Chapter Text
We know our territory is glorious in every aspect when it comes to its looks, right? The End always captivated me in its beauty, specially when the fact that I was born in this place momentarily slips away from my mind. We do not fear its dangers—like the void that rests beneath our village—we've learned to embrace them. Accept them
It had lived for uninterrupted peacefulness for millennia, while its inhabitants kept themselves from learning about other dimensions or cultures. None of the creatures felt the need to know anything else about them besides their existence being somewhere outside of our territory. It was a simple mindset. It was a simple mindset that still worked
But it was not fair to assume every foreign civilization felt the same way, now was it? After all, the critters that lived in the Overworld were known for their insatiable curiosity, and by some, their sense of entitlement towards anything they wanted to possess. This is what initially caused the dislike both factions have directed towards eachother
Because, around a century ago, creatures born in the Plains had decided to visit our land, in attempts to discover more, and the chance to create trade routes. This hadn't been taken lightly by our ancestors, still deep into their closeted idea of safety. All the overworlders had been fully kicked out shortly after their arrival through the portal in the main island
That's their primary reasoning on why they assassinated our former queen
They took her head as a trophy, like a testament for whoever decided to confront their prideful ideals. Then, they raided our city, while also taking innocent lives they considered threatening, simply because they found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. This attack lasted for no longer than week, until the void's consistent cold, freezing for those that hadn't grown up alongside it, eventually made them desire to leave
Even the ender dragon's egg was nowhere to be found. People theorized its sole, powerful guardian had taken it with them, leaving the End without the hope of royal-blood being the one to guide them back to how things used to be
Our people were left poor, humiliated and in the complete lacking of a ruler. Yet, they knew trying to take back what had been stolen would be futile, keeping in mind that the enemy civilizations' had a way higher military power than them. So, clinging to the last thread of control they had, they destroyed the small patch of land where every outsider landed on after accessing the End. It became official that no one would be allowed to access our dimension. Not without being swallowed by the unforgiving void looming beneath
It offered a temporary solution they gladly decided to take, but now we survive with the constant threat of the possibility of them coming back, just to reclaim every tad bit of control we hold against them
This is why we live in fear, Spoke. They're reckless people. This is why-
"Ookay, I didn't ask you for an evil bedtime story" Spoke chose to interrupt once he felt the story stretching on longer than it was needed
"Did you even get the point of the narrative?"
"...So I can't come with you to the Overworld?"
"Of course you didn't"
Minute's words left his lips along with a frustrated sigh. He clicked the pen in his hand and placed it down on the desk that rested infront of him. He turned his head back to properly face the younger voidling as the other propped his feet on the coffee table. An intentional glare made Spoke lower them back on the ground
"I'm just saying!! I could, like, create an army. It'd be awesome, you're taking my army away from me!"
"You would not have an army"
"I could have one"
"Spoke"
Minute's voice came out as a warning, making Spoke's mouth close before he could add on to his argument, now listening. Minute gladly took the opportunity
"You're old enough for me to not need to sugarcoat this. They want us dead, okay? Even if I'm there to protect you, it is an unnecessary risk I'm not willing to take"
"...Could've sugarcoated it a little" The younger one scoffed alongside his reply, yet still letting the subject go for now
The lights in the room flickered with the growing silence, which wasn't uncomfortable, even if not particularly pleasant. Spoke returned his gaze back to the ceiling of the room, his attention focused on its white silhouette
The background noise of Minute's pen sliding through whatever paper he had been working on was the only thing he could really focus on at the moment. It was easy to tell that the other wasn't completely satisfied with his response. Spoke just didn't care enough to try and convince him he'd genuinely drop the subject entirely, though. Mainly due to the fact that he probably wouldn't
He understood on the reasoning why he was never going to leave his dimension, everyone had been very clear about it. And, as much as he genuinely would like to start an army, the prime motive he had to so desperately want to leave was his desire to explore.
He heard it all. From distinctive living creatures, to multicolored instead of purple flora. And, apparently, naturally generated redstone. It was much more common to find in the Overworld. He'd seemingly be able to create more complex systems and traps without the necessity to break the redstone that made the lampposts outside work—somehow, no one had caught him doing so yet, that was really cool for him.
It only added to his desire to explore past the limits of his hometown the fact that Wemmbu had already gotten the chance to see it for himself. Like, Wemmbu? Really?. Minute explained that it was due to the fact that the End demon was older, plus more trained and skilled in combat, but Spoke still deemed the situation as highly unfair and against his rights
Whatever, he seemingly wasn't going to achieve his dream anytime soon. He could be annoying about it, though
...
