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Chapter Text

Fifteen Days Before the Death of Arathain

The early morning sounds of birds disturbed him from his deep slumber. His bed was warm but the world around him was as cold as ever. He couldn't stay here long. He found his goggles on the bedside dresser and forced past the sleepiness to stand upright.

It took him a few more moment before he started moving, finding his way to his closet. Arathain quickly changed into his clothes, then he pulled on the heavy, reinforced iron. Extra protection on his body.

He stepped to the spruce doors, knowing the day ahead would be long and tiring. In the before days, he would have a sort of pep in his step, but in the most recent days all he could hope for was more than two hours of sleep every night. 

Arathain had a lot to do today, he slowly hobbled over to his 'To-Do' wall. reading down the list.

"Let's see," He mumbled. "Repair floor in banquet hall... Move the Soul Moulds into place in The Village... Meeting with Diansu..." He grumbled his annoyance, there were plenty of items on this list, seven to be exact. And all had to be done within the next few days. If he wanted to get them done in time, he would need help. His eyes drifted up the ravine walls, thinking of his daughter. She didn't need to be be involved in his daily tasks.

He shook his head, making sure he didn't feel tired anymore before crossing the deepslate walkway to the main hall. He didn't exactly remember there being a large hole in the floorboards, but sure enough, after taking the creaking wooden stairs, when he opened the main door, there it was. Arathain stared at it with painful expression. He originally thought the wood would just need replacing or some minor repairs, but seeing the hole, which stretched from one side of the room to the other, he could only wonder how it had happened.

"Great, this is going to take all morning."

"I heard you needed help?" A voice echoed behind him.

In most cases, for most mortals like Doctor4t or anyone else, this sort of greeting would have caused screams or panicked shouts. Not him. Arathain turned his head to teh source of the voice. Of course it wasn't someone he necessarily wanted to be greeted by.

"Hello EightSidedSquare," Arathain spoke softly, backing away to show him the damages. 

"What happened to the table?" Eight laughed.

Yes, the table was gone. He sidled up to the side of the hole, looking down and seeing the broken table at the bottom, impaled of dripstone spikes. While the help would be nice for a change, he didn't exactly enjoy that it would be coming from one of Doctor4t's allies. EightSidedSquare was supposedly neutral, but Arathain knew his true side. His eyes drifted towards the stone throne of his, made out of stone people. Thankfully, it survived, because carving those things was no walk in the park.

"What do you say? I have the materials on hand," Eight's question echoed hollowly in his ears.

"If you could repair it, it would be most appreciative. I, however, have other duties to attend to," he said. "Your work will be paid in due time."

With that, he left EightSidedSquare to his repairs. The cubic creature would work diligently, he knew that well. And it would cross the most tedious task off his list. He walked back into the open to check the list again. Not that he needed a reminder, but he would rather cross something simple off first before nightfall would soon arrive. His eyes scanned the papers.

Most all were written in his daughter's handwriting, specifically aimed at him: Repair your armor. Keep yourself fed. Stand up straight... He removed the slips written by them and stuffed the notes into his pockets, clearing the board. 

Arathain read down the list, "Move the Soul Moulds... Meet with Diansu... Repair the floor... Scout..."

In his opinion, scouting was the best part of the day. It really consisted of wandering and making sure the world was in order, it gave him an excuse to visit Lux. Unfortunately, he was left with the two most difficult tasks. He stumbled his way back to the main tower. Past the kitchen, up the stairs, past the Banquet Hall, (He quickly peeked inside to find Eight working before leaving), up a few more flights of stair before leveling off at the main floor. He stepped up to the balcony—the landing zone as Moriya once called it—and found one of his ravens flapping its wings gently in the breeze.

"Come here," he offered his arm out to it. It turned its head at him, ruffled its feathers and gently flapped towards him. He took a paper and string and tied it around its leg. Arathain wandered out onto the platform and released it into the air.

It jumped from his arm and rose high into the sky, disappearing into the clouds far above. He watched it for another moment before walking to the edge of the platform. He sat at the edge and dangled his legs over. If he were to fall, it would surely kill him. He'd thought about death for many years, what it would be like, but he couldn't bring himself to disappear. That thought of what it would be like without him. His allies, his friends, his daughter, all wishing he were home...

He shook his head until the thoughts were rid from his mind. His expression hardened, his mind dulled, he had work to do.

☽ ☼ ☾

The hours ticked on, time seemed nonexistent. From the late morning to the early evening, Arathain was stuck with the same repetition of steps for all 20 Soul Moulds: Find, repair, move to new location. It didn't seem like it would take too much time, but each Soul Mould was as tall as a warden and as heavy as a netherite block. It was no easy feat to try and move the monsters to their new home in the surrounding village. 

Finally, when the sun had dipped low into the horizon, he moved the last metallic monster into place, it's feet locking into the ground to keep it from falling. He heaved a heavy sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from his brow. Arathain gazed up at his creations in silent awe, marveling in their beauty. They were built to protect, but he secretly knew what others, what his enemies believed they were.

"I thought I'd find you here."

Arathain slowly turned, meeting Eight's eyes. "Hello again. I take that your work is finished?"

"Yep, I repaired the floor and decided to fix you up a new table while I was at it," he beamed.

Arathain gave a small nod, pulling a small pouch from a string on his belt. He opened it and shook a few diamonds into Eight's open hand. "For your troubles, you are rewarded."

"I wouldn't go as far as troubles," Eight said. "Not even an inconvenience to my daily life. It's this or sit around on my couch all day."

"Sounds exciting," he mumbled, slipping the pouch back on his belt, tying the string tight until he was sure it wouldn't fall off. His head craned to see the moon, which was already higher in the sky than he wished it to be. Unfortunately, he still needed to scout, which means he would miss dinner again. His eyes dropped again, ready to say his farewell to Eight, but the cube man was already gone. 

He waited for another couple of moments, his mind processing his day which wasn't yet at its end. Then he checked his pockets, finding them empty. "Hmmm—I could have sworn..." His thoughts drifted a moment longer before hobbling back to BonesBurrow, needing his armor before leaving.

☽ ☼ ☾

Arathain's shoes hit the deepslate stairs with a heavy thunk! The sound reverberating off the cold stone walls, walls that offered no condolences or forgiveness. The walls that would...

He shook his head, trying to get those thoughts out of his head. Bonesburrow would forever be his, at least, until he decided it would go to Lux. When she was ready of course. He found his armor on the stand where he left it the night before and pulled it over his reinforced iron. Netherite was the strongest material to make armor out of, but he always felt safer when it came to having the second layer of iron below it.

He shuddered, remembering the one time he didn't have it. The feeling of the sword going through his chest was unbearable. It sliced through so quick, so easy, so...

"Where's my sword," He said out loud, his voice carried through the halls. He walked around until he found it on a table in one of the spare rooms. Arathain was confused, but not enough to be stopped by it. Once he was ready, he wandered out to the fountain, loading a firework rocket and pointing it at his feet.

"Let's not take my feet off this time," He mumbled, pulling the trigger.

BANG!

He was flung through the air, flying higher and faster until he reached the zenith, far above the clouds. The world was like looking at a map, forests looked like splotches of green, oceans painted a deep blue. Almost like a map for a DND campaign. He smiled to himself at the thought, but it didn't last too much longer. Why? Because he was falling.

The air whipped against his skin as he dived towards the area known as Spawn, the hub of activity, as Diansu claimed it to be. He past through the clouds, the ground getting closer, and closer, and...

CRUNCH!

