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Pearl looks up at Scott standing on the hill in front of her, diamond axe in hand. The only thing running through her head is that it is over. Even if Scott hates her, rejected her, abandoned her, he cannot deny their connection now. If he wants to keep living, to avoid perma-death then he needs to put that aside. Mojang, he could turn around and walk away, go to the other side of this small world and she would let him leave.
Even though the thought of that made it hurt to breathe even now; even if she was going to wake up with Tilly’s final yelp in her ears every night; even if the faint smell of blood would forever linger in her nostrils; even if the sight of her fellow survivors final moments (that’s what they were, survivors, to their final breath) would play out on her eyelids every time she closed them; even if he hid from her and the only sign she had for him still living was the faint shared heartbeat in her chest; she would live. They both would. It was what they had been fighting for right?
A chance to live?
“Pearl, you deserve this more,” Scott’s voice draws Pearl back out of her head in time to see him placing down two TNT on top of each other. Instinct sends her running backwards further down the hill, despite knowing it would be worthless if the blast went off. Her eyes widen as she feels her own heart rate spike, yet Scott’s heart's echo remains ever steady within her, clashing so strongly with the image of him standing ready to kill them both.
“Excuse me, what do you mean?” Pearl is sure it comes out more jokingly than she wants, but she’s praying she can talk him down. Sure he wouldn’t do this.
Surely he wouldn’t have made her suffer all for nothing?
“You do but in the same way,” the unmistakable hiss of the TNT fuse sends a bolt of ice into Pearl’s core. She fumbles to pull the string of her bow back, thinking maybe she can knock him away from the TNT with it, desperation flooding every inch of her body because the truth is undeniable now.
“Scott, what are you doing!?” She knows it’s fruitless, she knows she can’t save him.
She knows Scott would rather be dead than even live in the same world as her.
And he looks back at her with a smile on his face.
“Tilly death do us part Pearl, Tilly death do us part!” Her brain registers the sound of the explosion a split second before she feels her body begin to rip apart from the inside.
Death comes for her before she can finish his name.
The first thing Pearl became aware of is the pain. She felt like every part of her had been pricked with cactus with no armour on (and she knew first hand how that felt).
The second thing Pearl became aware of was the persistent buzzing. Each buzz seemed to send another wave of agony down her left arm.
The third thing Pearl became aware of was the lack of second heartbeat. For as long as she could remember, all the way back to the start of everything, that second heartbeat had been present, a constant source of so many emotions but a reminder of what she was working towards, of why even if she wanted to she couldn’t give in. To find it gone, to find only her own heart still pumping in her chest was like she had died all over again. Scott was gone. He had finally done what he wanted to do all along and gotten away from her completely. They all had.
She was alone.
It’s because of these three things that it took her brain longer than it really should have to realise something very important.
She was still alive.
When that thought crossed her mind she shot up suddenly from the surface she was laying on (deepslate cobble? Hadn’t she been on the surface?) and looked around her.
A large fortress sits in the hillside before her, with tall skyward towers above it. If she wasn’t so lost she would appreciate the finer details: the flowing lava falls; the way the pointed roofs had not gathered snow despite their great height; the melding 2 building styles into one grand structure. Instead, her eyes scan the surfaces, looking for dangers before she spins around to the direction and freezes.
Truly, the only way she could describe what she was seeing was alien. Every part of the landscape appeared to have been perfectly sculpted, covered in blocks that should clash horribly but just seemed to come together in a way that was just beautiful. The pain, the danger, the constant drum of alone alone alone in time with her singular heartbeat, are forgotten for just a moment as she takes in the sight before her.
Another jolt of pain in time with another buzz startles her back to reality.
(Was this reality?)
Pearl lifts up her left arm to still see a comm attached to it. It shows multiple names present in the world that she’d never seen before. And amongst them the names of some of her fellow survivors.
The dead.
They can’t be here.
Quickly she begins to scroll through the chat.
Grian whispers to you: Pearl are you ok? The Life server was having issues at the end of the game there.
