about me. I’ve seen you die. I know how it happens. I just have to…” The thought trailed off.
“Are you stating that or trying to convince yourself?” She flashed another grin. “It sounds to me like my weakness is exactly what you’re missing right now. You’re clearly afraid of me. I’ve already won.”
Joseph certainly wasn’t feeling determined. Forcing himself to stare down the horror in front of him, he summoned all the willpower he could find. Isaac’s voice rang through his mind: You’ve got a lot of awakening to do, so go shatter that void into a quintillion pieces. He closed his fists, and the Xenith on his arms burned scarlet.
For both of us.
Stepping forward and throwing his arms behind him, Joseph sent a Xenithian Wave; the crimson energy streaked towards Bête Noire. She easily sidestepped it, and opening her hand she sent a deep magenta energy wave of her own. A short teleport allowed it to fly past. Bête charged forward. Crossing again, Joseph threw his arms downward, launching himself up; she lunged past underneath. Joseph landed, then turned to see where she was. They were inches apart. Startling, Joseph saw her arm — from the forearm to the fingertip, it was hot pink, and instead of a hand was a sharpened point. Her arm was pointed just below his sternum. He threw himself to the side, and the blade went past; rolling, crossing, and ripping his arms downwards, the blast launched Bête a short distance. He got up and sent a beam. She reached through it, her hand growing until it was large enough to grasp Joseph around the torso. Bête flung him into the air, and a storm of small dark pink arrows met him at the apex of his flight. A quick shield deflected them, but the arrows distracted him from the presence behind him. An impact in his back sent him careening to the glass.
Desperately, Joseph opened a portal; he flew out of the glass, then parried his momentum as he fell back down. He absorbed the force, converting it into Xenith. He rolled over, and Bête was already in midair above him, her sword arm pointed to strike. Another shield. Magenta energy crashed out of her arm, thundering across the Xenith. Bête’s fuschia eyes bored into Joseph’s as she leaned into his defense. Hairline cracks like a spider’s web scattered through the shield. It was only a matter of time until the shield shattered. It was only a matter of time until Joseph…
What was he doing? Joseph was severely outmatched. Bête Noire was like no one he had ever fought, even in his stories. The Shadow Fist fought fairly and waited to see what someone was capable of, but she used every trick at her disposal right away, fair or unfair. The Plasm Wraith had multiple targets and liked to keep trophies; Bête was solely focused on him, and the only trophy she wanted was his soul, if he even had one of Glitchtale’s soul traits to begin with. And while he had the shield up, he couldn’t do anything else without first absorbing it, and that action would let Bête through — the same effect as the shield shattering.
But wait a minute. Who said he couldn’t? Was that a limitation placed on his powers by the Xenith, or was that something he was assuming? Xenith was creativity itself. Was he putting unnecessary limits on his creativity?
Maybe, if he just…
More cracks were forming in the shield; it was moments from breaking. Joseph crossed his arms, still keeping the shield up. He let all the energy he built siphon into the shield. The cracks shrank, and the energy began to change from jade to ruby…from defense to offense. Joseph squeezed his fists shut, and the shield exploded, sending Bête Noire flying. Now with a slight grin, Joseph stood and brushed himself off as she landed.
“That’s right. I’m making new moves on the fly. You got a problem with that, Bête? If so, maybe you shouldn’t be fighting an opponent who harnesses pure creativity.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Do you really think you’ve seen everything I can do?”
“Nah.” Arms crossed. “But I can deal with it.”
Bête scowled, her arm lengthening and curving until it formed a scythe. She drove the scythe into the glass, and a magical charge raced towards Joseph. She then jumped up above him, preparing an energy wave. Joseph watched and waited until she fired. Joseph sent one arm upwards and one arm towards her, and with a purple flash, some teleportation, and some creativity, they switched places. The attack converged on Bête, engulfing her in an explosion. Joseph stuck the landing with a touch of Xenith.
She came charging out of the smoke. Joseph opened a portal for her to race through that pointed directly into the glass. He sent a beam while she was still down, then sidestepped; her energy wave shot past. She grabbed his ankle, then pulled; he fell, breaking his fall by smacking the glass with his arms. Bête pulled Joseph towards her, then lifted him, sending him over her head and into the glass. Joseph parried his momentum, absorbing it. Pushing himself off the glass with his crossed arms and getting his knee under him, Joseph turned and sent a Xenithian Wave that sliced clean through Bête’s arm.
Unwrapping her hand from his ankle, Joseph stood. Bête glowered at him, light shining out of her arm as she regenerated. Xeroc was fueling her magic, but Joseph wasn’t fazed. She could only regenerate so much. He crossed his arms once again. “Wanna see what else I can do?!”
And then, he felt it.
A chill ran through his body; the hair on his arms stood on end. A frigid pressure surrounded him, freezing solid the air in his lungs. Joseph gasped for breath, trying in vain to keep himself from panicking. The void was enveloping him.
His gaze snapped down to his crossed arms. Their glow had stopped growing, and instead it was beginning to shrivel, fading from view until his last spark of creativity was snuffed out by the annihilation around him. His arms uncrossed, and his jaw went slack. He was starting to die.
“It looks like we won’t have time for that,” sneered Bête Noire with a twisted grin.
Joseph examined his surroundings frantically. There was no one around. The Pikmin were gone, Ace was gone, the Fist was gone — even Isaac was missing. He was alone, with only the void to keep him company.
“Looks like they were just figments of your imagination,” Bête explained. “Dreams, basically.”
“Well, no, wait a minute! If they were my imagination, then you are, too! You shouldn’t be here; you—”
“Except,” Xeroc interrupted, “We are keeping her here, and the little shadow upon your mind can do nothing to dilute Our light. You wanted torment, and torment you shall have. She is not your imagination.”
“So…what are you?”
Her smile widened.
“Your death.”