That was the sound of his body as he rolled across the ground. It did not hurt, he did not bleed. No pain for falling from thousands of feet. No pain from hitting the ground at Mach 1. His armor took most of the blunt force and held strong. No cracks, no damage.

He breathed out a heavy breath, almost as if he's been holding it for years. He flexed his fingers, which popped and cracked before he stood at his full height.

Over the years, the decades of being alive, his posture had degraded along with his health. Lux always told him to stand up straight. He was about six feet tall while slouching, but would gain about 6-7 inches if he stood up to his full height.

Arathain shook his head again, unconsciously checking his belongings as if they would have run away from him before stalking forwards. He made a mental map of where he would go tonight.

First he'd walk the outskirts of Spawn, then loop around Eight's home to go to Oceana, then follow the rail line to Talon's base, then back to Rattenheim, finally, no mans land, near the mountains and back home to Luxintrus' residence. He sucked in a breath, knowing it would be a long night.

He trudge forwards.

Chapter Text

Fourteen Days Before the Death of Arathain

They always talk about the sun. Like it’s the crown jewel of the sky. The great giver of life. The flame that commands the day. And sure—it's loud. It's bold. Everything blooms for it. People worship it, draw their maps by it, set their clocks to its rise and fall. The sun gets all the credit. All the glory.

But me? He always loved the moon.

It doesn’t burn, nor does blind. It doesn’t demand attention—it just waits. Patient. Silent. Gentle. And still, somehow, it pulls oceans from their sleep and keeps them moving. It lights the path when the world forgets to. It has power, just like the sun does… maybe more, because it never asks to be seen. It just is.

I used to sit under it, night after night, just watching. And she—my daughter—she’d watch it too. She didn’t say much, not at first. Just leaned into me and looked up like the whole sky was holding its breath for them. She loved the moon the way I did. Like it was an old friend. Like it knew something we didn’t.

I don’t think the moon needs anyone to sing its praises. It’s never needed the spotlight. But I see it. I always have. And if the sun is a god… then the moon is a ghost. Beautiful. Constant. Quietly powerful.

And ghosts, they never really leave.........

☽ ☼ ☾

Arathain thought about this often, so often that it became a story of its own. Something to tell his allies by the campfire. Something to remind his daughter of on those stormy nights. Something to... His mind drifted away, like a leaf on a river, flowing gently through the currents.

The moon was long past gone when he arrived at his daughter's home. The sun was already making its appearance on the horizon, pushing away the morning shadows to make room for its rays of light. His boots clanked and clunked across the bridge, his body tired and his eyelids drooping. He could only wish for sleep, but he still had work to be done.

A new list had already made its way on the board of things to-do, like they had been placed by ghosts themselves. 

He yawned as his feet made contact with the grass on the other side. He pulled off his helmet and held it under one arm before walking down the spiral staircase into the earth. Into his daughter's home. The rhythmic echo of his netherite boots were the only sounds that pierced his ears, that aside from his breathing. Deep breath in, slow breath out, repeat.

He was at the bottom of the stairwell only a moment later. His eyes drifted around the cavern, as if he were searching for something. Someone.

Something caught his eye in the corner of the cave, his eyes darted to it, but nothing was there.

"Father? Are you okay?" a voice questioned his sanity.

Arathain slowly spun to face the source, his nonexistent expression softening when he laid eyes on his daughter, Luxintrus. She smiled when he turned, their eyes filled with so much joy. His heart skipped a beat.

"Hello, Lux," His voice just above a whisper as he spoke.

"Hi, what were you looking for?" She asked.

His eyes once again drifted to the area of the cave he saw the... What was he looking for?

"You," He said calmly. "Tonight is the Lunar Eclipse—"

"Tonight?" Lux gasped excitedly. "How could I forget! Hell yeah, I have been waiting for this for months. What are we going to do today? Or are we waiting until the evening? Should I wear something special? Maybe a spyglass to see the moon better? What about—"

Arathain felt his mind tune out his daughter's words, so overwhelmed by the possible questions their mind could come up with. He just smiled as she went on and on about it. She was excited, no doubt about that, but how long he could keep them entertained was the real question.

"How long has it been since you practiced?"

"What?"

"I think it's time we sharpen your skills again," He said.

"Please," Lux answered. "My fighting skills are perfectly fine."

"Who said anything about fighting?" He cracked a smile. "Come along, I think it's time I teach you more of my ancient wisdom."

"You're not that old, but okay," She muttered, following him up the steps to the surface world. He directed them towards BonesBurrow, telling Lux he'd be right behind them. She left hesitantly leaving Arathain alone. Or so she believed.

"Whatever you want from me, leave my daughter out of it," His voice carried into the cavern, warning the creature within. He couldn't see it, but he knew it was there. It was always watching him, but now it was going for his allies. A trail of smoke whisked by him, confirming his suspicions. Arathain sliced his blade at it, but it followed through and hit the stone stairs with a tink.

"Are you coming!" Lux's voice shouted from above.

He took another look, then nodded to no one, and vanished up the stairs.

☽ ☼ ☾

"Ughhh this is so frustrating!" She yelled as the little pile of logs fell once again. "What is this even supposed to teach me?"

"Patience and survival," he said, sitting cross-legged on the other side of the firepit. "You have to be able to build a fire to keep yourself warm on harsh winter nights. What if you got lost? Or you needed to signal for help? A fire can keep you alive."

"But I have gear," Lux argued, loading a firework rocket into their crossbow. He watched as she drew it back and launched it at the midday sun. It flew high and exploded in an array of purple and orange sparks. "And I have flint and steel."

He watched with silent amusement as she ignited the logs with the tool. He watched the flames for a long moment before slowly looking at them. "But that's not the point is it? What if you were lost without your tools? Without a map? Without any ally to help you?"

She blinked at him, "Then I die and come back and go from there."

He barely managed to stop his next words, knowing what he would have said could ruin the day. He let out a breath, trying to think of how this could seem important.

"Why don't we try something else?" He stood up, dusted the ash from his armor and took out a small blade.

"What are you doing?" Lux asked. He didn’t answer. His jaw clenched. A single breath in—and then, without warning, he drove the blade straight into his palm. The sound was wet. Sharp. Final.

Lux jerked back with a gasp. “What the hell—!” Blood spilled fast, dark and gleaming in the light. He didn’t even flinch, his pain contained through his shortened breaths.

She gasped, horrified. “Are you insane?”

Still, he said nothing, he simply held out his hand. This was the test. Not of skill alone—but of instinct. Of heart. Of what she'd do under pressure when the person she loved bled right in front of them. Maybe a bit cruel, but after what he witnessed, she needed a reality check.

She hesitated for half a second—just enough for him to see the fear in their eyes—before dropping to their knees beside him. Lux's hands moved fast, almost too fast. She tore off their scarf first, pressing it hard to the wound. Their thumb dug into the center, trying to stop the bleeding. He watched Lux the whole time. No panic. No tears. Just clenched teeth and shaky breath. Anger, maybe. But no collapse.

She tore a strip from the hem of their shirt next, fingers fumbling with the fabric, then wrapped it around the scarf like a brace, tying it tight around his wrist. The pressure bit, but he didn’t show it. She looked up at him—face pale, mouth pressed into a line. “Is that good enough for you?” she snapped. He held their gaze. Then gave a single nod. But she didn’t pull away. And he didn’t ask them to.

"Good," he said. "And, I am sorry, but you have to understand Lux, there are things—dangers in this world that you have to be prepared for."

She looked disgusted at him, he hated it so much.

"I need a moment to be alone," Lux mumbled, holding their stomach.

