Hels Rebellion

Chapter 5: Who's this guy? (Part 1)

Grian wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, but the warm, smooth stone beneath him held him captive on the ground.

He'd never close that hole in the roof of his mansion if it meant getting to enjoy the warmth of the sun on his floor like this. It was so warm. Very warm. Hot. Very Hot!

Wings flared, Grian practically leapt off the ground, hands and feet pushing up against the surface as he began to hover, looking down in shock at the steaming spot he was just lying on.

It was grey, dark grey, unlike the temporary stone floor of his mansion. And despite how smooth the block had felt, he could make out an intricate detailing across its surface, akin to glazed terracotta - but with a more refined, monochromatic palette.

But that was beyond enough staring at the floor. Grian looked up and then around, trying to identify where exactly he had woken up. It was a small room, only about a square of six blocks across.

There was nothing inside of the cube - not even a cauldron of water, or a table or chest for food. Was he being held prisoner? What kind of setup is this?

He refused to touch the floor again, it had nearly burnt him, and the muscle cramps his wings would get later were worth not getting third degree burns now. However, that just made his situation more odd, there wasn't even a bed in here!

What was stopping him from killing himself and spawning back in his base? Well... probably the fact he had no way to injure himself other than burning to death on the floor - and he wasn't sure if that was something he was completely comfortable doing.

Then what could he do...? Hover in place until his wings eventually gave out - and he toppled to the lava-hot floor? Someone would certainly come in before that, right? To feed him?

Unless whoever was keeping him prisoner wanted him to die... But then why not already kill him?

Grian's mind rushed, and the beat of his wings broke tempo, nearly sending him slipping back down onto the floor again, he panicked, flapping them harder in an attempt to back against one of the walls of his cell, something to hold on to.

However, as Grian flew backwards, he never met the wall, instead going through a doorway he hadn't seen, crashing on his back to the smooth, much cooler, tile floor.

The entire scene had made the man's stress spike - as well as his confusion. He shook his head and looked up back towards the cell to see what had opened the door.

"What is your problem?" A familiar voice snapped, "I didnt even release all the magma. It didn't burn that bad, don't be so dramatic."

Grian looked to the voice, eyes wide. A man stood before him. He was the same height as Grian, and same skin and hair color. Same voice. Same face.

"Xelqua," Grian greeted, eyes narrowing before he stood up, not taking his gaze from his doppelgangers face. Xelqua kept his steady brown eyes on his Alter as well. "This was your doing? Were you trying to cook me alive?"

Xelqua raised a brow, "You wouldn't be any use to me if you were dead."

Grian huffed, "Gee, thanks." He flapped his wings, shaking a bit of the dust off, "What is this then? Why did you bring me here."

Xelqua hummed, walking away from the door to Grian's cell, walking past him with an unidentifiable expression. It made Grian mad, seeing his face display such a look. He snarled lightly, following behind the man nonetheless.

However, it did give Grian a chance to take in his counterpart's familiar appearance. The man still walked proud as ever, like he owned the Universe. His deep brown eyes had that same dull shine to them, and even his outfit remained the same.