Chapter Text
The rhythmic sound of the axe echoes through the quiet forest around him, shattering the peace and startling wildlife. Sapnap grits his teeth as the conversation replays in his mind over and over and over. It stings, deep in his chest and behind his eyes. The pain is like a corrosive acid that he tries to burn out of his system with every heavy swing of his axe against the wood. The words will not ignite. They sit there, fresh and biting, marinating in his solitude.
It’s better you don’t know. Look, I’m sure you care and all, but just– leave it alone. You’re not made for this, okay? I’ll handle it.
But he was made for this. He was. It’s the only thing he knows beyond a doubt, that he needs this. He swings, and splinters of wood fly from the felled log where he strikes it.
Stop trying to fix things, you– you don’t even understand, how could you? You’ll never understand, so just–
But he wants to. He wants so badly to understand; if someone would just explain it to him, he knows that he could help.
–just stop asking!
Sapnap’s axe breaks through the log and buries itself halfway into the earth below. He pauses for a moment, panting softly through his teeth. His vision blurs ever so slightly, and for a moment he thinks that his anger is burning hot enough to warp the flow of the air in front of his face. Then the breath hitches in his throat and starts to come out ragged, and he realizes that his eyes are blurring with tears. Cursing quietly, he pries the axe head up, leaving a gash in the dirt.
It’s been seventeen hours since he last saw Karl in the early morning. He had appeared sometime in the night; if Sapnap hadn’t been awake keeping watch, he would have missed him completely. But there he was, dark circles under his kaleidoscopic eyes, muttering to himself as he drifted through the library like a ghost. Sapnap spotted the glow of his candle and followed him into the dusty shelves. He had meant to worriedly ask where Karl had been for the past week and perhaps persuade him to come home and sleep. When he was standing there, though, under Karl’s intensely blank and searching gaze, he couldn’t help what came out of his mouth. He was angry. Of course he was angry, and yet Karl didn’t seem to have any inkling of why Sapnap felt the way he did. He withdrew, got defensive, and refused to explain anything at all.
Sapnap tried to backtrack, of course, softening his tone and telling him that he just wanted to understand. He just wanted to help. It made no difference. Karl is involved with something, something that is stealing him gradually away from Sapnap, and he doesn’t even think that Sapnap can handle knowing what it is. It makes Sapnap’s blood boil – mostly because it scares him, and he hates feeling scared. It doesn’t feel natural.
Sapnap raises the axe once again, ready to chop the rest of the log into kindling. At that moment, there is a faint crunching sound which makes him pause. His eyes scan the woods around him, axe poised in his hands as the sound of rustling branches and hurried footsteps gets closer.
“Who’s there?” he calls out. The noise halts.
“Hello?” A scratchy voice replies. Sapnap’s eyes lock on the bushes in the direction that the voice comes from.
“Is that Tommy?” he asks.
There is a quiet rustling and snapping, and the young Brit emerges from the brush. His hair is windswept and his face is flushed as though he has been running for some time. He breathes heavily, and Sapnap notices that his face and arms are covered in thin scratches from crashing through the forest.
“Sapnap!” Tommy says. “Sapnap, oh thank Prime.” His voice is raw. Already, Sapnap’s senses are pricked up; something feels wrong here.
“What’s going on?” he asks, shouldering his axe and squinting into the forest where Tommy came from.
“The Egg is all over the place, Phil and Niki are still back there, and- but it’s all red, the whole- the whole temple is just red, and there was fire, but they don’t burn, so Techno is fighting them but Ranboo has gone off– but they’re spreading, they can’t stop the Eggpire spreading–”
“Wait,” Sapnap interrupts, “The Eggpire?” He hasn’t had a personal conflict with the servants of the Red Egg yet, but he doesn’t need to. He’s heard enough about the Egg from his dad, and besides that, there are whispers all over the server about the sacrifices. The Red Banquet. The blood vines that are slowly and gradually creeping their way through the ground.
“They’re coming!” Tommy’s knuckles are white, and Sapnap notices for the first time that there is an ornate glass bottle clenched in his hand.
“How many people?” He holds his axe out in front of him, checking its condition and durability.
“It’s not.” Tommy shakes his head. “It’s not people, it’s them.”
“It’s who?” Sapnap looks back up at him, brows furrowed.
“The vines,” Tommy answers, and a shudder goes through him. He takes a few steps toward Sapnap. “The vines are coming, Sapnap, they’re spreading faster than I’ve ever seen them go before. We need to get out of here. We need to go–”
“They’re following you?” Sapnap asks.
“Well I– no, I don’t– No, I hope not.” Tommy looks behind him. “I ran away, but they were headed…” He trails off, then whispers, “Oh Prime.”
“Where?” Sapnap’s voice has risen a little, unintentionally. Tommy looks like he’s just realized something awful. “C’mon, Tommy, pull it together. Where are the vines going?”
“The last I saw, they were going that way.” Hesitantly, he raises a hand to point. “Through the hills and across toward… Las Nevadas.” Sapnap follows along with his gaze,though he can’t see through the thick forest.
“Toward what?” he says. Tommy looks back at him with wide eyes.
“Wilbur’s still over there,” he says.
“Wilbur, okay,” Sapnap nods, “Is there anyone else? What’s over there, who’s in danger?”
“Quackity, and– and Fundy, Foolish– other people too, I think, but Wilbur is–” Tommy keeps talking, but after the first name, everything else drops into static. Quackity. Sapnap’s heart stops for a moment and then resumes beating in a panicked rhythm.
“Get somewhere safe,” he says, twisting the axe around in his hands. Tommy doesn’t appear to be listening.
“We need to go back,” he murmurs.
“I’m going back there.” Sapnap walks forward and puts a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “I’ll go find whoever I can and get them out of there.”
Tommy shakes his head. “I’m not leaving Wilbur. I’m not letting him– I’m going back for him. I have to.”
“What about Tubbo?” Sapnap reminds him. Tommy visibly falters, but then resumes his frightened but determined expression. “Tubbo’s safe, he and Ranboo are in Snowchester, in the arctic. They’re safe there, they’ll be okay, I know they will. Wilbur needs my help.”
Sapnap opens his mouth to argue, but the words catch in his throat when his eyes fall on the stretch of skin on the side of Tommy’s neck. Three scars sit close together; one of them a faint shrapnel pockmark, almost faded; the second a patch of wrinkled, pink burn damage; the third a thin, indented line that slices almost down to his collarbone. He shuts his mouth. Tommy has been through worse. He knows what danger is, he knows what he can handle.
“Alright. We go together, then,” Sapnap says, and he doesn’t miss the flash of relief that crosses Tommy’s face before the boy pulls away and ventures back into the brush, Sapnap following close behind.