"Don't be gone too long," he said quickly, trying to think of something that would make them feel better. "I have a gift for you."

Their eyes glared at him, a small sliver of their smile returning.

"But," Arathain continued. "Take the time you need, you know where to find me."

☽ ☼ ☾

The faint pulse was all he could feel now. The pain as he drove the blade through his hand had been nearly unbearable, but it had to be done. He silently waited on the balcony—the landing zone—feet hanging over the edge. His armor had been hung up where it belonged, only the reinforced iron remained. He sighed, hating himself.

Lux left many hours ago, he'd seen them escape up the deepslate stairwell. Most likely she wouldn't return. He tilted his head to look at the evening sun. It dipped below the horizon, slow and silent, like it was ashamed to witness what had become of him. He sat there long after the last sliver of light vanished—arms crossed, jaw set—but the stillness around him wasn’t peace. It was punishment.

Now BonesBurrow was quiet. The trees swayed with wind, the gentle creak of the old wooden structure he called home, but the breeze didn’t touch him. It never did when she wasn’t near. The way she laughs, he loved it so. It always felt colder when she wasn't with him.

The stars began to rise, pale and flickering. She’d name the ones that didn’t have names, just to make the sky feel closer. He let out a breath that trembled at the edges, the kind you don’t mean to let slip.

Then, the moon rose. He thought back to his story to Lux, repeating it softly to the wind.

"They always talk about the sun. Like it’s the crown jewel of the sky. The great giver of life. The flame that commands the day. And sure—it’s loud. It’s bold. Everything blooms for it. People worship it, draw their maps by it, set their clocks to its rise and fall. The sun gets all the credit. All the glory, all the glory," He let out a shaky breath before continuing.

"It doesn’t burn, nor blind. It doesn’t shout or beg to be seen. It waits. Steady. Quiet. Patient. It pulls oceans without a sound. Lights the way when the world forgets to. It doesn’t want praise—it just is. And maybe that made it more powerful than anything else."

He used to sit under it with Lux. Just the two of them, wrapped in a blanket of silence. She never said much—not at first. Just leaned into him and watched, like the sky had secrets only she could hear. She loved the moon like he did. Like it was something ancient and kind. Something that listened.

Now, the same moon stared back at him. But it wasn’t soft tonight.  A smoldering eclipse, The Lunar Eclipse. Not gentle. Not silent. Just watching—like it knew. Like an omen. A warning. A wound. If the sun was a god, the moon was a ghost. Beautiful. Constant. Quietly powerful.

"And ghosts… they never really leave."

Chapter Text

Thirteen Days Before the Death of Arathain

He was lurched awake by the sound of a raven, he'd fallen asleep right there, at the edge of the landing zone. Unfortunately for him, Arathain didn't know where he was at the present moment. His body slid forward, off the ledge. He only just managed to grab the edge of the oak slabs.

What an unfortunate predicament he was now in. Hung only by his arm and fading grip over BonesBurrow. He breathed heavy, unsure of what to do. He could see the fountain close below him, but it was a stretch. The other option was to pull himself up, but his strength had long since deteriorated over the years. The raven cawed again, flapping its wings idly above him.

"Damn bird," He grunted, trying to grab on the ledge with his other arm, failing miserably. He glanced down again at the fountain. He took one more breath to calm his nerves. Using his feet to swing himself, he let go.

"AHHHH!" 

SPLASH!

His body landed in the shallow fountain with great force, his legs hit the bottom before his head was even submerged. Something popped in his waist and he let out a grunt of pain.

Arathain re-emerged from the water, clawing his way up and over the railing and onto the cool deepslate pathway. His hands brushed over his body, making sure nothing was broken before standing. His hands felt his face and hair, only then realizing his goggles were lost to the fountain. He didn't have the time or need to retrieve them.

He looked up, careful not to look directly in the sun, shielding his eyes from the ball of fire as the raven slowly flapped towards him. He took it in his arms and gently stroked its feathers, taking the note from its leg and releasing it back to the hold of the wind, which carried it away.

"Let's see what we have here," he muttered to himself, unfolding the note, reading it aloud.

"Greetings Arathain, I have come to inquire about your offer, however I would need payment in return. Consider this an invitation to come to the city of Oceana to further officiate this deal. Signed, Diansu Vulkarch."

Arathain read the text over again, making sure he wasn't missing anything. He nodded to himself, knowing this was for the raven he sent a few days ago. It was a good sign that Diansu was willing to agree to this deal, no matter what the machine asked for in return, it would all be worth it. With that, he took his armor and tools, making his way to the rail line to meet with him.

☽ ☼ ☾

Oceana was unlike any other city. It was currently one of the largest known factions in the world, controlling many islands and other territories scattered around the main continent. He was not officially a member of the tyrannical leader's rule, but he was a close ally and friend. Being one of Lux's close friends meant he was on good terms with himself.

He pushed the cart forward, adding coal into the furnace and jumping in. This cart was left over from a recent trip home with Lux, still having the second minecart attached to it, as Arathain was still uncertain of how to unattach it without Lux to help him.

The ride was smooth, passing through the outer edges of spawn on the journey and passing near Talon's base in the stronghold. He would never admit to it, but he was not particularly found of him living so close to the remnants of the portal. It was a dangerous artifact and could be used for some sort of dangerous weapon, but that was a topic for another day.

The cart arrived in the station of Oceana. The wheels grinded to a halt, throwing him forward into the furnace cart.

"Should have just used the fireworks," he grumbled, climbing out of the cart. Just as he started down the steps, his eyes caught something moving near him. Instinctively, he pulled his crossbow and shot a firework at...

...Nothing. The rocket exploded on impact with the pillar, charring the stone black.

"You seem on edge, might I offer a drink?" A familiar voice asked.

Arathain lowered his crossbow before turned to face the machine. Diansu a strange creature. A sentient CRT Monitor with a trench coat and a suit and tie. Whoever or whatever programmed him gave him an accent that Lux believed to be british. Arathain did not like the british, nor did he like tea.

"As long as it is not tea, I will take anything," he responded, stepping up to Diansu. They were relatively the same height, but if he actually took his daughter's advice and stopped slouching, he'd be taller. 

Diansu laughed and led him into the city, passing by a few familiar structures before taking him into a tavern-like building with tables, chairs and a bar which held a few empty glasses.

"Sit, sit, please. I am nothing but a good host," Diansu offered, grabbed an empty glass from one of the stands and filling it with a yellow liquid. He sat down at a small table and Diansu sat across from him, setting the drink down in front of him. "Do not worry, It's a lemonade drink."

Arathain looked at its contents, hesitantly taking a sip. It was sweet and tangy. Too sweet actually. Enough to make him cough in disgust. Diansu, on the other hand, seemed unaffected, drinking the liquid in one big gulp.

"So," He said, setting the glass down. "About your request, I am willing to take it—"

"—But you would like something in return," Arathain finished. "Whatever it takes, I want to ensure Luxintrus' safety."

Diansu smirked, "Well, I am nothing if not a fair business man. However, I do inquire. How long does this agreement last?"

Arathain narrowed his eyes at the machine. He'd been over the possible conversations that could happen on the ride. This was a question that had come to his mind, his brain knew exactly what to say. But now, having to face it, fear washed over him. His gaze locked on the machine, his jaw set as the words left his mouth.

"On the day that I become unable to protect them, that is when the deal begins."

"So, if you are killed by your enemies, or die on natural terms, that is when it starts?" Diansu clarified. Arathain nodded. "I understand. I am willing to accept this deal, on one condition."