While stuck in the same train of thought that constantly remained in his mind, his gaze had dropped to the floor. His eyes hopped from tile to tile
...He was so incredibly bored
His house was always so stale it almost hurt. From the walls made solely out of sandstone, to both the ceiling and flooring being a bright institutional white, they only reflected its boring interior. That's why he more often than not spent time in the outdoors. Truly, the only thing he could do in here to entertain himself was to leave
Well. He considered leaving his household for a second, and maybe roam aimlessly through the village like he always did on times like these, but Minute had advised him not to before their conversation. Wemmbu would visit soon, and Minute would soon have to leave to run some errands before he made it there. So Spoke had to answer the door, therefore no leaving the place for now
He'd try maybe counting the tiles covering the ground, yet deemed the action useless as he recalled the last time he had done the exact same thing to cure his boredom—53 tiles, not counting the ones beneath furniture, since those required actual thinking to calculate without moving from his spot. Then he'd try rolling around on the couch, now qualifying each position on a scale 1-10 on how comfortable it was. Futile, nothing beat laying on his stomach and resting his cheek on the cushion. It always made his neck hurt at the end of the day, yet it was so worth it
He didn't even look up from his neck-torturing position as his paternal figure stood, leaving his pen on the desk with a clink. Barely noticed until he felt a hand ruffle his hair
"I'll be back soon, okay?"
Spoke groaned as a response. More of an acknowledgement mixed with a pout rather than a gesture made in genuine bad faith
The soft click of the door closing behind the other had been the last sound he sensed other than his own breathing for a good moment
...Like- He liked hanging out with Wemmbu, he truly did. The guy was sincerely so cool, plus that he let him do whatever he wanted whenever he was left in charge of taking care of him. He always bothered to get Spoke a little something everytime they explored their village, too. That's how he got his favorite black with rainbow accents hoodie, after all
The demon was just so damn inconsistent on his visits
He'd either drop by moments long before Spoke woke up, right in the middle of something important, or the second Spoke was ready to go to sleep. And he didn't even sleep much, that's a fact
He could only wait for now on, set on not moving from the cushions of his couch just in case Wemmbu arrived shortly after he had already bothered to stand up
_______________________________
His body starting to ache indicated that a long time had passed. He had turned around and around, hoping to find a position that wouldn't strain his sore muscles, yet that seemed fruitless. His leg also bounced with restless energy, which he wasn't fully aware on how to get rid of without ignoring his father's request
His brain hopped from thought to thought, still none of them truly captured his attention for long enough for it to turn into a form of entertainment. He had flopped around, pretended he was a dying fish, blamed stuff on Minute, blamed stuff on Wemmbu, acted like a dying fish again, this time with a suiting name (George Jr.)
The fact that he had lived inside this house through his entire lifetime, and yet the few forms of fun he could have laid outside of it was amusing in its cruelty. The walls were too dull in their repeating patterns it hurt, the flooring was no better. Was Minute allergic to any sort of stylization or something along the lines of that?
Sure, he could doodle in the sketchbook he kept well hidden inside of his bedroom, but that object was primarily used for trap-planning. He refused to use it for nothing other than its prime purpose. Besides, his traps only really worked outside, he didn’t need salt on the wound
He gazed around in one last attempt to find something worth standing up for, and eventually catched the slim sheet of paper his father figure had been paying so close attention to moments before he left. Huh, Spoke assumed he had taken it with him
Well, he supposed he could check it out. There was absolutely nothing better to do. Minute’s fault for not tidying up after himself, anyways!
His sense of sight blackened in his rush towards the unassuming document, along with a sense of dizziness that made him support himself on the armrest. And then sprinted back like he hadn’t learned a thing from his most recent blunder. One day he'd learn to not stand up so fast
His hands gripped its sheet with a sense of carefulness he didn’t know he had in himself before. And now, his eyes read what was written
First, he gazed through it quickly
Then reread it more slowly
Frowned
Reread it once again just in case
And set the paper back with an unsatisfied thump
…It had made absolutely no sense
It’s not that the words were too harsh on his thought process. He wasn’t that ignorant. The lines on the paper just made absolutely no sense in his eyes
They didn’t seem like the typical End dialect one would learn in school. The lines on the paper were much different. Simpler, in the way that they required less strokes on what he figured were the letters that conformed each word, but still unintelligible
Maybe this was what Minute had told him once some time ago. Something about other dimensions having different dialects along with their cultural differences. That explained a bit, yet it didn’t elaborate on why Minute had this document in his hands. It also didn’t satisfy his restlessness. Dumb Minute. Very dumb Minute
He bothered to draw a small emoticon sticking its tongue out on the corner of the page with the pen that rested beside it. It wouldn’t change his situation, maybe it would even get Minute to nag about him touching his stuff, but it would express his discontentment. And he really liked whining, so there’s that
Whatever, he was now in the same dilemma he was in barely any time ago
In one last ditch effort of entertainment, he plopped down on the chair that rested besides the window that led to his front door. If he was going to suffer, he might as well look miserable to the passerbys while doing so
He pulled the curtains, letting the gentle lightning of lampposts inside the dark household, and settled there. His knees close to his face, settling his feet on the same space he was sitting on. Not particularly comfortable, but it would do
He immediately caught how uncanny the outside looked
Maybe he didn’t notice any abrupt changes right away, but something about it made him feel unwell. The purple trees with freshly bloomed chorus fruit swayed with a strong breeze. No background endborn bugs could be heard cricking in their hiding spots. Plus the fact that the place seemed just so desolate it felt deserted
No one was near, not even his neighbour, who always sat outside on her front porch to feed the endermites that crawled by. And only once he considered momentarily leaving just to properly check his surroundings, he felt it
A faint smell of something metallic
If it weren’t for his senses being heightened due to their lack of stimulation, he wouldn’t have felt its scent. Nothing in his surroundings could’ve caused it so recently, he knew that. So what was it?
