Much like many of the other hermits, Grian had not slept in at least three days.

It had started a week ago, when Mumbo and Iskall had stopped by his base on their way to do something with redstone and the three of them had gotten into an argument.

It wasn't something that happened very often, in fact - it was only the second time the man had argued with Mumbo and the first time he'd ever argued with Iskall. He was dreadfully embarrassed about it.

He had been the one to start the conflict - asking about why they'd be starting a new business project without him when Sahara had been so "successful." Mumbo had joked with him about throwing that stupid potato into the machinery, something he joked about often, but for some reason it felt like a personal attack on Grian's character.

"Of course!" He had yelled back, "Notch forbid I ever go anywhere around redstone again! Since my mere presence seems to just make every tech within a 50 meter radius want to hunt me down! It was, literally, ONE time, Mumbo, I don't know why you insist on bringing it up every time we have a fu- every time we have a conversation!" He bit back a swear, thrusting his finger into the taller man's chest.

Mumbo had clearly not been expecting an aggressive response, and he remained silent, his mouth slightly open as he stared at the builder. Iskall had been the one to step in, clearly upset that Grian had raised his voice with seemingly no trigger.

"What's wrong with you, man?" He snapped, "You can't just let us joke about that for a year and then suddenly get all defensive about it! You're not the one who had to spend over a day fixing it!"

Grian felt bad, he knew he had during the fight - and even worse now that he was looking back. But Iskall had fought back, and that only made him angrier. What did Iskall know?

"Oh yeah, cause redstone is just SO difficult to fix when you've done it before!" The sarcasm was like venom and the smaller man couldnt stop it, "Not as hard as doing literally everything else that that stupid company needed. The builds, the products, the adverts, but no! Let's make redstone as complex as possible and then become upset when it obviously gets messed with!"

Now Iskall was on the receiving end, and Grian felt a rage bubble in his chest as the man narrowed his eyes at him, crossing his arm and looking down defensively. "What is your problem, Grian? You're being a sort of..."

"Prick," Mumbo finished for him, and both men looked at him. "I am not arguing with you," Mumbo said flatly, his voice more disappointed than angry.

"There's no winning with you. You're always right." His eyes were narrowed, even though they showed sadness, "Everyone else is always at fault."

Grian huffed, his desire to argue only becoming more inflamed at the comment, "Of course you don't want to argue," his voice was tight, his wings flared;

"I don't know what I'd do if you ever actually tried to defend your point of view, Mumbo. Maybe you'd be able to actually string together a coherent sentence and pull together those two last brain cells you have. Or maybe, just maybe, you'd give up and walk off with your tail between your legs like a coward with no ability to defend himself."

Mumbo's fists tightened and Iskall stepped between them, his eyes glaring cold daggers into Grian's indignant stare. "Dude, stop."

Grian scoffed, "Whatever. You two go do whatever stupid redstone thing you techs do. Don't get caught in a machine." He turned around quickly, spamming rockets and taking off over his mansion. Mumbo and Iskall both looked on, confused at the sudden outburst from their normally cheery friend.

They shared a look, tenseness still between them as Grian disappeared behind his mansion.

Embarrassment flooded Grian as he laid down on the stone in the middle of his mansion, looking up into the inky black ceiling of his unfinished build.

He wasn't normally so snappy with his friends, especially to their faces. And it had been years since he'd lost complete control of his emotions and yet... that day he had felt like he almost did. Like he'd almost to... he swallowed, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

Maybe he should just leave. Perhaps this was just a sign that he had overstayed his welcome and needed to go back where he belonged. Back with everyone he was scared of becoming.

The builder sat himself up, his back ached from the nights he'd lied awake on the cold, stone floor - pretending that maybe everything was alright. That he was still a good person.

No one had stopped by to visit in the three days he'd locked himself away, and while that hurt the most - it felt deserved. Mumbo was right, there was no winning an argument with Grian - the man refused to listen to reason or logic, refused to back down even when he knew he was wrong.

Mumbo had most likely told Iskall not to bother coming by to seek an apology... Grian would do so when he felt as though he'd truly regretted his actions.

He sighed and stretched his arms above his head. He knew he regretted what he'd said... and he'd hate to leave the server without properly saying goodbye to the other hermits. He stared at the tiny, one block hole that served as his exit. Did he deserve to be forgiven?

Grian shook his head, that was stupid. Of course he did. Just because he had snapped at his friends didn't mean he had become some sort of horrible monster. He felt bad about it after all! That was an obvious sign he was nothing like he had been before. Genuine guilt separated him from them.

He stood up and launched himself easily though the hole. Ignoring the spiders that had settled on his rooftop. He looped around the mansion and took off towards Iskall's base.

Despite the man seeming to want to fight him, Grian figured it would be easier to apologize to the swede first. Not to mention, the sooner he apologized, the quicker this could be put behind them and the sooner things could go back to normal. However, as he passed over Scar's base - and could see Mumbo's massive build behind it - his heart pulled him that way.

He could apologize to Iskall after. Mumbo was his best friend. The person who had given him the chance to join the Hermitcraft Server in the first place, Grian should have never argued with him.