"Whatever it is," Arathain muttered.

"When you meet your inevitable demise, I would like to receive the territory of BonesBurrow and all other claims in your name."

The words struck him hard, like a netherite axe to the chest. Was giving up his home worth it. He bit his tongue, hating that thought would even dare cross his path. Of course it was worth it. His daughter's safety was worth everything. Every netherite ingot, every piece of territory. Everything.

"BonesBurrow will be yours," he growled, straightening his back to stand at his full height. He stood from his seat and calmly advanced on Diansu. Each footfall echoing through the room. He halted just inches from him.

"But if your dare try to violate these terms, I will rise from the grave and rip your limb from limb myself."

He waited to see what Diansu would respond with, but there was no response. No witty comment. No educated phrase. Just silence and a look that said it all.

"I thank you for your hospitality," he said. "But I must be—"

Something moved past the window. Just a flicker—but it was enough. Arathain froze mid-sentence, Diansu noticed it too. He was already at the door, sword drawn. Arathain followed in silence. The mid-morning sun poured down over them like a spotlight, too hot, too bright. Their armor drank in the heat until sweat pooled beneath the plates—but neither of them noticed. Not really. 

“Did you see it?” Diansu whispered, scanning the empty town square. “Where did it go?”

Arathain saw it first. A figure—still as stone—stood by one of the warehouses. Not moving. Not blinking. A shadow where no shadow should be, half-draped in sunlight and yet untouched by it. Like an omen carved from the end of the world.

He tapped Diansu’s shoulder, raising his sword with a slow, steady hand. Diansu followed the point of the blade and went still. His voice caught before it could find words.

“What is…”

“ClownPierce,” Arathain muttered. 

He grabbed the machine and shoved it toward the rail line, every muscle in his body coiled and ready to spring—but still, the figure didn’t move. No sound. No sudden lunge. And when Arathain looked back—

It was gone.

No flash. No sound. Not a single footprint in the dirt. As if it had never been there at all.

“Why?” Diansu breathed. “Why didn’t he attack?”

Arathain didn’t answer for a long time. His eyes stayed on the spot where the thing had once stood. Cold sweat trickled down his spine.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. "But I fear we will know soon enough."

Chapter Text

Twelve Days Before the Death of Arathain

He decided to take some of Lux's advice. He left before sunrise and hiked far into the plains, passing through dense birchwood forests, open savannas and the scorching deserts and badlands. He'd been here before, it wasn't his first time being out. But had been a long time since he'd gone this far from home.

In the last many decades, he'd become stuck in the walls of his own fear. Fear that one day, secrets would be revealed and his legacy would be ruined, to say the least. His boots touched down in another forest, this time of oak and birch. He didn't think as he walked. He just listened to the sounds he heard.

Birds singing the the tree tops, a raven soaring past, a squirrel that scampered past, stopping just a few feet from him. He crouched down and held a handful of nuts for it. It sniffed the air and slowly, hesitantly moved towards him. Arathain observed its movements, curious of what it thought of him. Maybe it believed he was a hunter, trying to capture the poor little creature, or maybe it saw him as a future friend.

Whatever it thought, the squirrel picked the largest acorn from his hand and darted off towards one of the large oak trees, climbing the trunk and disappearing into the leaves.

He arose, looked around the forest and continued on.

☽ ☼ ☾

It wouldn't long before he reached the point where he would rest. Arathain zigzagged through the endless oceans and islands, finally stumbling on another large continent, finding a deep scar in the earth. It stretched deep, breaking through pockets of water and unveiling the molten rock below deepslate. He ventured into the scar, searched the caves for items of value.

He wouldn't have to walk far, for Arathain stumbled into an underground paradise. He'd never seen a lush cave before, so this was quite the beautiful surprise. The hanging glowberries were the only light source in the immense cavern. He slid down the rock face, sticking his sword through a few zombies before setting up camp.

He gathered water from a pool and boiled it until he was sure there would be no more bacteria left in it. He was ready to eat the pork he brought with him when a small yip came from the pools.

Arathain perked up, confused. He grabbed his sword and crawled over to the pool. It was murky and clouded with clay, unable to see the bottom. That's when in struck. It launched at his face, latching on his face with its small claws.

He screamed, but not in pain, in fright.

"GET OFF OF ME!" He cried, pulling it off. He was ready to kill it but immediately realized what it was.

It was an axolotl. 

He only recognized it because Diansu had given one to Lux many years ago. He could still remember than conversation with them, trying to explain why Leo (That was the same she gave the blue creature) was no longer in the tank. He'd accidentally crushed the poor creature with Soul Mould after it had wandered out of its tank.

"Where's Leo? Father?" Lux asked, holding some food for him.

"You're pet?" He panicked. "Um, well, Leo's not going to be coming back."

"What?!"

He could still see the panicked and fearful look on their face as she processed what he meant.

"Luxintrus," He had said. "Leo is in a better place. He can eat all the snacks he wants. He is no longer bound by the laws of the world."

"Is that what death is like?" She asked.

He never knew how to respond to that. He didn't want to think of it. Death happened, but it wasn't permanent. Not yet. 

"What do you want little creature," He set the axolotl on the ground. It merped at him and slowly crawled back to the water, disappearing into the water. He sighed, going back to his items. Arathain set up his sleeping bag, crawling inside it. His eyelids were heavy, his breathing slowed and he was pulled into his nightmares.

She was backed against the wall, screaming for mercy, panicking why they would be doing this. But they had no remorse. She screamed for their father. But he was not here.

Astronyu was slain by Clownpierce

           FreakGenius was slain by Doctor4t

                    Yahiamice was slain by Clownpierce

                                   Asai Hatsuyo taste tested a golden poison dart frog

                                             Diansu went off with a bang from a firework fired by Doctor4t

                                                                                  Luxintrus taste tested a golden poison dart frog.........

☽ ☼ ☾

His bones hurt. Maybe it was sleeping on the ground. Maybe it was rolling around all night. He didn't sleep well, not anymore. He was forced awake by distant fear. Maybe it was his own, but something told him, it wasn't right.

He hiked during the early morning, arriving home in the morning, when the sun had risen over the mountains again.

"Luxintrus!" He called, his voice echoing around the walls of BonesBurrow. No response. He'd already checked their home across the bridge, but is was ransacked and destroyed. "LUX!" He called.

"Father...?" a voice responded.

The tone, the word, he knew it was them.

"Where are you?"

"Down h—here."

He slid down the railing, boots skidding on the worn deepslate, his breath catching in his throat. The square was quiet—too quiet. Only the wind moved now, rustling the dust and fallen leaves through his home. Then he saw them. Slumped against the cornerstones of the old fountain.

Lux.

His heart dropped. Blood painted their jaw and soaked into their jacket, a deep red bloom that spread down their neck like veins. Lux's eyes fluttered, barely conscious. Pain etched deep into their face. Arathain dropped to his knees beside them, hands hovering uselessly in the air for a second before they finally found Lux's shoulders.

“Are you awake?” His voice cracked.

Their eyelids twitched. A whisper of recognition flickered behind them, and that was enough. He scooped them up into his arms with more care than he’d ever used for anything in his life. She was lighter than she used to be, and he hated that he noticed. One arm under their legs, the other around their back, head tucked against his shoulder. He pressed his face into their hair as he stood, whispering things he didn’t remember thinking:

“You’re okay, I’ve got you now. You’re okay. I’m here.”