Renthedog whispers to you: Well done my friend!
Grian whispers to you: Pearl? Please answer, I need to know if you’re ok.
Grian whispers to you: You made me promise when we found each other again to always answer my DMs no matter what, don’t tell me that promise doesn’t go both ways.
Grian whispers to you: I don’t know what’s going on, I’m sending someone over to check on you.
<Grian> Can someone check on Pearl? The Life server was giving me a bit of trouble when she was logging out and she’s not responding to DMs.
<impulseSV> Sure, me and Gem are the closest, I was planning on heading over anyways.
GeminiTay whispers to you: PearlescentMoon! You’re not answering Grian so I know it’s bad! It’s mandatory Soup time! Impulse and I are coming over!
Her head is a mess. Who is this Gem? Why are they with Impulse and not Bdubs?
How is everyone alive? Or is she dead?
What is going on?
And then comes a sound that makes every part of her freeze over. Or more accurately, a voice.
“HAWKEYE!” Pearl spins on the spot to see Scar flying towards her, bow in hand.
(It can’t be him. He’s dead. You saw the message on the comms on that hillside as the sun rose on that final day.
You told yourself it was one less pair of people to kill your dogs. You told yourself it was fine.
It wasn’t fine. It was another needless death in a world of bloodshed.
It was the end of one of the only people who had treated you with anything other than disdain. You had shed a tear on the way to Box over another fallen pair of souls).
Pearl’s brain rushed to put together the details of what was happening. It registered the arrow flying towards her with only enough time for her to think about how this has to be Hels, that she’d lived only to perma-die at the hands of a vengeful spirit.
This time, death came for her before she could even scream.
The next time Pearl woke up she felt like she’d been hit by a warden. When she respawned she fell from a small ledge onto a hard floor, and her body had still been reeling from her death, nevermind her prior injuries. It took every ounce of her strength to push herself up from the floor and start moving.
She had to move. She needed to be ready. If what had just happened happened again she was not going to freeze. She was not. She was going to be ready.
The wooden stairs creaked a little as she lent against the wall going down the staircase. She didn’t know where she had respawned but she didn’t plan to stick around and find out. The comm on her arm buzzes again. People were apparently looking for her, and if that death was anything to go by, she did not want to be found before she was ready to fight again.
That was, if any of this was real that is.
Pearl’s legs wobbled as she pushed away from the wall and slowly made her way towards the dark oak doors in front of her. She would get outside, get away, get some gear, get ready. Her brain cycled over the worlds, a mantra to focus on as she moved.
(Get outside, get away, get gear, get ready.
Get outside, get away, get gear, get ready.
Get outsi-)
The sound of a shrieker going off hits her ears. The place is trapped. She’s going to die again. The mantra, the record player in her head jumps and glitches, and gets stuck on repeat.
( Get away,
Get away!
GET AWAY.
GET AWAY!)
Instinct sends Pearl running. She doesn’t even fully register the direction she’s headed in, only away away away. Distantly she recognises the outline of chests but everything feels too bright and too dark at the same time.
But her ears still work. In fact, they feel like they’re working overtime. Enough to pick up the sounds of 2 voices getting closer.
(Get gear, get ready.
Get gear, get ready!)
By some miracle from Mojang her narrowed vision lands on an ender chest placed on a shelf in the side of the room. She knows they didn’t have ender chests before but logic has left the building, and so she frantically opens it hoping for something to defend herself with.
“Pearl? Where are you? Your gear was still all over the bridge!” The first voice, unknown, calls out.
“Pearl, are you ok?” The second voice almost makes her freeze.
(“Not for very long, you don’t!” The burning of her flesh. Tilly, ever loyal Tilly, her true soulmate, giving up one final yelp before collapsing.)
Shiny black enchanted material. That’s all her brain registers before she grabs the axe and spins to face the rest of the room. The sound of the shrieker goes off again as the door above her opens.
She crouches, trying desperately to hide behind the shelves at the side of the room. Sure, she took down Impulse and Bdubs before but she had Scott Tilly and all of her dogs to help her.
