Chapter 1: THAT STUPID SCULK THAT I HATE
Chapter Text
Coffee didn't like the caves.
Or the Sculk, for that matter.
After everyone abandoned the jungle, their troubles, their strife, she felt… better. Not free, not trapped. Just better. She could barely remember the move, though she wasn't sure if it was amnesia or memory blocking—or if it was just a dream and the tundras were always her home.
Though everyone seemed more content. Not happier, just content. Despite the harsh weather conditions and the famine and the strays that appeared no matter how many torches they placed. They were content.
Though with contentedness comes the need to expand, to grow, to conquer. To clear the flora and the greenery and make room for civilization. Coffee was never much of a leader, though her efforts to grow alongside the others usually ended in falling from a great height or dying some other careless way.
The area in the tundras was getting more familiar to her now. Most people thrived in or around the community center. Her house was on a nearby island, after she finally decided to build a house instead of living on the side of the mountain. (Right next to a Ruralshine mine. She didn’t know why, but thinking about Ruralshine made something writhe in her chest…) Liam’s house was farther, but following the frozen river led her to his treehouse. The greatest treehouse she’d ever seen, by the way.
Liam…
He was a good friend. A great friend, actually. In the early days of the realm—around day 200 or so, but she couldn’t quite remember—he had saved her and her things from many precarious situations. All considering the caves.
Coffee didn’t like the caves.
The two had gone on a mining trip together, in search of many things but iron specifically. Copper tools and armor were great, but at the time even she had very little. They found a cave near Liam’s house and ventured out for a while. The first death she didn’t even understand what happened. Probably zoned out and returned when she was back at Liam’s base. It took a while to get back.
Then they found the Sculk.
She didn’t like the Sculk at all.
The caves were narrow, she remembered that clearly, with rocky walls of deepslate slowly closing in on the two of them the deeper they went. It was hard to climb down and even harder to climb back up. There weren’t any ores here. They were out of food and were quickly resorting to rotten flesh. But maybe, just maybe, if they went down a bit more… they’d find something.
She watched from behind as Liam laid eyes on the Sculk. And for the first time, something ran through her, though she couldn’t understand what it was. She watched from behind as Liam quickly covered up the area with the cobbled deepslate he had before turning away as quickly as he came. It was hard to see, but there was something in his eyes. Fear? Recognition? She could’ve sworn she had seen that same look in herself…
They both ended up burning to death in lava.
And when she found herself back at Liam’s base? She didn’t know what was worse. The feeling of losing everything they worked for, the tingle of fire dancing across her skin, or the thought that thing had a heartbeat, too. It was disgusting. She didn’t even see it in its entirety and she hated it. She hated it. She feared it. Feared that once she laid eyes on it again…
The Sculk was in the community center.
Somewhere in the ground was a sensor. A wretched thing that chirped and clicked every time she walked to her house. It echoed in her mind. It echoed everywhere. And it made her head spin. More than the vines that everyone knew were gone. Or at least they wanted to think they were gone. They wished they were gone, but it would take more than snow.
Liam had changed and she cursed that sickening, horrible blue.
The caves were terrible. But she had to get materials somewhere, and God forbid she barter with someone from Ruralshine.
The caves were terrible. That wouldn't change. But she had to get materials somewhere.
Coffee was terrified. The caves were as bad as she remembered and every step she took was another possible step to disaster. She screamed every time a zombie or skeleton turned the corner, or when she nearly fell into a ravine she didn’t see—even though she knew that no one was around to hear her cries. No one was there to help her. No one was there as a safety net.
But eventually the fear ebbed away, especially with the armor and she had hastily crafted from the iron she found. She wasn’t about to lose to the stone labyrinths again. (Even if she knew she was lost. Very lost.) There was a certain area, an underground clearing, that had interconnected cave systems branching out and connecting with one another. She did laps around them, lighting and placing torches wherever she went in hopes it would ward off anything that could hurt her.
The first time she felt safe when underground in a long time. It was amazing.
Safety was a fickle thing.
She went down a corridor that kept descending, walls of deepslate shrinking and shrinking and encompassing her trembling form. It ignited something within her, a deep-seated fear that she thought she had shaken off hours (days?) ago. A deep-seated fear that could’ve been déjà vu or even horrible memories being stirred up again.
There was no lava here.
There was no lava here.
Liam wasn’t here.
Coffee was alone.
Nothing would hurt her here.
There was no Sculk here.