The walk to the doors was a blur. They had never felt so far away. When he pushed open the door, everything felt too still. Too small. He laid them gently on the bed, careful not to wake the pain in their limbs. Breaths were shallow. Shaky. He moved quietly—no panic now. Only the kind of stillness a storm leaves behind.

He found a cloth in the kitchen basin, soaked it in cold water, and returned. Kneeling beside them, he dabbed the blood from their chin, the corners of Lux's mouth. His hand trembled, but his touch remained gentle. Like she might vanish if he pressed too hard.

He stripped the ruined jacket from them, teeth clenched, eyes burning, then rummaged through the bottom drawer of the old dresser. He pulled out the pajamas—the ones with little cartoon salmons swimming in loops across the fabric. She used to wear them on rainy days, when the storm raged and the fire was warm. He dressed Lux in them as best he could, whispering apologies with every motion.

“ Sorry… I’ve got you, Lux. Just a little more. You’re okay.”

Once she was clean, dressed, and tucked beneath the blankets, he sat beside the bed and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers tangled in his white hair. She was alive.

He didn’t know who to be without them

He stayed like that a long time, the cold cloth now folded on the table beside him, the only sound her faint, sleeping breath.

He didn't cry.

Not yet.

But it was close.

Chapter Text

Five Days Before the Death of Arathain

"Are you insane?" Astron questioned Arathain's sanity. "No, you cannot go through with this."

He rubbed his temples, already sick of how this meeting was going. After what happened to Lux, after getting an explanation, he learned the truth. Because of his black magic fuckery with the netherite, a massacre unfolded while he was away, aimed at him and his allies. After Diansu informed him on the ruthless act, he revealed it was orchestrated by Doctor4t, formerly known as RAT. And for the cherry on top, he sent Clownpierce as the executioner.

"If I may put my opinion in the matter," Diansu's voice entered his head. The machine sat at his right, being a semi-trusted advisor, with Astron on his left. Both were arguing with the plan. "If we are to go along with said plan, I say we use more fire power."

"And just what do you have in mind?" Astron shot back.

"We would need triple, maybe even quadruple amount of what Arathain plans of placing!" The machine cried.

He turned his head to look at Diansu, "I see."

Diansu snarled his reply. "If you want to take that THING down, you need as much as you can get. Lucky for you I am willing to supply."

"That would be enough explosives to level a city," Lux mumbled from their seat. Arathain looked up at his daughter. She inisted to be present in this meeting, even after 'putting his foot down' (Which was a bad idea, mental note to never say that again). Unfortunately, their voice was not heard over the battle of his other two allies.

Arathain took a sip from his mug, drinking the contents before slamming it down on the wooden table with such force, it shook the silverware on the table.

"Now that we are listening. It is not meant to explode. It will be, if anything, an empty threat. In the hopes RAT backs down."

"And if he doesn't?" Diansu questioned.

His eyes locked with Lux, as if she knew what he was about to say.

"Then all hell will let loose."

He let out a breath, one that seemed to echo in the space.

"You don't have to fight—" Astron started.

"And what do you suggest I do," He grumbled. "Run? Leave my home and allies to that creature? No, I make my stand here."

Diansu's gears were the only things that filled the silence left between him and everyone else. The soft whir from his vents. It was strangely... soothing. Running was no longer an option. He'd been running for a long time. Part of him knew RAT wouldn't take the bait. He glanced over at Astronyu. They were innocent, trying to end the violence. He knew everything about them.

They will betray you

There it was again. That voice. It was always present in his mind, now it was becoming more frequent.

Your death is inevitable. The clock is ticking....

He stood quickly and nearly drew his sword, but just barely stopping himself.

"What is it?" The Machine asked, placing a metal hand on his. Arathain flinched away. 

"Nothing. Diansu, you are in charge of the rigging. Lay it under everything, use double the amount I suggested. Astron, you help him."

Diansu's eyes lit up with joy, springing up from his seat and giving a playful bow before leaving with Astron hot on his heels. He was left alone with Lux, but he was not in the mood to talk when she began to asks questions.

"I want you to stay out of this, my love," He choked on the words, knowing it for the best. It was morning, but he felt so sleep deprived. He wandered into his bedroom, flopping on the bed.

Tick, Tock. It appeared in the corner, but Arathain was too sleepy to fight it. Ten days left, The Mason. Ten days

Chapter Text

One Day Before the Death of Arathain

The dining hall felt cavernous tonight. Maybe it was the tension. Or maybe it was just his thoughts that divided them. She sat on his right, eyes locked on their plate in front of them. His eyes floated around, but never dared land on them. The only sounds between them were the silverware as it hit the glass plates, or the knives cutting through a freshly prepared steak.

His eyes dared a look at Lux, who was half-heartedly pushing food around with their fork. He shifted in his throne-like seat, his reinforced armor plates tapping together. She looked up, enough for him to notice but not long enough to make eye contact. He rested his elbows on the table, picking up the silverware again. This very well could be his last meal. As much as he hated to think it, it might be the truth.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked suddenly, voice fragile against the emptiness of the room.

Arathain didn’t look up. He took another bite, chewed slowly. “I am.” 

"You don’t have to go alone," she said, more firmly this time.

"I do." His words were careful.

The scrape of their fork on the plate made him flinch. “You don’t have to, you want to. You always want to. You always think you can fix everything by bleeding for it.”

He finally looked at Lux. She was already standing, fists curled at their sides.

“Let me come,” she said. It wasn’t a request.

He pushed his plate aside and leaned back in his chair. “No.” His hand bumped into one of the statues that made up the throne. It was the same hand he stabbed earlier in the week. It send a wave a pain that burned, but he tried to look unaffected.

“Why not?” she demanded.

“Because you’ve given enough,” he said, rising from his throne, keeping his voice calm even as the guilt churned deep in his chest. “Because I won’t risk you again.”

“You mean you won’t trust me again,” she spat, pacing around. “That’s what this is. You’d rather die than let someone save you.”

“Don’t twist my words, Lux,” he snapped, before he could stop himself. “This isn’t about trust. This is about you living, surviving, ever heard of it?”

She stared at him, trembling—not from fear, but fury. Their next words came out as just a whisper, their lips trembling. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

His throat closed up. He couldn’t respond. Because she was right. She always seemed to be right.

Their voice broke open. “And I—I can't go through that again. Not with you. Not after everyone else. I can't bury another person I love.”

That was it. That was the knife.

He crossed the distance in three strides and pulled them into his arms. She collapsed against him with a sound that gutted him—something between a sob and a breath. He held them tight, one hand on the back of their head, the other gripping the edge of their waist, like he could anchor himself there.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into their hair. “For making you carry this. For being who I am.”

She didn’t answer. Just held on tighter. After a while, he pulled away gently and led them up the stairs, leading to the landing zone. he stepped onto the wooden boards, trusting them with every step, letting the cool night air touch his skin. The horizon was dark, the last traces of sun bleeding into deep blue.

“I have something for you,” he said, stepping aside.

She looked out, eyes catching on the small object in the center of the balcony floor. A wooden jukebox. Simple. Hand-carved. A velvet pouch rested beside it, cradling a single disc.

“I was going to give it to you after,” he said, voice low. “But I think you should have it now.”

She approached slowly, kneeling beside it like it was something sacred. Their fingers ran across the carved edges, soft, careful.

“What’s on it?” she asked.

He smiled faintly. “A special song you used to listen to.”

"It's not Daisy... Bell. Or whatever it was called. The song Diansu used to sing?" She whispered.

He smirked at the thought. "Not that song, and he was never a great singer, anyways."