Chapter 38: The Broken Made Whole

Chapter Text

Chapter 38

The Broken Made Whole

~ ♪ ~

“Joseph! Joseph, wake up!”
He just stood staring, eyes wide, irises glowing pink. Isaac wanted to run over to him, to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, to tell him that whatever he was seeing wasn’t real — but he couldn’t. Joseph would neither hear him nor see him nor feel him. Bête could kill him easily if he were to do so, and he wasn’t the focus of the ritual anyway, so Xeroc might react harshly before she could. All Isaac could do was watch as he was murdered by the black beast. Terror dug its claws into his heart; he squeezed his fists shut from fear and felt pain creep up his right arm. He was going to lose himself again.
“What’s going on?” asked a distraught Steve. “Why isn’t he doing anything?”
“He’s trapped in an illusion,” Isaac explained. “It’s one of Bête’s signature abilities. He’s experiencing things that aren’t real.”
Joseph took a few steps back, then went tearing off into the void, running as fast and as far as his feet could take him. Isaac couldn’t help himself. “Joseph, come back!”
Bête Noire laughed and turned towards him. “You of all people should know he can’t hear you.”
“Well, there’s gotta be something we can do!” Blue looked from Steve to Isaac, seeking some kind of confirmation. “We’ve gotta be able to help him somehow!”
“I do have one idea,” growled the Shadow Fist.
“We will have you all know that spectators are not allowed to even touch Joseph’s opponent to help him. Understood? Not even a finger, or there will be consequences.”
So there was nothing they could do. They couldn’t impede Bête Noire whatsoever, and Joseph could neither hear nor see them. He was condemned, locked within his mind for as long as Bête wanted, and whenever she felt like dropping the illusion he’d get the bloody death Xeroc had promised. It was a horrific, torturous end…and an unavoidable one.
Joseph stumbled into view once more, enervated from his flight. He saw Bête in front of him and let out a cry of surprise, falling backwards. With a serrated smile, Bête sharpened her arm. Joseph scrabbled backwards as she walked towards him. Even with her relaxed pace, Bête was gaining. Isaac’s heart was burning. There was nothing he could do. Was Joseph’s resurrection for nothing?
The black beast pointed her arm, and Isaac couldn’t look away.
A war cry; a roar. Orange light flooded the space. Bête Noire dropped her arm and stepped back, confused. Separating her from Joseph was a colossal wall of flame. And when it cleared, standing between the combatants was a single Red Pikmin, with smoke on his leaf and fire in his eyes.
“Get. Away.”
“Um, excuse Us, but We seem to remember just clarifying—”
“I didn’t touch her. Obviously.”
Xeroc sighed. “Are you really so dense as to take what We said exactly at face value? What We clearly meant is that you are not to get involved.”
“Yeah, I don’t care. If she wants to get to Joseph, I’m gonna have to be dead first. Got it?”
“Whoa, hey. Absolutely not.” Riptide walked up to Ember. “That’s not happening. Not while I’m around, too.”
“I don’t think this is the kind of enemy you can be nice to, Rip.”
“Oh, come on. I’m not always nice, I just don’t kill. There’s a big difference.”
“You guys are getting into a fight without me? Come on!” Flint grabbed Bolt by the stem and ran over. “Bolt and I would love to help! I’ve been so bored I can hardly even stand it.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, life is never boring for us when you’re around,” commented Bolt, being dragged across the glass.
Flint set Bolt down, and they stood alongside Ember and Riptide. Joseph, hearing and seeing nothing of this, got up and tottered off into the void.
“Someone needs to go after him,” said Toxin.
“I’ll go.” Taking charge, Steve stepped forward, taking one more look around the group. “Toxin, you join the others. You five always fight best together. Plasmin, find Calamitas. We’re going to need her help.”
“That’s enough,” the frigid voices decided. “Bête Noire, kill the Pikmin. Make it quick. Then go back to Joseph. You can take your time with him.”
Her hand turned hot pink, her fingers clawlike. Now with the other Pikmin, Toxin’s eyes widened. “She doesn’t breathe.”
“You’ll still do a great job helping us,” Riptide assured him.
“Hey, Isaac.” Ember looked over at him as Bête knelt. “Could you do us a favor after this?”
She drove her fingers into the glass, then looked up towards the Pikmin. Ember’s leaf burst into flame as he faced the black beast.
“Write us back to life.”
“Run!” The Cerebral Glass, murky with void to most, was clear to Toxin; he saw Bête’s attack coming. The Pikmin scattered. The distraction was underway.
“All right. They’ve got that under control. I’ll find Joseph.” Steve began to walk in Joseph’s direction.
“Okay, great! We’ll see you later, Isaac!” Blue bounded over to Steve, who stopped.
“Blue…” Steve turned, putting his hands on Blue’s shoulders. “Blue…I need you to go with Plasmin and find Calamitas. We need her help.”
“Wait…wait, what?! No, Steve, I have to go with you! If I don’t, you’d be all alone, and Betty would— Betty might—”
“That’s exactly why I’m sending you with Plasmin. He can protect you far better than I could.”
Plasmin stared at Steve in disbelief. “You’re…trusting me with Blue?”
“I have to. More than anything over this time, I’ve seen that you’ve changed. Not only that, but I’ve heard it from the one who wrote our story, and if I can trust him, I can trust you. It’s not easy, but I’m making that choice.” Steve’s grip tightened. “I just can’t lose you, Blue. Even if it’s only for a short time. I can’t.”
“And I can’t lose you!” Blue cried. “You’re my best friend, my leader, my teacher — you help me, you ground me, you’re always there for me…”
“...And you’re my ray of sunshine.” Steve broke eye contact with Blue. “I will not let you be snuffed out. We’ll meet up after this is done.”
Blue was shaking his head, his hands on Steve’s shoulders. “We’ll be okay. We have to be! We’ve made it so far and fought so many hard battles…and we’ve done it all together.”
An explosion shook the glass as Bolt detonated one of Bête’s arrows in midair. Steve put his head down, brought his arms to his sides, and squeezed his eyes shut. “Blue…”
And, filling his breaking voice with all the authority he could muster, Steve issued a single command:
“Go.”
Blue dropped his arms at once. He walked over to Plasmin, who put his arm around him. Then, Steve and Blue went their separate ways.
“You’re toying with them,” Xeroc chided. “End the fight.”
The five Pikmin were holding their own. Ember was throwing jets and walls of flame, trying to keep Bête contained. Riptide applied water to the glass under her feet while Toxin clouded her vision with poison. Flint built battlements of earth with excitement and speed, while Bolt used his own body, glowing with electricity, to protect the others from Bête, punctuated by frequent jeers: “Not touching you! Not touching you!” Isaac felt so proud watching them fight. Here they were, working together to keep him alive.
And yet…it couldn’t last forever.
Avoiding more water on the glass, Bête approached Riptide. Ember was there with another wall of flame. Sweeping her hand through the wall, Bête pushed it aside, moving the fire and throwing it into the air. Her other hand sharpened, pointed, and connected…driving straight through Ember’s body.
The other Pikmin turned to see their friend suspended between the void and the glass. Horror set into each mind as fear lanced each heart. None of them had to be told the wound was fatal.
The fire on Ember’s leaf smoldered, then quenched. A pale red fluid dripped to the ground; Bête’s arm was slick with it. Even still, Ember’s eyes showed all their old protective fury as he glared up at her. She pulled back her arm, and Ember fell. His eyes turned glassy and lost focus. Riptide ran up alongside him, examining the wound, looking into his expressionless face. Then, with a mournful, wavering wail, the ghostly form of a Red Pikmin floated into the void above.
Xeroc’s eye glowed red.
She grabbed Riptide by the stem. Toxin was there, throwing poison clouds into her face, attempting to blind her. Taking a step backwards, she lifted Riptide, placing his leaf in the midst of the clouds Toxin had made. She threw him in front of Toxin as he made sounds only describable as a Pikmin choking. “Not…not your…”
He went limp, his soul floating up past a very silent, very still Toxin. Bête walked up to him next, kneeling to look him in the eye. “You should really be more careful, Toxin,” she leered. “You could hurt someone badly.”
She patted Toxin on the shoulder and got up. Flint ran at her, and she grew her hand to take hold of him, with only his stem visible. A dark purple substance leaked out from between her fingers. Bête threw the mass to the ground. Stuck to the glass was a mulberry mound with a purple Pikmin sprout sticking out of it. Flint was alive, but he was encased inside. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t get out.