The wind passing through his hair tugged him closer to the mustached man's base, and he could already hear the steady heartbeat of his living redstone. It was still weird, but Grian didn't need to tell Mumbo that. He would tell Mumbo how cool it was and how great of a friend he was, and the man would forgive him.

The hermit passed by the large pillars surrounding Mumbo's base and glided into the center, gently passing through the Nether portal and landing carefully in the man's storage system.

Surprisingly, it seemed as though Mumbo was actually there. It almost caught Grian off guard, he hadn't expected Mumbo to actually be working on his base today and yet... the man was here. Pulling items out of his chest and shoving them into a shulker.

Grian watched as he loaded the shulker with redstone powder. He cleared his throat, nearly causing the man to drop the ore on the grass.

"Grian!" The man spoke, still shocked, "Goodness, one moment!" He packed in the rest of the redstone before breaking the shulker box and scooping it into his inventory.

Grian just stared, trying to piece together an apology in his brain. He hadn't realized Mumbo was waiting for him to speak first.

"Well?" Mumbo's voice broke his train of thought, and the man looked at him, blinking.

"I'm, um..." Grian hated apologizing. He always had, and that was one of his traits that hadn't changed. It was one thing to say sorry when a game you're playing with friends goes a little wrong and you have to replace their stuff - but another entirely when you get into a stupid argument... where the opponent has all the social power, because you were dumb and they were right.

He narrowed his eyes, trying to force the words out. "I'm sorry."

Mumbo raised a brow before crossing his arms and leaning to his side just slightly, still looking up at Grian - perched on his platform.

Grian grumbled before sighing again, "You know what for."

The suited man shook his head, "I don't."

It was obvious he knew. He wanted to hear Grian say it, to actually admit that he was in the wrong. He wasn't going to just let the builder dance his way around the issue and get his forgiveness. That's not how people learn and they both knew it.

"Don't act oblivious," Grian narrowed his eyes.

"I'm not, I just don't know if you know what you're apologizing for."

"I'm not six, Mumbo, don't treat me like a child."

"Then don't act like one."

Anger brewed in Grian's stomach, and he had to hold back yet another snappy response. "Why are you making this so difficult! You do this anytime we get in a fight, I said I'm sorry!"

"Grian, if you don't tell me what you're sorry for, then how am I supposed to forgive you?"

The builder jumped off the platform, walking closer to the redstoner, "You know what I'm sorry for! I'm sorry we got in a fight! I'm sorry that I lost my temper for something stupid. Sorry that I clearly can't keep my emotions under check. Sorry that the only way I can apologize isn't good enough for you!" His voice grew louder as he moved closer to Mumbo.

Mumbo stared for a moment before uncrossing his arms with a frown, "Grian, you are fully capable of keeping your emotions in check. You've been so good ever since joining hermitcraft, and yet, these past few weeks you've just... there's a difference between friendly jests and genuinely getting on your friends' nerves.''

He let out a sigh, "You've known where that line is, I don't know what happened to you when you left at the start of the season, but you keep crossing that line over the dumbest things."

It was hard not to get defensive again, and Grian took a deep breath. He crossed his arms and looked away from Mumbo, he felt like a teenager again, being lectured by some teacher or parental figure. He hated feeling that small, but standing in the greenery of Mumbo's storage system did help calm him down a little. "You're... you're right," he finally spoke.

"I've been a prick lately, you were right. I don't know what's wrong with me... I just," he rubbed the back of his neck, face growing warm in the thick jungle air, Mumbo stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder, offering him a genuine smile. It only made him feel worse.

Here he had come to apologize for one thing and had only tried to start another conflict. "I'm sorry, Mumbo. For insulting you the other day, and for getting cross with Iskall, and for getting mad here... and I'm sorry for throwing that stupid potato into Saharah."

Now Mumbo let out a slight laugh, "Thank you, Grian, I forgive you for all of that. It's all in the past now, as long as you can learn from it."

Grian didn't feel any better and he just nodded solemnly, not going for a hug like he normally would, much to Mumbo's surprise. "I should go and apologize to Iskall too..." he said softly, "Sorry, again."

Mumbo frowned slightly and nodded, "It's alright Grian, good luck."

Grian numbly dismissed himself from the redstoner's storage room and flew up the shaft between his portals. He could still tell Mumbo was looking at him and he hoped the man didn't think he was just trying to look sad for his sympathy.

No, Grian genuinely cursed himself for being so overly emotional once again. He had been pretty bad the past few weeks, just like Mumbo had said.

Usually it was him dismissing problems he may have caused or not coming through on a promise until pushed hard enough - or getting clearly annoyed at the other hermits just... existing.

Just last week he had been looking around at the builds in Keralis' city when the man showed up and started telling him about his building decisions. Grian had been borderline rude, dismissing everything he had said - even though it was something the builder would have absolutely been interested in just a few months prior.

He glided slowly over to Iskall's omega tree, flapping his wings sparingly as he reflected on his actions the past few months. He had snapped at Tango after dying in Decked Out, despite it not being the man's fault, he had rolled his eyes right to Impulse's face after the man explained why he had kept Impulse Buys in the corner of the barge. He had ignored several hermits greetings when he flew by them, or when he woke up, or came out of a long AFK session.