He took the light blue disc and slotted it into the box. The sounds of gears followed, it hummed gently, waiting to begin. For a moment, he was worried it wouldn't start, but then the piano began.

☽ ☼ ☾

"Woah," Lux gasped as the lyrics began. "I haven't heard this in forever! Where did you get this?"

"When you get to be my age, you have a backdoor to anything," he smiled. 

“Dance with me,” she said suddenly.

Arathain blinked. “What?”

Lux stepped toward him, shoes soundless on the wood. “Dance with me,” she repeated. “Come on. You know the song.”

He let out a dry laugh. “I’ve seen more wars than weddings. I don’t dance.”

“You lie,” she smirked, taking his hand without asking. “You’ve been alive for decades. You have to know something.”

“Knowing and doing are not the same, Lux,” he muttered, though he didn’t pull away. She was already leading, guiding him into the center of the balcony, their fingers laced through his, the other hand settling on his shoulder with a playfulness that barely masked something deeper—urgency, maybe. The need to make this memory last.

He stumbled at first. His movements were stiff, jerky, like he's never danced before. She moved with ease, their steps graceful, twirling just out of reach and laughing when he missed the beat.

“I look like a fool,” he muttered, trying not to smile.

“You always look like a fool,” she teased, eyes shining.

The song spun around them—soft, sorrowful, filled with everything they couldn’t say out loud. Arathain let go, just a little. He stopped counting the steps, stopped worrying about how he looked. His grip firmed, his feet found rhythm, and for the first time in what felt like centuries, he let the music carry him. 

They moved together, slow at first, then faster, like they were trying to outpace the ache in the melody. Lux spun beneath his arm, hair catching the moonlight. Their laughter softened the edges of the night. It was almost enough to make him forget the war waiting just beyond the cavern walls. Almost.

He didn’t notice where his feet had taken him—how far they’d wandered from the warm of his daughter. Out onto the balcony. Past the potted plants Lux always forgot to water. Closer to the edge.

There was a place along the railing where the wood had rotted away—left open, exposed to the dripstone and deepslate square below. He had meant to fix it. He hadn’t. And now, eyes closed, swept away in the ghost-song, he stepped too far.

His boot met empty air.

The breath left his lungs.

He tensed, the old instincts screaming—but before gravity could take him, a hand caught his.

Luxintrus.

“Hey—” she gasped, dragging him back with all their strength, stumbling a little in the process. Their hands curled tight around his amr, eyes wide and wild. “Are you trying to die dramatic or something?”

He exhaled, shaken. “Not on purpose.”

She didn’t let go. Instead, she placed a hand over his chest, right where his heart pounded like war drums, and tugged him back toward the lantern glow. They spun again, slowly now. Careful. The fear still danced in his veins, but so did she.

Their movements shrank, tightening until they barely left the space of a few boards. They stayed close. Safe. His arm wrapped around their back.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered, breath warm against his collar.

He held them tighter, grateful for their strength—grateful that in the quiet between storms, there was still time to dance.

They danced under the moon, letting the song repeat and repeat long into the night, their laughter echoing like a spell breaking, his quiet smile ghosting through his face. The world beyond the cavern walls could wait.

Right now, there was only them. This song. This moment between them, written not on walls, but in memory.

Chapter Text

One Hour Before the Death of Arathain

"RAT, I have a single question to you," Arathain breathed, gripping his spear in one hands and his shield in the other. "What did I do wrong? Tell me."

After reflecting on his life the previous night, he realized something. Luxintrus had been with him for so long. He couldn't put them in harms way, but there was no person he'd rather fight besides than them. Everything he has become, was in some shape or form for them. And as much as he wanted to tell Lux that it wasn't safe, that it wasn't for them to see...

"Well, I mean, you kinda fucked around with the netherite behind my back," Doctor4t said, seeming unbothered by everything that was going on.

He took a short glance behind him. They were on the bridge leading to BonesBurrow. He had few allies with him, Lux being one, and Diansu the other. A few more stood further back, but he'd had not bothered with them yet. For extra defense, in the early morning he had moved roughly four Soul Moulds onto the stone structure, ready for whatever would happen. Hopefully the added guns would scare the rat into leaving.

"Didn't everyone profit? Wasn't that a universally good thing?" He played off.

"This isn't about the changes," Doctor4t grinned. "It's more about—"

"Your power," Arathain interrupted, eyeing the assassin, Clownpierce, that stood just beyond him. "It's about your hunger for your greed, a necessity to own power over others. To make sure you are in charge."

He gestured to the monsters that stood behind him, especially the clown. "Look at this, you have Clownpierce as a show puppet! Like even the glimmering boots." He eyes the diamond boots Clownpierce wore, completely unnecessary.

"Now, Arathain," Doctor4t walked in a circle behind him. He gripped the shield tighter, careful not to let him get the jump of him. "Before we rip each other to shreds... Why don't we take a walk around BonesBurrow." He brushed past Lux, past the Soul Moulds and across the bridge.

"Something fishy is going on," Lux murmured. Arathain nodded, hesitantly following behind Doctor4t. They walked towards the village that surrounded his home. There were no villagers left, they had vanished many years ago. Now it was just an empty husk of what used to be. Arathain quickly positioned himself atop one of the buildings and his allies did the same. Unfortunately, so did his enemies.

"You would not last a day on Lifesteal," Clownpierce laughed from his rooftop, swinging his scythe in his hands. "Let me just tell you that much."

Arathain watched him carefully while also keeping an eye on Lux, who was nearest to Doctor4t. He gripped his spear so hard his knuckles turned white, not getting a second to react as Doctor4t pulled out an object and hit it.

The ground beneath the village ruptured and exploded in a mess of dirt and folly pink. Arathain shielded his eyes as it flew towards him, bringing up his shield to protect himself. Another crack split the air—louder, closer—and more debris rained down like a storm. His heart pounded in his ears. Nothing made sense. How had it come to this? How had he missed this?

"Get up!" A metal hand seized his shoulder. The Machine—half-shouted, half-dragged him toward the chaos."You wanted this—you better fight!"

Before Arathain could even think, his boots slipped, and he tumbled off the roof. The world spun wildly—the sky, the smoking village, the blurred outlines of fleeing figure—and he hit the ground hard, the breath punched from his lungs. Grass and blood and smoke filled his nose.

Somewhere above the noise, he heard it: the sharp, mechanical shriek of gears spinning to life. The Soul Moulds. The grunt of machinery as the beast were awoken from their slumber. Arathain stood as they began to move, a hint of pride radiating through him, only for it to be replaced by anger as Talon, another ally of RAT, tried to attack him.

He raised his spear and blocked the attack, but Talon was fast, getting behind him and slashing at the armor, nearly slicing through the netherite. Talon was much younger than he was, equating to his speed, but he had knowledge and wisdom. He waited, letting Talon hit his shield as many times as he needed. The wood splintered and cracked quickly, but then he saw his moment.

He thrusted the speak forward, slicing through Talon's forearm. He screamed in pain as Arathain kicked him and lunged back. As much as it would help to kill him where he stood, he needed to take down Clownpierce. 

Something darted past him, being chased by another Soul Mould. Arathain searched through the jumble of bodies, scanning each person. Diansu, fending off Doctor4t, Luxintrus fighting Talon, Clownpierce... He rushed him.

The clash came fast—no chance to think, only move.

Arathain’s spear locked against the sweeping arc of Clownpierce’s scythe, steel screaming against steel. Sparks spat into the smoky air as the Executioner leaned in, face hidden behind the gleaming mask, his strength monstrous.