Bolt ran to Flint’s prison and began pulling on his stem. “Flint? Flint, I’m going to get you out. You don’t have to worry, this isn’t like before, I can—”
He froze as he sensed Bête behind him. “Do you miss your friends?” she asked.
Immediately, Bolt let go of Flint’s stem and took off running. Bête simply watched. Taking one last look around the battlefield, she turned, satisfied.
Isaac just stared. The author couldn’t stop his own characters from being trapped in their worst nightmares any more than he could stop the tears from rolling down his face. And now Bête Noire was making eye contact with him.
He heard a few clicks and a cheerful ding. Then, stone separated them. Isaac watched as walls of stone formed around Bête as Ace_the_Yoshi brought his Worldshaper’s Looking Glass to bear. One of the walls blasted open, but Ace was there to fix it. He noticed Isaac and waved.
“Hey, Isaac!” he said. “Sorry I didn’t get involved earlier. Truth be told, I was a little skittish because I had never seen something like Bête Noire before, but it’s really a fascinating learning opportunity!” He flew around and plugged up another wall. “But I understand that you need to make time, and I’m able to help with that. Also, seeing what happened to the Pikmin…well, I don’t want that to happen again, especially after hearing everything they’ve already been through.”
Bête leaped on top of the wall, sending energy arrows Ace’s way. Ace simply launched into the air, letting them collide with the glass. Bête landed, looking confused. “You can fly?”
Ace beamed, landing in front of her. “Yes, I can! It’s an ability that comes from my Robes of the Stratosphere, which is a part of the armor set that I made. It really comes in handy, especially for a fight like this one, but it also helps a lot for exploration, too, since I need to cover large swaths of land sometimes in order to get to where I need to go.”
“That’s interesting. How’d you make it?”
“Oh! I’m so glad you asked. First, I took the inert robes — I made them out of Ichorcloth, which is another entire crafting process, so I can explain that one next — and put them into an Infusion with a Thaumostatic Harness, a Dislocation Focus, and a…did this one require a Diamond? Let me look it up.”
He pulled out his Thaumonomicon. “Okay, so the Robes of the Stratosphere take—”
An arrow launched, detonating against him. Ace, it seemed, only had mild injury from the blast; his armor protected him well. But he wasn’t the target. Ace’s Thaumonomicon, his life’s work, was ash, charred leather, and a few paper scraps.
All emotion left his face as Bête smiled. “Thanks.”
She coolly walked over to Isaac. “You’ve been far too nice to your characters, you know. I’m just writing a better story.” Isaac took a hesitant step backwards, his hands near his phone and speaker. “Now, tell me,” she continued, “where’s your twin?”
“Is this really what passes for a forbidden spell in your world? Where I come from, we would have learned something like this at twelve years of age.”
Bête turned to see the witch Calamitas shaking her head, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. Her hood was up over her face, and there was a slight red glow on her right hand. “Mildly destructive by the basest standards, but nothing to be afraid of. And if you wanted something truly intimidating by any stretch of the term, you would have preserved the cadaver instead of making a magical facsimile. Seriously, whoever crafted you must have been insane.”
Bête’s eyes narrowed. “Mildly destructive? Nothing to be afraid of?” She growled. “I have taken countless souls, witch. Now get out of my way, or yours will be next.”
Calamitas just laughed. “Oh, I still have a soul? I had no idea! Maybe you could help me find it. You may have to dig through a few decades of the blackest magic known to mankind, but if it’s still there, I’d like to know.”
That was all Bête could take. She shrieked, her arm turning sword-like and stabbing into Calamitas’ shield. Not a scratch. Not a flinch. She just stood, completely calm and thoroughly unimpressed. The glow on her hand flashed, and Isaac felt anger at Calamitas surge inside him. He remembered that a certain armor set in Calamity related to her magic had an enrage spell. Isaac took a few steps backwards before he started attacking Calamitas, too.
“Please, try again. Perhaps if you scream louder, my shield will tear in two like it’s made of gel.”
Bête did try again, but Isaac’s attention shifted. There stood Plasmin and Blue, looking out across the battlefield. Ember and Riptide were lifeless, Toxin hadn’t moved, Flint was still trapped, and Bolt was nowhere to be found.
“We were too late,” Plasmin breathed.
“No, we weren’t!” replied Blue. “We got Calamitas here, didn’t we? Now Joseph has all the time he needs, and he and Isaac will use their author powers to bring our friends back! I’m sure of it!”
Plasmin chuckled. “Steve’s right about you. You really are a ray of sunshine.”
Bête struck Calamitas’ shield again, and again it yielded no result. She dropped her arm with a scowl on her face. Glowering at Calamitas, she weighed her options.
“Have you given up already?” The witch laughed. “You haven’t given me a single reason to be afraid of you, Betty. If you really think I should be scared of you, you’re going to have to try a little harder than that.”
Then, the scowl dropped from Bête’s face, and her head tilted up past Calamitas, looking up towards…nothing. There was nothing there, but she looked intimidated, even afraid. Calamitas turned, looked up, and took in a shuddering gasp.
Bête’s uneasy expression grew into a smile. Calamitas just fell to her hands and knees, prostrate in terror. She didn’t move, and as Bête walked back towards Isaac, Calamitas spoke three soft words:
“Yes, my lord.”
“Oh, stop trying to interrogate him. Here.” A beam of light flashed into the void. “Joseph is over there. Now get on it. This has somehow been even more boring than We thought it would be.”
She turned towards the ray, took one step, and froze. Isaac waited for her to move, then saw that she couldn’t. Something was restricting her movement directly.
“How dare you.”
The voice was deep, black, and irate. Isaac could barely see the figure that came walking out of the void, but he recognized him instantly. It was the Shadow Fist, his arm extended with dark telekinetic power.
“When you killed the Pikmin even though they were just stalling you, I could allow it. When you destroyed the Yoshi’s book to lay him low psychologically, I could allow it. But look at what you have done. You have locked the witch Calamitas in a prison of her mind, leaving her to tremble in terror of an imaginary foe. And why? I know why. It is because you know you could never overcome her in a fair fight. Her strength compared to yours is immeasurable, and you know it. So, like all cowards who face foes too strong for them, you cease to fight fairly. You utilize dirty, underhanded tactics to gain a phony edge. Then you tell them that you won. That disgusts me.”
The Fist brought his face within inches of Bête’s, his Xepaktrian eyes burning. “Now look into my eyes, beast. Look into my eyes, and tell me if you see anything that I fear. I am not aware of any such thing. Do you understand me? Can you see in the dark?”
Standing up straight, he teleported back a short distance. “Since there is nothing to find, your underhanded methods will not work on me. We will therefore have to fight fairly, and you will find that although I may not be as strong as some, I am neither miserable nor powerless — not by any means.”
His telekinesis dropped, and Bête stood, burning with rage. With his head held high, the Shadow Fist offered one last challenge: “Bête Noire.”
He formed the call sign, and all his shadows shone.
“Fight me.”
Bête surged forward, arm sharpened and ready. The Fist stopped her, slammed her into the glass, then threw her backwards. He formed the call sign again.
“Fight me.”
She sent two arrows. The Fist teleported behind her, and instantly she turned to attack. The Fist grabbed her telekinetically, threw her to the ground again, then sent a beam of shadow that enveloped her. Again he formed the call sign.
“Fight me!”
Turning her arm scythe-like, Bête sent a charge through the ground and four arrows towards his position. The Fist launched into the air, took Bête telekinetically, and threw her into her own attack. He landed.
“FIGHT ME!”
Dazed slightly, Bête had no immediate response. The Shadow Fist again froze her. “Pitiful,” he concluded. “Utterly pitiful. You attack so strongly, but you focus all your energy on where your opponent is, not accounting for opponents who can and will be everywhere else. You use misdirection, then fail when it is turned against you. Do you really have such reliance on your mind games?”
He floated into the air. “Whatever. I do not care any more. Let me get to the point. The Warrior explained to us exactly what you are, and he said there were two ways to destroy one of your kind. The first: to make you run out of magic. With our almighty spectator clearly aiding you on that front, I do not see a way of doing that, and I don’t intend to take the time to find one. That leaves the second option, which is to annihilate you in one fell blow.”