Now, she was injured.
Now, she was alone.
Pearl’s heart is pounding in her chest. Faintly, she recognises the unknown voice and Impulse briefly talking but she can’t hear over the rushing of blood in her ears. Her hands grip the handle of the axe she’d grabbed, skin going deathly pale in comparison to the cuts and bruises scattered across them. Heavy feet thud down the stairs, and then tap on the stone floor. A short body comes partially into view but they are looking over their shoulder. Pearl sees the opportunity.
This time, she will not freeze.
“Gem, I don’t think she’s dow-GAH” The first hit causes Impulse to yelp before the second cuts it off. His items scatter across the cold floor.
(Items littered in the cold, cold snow. An axe caving in Bdub’s chest. Your laughter is carried on the wind even as tears stream down your face.
Tilly is gone, she’s gone. Killing them didn’t bring her back.
It never would.)
“PEARL!” The unknown voice yells at her from far, far too close. Instead of striking out, Pearl stumbles back, back slamming into the chests behind her. Her eyes frantically try to scan the room for any other exits but her vision is blurred. Is she crying? She can’t breathe.
Oh Mojang, she can’t breathe.
The sound of footsteps gets closer and she flails her arms wildly in the direction of the door, of the danger, in response. The steps halt immediately.
“Ok, not getting any closer, got it!” The voice is close, but not within striking distance. Her blurred vision can just about make out the shape of what could be a short person standing in the middle of the room. The shape moves and Pearl immediately braces both arms over her head and shuts her eyes, bracing for the killing blow, praying that this time she doesn’t respawn here.
But the blow never falls.
After what feels like a lifetime of nothing but her strangled breaths (Mojang, she still can’t breathe) she risks opening an eye. Her vision is slightly less blurred, and she can make out a short red-headed woman sitting on the floor, in exactly the same spot as before.
A million questions want to come out of her mouth: where is she; who are they; what’s going on; is this a trap; but all that escapes from her is a sharp wheeze.
Her lungs are burning. She can’t breathe.
“Five things you can see.” The voice is quiet, concerned but collected. It takes Pearl far too long to register she’s being asked to do something until the woman repeats herself.
“Come on Pearl, five things you can see. Plenty to look at in this pretty storage room of yours!” The woman sounds patient, but her eyes are looking at Pearl with thinly concealed worry. Pearl glances around the room trying to focus on anything but the pain of her lungs. The corner of the chest she’s wedged herself against is digging into her back.
“Chests,” She wheezes out.
“Good!” The woman nods enthusiastically. “Lots of chests! What else?”
The room is bathed in a distinctive blue. Which means…
“Soul lanterns.” Her voice cracks in the middle of the words.
“Yep, wish they gave more light, I can’t see you that well.” The chuckle is a little forced, but soft. “What else?”
“Moss?” She can’t remember any moss back before this but she thinks that is what’s on the ceiling above her.
“That’s right! Lovely green moss!” The woman looks up at the ceiling too, following Pearl’s line of sight. “What’s next to the moss?”
“Amethyst.” The word is out of her mouth before she can register the thought properly.
“Great! One last thing to go!” The chill of the floor is starting to seep into Pearl’s bones. The axe still gripped tightly in her hands feels far, far heavier than it really should.
“Deepslate.” It dawns on her that her breathing is no longer gasping. Part of her wants to be thankful but most of her is still worried this is all a trap.
As if on cue the shrieker in the room above goes off. Pearl tries to shove herself even further backwards but all she succeeds in is her back getting scratched by the signs on the chests behind her. Her arms go back over her head. She hears shuffling sounds from the room above and she can’t help it: she screams.
“IMPULSE DO NOT COME IN!” The voice of the woman which before was as soft as feathers takes on the sharp edge of a sword. The footsteps above immediately stop.
“Gem, is she ok!? What’s going on?” Impulse’s voice sounds down from upstairs and if Pearl didn’t know any better, she would say he sounded worried.
