~The First Step~ a Hermitcraft AU

Chapter 55

wc: 3677 (holy cow-)

see bottom of chapter for tws, please do check them if you think you might need to

Grian was definitely fine.

No, he did not need help. No, he could figure this out on his own. He always could, he always managed to pull everything together, and he did not need anything but his own two hands.

Although, right now, as Grian sat curled and panting against the wall surrounded by dozing Hermits in the dark, he wasn't sure about any of that at all.

He squeezed his eyes shut, hands lying limp against the floor at his sides, clenching and unclenching, as Grian sucked in wheezing breaths. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Would he die, tomorrow?

It's not about me, Grian realized, as silent tears slipped from his eyelashes and his hand reached up to grasp at his pounding heart. I did all that, back then, to survive. Now, I'm doing this even though I could die. He barely bit back the sob in the back of his throat, bowing his head so low that his chin almost brushed his chest. What would they do if they knew I only do this for revenge now? What if they knew that I'm-

Not a hero. Grian was not a hero. He was not everything they built him up to be, and when he eventually would come crashing back down from broken wings (wings wings wings, always wings), what would they do?

It all came down to tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow. Would he die, tomorrow?

He'd heard all the stories, of men who gave their lives for passion and love and great causes. Who looked death in the eyes and challenged it to take them, and when it did, uttered no complaint. Grian knew he couldn't do that, wouldn't do that, and the only times he'd accepted it, he'd begged for it. With a shuddering breath, Grian let his head loll against the wall, teeth bared in a grimace as sweat rolled down his jaw.

He'd begged for death, back then. Tomorrow. Would he die, tomorrow?

~~~

Experiment 01.

The words bounced in Grian's head, mocking and echoing, carelessly thrown around by the Watchers that dragged him down the hall, kicking and fighting. Am I going to die? Grian thought hopelessly, throwing callous prayers to winds. It would be a thought repeated many times.

The guards lifted him into the air, and Grian couldn't help the noise of surprise and fear that crawled, guttural, from his throat. He was thrown unceremoniously against a stiff gurney, heavy straps looping around his arms and legs, and Grian wondered what they would do if he vomited on them.

The room was dark and stank of blood.

Grian tipped his head to the side, panting and still straining his arms against their bonds, old admin magic sparking uselessly as he fought. There was another gurney next to him, he realized belatedly, and the admin on it turned his head to meet Grian's wide eyes.

"ʖᒷ⊣╎リ," someone said, voice echoing and undecipherable. All the guards stepped back in unison, movements too rigid and masks glowing too bright for it to be natural; in one fluid motion, they snapped their wings back and bowed their heads.

Grian couldn't see what was happening, only heard two pairs of footsteps and the strained groans of himself and all the other prisoners. It was quiet.

And then an admin screamed, guttural and primal and desperate. Grian whipped his head to the right, managing to make out a shape writhing and squirming as something glowing shredded its way through the man's body. Bile rose in his throat as the shouts continued, pain and fear entwined in one morbid patchwork quilt.