The Shadow Fist slammed his arms into the crossed position — one arm horizontal with the hand in a fist, and the other vertical with the fingers flared and tense. The Xepaktrian sigil flashed before him, and both of his arms turned jet black. The pink coloration on Bête’s hair crept upwards, replacing some of the brown.
“That can be arranged.”
He fell like a bolt of black lightning. The sound of a finger snap reverberated through Isaac’s mind. Bête was still alive, and it was the Shadow Fist now who was frozen. Isaac saw his right fist, still black with Xepakt, making the slightest contact with Bête’s forehead.
“Aren’t you forgetting something, shadow?”
What appeared to be a paper cutout of a hand grabbed the Fist’s foot with its thumb and forefinger. It dragged him backwards away from Bête, and a beam seemingly composed of the fabric of a universe thundered down from above. The beam gave a deafening hum that drowned out everything except the incomprehensible sound of the deity’s chanting. When the thundering stars and galaxies vanished, no trace of the Shadow Fist remained.
Bête got up, brushed herself off, and resumed her progress towards Joseph. Frantically, Isaac reviewed his options. The five elemental Pikmin were all dead or incapacitated, and the other Pikmin couldn’t stall Bête for very long due to Xeroc’s rule. Ace was broken, Calamitas was at an illusion’s mercy, and the Fist had just been crushed by the weight of a universe. It was true that Joseph was seeing reality now, since Bête could only trap one person in an illusion at a time, but he hadn’t reappeared. He wasn’t ready to resume the fight. Bête would catch him off guard, leverage his disorientation, and kill him. The only one who could stop her, the only one who could stall her…was Isaac.
Up until this moment, he had felt sick about the entire ritual. Bête Noire’s presence in his mind still felt like his fault. He had obsessed over this ritual to the exclusion of everything and everyone else, and now he was watching it destroy him and everyone he loved. No longer. Determination burning bright inside him, Isaac took his phone and speaker, searching for a song. He just had to make time…and time was exactly what he found.
Isaac began a song which was high on his Ranked playlist: Endless, by Creo. He stayed at a distance while Bête walked ahead; he didn’t want Bête attacking while the song was still warming up. The start of the song seemed melancholy to Isaac — here he stood, the last defense of his fractured mind. It took ages to get to the build-up. Isaac could only hope that Joseph wasn’t already dead.
At last, the music began to build. Turning up the volume on his speaker, Isaac broke into a sprint. He saw Steve standing between Joseph and Bête. He grit his teeth. He would not let another one of his characters die.
With a shout, Isaac reached out with his whole self, connecting to the Aura Clef. And the first drop hit.
Time slowed to a crawl around Bête Noire. Fully in tune with Endless now, Isaac felt the passing of each second, like a rhythm tapped onto his very soul. Joseph’s eyes were wide with shock. “Isaac…you—”
“Charge!”
They only had so long. Endless would not be as powerful after the drop ended, and Isaac doubted he would still be able to use the song to slow Bête down in that case. Joseph crossed his arms, breathing resolutely.
“You can do this, Joseph,” Steve coached him. “It’s going to hurt, but you’ll make it through. You’re strong enough, and you’ve…what’s wrong?”
He dropped his arms, shaking his head in fear. “No, no…Isaac, stop!”
Isaac looked over at Bête. A wicked smile adorned her face, and her hair was glowing hot pink from its roots to its ends. He knew exactly what it meant, but he couldn’t stop his magic in time. Their surroundings turned bright white as the color in the space inverted, and the Aura Clef flickered into existence above Bête.
The second that followed for Isaac was fifteen for everyone else. As Bête surrounded him with projectiles, information flashed through his mind. Rhabdophobia. Bête Noire’s special attack. The ability to commandeer any magical effect—
Five arrows crashed into him at once. His speaker dropped to the ground, and Isaac fell with it. A crushing, stinging ache surrounded him, then that pain faded to the background as a new agony took over. His core, once steely with resolve, turned molten and scorching with a sickening crunch. Isaac didn’t have to look behind him to know his end had come. He didn’t have to be told the wound was fatal.
“Hmph. Traitless. Figures.” She walked past Isaac, her arm dripping with his blood. “Now, then…where were we?”
“Steve!” There were light footsteps somewhere behind Isaac. “There you are! I really missed you, and I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t—”
Blue stopped. “Wait. What’s…what’s going on?”
Bête looked back and grinned.
No.
She turned, her bloodied arm sharp and ready.
No, no, no, no—
Somewhere, far away, Isaac saw his hand reach forward, saw his hand grab his speaker. He saw the crimson cloth still wrapped around it that showed how much he had fought to keep himself alive. The death of Blue would be the death of hope itself. Even as his blood flowed onto the glass, his determination shone once again. And last time his blood was on this glass…a resurrection had occurred.
But he couldn’t raise himself from the dead. The Aura Clef had been stolen from him, and his life force was draining away, leaving room on the Mana Clef for only a few notes. There was no power that could help him except one. It belonged to the line of the prophecy he had feared the most; the one that none of them had wanted to address. But, if he had learned anything since the moment he had woken up in the void, it was that resurrection was impossible without self-sacrifice.
Isaac forced himself to his knees. His whole body was wracked with pain as he knelt, keeping himself upright. He forced his arms to move.
Void, yours is the power opposed.
“S…stay back!” Blue backpedaled frantically. “I can fight pretty well, and— and you don’t wanna see what I can do!”
But yours is potential, eternity potential, force that could deny time.
The final drop of Endless approached. Isaac’s desire for comfort and his overwhelming fear screamed it couldn’t be done. But he was not who he used to be anymore. He had been made new by Another — One who had saved him by resurrection through self-sacrifice. It was time for Isaac to take up that same cross.
Void, harness shall be placed upon you.
Placing a single note on the Mana Clef to open the floodgates, Isaac slammed his arms into the Xepaktrian call sign, and the final drop of Endless hit.
The power he felt was utterly overwhelming. Isaac felt himself at the bottom of an ocean of void, and he felt it all pressing in around him, trying to take control of him before he could master it. Placing a second note on the Mana Clef, Isaac forced the void to become his power supply. He felt the music’s connection inside himself again, working from the inside out to control the void around and within. Isaac put his full attention on Bête Noire.
With a shimmer and a glitch, her hair went from pink to brown. The Aura Clef disappeared from over her head and returned to Isaac. But the Mana Clef didn’t leave him. Endless surrounded him, enveloped him, subsumed him — and the power of the void collapsed, as now above his head was a Grand Staff.
The Cerebral Glass gleamed. Their entire surroundings changed; with a sound of shimmering crystal, the glass turned a bluish gray, bright with white polygons that blinked to the beat of the music. The void was shoved out of the space, and a red-tinged aura formed around Isaac. It was all inspired by Endless, and for the first time, his mind was reacting to his powers on an awakened scale.
Isaac halted the progress of his own wounds, then turned, freezing Bête in time with a thought. He took hold of his surroundings and began to rewind. Pikmin souls floated down from above and came back to their bodies. An illusion of a tyrant unraveled as a burned book wove itself together again. A universe’s light came up from the glass, leaving a shadow behind. With both clefs, Isaac wrote his will into reality. And last, he turned to Joseph.
He knew what Joseph needed to accomplish, so he slowed down time for him. Joseph now had all the time in the world, and with that time he could bring them home. Isaac saw Joseph cross his arms, grimace, and shout…and then it happened. The Xenith in his arms burst out of him, surrounding him in a blast of every hue. It shone across his form, radiant and bright. And the final drop of Endless came to an end.
The colors in the glass muted. Isaac took out his phone, opened his playlist, and added one more song to their play queue. Then, taking Joseph’s hand, he put the speaker and phone into it, looking him in the eye.
“Give her Hell for me.”
Isaac’s hand slipped off the speaker. The Grand Staff vanished; his connection dissolved. As Endless ended, the Cerebral Glass returned to its previous state, and everything went pitch black…