“JUST DON’T COME DOWN HERE! BACK OFF!” The woman, Gem, Pearl supposed, yells back.
Pearl risked peeking an eye out from behind her arms to see Gem had stood up and was facing the door with her back to her. She looks back over her shoulder at Pearl before spinning around fully and sitting back on the floor where she had been before.
Not a step closer.
The shrieker above sounds in time with the door above opening and closing. Moments later Pearl faintly registers the buzz of her own comm in time with the ping of the one attached to Gem’s arm. Only then does she take the arms fully away from around her head.
“Thank you.” The sound of Pearl’s voice in the room surprises even herself.
“You’re welcome.” The response is quiet, but heavy, like a rock sinking into a pool. Pearl looks down at the axe gripped in her hands. Some of the cuts have pulled open again with the strain.
“What happened, Pearl? It’s just Impulse. Why are you scared? We have soup together every other day!” She glances up to see Gem’s eyebrows crinkle together with worry, hands fidgeting with the areas of her dress that have gathered in her lap.
What? Why would she have dinner with Impulse? What about Bdubs? Where was Scott?
“I don’t know who you are” The words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them. She sees Gem visibly freeze before looking up at her in shock.
“What?” The word is almost silent, more of a breath than a question.
“I don’t know who you are, and Impulse killed Tilly, and he was trying to kill me, and it was supposed to end! We were supposed to survive! But then Scott killed us with the TNT, and I don’t know where I am now, and everyone is alive again but they’re meant to be dead, and then Scar killed me, and Impulse was going to kill me again, and I’m scared!” The axe finally slips out of Pearl’s fingers as she puts her face into her hands and sobs. Everything that happened, every moment from that first day where Scott walked away up to now had finally caught up to her and she just broke. Her cries echoed through the storage room as the weight of it all came crashing down on her like a stack of bricks.
Why hadn’t it ended?
“GeminiTay.” The quiet voice makes Pearl slowly look over at Gem. Gem is looking down at her lap again but Pearl can see her eyes that are brimming with a sea of emotions, flickering back and forth like her skirt holds all the answers to her questions. “My name is GeminiTay, Gem for short. We are friends, and neighbours. We live here, on the Hermitcraft server, with a lot of our other friends. This is our second world with the Hermits. And this time we built our bases out here with Impulse. And I know you’re scared, and I know I don’t know everything that you’ve been through.” She takes a deep breath and looks up at Pearl. “But I’m hoping you’ll let us work everything out together. Is that ok?”
Pearl looks at her, trying desperately to understand everything that’s going on. But she’s tired and she’s scared, and she’s injured, and she’s still in pain, and her brain does what it does best: clings to one detail like a dog with a bone.
“I had friends?” Once again, her tongue moves against her better judgement. She watches as the emotions in Gem’s eyes erupt with a tsunami of sadness.
“Of course you do!” The sincerity, dripping with that sadness, somehow hurts more than the lie. Because it had to be a lie. People didn’t want her around. She was a bad omen, a bringer of death. A crazy ex. A scarlet witch.
But Gem looks at her like none of that matters. Like the lie is not obvious. Like Pearl means something more than she could ever be to her.
(Could she really have mattered that much to anyone?)
The ping of Gem’s comm stops her from calling out the lie.
“Xisuma’s outside with Grian. They want to see you. Is that ok? I can tell them you’re not ready?” Gem’s eyes scan the message on her comm but she looks firmly back at Pearl without sending anything back. Like Pearl’s thoughts on the matter are important. Like Pearl’s safety matters to her.
When she goes to answer her the words catch on the lump in her throat.
“Who’s Xisuma?” She ignores the bird-shaped elephant in the room.
(Her comm buzzing as dog after dog dies. Her heart jumping every time. But he never got Tilly.
Death came for him first).
“Pearl?” She starts and focuses back on Gem, who’s looking back at her with concern. The concern dims a little when she notices Pearl has checked back in but it’s still there. “I said Xisuma’s our admin. He makes sure we’re all safe.”