Oh, but that terrible blue said otherwise.
She stopped moving. It clicked. It chirped. It breathed. It writhed. It was disgusting. Horrifying. She looked back at where she came. Leaving was the better option. Leaving was the better option. Leaving was—
Something shrieked at her from the darkness, and her vision started to give out.
Leaving was definitely the better option. She stumbled back up, back through the narrow passageways, knowing that it never had a chance of following her. Hopefully. She prayed it couldn’t follow her. (She prayed it couldn’t follow her more than it already had.)
She got out of those caves alive.
But Coffee didn't like the caves.
Or the Sculk, for that matter.
Chapter 2: weird books i DID NOT WRITE!!
Chapter Text
realm side quests!!
- fix the storage in our house (bc it’s super bad)
- look for ruined portals for almond
- trial chambers for katie (2-3)
- do all the prep on the previous page!
- ancient cities for liam (1-2)
- god this one is scary please prepare
PLEASE GET TO WORK ON THESE!! PLEASE!! GET THE DONE GIRLIE YOU NEED TO DO THEM!!!
Side quests like these were the easiest way to keep Coffee busy.
Because if she wasn’t doing something, then the silence would only get louder. And in that silence were voices. Small, but noticeable. And her chest would start to hurt more with every breath.
So she’d go do something right now! Her house was still unfinished but she didn’t want to work on that. Not yet, anyway. Storage it was! After all, for every adventure you have to be prepared lest something bad happens to you. There was no way she’d be able to find everything she needed within her unorganized collection of chests and barrels. Besides, the whole thing gave her a headache just by looking at them.
This chest had blocks, this other one had armor and too many bows from strays and skeletons she had killed; this barrel was a mess on its own, this other barrel had—
…things she did not put in there.
Three books. A book and quill. And an enchanted iron sword.
These were not there before. If anything, this barrel was empty. She did not write these books. Hell, she hadn’t even stepped into her house in days— She didn’t even have an enchantment table?
Coffee closed the barrel, though she stared at it as if it was still open. As if the gleam of the blade didn’t intrigue her. As if her curiosity wasn’t warring with her fear.
Cool. Nothing wrong with three random books she didn’t write. And a sword she couldn’t have made. (Because why were enchanting tables so expensive to craft??)
The sudden appearance of mysterious books wasn’t surprising. There had been numerous reports of them being found in others’ chests; sometimes signs popped up here and there. Usually found by Eigengrau or some other Ruralshine affiliate. (Wasn’t it strange that the newcomer presumably from the end found most of them? But that was something she’d never say aloud. They were an enigma on their own…)
She looked around one more time before reopening the barrel. Still there. No one was around, and these were clearly meant for her.
Three books. A book and quill. An enchanted iron sword.
The sword was left inside, but she held the three books in her hands. No author. Of course there was no author. The first one she read was titled “444 DAYS”. Hesitantly, she started to read…
Dear ██████,
HELLO HI HI HELLO okay okay listen younger self and listen closely.,.,. /kelly /SILLT /SILLY
first of all it’s the future nwo and it’s crazy, the vines are still scary but believe it or not youre actually okay now??
they cured you girl.,. and by they i mane you bc youre so alpha heh.., /:8@”7 */SILLY YOU DIDN’T SEE THAT DID YOU
id tell you how im feeling since it’s a dirary to the future anywat but like,,. im BURNT OUT! AAAAA!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA okya there we go
ok lowkey tho li,e,.,.. all in all things have gotten reallyp eaceful now! we got to the end and i fell into th evoid more times that i did damage but we dont’t halk about that,,... shhh
from one to one,
██████
…What the hell, that sounded exactly like her.
Maybe more internally, but that was scarier. Who wrote this? Dumb question. Herself, obviously. Nothing like a mysterious letter from the goddamn future to wake you up. But who brought it here???
Well, she had a faint recollection of getting to the end once with a few others… She could definitely do it again if she was ready. And get rid of the vines? There weren’t any. The cold killed them off. That’s what those at Ruralshine said.
This is not the future we want. We never left. We never left. We are everywhere.
Her chest throbbed with a sudden pain. She was hearing things again. Must’ve been shock. Or maybe just her breath catching a bit too hard. Or maybe her thoughts were racing too fast. It didn’t matter. One book down, two more to go. The next one was titled “222 DAYS”…
Dear ██████,
Hello past self! How’s it going? Me personally, I’m doing wonderfully.