Chapter 39: Awaken the Creators

Chapter Text

Chapter 39

Awaken the Creators

– X –

In the time leading up to Endless, all Joseph knew how to do was run.
He barrelled through the void as it closed in on all sides, grabbing at him, trying to convince him to just slow down a bit, to stay, to relax. He couldn’t. He could feel the void gaping for him, and so he ran. He ran, destruction on all sides, and fear itself on the hunt for him. And within his mind, tearing through the tattoo of his footsteps and the pounding of his heart, was the screaming of voices he recognized. They pleaded with Joseph, begging him to just tell them why he had done this to them. Why had he brought them here? Why had he dragged them through this torment, only to die at the end of it all?
Joseph had no answer — only a deep, cutting guilt.
The void parted to reveal Bête Noire in front of him. Joseph attempted to flee, falling and crawling back as quickly as he could manage, but she approached him anyway. She prepared the fatal blow…and then stopped. She let her arm fall, and she waited. What she was waiting for, Joseph couldn’t tell. But he caught himself staring. Now was his chance to get away, so he took it. He got up, and he ran.
The void embraced him, and the screaming followed him. Joseph ran until his legs gave out, and he collapsed to the glass, shuddering, clutching his head, resisting the desire to shout until his voice gave out. He had tried so hard. He just wanted the screaming to stop. He didn’t want to die — he had died already, and he thought the screaming had died with him. But now the voices were calling for his fate, and it was only a matter of time until they would be satisfied.
Isaac was gone. Even if he wasn’t, there wasn’t possibly enough time for another resurrection. Even if there were enough time, Joseph didn’t want Isaac to have to go through that again. He had seen the fabric wrapped around his hand, and the red dots speckled around his eyes. But what could he do to keep himself alive without Isaac? He had no powers, he had no strength…and his opponent was overwhelming. It was only a matter of time until he ceased to exist. The only question was whether he’d fall prey to the void or to Bête.
At that moment, the screaming silenced. The void retracted, and Joseph felt a hand on his shoulder. Who was behind him? Bête was playing some kind of trick on him. She wanted to give him a false hope, then tear it away to see the light die in his eyes.
Joseph turned over and fell onto his back, feebly retreating from the figure in front of him. “Please…please, I know I’m dead already, you don’t have to do this to me, please—”
“Joseph! Joseph.” The figure came in close; it was a Red Pikmin. “Hey. It’s me. It’s Steve. You’re safe. You’re not dead, and you’re not going to die, okay? I’m here. I’m real. You’re awake now.”
“I’m…”
Only stunned silence remained. Joseph stared at Steve for an eternity. He…cared about him? After all he had put him through? After all the pain he had caused each one of them? He was still receiving mercy and grace?
Throwing himself forward, Joseph embraced Steve, sobbing. Shocked at first, Steve put his arms around Joseph. “There you go. It’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. And it’s hard, but you’re going to get through the rest, too. I know you will.”
Remembering they were pressed for time, Joseph took a few deep breaths, letting his emotions regulate. He let go of Steve and sat back down, keenly aware of how weak he was. “I’m awake?” he asked, his voice husky. “What do you mean?”
“You’re back in reality.”
“Reality? But I’m not— wait. No. No way.”
Steve just nodded, his expression sad and empathetic.
“Was my eye color weird? Was it anything out of the ordinary?”
“If you call bright, glowing pink weird, then yeah.”
His fear turning to fury, Joseph put his head in his hands. From top to bottom, it was all an illusion. His characters disappearing, his powers not working, the void tightening…all of it was fake. It was one of Bête’s most iconic abilities, and he had allowed it to stop him. How blind he was!
“Joseph…I need you to do something for me. Could you do something for me?”
Joseph looked up. Steve was avoiding eye contact. He leaned in. “What is it, bud?”
“I need you to win.”
Steve shut his eyes. “When Bête was about to kill you, Ember stepped in. Then the rest of the five. When I left to find you, they were still fighting her…but I know how that’s going to end. It’s probably already happened. All five, just like that. As their leader, I…”
“Oh, Steve…” Joseph just shook his head. “Steve, I’m so sorry.” Then a thought crept into his head that he dared not believe. “Where’s Blue?”
“Blue…I sent him with Plasmin to find Calamitas. He begged me not to, but I commanded him to go. I did that. Plasmin can protect him better than I could, but if Bête found him…” Steve turned away. “Sorry.”
A sob escaped Joseph’s lips. He had never seen a Pikmin cry before.
A quote from one of Glitchtale’s later episodes branded itself on Joseph’s mind: That pain we feel…we should use that energy to fight, to make sure nobody else has to go through that. That’s how I see it, at least.
Joseph grit his teeth as determination seized him. He crossed his arms one final time. “Steve…I’m going to win. I’m going to charge everything I have. It’s gonna hurt like heck, but it’ll get the job done. It’ll end this, for all of us.”
Discreetly wiping his tears, Steve faced Joseph. “Okay. You’ll make it through this.”
His charge hadn’t even reached the point of pain before he saw her. Bête was walking towards him, her expression cruel, her arm sharp. Joseph pressed his arms together, but he couldn’t accelerate the charge.
“No.” He tried to stand, but his legs didn’t work. “No, no, no. Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare.”
She didn’t stop. Steve turned and stood between them. “I won’t let you hurt him!”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t.”
Then a shout pierced the void, and Isaac bolted in, taking control of time itself. Then Bête used Rhabdophobia, using Isaac’s power source to overpower him and deliver the fatal blow. Then Blue came in, Isaac cast himself deep into void, and the Grand Staff banished the darkness, allowing Isaac to use his full potential. It was the greatest work of musical magic Joseph had ever seen.
All that surrounded Joseph slowed to a crawl. Isaac had given him time. He had given him time to act, to fight…to win. Steeling himself for the ordeal to come, he called upon the Xenith that had been given to him. He would create a new ending; he would forge his victory in power and light. It was only a matter of time.
Pain entered Joseph’s arms and began to build alongside the charge. Joseph mentally greeted the pain, understanding it as a signal of his mind, which thought that something was awry. He tried to convince himself that nothing was wrong, but the pain increased, and Joseph could not keep himself from crying out. He focused all his energies on keeping his arms together. If he was to wake up, he would have to suffer one more time.
Joseph began to feel light-headed, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He gave himself to one final push. With each second that passed, he gave himself another reason to endure. For himself. For his characters. For his stories and his world, for his friends, for his family…for everyone within his mind and without. He was ablaze in alabastrine flame from fingertips to shoulders. One last effort, one last push, one last second, and one last reason. All his mind converged to a single point.
For You.