He shoved back, boots skidding across the cracked cobblestone and dirt. He spun his spear in a wide circle, trying to create distance, but Clown was relentless—already lunging, scythe carving vicious crescents through the air.

He ducked low, narrowly dodging a decapitating blow, and drove his spear forward. Clown twisted aside with inhuman speed, the blade missing by a hair.

Another explosion rocked the ground—one of the buried folly mines igniting somewhere behind them. The shockwave rattled the windows and houses of the village and sent dust billowing through the square. Both men staggered, but Clown recovered first, slashing toward Arathain's side. He barely blocked it, the force of it numbed his arms.

They weaved between the shattered houses of the houses, broken beams and smoldering wreckage turning the village into a jagged maze. Clown moved like a phantom, every strike flowing into the next. Arathain drove him back with a sudden flurry of jabs, using the spear's reach to his advantage, forcing Clown to retreat across the square toward one of his allies.

But the ground shuddered again. A monstrous, grinding roar split the air. Out of the smoke lurched a Soul Mould, its netherite-plated body stitched with cruel blade marks and spinning gears, its eyes burning with blue fury. Hanging on from the back was EightSidedSquare.

"What are you doing!" Arathain shouted at the cube man as he plunged a blade into its back, shattering through the metal armor.

"Trying to even the field!" He shouted back, jumping off the Soul Mould. The blade was lodged deep into the metal. It slammed a claw into the earth, tearing up the ground in a shriek of metal and dirt.

Clownpierce leapt aside, graceful as a falling feather. Arathain threw himself behind a fallen beam just as the Mord charged, its spinning arms slicing the air where he'd been standing moments before.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" Arathain cursed as the Soul Mould began attack him. His Soul Mould. They weren't supposed to attack him.

Another mine triggered with a deafening boom, hurling smoke and fire into the battlefield. The Soul Mould reeled in confusion. Arathain pushed up from behind cover, spear ready—only to find Clownpierce already watching him from across the haze, the scythe lowered, motionless.

For a heartbeat, they stood frozen in the chaos—the Executioner framed in the smoke, the broken village burning around them.

Then Clown gave a slow, deliberate tilt of his head, almost... respectful. And when the smoke thickened again, he was gone. Vanished like a nightmare into the mist.

☽ ☼ ☾

"This bitch," Arathaing gasped, launching himself to the top of a tall spruce tree. He surveyed the damages to his home and army. Diansu was gone, Astron was nowhere to be found. Doctor4t was with Clownpierce. Lux wasn't anywhere in sight.

He jumped from tree to tree, looking for them, but she was gone. Then his eyes locked back on RAT. They were watching him.

He looked down towards the main square, down into the pit of BonesBurrow. He took one look at the fountain below and jumped.

Chapter Text

Zero Days Before the Death of Arathain

"Arathain, Arathain, Arathain, Arathain..." Doctor4t's voice started him. He watched the rat step slowly down the stairs, Clownpierce on his heels. "We had our fun, we had fun."

He blinked, life flashing before his eyes, forcing himself as far away from the creature as possible. "RAT, I—I—Please, you don't want—You don't want to do this."

He stood on one side of the fountain with RAT on the other side. Clown stood on the stairwell, swinging his Scythe like a toy.

"I actually do want to do this," Doctor4t laughed. Laughing like this was just some big game to him. Like none of this really mattered. Arathain tried to stay focused but his mind was working too fast to even make sense of what was going on. It felt like everything was going wrong. It all started early this morning, when he couldn't find his pendant. Then it not having all his allies together, then it was Folly bombs, now it was this. He was cornered between a monster and a maniac.

"Look at this," Doctor4t said, bringing out another Ender Eye detinator from his pocket. "Any part of your town, I can blow up however I want."

Another crack, another explosion, but this time in the cave walls above. He pulled his shield up, the only tool at his disposal for protection as shards of folly pink stones rained down from above. He watched in horror as the stones came down, shattering the memories he'd created. Bits of rock hit statues, breaking them in pieces.

"And what do we have here," Doctor4t question, breaking through the deepslate floor and revealing the explosions Diansu had rigged a few nights earlier. "Yes—oh my god! Yes, that is exactly what I thought! You rigged that shit up!"

Arathain crowed near him, knowing that RAT would not kill him. he peaked down into the, marveled at the amount of firepower The Machine had used, but that begged the question. The only ones who knew of the process were him, Lux, Diansu, and Astron.

"Who told you?" He asked.

"A little bird told me," Doctor4t responded, pointing the dentinator at the stairwell above. "Let me make sure nobody joins us."

BOOM!

A stone chuck hit him in the back of the neck, he flinched in pain but remained strong. His eyes scanned the surrounding area. Clownpierce was gone too. Just like how he vanished on the battlefield. Without a sound. It was frightening.

"What were you saying about not having a lust for power?" Arathain provoked him. "Needing to show off you are in control!"

"Maybe you are right," Doctor4t revealed. Another crack. Another explosion. More stone raining hell down on them, shattering through the windows and breaking the beams that held his home up. "You like your soul fire, don't you?"

Another explosion, but this one was too close. The sound tore through him. A deafening roar. Arathain's body seized as the shockwave ripped through the ground, flinging dust, fire, memories into the air. He felt it in his ribs, in his teeth, in the fragile clockwork of his heart.

The rigging under Bonesburrow—his defenses, his last line of protection—had been triggered.

The world seemed to tilt sideways, time dragging its feet. Arathain watched, helpless, as statues he had carved with Lux came crashing down, faces splitting open against the broken stones. The floors—floors he had built, bled on, lived on—cracked and collapsed beneath him, splintering into a thousand pieces.

It gave way with him still on top, and he fell with it, arms flailing for something, anything, that would not give way.

His head hit something solid and he bounced across the stone. Everything hurt. Everything hurt. His mind was dizzy and frantic. He struggled to find something, something wet covered the ground beneath him. He looked. It was red, but not Folly Red or Pink. But his own bodily fluids spilled on the hot mess of stone and deepslate.

He waited until the sounds of explosions had stopped.

His spear was gone. So was his shield. His armor was damaged, revealing the reinforced iron below it. All was quiet.

"See what you did," A voice mocked in disgust. "You rigged it for nothing. It had no use."

Arathain turned to face RAT, blood seeping down his face and into his eyes as he spoke.

"It was supposed to be an empty threat." His daughter landed beside him, holding him steady. Making sure he didn't fall. His blood stained on their armor and seeped into their clothes. But she didn't seem to care.

You should have listened to me. You should have run...

He bit back tears. "Please RAT... you don't know... what... what you are doing. You don't understand what you are... putting at stake... Do not try to... to kill me..."

"Because what?" He interrupted, his voice echoing around the ruins. "Because then your allies will have nowhere to go? Lux will have no father. I don't really care!"

"Because of the suffering you will inflict on everyone here," Arathain pushed himself up, ignoring Lux's words to stand down. This was his final stand. He pull his helmet off and threw it to the ground. "If you want to kill me. Then go ahead. But everything that happens after is your doing."

"People can have a little bit of suffering," RAT laughed. "As a treat!"

"No..."

"I'm sorry Arathain, but this is the part where I kill you."

I see a future where you survive this... You just have to do one thing...

He didn't want to listen. He kneeled down and covered his ears.

Watch for Clowpierce behind you.

His eyes darted open. He turned to block the attack. He saw the executioner with a firework rocket aimed at his chest. The trigger was pulled and it launched at him.

Arathain thought back to the first day. Before he adopted Luxintrus. Things were beautiful. There was no chaos. There was no violence. He was still decent friends with RAT at that time. He thought back to when he changed the netherite. It was a good thing for the world, but he should have known there would be someone who disagreed. 