I’ve been feeling a lot more ‘at peace’. I have taken far more walks and I feel like I’ve truly connected with nature and it's truly an immaculate feeling.
Eventually, once you take this path, you’ll lose all feelings of pain. You’ll feel almost as if you’ve been released from your shackles.
You’ll be able to breathe again, for real this time. Your spirit and mind will be clear and you’ll feel euphoric.
That crushing feeling on your body will be no more. You’ll feel almost as if you can fly.
Keep doing what you’re doing, and I assure you: you’ll be taken to wonderful places, my dearest ██████.
From,
██████
Ow— The feeling in her chest grew stronger. It wasn’t just throbbing anymore. It was pulsing. Breathing faster than she did.
This is what we want. This is what we want. This is the future we want.
She was fine, she was fine, she was fine. She was FINE. It’s fine. She was hearing things in the silence again. It’s fine. Focus on what’s in her hands. Two contradictory letters from the future. This one was definitely more legible. This was how she wrote to others when matters were urgent.
But this didn’t sound urgent.
At least, not yet.
She’ll think more about it later. Next book. “CHRONICLES VOL.3”. …Volume 3 implied two more before it.
The Weapon of Destiny
There are a hundred and one ways to hurt a tree.
Hurricanes, sweeping the leaves and twigs off of their perch on their shaking mother branches
Floods, eroding the soil so weak the roots no longer have stability to support them.
Fire, skinning the bark off of the rings of their logs charring them to a crumbling black.
The animals; from the tiny caterpillar to the titanic elephant, and the common fungus, gnawing, climbing and snapping the wood — taking more and more until nothing but the rotting interior and the withered sag of the leaves remain.
Then, the blades.
Snippers, chainsaws, axes, loppers, pruners, wedges, unfeeling shards that do nothing but kill; knowing of death and nothing but the death that they bring.
Stronger than any phenomenon or beast, and stronger than the hands that command it.
There are a million and one ways to hurt a human. A harsh backhand, a punch, kicks and shoves, assault and war, our body’s own detriments. A fall, a broken bone, a torn ligament, a rough collision.
Viruses and bacteria and chronic disease, depression and anxiety, sadness and treachery, trauma and paranoia that eats at a person indiscriminately, from the arms and legs to the brain heart.
Then, the blades.
Knives, packed with words, stabbing through the throat and bleeding from the mouth and eyes.
Daggers, severing through the bonds formed through the slow passing of time.
A scythe of death, reaping what life sows.
A sharp needle, draining the soul right from the bloodstream.
Razors and scissors piercing the skin and leaving surface wounds for all who see it to gawk at.
Stronger than any punch or blow, and stronger than the hands that command it.
Perhaps it is time to wield the sword yourself.
There are more ways to kill others than us.
There are more ways to kill others than the trees. What was this implying? That she should go out and kill someone? Or something? Do not think of that. And why give her a sword, why give her this burden of choice?
The sword sat in the barrel, untouched. Coffee finally reached out to grab it, noting how sturdy it seemed. Probably enchanted with Unbreaking. Its blade gleamed again—extra sharp. Another enchantment. Unbreaking and Sharpness. It could go through anything with just a few hits.
She didn’t want to use it. As helpful as it would be.
God, she wished this hadn’t been bestowed upon her. But this had to be here for a reason. Was she suddenly important to this world, to whoever left these books here? She was obviously meant to find them…
Y’know what, it was getting dark out. The later she stayed awake, the more strays spawned. She was safe in her house, but some other poor soul would have to endure the hell it was to get through them.
The books were positioned back in the barrel; the sword came next after some hesitance. She got into bed to skip the night…
Keep the sword.
It’ll keep them at bay.
Listen.
You are destined for failure.
Trust me.
She shot awake, grimacing at the brightness streaming through her windows. What was that. What the hell was that. Oh god, was she being watched? What was that!! She didn’t ask for that!!
Maybe she was being watched. Maybe those books were there because whoever gave them to her knew she’d be too damn curious to refuse. Ughhh, those books sounded so much like her because maybe they were her… What did “failure” even mean!! Was that the other book? The “222 DAYS” one? Was that considered failure? Not to us, no. That is the best outcome you can get.
The sword was still there. Either she kills the plants or she kills the humans.
Either she frees herself or stays trapped forever.
You were never trapped. You’re already free!
Either she finds a way to fix her fate or stays doomed until the world starts anew.