Joseph’s entire being exploded with pure creative power. The charge raced from his arms out into his body, clothing him from head to toe with the fabric of the multiverse. The pain vanished; it had been nothing more than a test. Made new, he saw time resume its normal flow around him. Isaac added a song to the queue, then gave Joseph his phone and speaker.
“Give her Hell for me.”
I will.
And he fell. His life was gone. But, at that moment, Joseph knew it wouldn’t be gone for long.
Because that was the moment the first note of Awaken rang out into the void.
It filled Joseph with a confidence almost as strong as his charge. Here he stood, at the peak of his creative potential, with both plans to awaken solidly within his grasp. Because it never was just one plan, was it? Just like how it was never just one of Isaac and Joseph. It was always both. It always should have been both. And now it would be both, never to be severed again.
However, there was one big problem with that: Isaac was dead. But the Xenith was a gift from the One who could raise the dead. Joseph had been given creation’s might, and now it was at his fingertips. All he had to do was channel it, concentrate it…and it would be.
Joseph reverently lifted Isaac into the air with a touch of telekinesis. And, as Awaken picked up, he extended the speaker and sent a beam of Xenith directly to his heart, bringing Isaac back to life by means of a power not his own. He noticed Bête shield herself with her hand, then drop her defense upon realizing she was not under attack. Her expression changing from confusion to annoyance, she ran at Joseph and sliced at him. Normally, he would have had to interrupt what he was doing to respond, but using the Xenith in a full charge didn’t have the same requirements as before. With a flick of his free hand, Joseph parried the blow, then countered, sending Bête flying.
More Xenith poured into Isaac. Then, ten fuschia spikes burst out of the glass, all pointed straight towards Joseph. With a stomp of his foot, Joseph sent a circular wave that severed all ten; he then immolated the remaining matter with a blast. Xenith was still pouring into Isaac. Joseph smiled — Awaken was getting to the good part. Right before the drop hit, he crossed his arms.
The surge of Xenith that responded felt like applying a defibrillator to the heart of the world. His whole self instantly thundered with the power of creation. It echoed off him, radiating through his mind and rushing into Isaac. Joseph heard his own voice in his mind: The void is what’s weakening us. The more of it you destroy, the stronger you’ll get. It’s an exponential curve. Joseph laughed, because the concern was destroying that first piece of void, but it was right in front of him, trying to claim a part of himself. But nothing could banish destruction like Xenith. Nothing could wake him up like a good resurrection.
A few dark magenta energy arrows came flying through the void, aimed at Isaac. Bête had finished regenerating. Joseph switched places with Isaac, crystallizing the Xenith around him into armor; the arrows exploded without leaving a scratch. And the power of creation kept pouring into Isaac.
There was movement somewhere on his right, then the sound of a launch. Bête was behind him, waiting to strike. Teleporting up to her before she could attack, Joseph sent her crashing to the glass with a thought and a nod. He returned to Isaac, gave him some more Xenith…and with a gasp, his eyes opened.
Joseph grinned, dropping his arms and placing Isaac on his feet. “Welcome back.” Without moving over to Bête or even looking in her direction, he trapped her inside a dome-shaped shield. “I want to talk to you about something. You got a minute?”
Awaken’s guitar came in. “This whole time, I feel like it’s been my plan against yours. How ridiculous is that? We’re supposed to make the broken whole, aren’t we?”
He looked around at his characters, who were surrounding Isaac and him, watching the ritual’s end. “Look at all we’ve created. Would any of this have been possible if we weren’t thinking, or if we weren’t feeling? Creativity requires the whole person, not just a fragment.”
Joseph extended his hand. “So join me. Join me in writing one last story, friend. Let’s make it the best one we’ve ever written.”
Isaac took Joseph’s hand without hesitation. The Xenith flowed through both of them, the Grand Staff shone above their heads, and their entire mind shone with resurrected life…
Isaac Joseph turned towards Bête Noire, all his powers made one. As he dropped the shield around her, another quote flickered through his mind: You ended my friends. Now I’m gonna end you. He was tired — no, done with being afraid. He spread his arms.
“Come.”
That was all the encouragement Bête needed. She attacked, roaring. Awaken’s final drop hit, and the author crossed his arms and began to write.
Their surroundings changed. They were outside now, with grass under their feet and the sun shining down on them. Isaac had brought Bête to the Awakening Wood, a location in the world of the Pikmin. And Isaac fought with fierce flame, with careful water, and with precise poison; he threw earth and stone with a whoop and bolts of lightning with a mischievous grin. He changed his abilities as the situation called for it, always fluid, always adapting. And he did all of it guided by meticulous leadership and motivated by undying hope. These eight of his characters always fought as one, so bringing all of them to bear at once was not hard for him.
Night fell. Grabbing Bête telekinetically, Joseph threw her high into the air, then teleported up and sent her shooting down to the ground with a strike. Coming in close and engaging Bête hand to hand, teleporting erratically and relying on hand techniques, Joseph fought with confidence and exhilaration. The night made him strong.
The landscape turned angular and square as Isaac clothed himself with a golden aura and brandished a sword. He moved with superhuman speed and agility — even with both arms sharpened, Bête was having difficulty keeping up, and the Ichorium left nicks in her arms. With a flourish and a turn of his hand, Isaac took his wand and applied the Primal focus, hitting Bête point-blank with an explosive mass of raw magic.
The landscape changed one last time. Now they were on a huge disk of Cerebral Glass, which had the Xenithian Sigil emblazoned on it in white. Around the glass and around them all was a spinning sphere coated with orange spikes — it was all inspired by Awaken, as his mind responded to his powers on an awakened scale. Shining with creative power not his own, Joseph faced his fear head on. Throwing Bête towards him with one arm, he parried her momentum with the other and sent her flying back twice as fast. She careened through a portal he opened, slamming into the glass; Joseph followed up with twin beams of Xenith, then a blast. She landed, her hair glowing pink. Joseph crossed his arms, unfazed as the colors around him inverted.
Bête was able to steal some Xenith. It wrapped around her and tightened, forming chains. Everything else — the Grand Staff, the bulk of his charge, how his mind responded to his creativity — was sourced in his unity and empowered by severance undone. That was something she could never take. Glowing like an awakened star, Isaac opened his hand, sweeping it from left to right in front of him. The Xenith formed words suspended in midair:
And Bête Noire was no more
Joseph turned his back to the shackled spell and looked Xeroc in the eye, keeping his fiat in front of him. Bringing his thumb and middle finger together, he prepared the point of Xenith that would finish the decree. And he allowed himself one last quote, one he knew Bête would recognize.
“I win.”
The author placed his punctuation. All the world shone in a supernova of thought as creativity became reality…And Bête Noire was no more.