Then his mind went to an old friend of his, before racing to taking Lux in. She was so frail. Their real parents dead. She would never know what really happened to them that night. He should have told them sooner. He thought of those rainy days with Diansu and Lux. The Machine would tell stories to them while he would write his books and map the stars. He remembered on particularly well. He closed his eyes, thinking of that day.

"Have I ever told you," Diansu had begun, voice slow and careful, "why the Farlands exist?"

Lux shook their head, listening carefully by the grand fireplace. 

"Long, long ago," Diansu had said, "before there were kingdoms or kings, before there were even names for rivers or mountains, the world was still trying to figure out what it wanted to be. It was young then—wild, stubborn, foolish. It grew fast, too fast in some places, and not enough in others."

He remembered he'd come to join the conversation, poking the fire with a stick, sending a few sparks floating upward.

"Out past the edge of the world, farther than anyone was meant to walk, the world forgot itself. It stretched too far, too fast, and the land broke. It twisted in ways it shouldn't have. Time got tangled. Space folded over like a crumpled sheet. Mountains grew sideways, rivers floated in the air. Animals... changed. And people who went there never came back quite the same, if they came back at all."

Lux shivered slightly and pulled the blanket tighter. Arathain sat by them, holding them softly.

"The Farlands," Diansu continued, voice softening, "are where the world still dreams. Where it still remembers being young and wild. It's dangerous there, sure. It's strange and cruel sometimes. But it's not evil, not really. It's just... lost. Like a child who wandered too far from home and forgot the way back."

He smiled down at them, brushing their hair back behind their ear. His touch warm being besides the fire.

"That’s why we stay away. Not because we hate it. Not because we fear it. But because we respect it. The Farlands are a reminder that even the strongest things—mountains, oceans, even time itself—can lose their way. And when they do..." He tapped them gently on the forehead. "We have to be the ones who remember who we are."

Lux blinked up at him, their mouth a small "o" of wonder.

"So," Arathain interrupted, "if you ever find yourself walking too far, feeling the world tilt under your feet, hearing the mountains whisper things you shouldn't understand... turn around, little moth. Come back home."

This death wouldn't be permanent, even though it should have been. Maybe it was for the best.

"FATHER! GET DOWN!"

He didn't know what happened. He felt himself get pushed to the floor. Then the sound as the rocket exploded against something. A yelp that ended far too quickly, and then silence. He whipped around, seeing his daughter.

Seeing Lux.

And she was dying.

Chapter Text

"LUX!" He roared their name, voice tearing from his throat, as he stumbled across the broken cobblestone toward them.

She was crumpled against the ground, blood staining their armor, pooling out beneath her like spilled ink. The rocket created a black hole through the armor, breaking straight through the netherite. Their breath came in sharp, rattling gasps, each one more desperate than the last. She looked so small. So fragile.

Arathain dropped everything and fell to his knees beside them. He gathered them up, pulling them against his chest, his hands frantic, useless, shaking beyond control.

"No, no, no," he whispered. "You were supposed to stay away. You were supposed to be safe."

Their hand brushed at his chest. Their mouth moved, and he bent low, catching the faint thread of their voice.

"I couldn't let you... do this..." she breathed. "Not after... everything."

Arathain squeezed his eyes shut, forehead pressing against their, his tears soaking into their hair. She still smelled like smoke and home.

"This is my fault," he rasped, voice splintering. "I should have been faster. I should have protected you."

A ghost of a smile touched their lips — the kind of smile that remembered better days.

"You protected me..." she whispered, pausing to gather the strength she barely had, "every day before this."

Their fingers clutched weakly at his sleeve, holding on like she feared the world might pull him away at any moment.

"I’m glad we danced," she breathed, voice breaking apart into the empty space between them. "It made me... feel alive. Like the world was... still good."

Arathain held them tighter, like his arms alone could anchor Lux here. He could feel the warmth bleeding out of them, a terrible slowness sinking into their limbs.

"Stay with me," he begged. "Stay. Please. Please."

Lux's eyes, bright even through the pain, locked onto his one last time.

"I'll... always be with you," she whispered. "I'll always be your daughter."

Their hand slid from his sleeve.

☽ ☼ ☾

He cried. Hell, he cried like there wasn't anyone around to see him. But that's when it really hurt. He looked at their body for just a moment, thinking she would be back. But he saw the golden chains surrounding their body. His heart felt like it was going to explode. He frantically looked around him. Staring at the monsters who did this. Clownpierce. Doctor4t. Talon. EightSidedSquare. Everyone who was an enemy to him.

"What's happening to Lux?" RAT asked, smile fading from his lips.

Arathain just stared at him. Chains swirling faster and faster, circling closer to their body. Then they stopped.

"Well, I guess it was just a false—"

And all hell was let loose.

Chapter Text

Three Days After The Death of Luxintrus

There was no body to bury. Only memories. Only the weight of what remained.

He gathered what he could — a piece of worn armor, a handful of treasures once held dear, a faded photograph worn soft at the edges. Things that still felt like them. Things that still felt alive.

Under the cover of night, he left. A single lantern swung in his hand, the flame small against the vast, empty dark. Each step away from the ruin hurt more than the last. The world had fallen silent — no battles, no voices, no reason — only the ache that gnawed at him from the inside out.

He walked until the familiar edges of the world blurred into distance. Until the broken stones of Spawn showed themselves on the horizon — and still, he walked past them, as if distance could outpace grief.

He hadn’t expected anyone to follow. Hadn’t wanted them to. But one by one, they came.

Quiet.

Uninvited.

Carrying small things she had given them — a flower pressed between pages, a carved trinket, a laugh they hadn't been able to forget. No one spoke. No one needed to.

He didn't tell them to leave. He didn't have the heart to.

Finally, he found it — a place where the sun kissed the earth every morning without fail. A quiet hill with a single tree, windswept and wild, where the world still remembered how to be gentle.

There, he knelt. There, he built something—not a grave, not a monument — but a promise.

He worked until his hands were raw and bleeding. Stones placed with care, each one heavier than the last. Cloth tied to branches to dance in the wind. The little things mattered. The little things were all he had left. The lantern burned low beside him, casting long shadows across the earth. It felt right, somehow — the living and the lost sharing the same dim light.

Then another pair of hands began working beside him, placing a small wood-carved salmon on one of the branches. Then another, wrapping orange and purple cloth through the branches. He stepped back, watching as figures added more and more to what was built. He saw faces he recognized, and ones he didn't.

His eyes burned from the wind. Or maybe it was the tears that flowed. He knelt one last time, muttering a soft prayer before disappearing into the shadows.

☽ ☼ ☾

He left alone that night, a single lantern bobbing in the dark. But as he carried their memory to its final resting place, others joined him — first a few, then many, until the road behind them glowed with a trail of flickering light.

They say even the heavens could see it, a river of sorrow and love winding through the fields. Allies and enemies walked side by side, their rivalries forgotten as if they had never mattered at all. That was the beauty of mortal hearts: when faced with true loss, even the deepest divides could vanish, leaving only the quiet, aching respect for a life worth remembering.

Fingers tracing along the broken walls of his home. A crater had been opened up from the explosion, exposing the tunnels underneath his home. He took what he needed, a bed, little food, and obsidian. He left his armor and tools, walking down to the tunnels. He found one that was never finished, barricading himself inside. He sat and hugged his knees to his chest.

His mind dull, unable to think. But the same thought kept circling through his head.

It should have been me.