His nose caught it again, this time intentionally as to try and identify what could have possibly sourced it, though he quickly covered his nostrils with his hoodie while sticking his tongue out. There was something almost putrid around it, like meat being left to rot for hours out in the open for any bug to feast on
Besides its unknown place of origin, the fact that the awful scent was still so faint was what called his attention. Could it be coming from the outside, maybe? He was sitting next to a window, after all. It sat closed shut, though. The smell was most likely stronger than what he initially thought, considering the possibility of it peering through solid glass
Spoke slid the window open, just enough to factcheck his theory, and he discovered he was right. It invaded his nostrils with the same rotting aroma he felt a few moments ago, just that this time it was much stronger. The glass was closed again with a loud thump, and his nose refused to inhale again until the scent dissipated
Next relevant question; what the hell was that? Should he check? Should he assume it’s nothing and move on?
…Was the floor fucking trembling right now?
The sound of an abnormal amount of footsteps filled the space that was previously focused on the smell, similar to a stampede. He rapidly felt the need to cover his hearing in hopes of muffling the loud noise
He scrambled back to the window to check what was going on, barely keeping himself from clashing on the glass. A large crowd ran from west to east in conjoined panic. They ran over everything that stood in their way, from plants to smaller animals, while also taking every item that could serve even the smallest purpose. He was even able to recognize a few faces here and there, every one sharing the same terrified expression over their face features
And then, he saw it. What they were running from
Another multitude rushed to them, armed. Swords, axes, spears, even one of them pridefully wielded a mace—a very rare and debatably divine weapon to have in one’s grasp. They chased the other crowd down, unwilling to stop or slow down. It was easy to guess it was an attack
None of the masses' species were familiar in Spoke’s eyes, he noticed, and there were lots of different ones alongside them. There wasn’t a huge variety of breeds that could be solely found in the End, especially not as many as he could spot by looking around. Therefore…
…These people weren’t from the End
His mind rushed back and forth. Warnings, threats, stories. Each indicated that other beings who weren’t born surrounded by this place’s peace only wished for war. His head rushed looking for a more palatable answer, but he was fully aware of it. He just wouldn’t survive if he didn’t act, and fast
His feet held his weight as he scrambled up. His eyes blackened again in protest, yet he pushed through. The crowd outside was long gone, but a few outsiders stayed back to check each house, it seemed. He could only hide now
Spoke sprinted blurry-eyed towards the confines of his room. His door opened with a harsh tug on its doorknob, then slammed close behind him. His form then crashed with a few objects in the dark. Turned left and saw his bed, but the space under it was too cramped for him to hide. Turned right, saw a small desk, but he just knew better than to crouch under it. Last option—the closet. It would have to do
With what was basically a dive, and a now locked closet opening in front of him, he was currently concealed.