Chapter 40: Xenith

Chapter Text

Chapter 40

Xenith

– X –

“Hey, Joseph? You’ve already been resurrected once; pretty sure you don’t need it again. You can wake up now.”
Joseph hazily opened his eyes to see Isaac standing above him. “There you are. Come on.” He offered him a hand — Calamitas’ cloth was no longer on it, and it bore no scar. “I think someone wants to talk to you.”
Taking Isaac’s hand, Joseph climbed to his feet. His mind had returned to its previous state, but the deep black of the Comatose Void around him had faded to a muted gray. And floating before him was a huge figure whose form was a hodgepodge of flowers, feathered wings, deer antlers, and paper arms with pins at the joints. The halo that had watched them during the ritual stood behind the figure, and central to the whole conglomerate was a torso in a white robe with a face obscured by a black rectangle. When he spoke, gone were the many voices, replaced with a single distorted male voice.
“Get out of my sight.”
The nameless deity left. Joseph took in the sight of a living mind. He wasn’t fully awake, but it was blank like a canvas — the void had become such an assumed part of the experience that he had almost started taking it as a given. Now that it was gone…it was like he was breathing again for the first time in days.
And, just about then, it hit them.
The Pikmin cheered. Isaac and Joseph clung to each other with ecstasy and tears. “I told you!” Blue yelled. “I knew it would turn out well! They’re all back, and the darkness is gone! We did it! We made it!”
“It wasn’t darkness,” the Fist replied, a smile in his voice. “But I’ll let it slide.”
“Well,” Ace clarified, “if we’re speaking generally and not categorically, then it could be classified as darkness, given that it was an absence of light and was black in hue, although I can certainly understand your— ow!”
“Hey,” Bolt quipped, a spark still on his fingertips. “I’m supposed to be the smart one.”
“All right, all right.” Isaac and Joseph let go of each other, turning to face the group. “It’s great to hear your banter again,” Isaac continued, “but it’s time to get you all home, and I have just the way to do it.”
Everyone in that space was wearing some kind of pleased expression, ranging from a full smile to a slight grin. Everyone…except one.
“What if we don’t want to go back?” asked Calamitas, her lowered hood revealing a haunted expression.
Isaac nodded. “I understand. Your world is a cruel one. But we moved your story ahead before, so let us do it for you again. You’ll be free of the tyrant’s grasp. I promise you.”
“And if you are free, you shall not ever return. You wield strength beyond compare.” The Fist gave a nod. “You’ll make it through.”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Calamitas turned to face the Fist. “I didn’t quite hear the second part. Could you repeat that?”
“I said that you were strong beyond measure.”
“Oh dear, I think I missed it again. I should get it this time. Go on.”
The Fist let out a long, slow breath. “Warrior, tell Calamitas that I respect her strength and was a fool to fight her.”
“Hey, Calamitas.” Isaac was beaming. “The Fist just said—”
“That’s okay, Isaac,” interrupted Plasmin. “I think she knows.”
The Fist snorted. “Well, thank you, Plasmin.”
He just stared. “You’re…you’re welcome.”
“Yes, yes, I do know. But you’re right. I do believe that with your capabilities, I shall be truly free, and…” She took a deep breath. “And Yharim shall have no hold on me.”
“Wonderful. Shall we make this happen? I should be able to whip up some portals pretty quickly now.” Joseph crossed his arms, and instead of charge building up, their whole surroundings flashed white. “Let me see what I can do!”
Isaac put his hand on his shoulder. “I know I’ve been saying this a lot, but I think it’s right this time. I have a better idea.”
Joseph dropped his arms and saw Isaac with his speaker in hand and a song prepared. “Oh, okay. Play us out, friend.”
“With pleasure.”
The song began softly, with ambient beeps and trills in the background. Joseph recognized it instantly. It wasn’t on Spotify, but it was one of their favorite songs nonetheless. He grinned.
“Good choice.”
“What song is this?” asked Ace.
Isaac chuckled. “The title’s a bit cumbersome, so I’ll just say—”
“Oh, come on,” interrupted Joseph. “The title ‘Exit This Earth’s Atomosphere (Camellia’s “Planetary//200step” Remix)’ is nothing to be ashamed of. That’s what song it is, and it’s amazing.”
Isaac closed his mouth. “Fair point.” He reveled in the music for a breath. “I picked this song because we are exiting this area, but it’s more than that, too. This song inspires me; it enthralls me — just like you all. I wanted to say thanks. Thank you, so much. I owe you all my life. I really do.”
His face lit up with a smile. “Okay, friends. It’s time. Are you ready? I’m going to bring you all home.” Taking one last look over the group, he raised his speaker. “You all have inspired me so much. Let me show you what that looks like.”
As the melody came in, hues splashed onto the canvas of Isaac’s mind with each beat. The sky was awash with shades of green and brown, of blue and white and yellow. They interacted and played in a brilliant kaleidoscope. Isaac lowered his speaker, bringing his arms in close, crossing them.
The music began to rapidly build. The colors that adorned the canvas now flew into Isaac, sharing their ideas with him as they joined him. Joseph heard them, too: a forest, a town, and a world that surrounded it. He was glowing bright with glorious hues of inspiration. The space returned to gray, and he uncrossed.
Isaac’s thoughts were huge and bright and wonderful. Now, he was going to express them.
He slammed his speaker into the glass as the drop hit. The colors flew out of him, painting a world, forming a landscape. It was a forest, with tall trees soaring up into the sky and soft grass beneath their feet. Yellow flowers looked up into the morning sky, blooming with the day. Rabbits hopped by, birds flew overhead, and other critters went about their lives. Isaac planted herbs and weeds, grew vines, and settled liquids. He performed a final clean up, giving the finishing touches to the Terrarian landscape — but he wasn’t done yet.
He made a clearing, repurposing the wood from fallen trees into houses. He made them spacious and comfortable, with plenty of room to move around. Isaac placed a Clothier in one and a Princess in another, leaving the third house open for a Brimstone Witch to live in. The drop ended, and Isaac turned.
“Well, Calamitas, thank you for—”
She wasn’t there. Isaac turned back towards the empty house and saw her walking towards it with a purpose. He smiled.
“For everything.”
Terraria faded away, leaving their surroundings blank once again. The song began to build anew. Isaac crossed his arms, and this time he didn’t need to paint the sky. All of the colors he would be using were already in his head.
Isaac built the energy and condensed it into a prism in his left hand, copying the prism in his right. The remix continued to accelerate, and his creativity gladly formed a duplicate speaker, copying it down to the texture and color. When the acceleration stopped, Isaac gave the duplicate to Joseph. They pointed opposite directions as portals opened in front of them, and the second drop hit.
From one position, Isaac constructed the vibrant world of PNF–404, home to the Pikmin. From the other, Joseph opened a way into a lightless subterranean cavern where the Shadow Fist could lurk. Each location had its own charm and its own artistry, for they were what his characters called home.
Because he could, Isaac switched the portals midway through the first part of the drop. The twins put their finishing touches on both worlds, leaving the portals open nearby. At the halfway point of the drop, two new portals opened which both led to the same place: the famously square world of Minecraft, imbued with a touch of thaumaturgy.
A plain here, a forest there. Ace’s house in the middle, in an L shape, measuring five blocks across on each end and twelve blocks on the long side. His underground Infusion altar, Essentia room, Infernal Furnace, and storage. They rebuilt the world as they remembered it, but the world as they remembered it was not how they wanted it left.
Joseph repaired the crater in Ace’s empty room as Isaac restocked his chests and Essentia. They fixed the damage outside, then set the world against a brilliant night sky peppered with stars, the full moon hanging in the sky. That moon, at last, had faded to white.
The drop ended, and Joseph’s speaker faded. They had some time before the song built again. It was time to say goodbye — well, goodbye for now. No author could ever say a final goodbye to his characters.
Ace was the first up, gladly shaking Isaac’s hand, then Joseph’s. “Thank you so much for the opportunity to learn! I got to scan so many new things and—”
The Shadow Fist moved him aside. “All right, enough already. Sentimentality isn’t my style.” He pointed at the two of them, freezing them in place with his mind. “You two stay out of trouble…or I’ll show you what trouble looks like.” With a wicked smile, he vanished.
Then, the Pikmin. All eight of them came up, crowding Isaac and Joseph together in a group hug. Joseph was so grateful to each one of them. After a while, they let go and all started walking through the portal — that is, all except one.
“You coming, Steve?” called Blue.
Steve’s big eyes filled with tears. “Stay safe, okay?”
Isaac knelt, his hand grazing Steve’s shoulder. “You too, bud,” he replied with a choked voice. “Don’t go poking any suspicious flowers, okay?”
Steve smiled as well as a Red Pikmin could. Then, he followed his friends back home.
Isaac stood up, wiped his tears, and faced Joseph. “Well, friend, this is it. Are you ready to go home?”
“Almost.” He put his hand on Isaac’s speaker, which he volunteered. “There’s something I want to show you first.”
And he raised the speaker high.
A breathtaking column of color came pouring out of it. The sky above echoed the symphony — swirling purples and yellows, muted blues, bright grays and violets, and black with bright stars of white. What he was building, he was building out of love, and he would show it to Isaac shortly.
Tears were streaming down Joseph’s face, and he felt like he was smiling as broadly as he could. They had come so far. They had been through so much. And for the first time in that entire ordeal, Joseph felt truly happy, without any doubt or fear creeping in the background. He felt awake. He felt alive.
Joseph reverently lowered his speaker. Turning his palms inward, he crossed his arms at the forearms, forming an X — calling upon Xenith, pure creativity, one final time.
His creation hastened into him, permeating him with the ideas he had formed. The power and wonder of Xenith filled his heart, his mind, his soul. He glowed brightly, a rainbow of hues dancing across and through him. As the song built, one set of colors flashed as it was finalized. Then another. Then a third, then a fourth. Everything moved to his arms, and he opened them, forming a wide portal. He grabbed Isaac’s hand.
“Let’s fly the heck out of here together.”
And they took off like a rocket ship.
Isaac and Joseph flew over the eerie world of Subcon Forest, the land dotted with dead trees. Giant mushrooms and frozen masses stared up at them. As they traveled, they passed an arena, but not an active one. It sat hushed and unused. Joseph preferred it that way.
The landscape changed to the quiet town of Dirtmouth, their flight augmented into a crystalline Super Dash. There was no Grimm Troupe in sight. The town would have looked sad to any other spectator. Joseph found it peaceful; it was a good place to collect one’s thoughts. Isaac looked up to see a cave in the mountain they were flying towards. Joseph knew the mountain well, and it wasn’t Crystal Peak.
They traveled past the crystals and stones at the foot of Mt. Celeste, flying in an aura of golden light. A memory brushed past Joseph’s mind: a time when Isaac had needed the feather, desperately. Joseph was grateful for its help once again. He appeared in front of Isaac, caught him, and threw him upwards.
They rocketed, together, through outer space, past stars and planets, comets and asteroids. It was a much more niche reference, but it was one that Joseph knew Isaac understood. A blocky starship — Starship Genius, it was called — flew past them to their right, and a hand-drawn one to their left. Their great flight to reality accelerated, the light of the stars bending around them as the song raced to its climax, and their position was frequency shifted to another dimension…
They landed in a hospital room. Joseph wasn’t surprised to see it, and it honestly paled in comparison to everything he had recently been through. His mom, his dad, and his older sister were there; his whole family was watching, waiting. They had likely received some news about him, that he’d be waking up soon. But they didn’t notice Isaac and Joseph standing alongside them — after all, they weren’t exactly real yet. Isaac approached the bed from one side, and Joseph from the other. And they looked each other in the eye one last time.
Everything that had happened came rushing into their minds from both perspectives. At that moment, they understood each other. They understood themselves. They mouthed two words in unison: Thank you. And they nodded in reply.
Isaac extended his hand, and Joseph took it without hesitation. Their surroundings began to shimmer. The song reached upwards towards its conclusion as their adventure came to an end. The space faded from gray to white…
And somewhere, far away, my eyes opened.
I had woken up, and for a little while light was all I could see. The bed beneath me was soft and rather warm — not exactly like any bed I had felt under me before.
I focused my gaze with some difficulty. I looked around, seeing my mom, my dad, and my sister, who were present in the room. I sighed. It was like they had made a real effort to keep me warm. Or maybe it was just naturally warm. In any case, I felt so loved within that room. It was bright and warm, and I felt loved, more loved than I had ever felt.
I am alive.