Safe? When was the last time she felt safe?
“Do you trust him?” If Pearl wasn’t so tired she’d be worried by how much her tongue was disobeying her today.
“Of course.” The reply is so quick, so simple to Gem that Pearl can’t help but believe it.
“Ok. He can come in. Only him.” The elephant remains in the room, but Gem does not acknowledge it, just nods and types out a quick message on her comm. Pearl finds herself fidgeting with the edge of her sleeves as she tries not to worry about another unknown person coming into the room. What if Gem is wrong? What if he’s dangerous?
What if he sees what Gem doesn’t? That she’s dangerous. That she’ll get them all killed in the end.
What if he makes her leave?
(What if she ends up alone again?)
The sound of the shrieker upstairs draws her back from her thoughts. The door opens, and she thinks she can briefly hear some arguing before it shuts again, blocking the noise.
The man who comes down the stairs is...NOT what Pearl had expected. His outfit seemed to consist of some sort of military suit with bones adorned on it. His head was encased in some sort of helmet with a visor, but the helmet itself was encased in a…wolf skull?
(The yelps of her babies as they died at the hands of her fellow survivors.
She tried to forgive them, they just wanted to live, like her.
But she would not forget. She never could.)
The axe finds its way back into her hands before she realises.
It’s hard for Pearl to see how Xisuma reacts to this through the visor on his helmet. She notices a slight tilt of his head, before he lowers himself down to sit on the floor next to Gem.
Not a step closer.
“Hello Pearl.” His voice is also not what she expected and yet somehow it just seems to fit. “Gem said you’re having a bit of memory trouble.”
She can’t bring herself to answer aloud and so she just nods.
Her eyes remain fixed on the skull on his helmet.
“Can you tell me what the first thing you remember is?” Again, he speaks with a patience that feels like it should be surprising but isn’t. Pearl tries to think back over everything (blood, and betrayal, and broken hearts) before she answers.
“Spawn. We all said ‘Hello’ and then ran off” The answer feels wrong but it’s all she can come up with.
“Ok. Nothing before that?” Pearl tries to think back further but suddenly it’s like an entire stack of stalactites is being driven into her head. She gasps and curls inwards, clutching her head with both hands.
“Pearl!” Gem’s voice is full of concern but she does not get any closer. Part of Pearl feels sad about that, but most of her is just thankful. She still doesn’t want anyone near her right now.
“It’s ok Pearl, don’t try to think about it. Can you look at me?” Xisuma’s voice is calm, steady. There’s something else there, but she can’t place it. The pain in her head reduces to a dull throb as she looks back over at the other two. Gem sends her a wobbly smile, worry still in her eyes. The visor of Xisuma’s helmet keeps his own expression unreadable.
“I’m going to call a server meeting. The Hermits need to know about this, they’re all worrying and I think it’s best if we tell everyone at once to avoid any further upset.” He looks at Pearl, and inclines his head. She takes a moment to realise he’s waiting for her to give her thoughts.
Mojang, she’s tired.
Something makes her nod anyway. It seems to be enough for him; Xisuma leans back before standing up and typing rapidly on his comm. Pearl’s eyes follow him as he walks back up the stairs.
The axe only leaves her hands when she can no longer see him.
When she looks back at Gem for a split second she can see her watching her with a tight expression, which quickly smoothes itself out into a slight grin that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. She stands for the first time since yelling at Impulse. Pearl thinks she can hear the faint popping of her joints as she stretches. She reaches out her hand towards Pearl, but does not step any closer.
“Ready to re-meet the Hermits?” Her voice is light but there’s still something underneath that bleeds through, and there’s still faint clouds of concern in her eyes.
Pearl looks down at her own hands before shakily standing up, every part of her protesting after the beating its taken. The axe returns to her left hand before reaching over and accepting Gem’s with her right.
She didn’t know if she should even trust Gem. But she had asked her if they could work it out together. So that’s what she was going to try to do.
Mojang, what was she getting herself into?