His arms shot out and wrapped around his legs in a tight self-embrace. Eyes blurred with unshed tears he refused to let free. He felt smaller, trembling in a confined space like he used to do before Minute took him under his care. He bit harder on his hoodie at the reminder, in an attempt to muffle his pitiful noises
He really missed Minute right now
Was he okay? Alive, out in the open? Would he come back for him? Was he supposed to do anything before he did? Would the intruders leave eventually? What about Wemmbu? Wasn’t he outdoors too?...For just how long would he have to stay alone right here? He hated it
His breathing was shallow. He barely let himself move. Only the dark surrounded him, looming over him when it would usually comfort him. His cheeks were now damp. His face on his knees. His body protested the lack of movement. Sobs escaped him every once a while, making him panic all over again. He didn’t want to be alone. Would he be here forever? When would someone come for him? Wh-
A door suddenly creaked under its hinges, its noise carrying through the cold home. Only one door sounded like that in the household–
The front door
A gasp left his mouth, unsolicited. His senses were fully on edge, carefully piecing each movement the intruder made by the creaking of the floorboards. It was horrifying. His gaze darted across the closet’s interior. He doubted he had anything to protect himself if push came to shove, but he’d just take anything at this point. His sense of sight wasn’t entirely accustomed to the dark yet, so he moved his hands around, hoping to grab something. His left one quickly catched a handle. A shovel–one he kept for his traps, hidden from Minute’s sight. Lucky find
He bit his hand like his life depended on it, his sharp teeth catching on his skin. It hurt, awfully, but it kept him grounded. If what he felt on his tongue was truly a drop of his blood, then he’d disregard that too
¨Spoke?! Where are you?! Please, tell me you’re here…¨ A voice called out, undoubtedly familiar
Wemmbu
Relief surged through his whole being for a moment. Although he needed a second to truly identify his tone, he just didn’t bother to factcheck this. It had to be Wemmbu. That certain depth in his voice. The concealed concern he was always too prideful to show, this time more easy to read
His hand rushed to unlock the closet, taking a few attempts for him to twist the key correctly. Once he did, he was out. He sprinted the same way he did before, tripping a few times as his socked feet almost slid on the smooth flooring. He used the walls to keep himself upright. And once he saw him, he let the relief he suppressed bloom in his guts
The aforementioned could barely turn around before Spoke tackled him in a hug. When he felt the other’s arms hold him tightly, he let him catch his weight. Just didn’t feel the necessity to act like he didn’t need the comfort this time. Not after the mess of emotions that crawled around him a mere second ago
¨Announce yourself faster, jackass. You basically gave me a heart attack¨
¨That goes for you too, ya know¨
The embrace lasted shorter than he would have preferred, but he knew they had to get going. Wemmbu’s hand clasped around his wrist as he began moving, more of a way to guide Spoke rather than drag him
—--------------------------------
Spoke’s eyes fluttered open at the harsh lightning pushing past his eyelids. The sight soon turned blinding, his instincts screaming at him to look anywhere else. A gigantic, bright orb had met his gaze when he first woke up, decorating the sky
The next thing he noticed was an almost fluffy flooring that had seemingly cushioned his small fall. His hand grasped the strands of green that came out of the space beneath him. He yanked a bit of it to bring it closer to his line of sight. Oh, he knew what this was, he heard mentions of the flooring that covered the Overworld. Grass, was it? Or land? Something about the Grasslands being named after it, he wasn’t entirely sure, he didn’t particularly care nonetheless
His eyes looked up, just to find what seemed like kilometers of the same thing he was sitting on, stretching endlessly. He then spotted a familiar face resting his back on some sort of brown, textured pole that extended upwards. It seemed like Wemmbu had woken up much earlier than he did
¨…Is this it?¨ Spoke started
¨Pretty much so¨ The other guessed
A short beat where neither of them elaborated
¨…What’s that you’re resting on?¨ The younger one questioned, pointing with his index finger
¨…You don’t know what a tree is?¨
¨Oh, I didn’t know they could be brown and stuff¨
¨Well, most of them are in this place¨
¨They don’t have leaves here, then?¨
¨They do. Just not in this season, I guess¨
Spoke hummed as a form of acknowledgement, before the other spoke
¨…There’s truly a lot you gotta learn about this dimension, huh¨
¨Never been here, after all¨
¨…Right¨
A solemn silence surrounded both endborn creatures, and they let it linger. The gentle daze that always followed after crossing a portal had slowly faded away. The space was gently lit by the sun peeking through the clouds littering the sky, signaling the start of winter. The only sound that could be heard was the gentle breeze passing through, less heavy than the ones that the End held.
Spoke’s breath allowed itself to slow down from their previous rush, inhaling the new, fresher air into his lungs. It pushed down his larynx in a strange way he couldn’t describe, like fresh water that he wasn’t sure if it was safe to drink. Probably because voidlings were creatures completely used to the harsh climate the void offered, he supposed
Actually, he felt too warm. Wemmbu had warned him beforehand about the temperature. Even in the coldest season (he still had to properly question how ‘seasons’ worked), his body would still protest the lack of the freezing environment it had evolved to accustom to.
Whatever, that would be something he could worry about later on. There was still too much to worry about right now, like the fact that his life had just taken a drastic turn
Instead, he forced his mind to blank. Too much had happened in the short span of a few hours. He just needed to grant himself a second to breathe (as uncomfortable as it was) before continuing on. His back hit the grass, softening the hit, as he extended his arms. His hair pooled beneath his head
¨...Will Minute come to help us soon enough?¨
¨…I genuinely hope so¨