Epilogue

~ –– ~

And that, my friend, is the story of how I died and came to life again. That is the story of how I survived annihilation, fighting through fear, finding myself. It is the story of creativity; of being an author in terrible times. Because even in the darkness, we are surrounded by love. Even in the throes of fear, there’s a friend with a hand on our shoulder, watching and waiting for us to see reality.
Xenith is a gift. It is not something we dredge up within ourselves through slavish routine and pushing ourselves to just make already. It is given to us, given by the world around us, instilled in us by the ones we love — and ultimately granted to us by grace from the Author of authors. What we do with this gift is up to us. Do we take it and use it to create? Or do we push it aside, seeking our own way, hoarding power and not giving back to those who have inspired us? I think this narrative makes it very clear. Xenith is never meant to be hoarded.
So go. Write. Create. Make. Think and feel. Love. Because when one story ends, another begins. Because when void is there to attack, creativity is always alive to overcome it, and it will overcome. Creativity is stronger than destruction, no matter what any voices scream.
So now I extend my hand to you. Join me. Join me in writing a new story, friend.
Let’s make it the best one we’ve ever written.

“look up! the land is waxing bright along the eastern shore;
the velvet curtain of the night is lifting, star by star.
we waiting ones, whose youth was spent in watches of the night,
will be the first to see it end, and sing the morrow bright.”

~– The End –~

Awaken the Creators - Xenithian (2025)

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