He had scoffed at Doc's Goat-man costume, despite setting up the signal for it himself. He had insulted the inside of the resistance base - right in front of all the members. He had physically pushed Scar off of one of the diamond blocks on the low end of the throne - and then pretended it was just a bit when Scar seemed genuinely upset about it.

What the hell was wrong with him?

No wonder nobody stopped by his mansion those days he'd locked himself away. He wouldn't want to see himself right now either.

He considered setting off another rocket before changing his mind, instead landing gracefully on the top of one of the jungle trees. He knew he should apologize, but he couldn't do it. Not right then.

Instead he just let his shoes press into the thick leaves at the top of the tree's canopy, looking around the jungle between Mumbo and Iskall's bases.

His reverse card was still there, but he didn't feel any joy when looking at it. Instead numbness filled his senses, and he couldn't help but scowl at the card.

Right as his mind began to pull him back into his train of thought from earlier, right as he was about to reflect even more in his own self-pity, a sound came from the trees behind him. He whipped around, mind temporarily away from his own problems as he focused on where the sound was coming from.

It had been such a subtle noise, like leaves being pressed underfoot, but Grian's heightened sense of hearing had easily picked it up.

"Mumbo?" He said, softly.

There was no response and he narrowed his eyes, pulling out his sword. It could easily be a mob that had managed to spawn in the darkness of the jungle, despite the sun being overhead.

"Who's there?" he spoke again, lowering his body into a fighting stance, "I'm serious!"

It wouldn't have been a very funny joke, if someone was there. That wasn't something the hermits did very often - that sort of crude humor and jumpscares. Maybe Doc would occasionally do that on accident, but it was never something that his friends typically did. Except...

"Evil?" his voice was soft, hoping that maybe Ex was waiting there for him, here to comfort him - or ask what the hell was wrong with him for not showing any sort of sympathy to his fellow hermits. Either would have been good at this point.

But no one came out. And the jungle had since fallen quiet, not even the stray call of a startled bird indicated that he was anything but alone. He sheathed his sword and sighed, shaking his head. Not only was he a jerk- he was losing his mind too. He needed to go see Iskall, apologize, and get this all done with.

"NPG," a voice called from behind him, and he flinched, turning back around - hand already on his sword.

"Who's there?!" He yelled, "Who are you?!"

"Follow me," it whispered again, just as nonchalant as it had been the first time.

"Hell no."

There was a pause of silence, and Grian felt himself untense, his hand slipped away from the hilt of his sword.

"Follow me," the voice repeated again. It sounded the same, but something about it didn't seem quite as threatening as it did before. He slipped his sword back into his inventory and continued to stare into the woods. Who was...?

"I have something to show you," it was louder now, but remained just as monotone and calm in its voice. Grian felt oddly soothed as he stepped forward, interested enough to find the source of the voice.

A part of his brain was telling him to turn around and to fly off, to stay as far away from the voice as possible - but a part of him felt called to it. It didn't sound completely right... but it almost sounded like his father.

He ignored the logical side of his brain and paced deeper into the foliage, following the whispers, crushing leaves and plants beneath him.

The single whisper began to grow louder and more varied, like a series of voices interweaving with one another in a delicate dance. It grew louder and louder as he stepped closer, though his father's voice remained the most prominent.

It beckoned him, and finally he succumbed to the demands, no longer paying attention to the forest that surrounded him.

Before he could even attempt to pull himself out of his stupor, the ground dropped beneath him and he instantly began to fall, the grass and stone of the overworld rushing by him as the earth gave way.

His mind still hadn't registered his body falling, and his wings were pressed tightly against his back, doing nothing to slow his descent.

Grian's eyes were shut tightly as wind rushed past his face and finally the feeling of falling began to take over. His cognitive thoughts returning and panic overtook him.

He had no idea how he had managed to fall down such a narrow tunnel. He tried to open his wings but the wall was holding them closed, the tunnel was too tight to slow his fall at all. His panic rose and he flinched harshly, eyes widening - even with the growing burn of the wind.

He tried to stretch out his hands and tried to grab for bits of the stone sticking out but it had been too smooth, cut far too perfectly for him to snag a loose bit of cobble- but that probably wouldn't have been a good idea for his hands anyway.

The builder had just accepted his death, that he would hit the ground and die to fall damage - then take a few hours to respawn. It would hurt, but it would be okay.

That was until the air began to grow colder and thicker. He was immediately aware of the change of pressure and panic regrew in his chest. It almost felt as though he was going to fall right through the bedrock.

And then he did.

The void overwhelmed him. Grian's wings instantly flared, but there was nowhere for him to go, and the strength of the void wrapped around his feathers and crept on his legs, weighing him down.

His lungs tightened and his breath caught in his throat. He felt the pressure build on his chest and he felt sick, like he was going to vomit - but like nothing would ever come up, not even breath, or a call for help.

He choked against the air, trying to flap his wings up to that tiny hole, but it was already an impossible distance away. Tears brimmed in his eyes and only a shallow, pained breath escaped him. Black tendrils crept into his vision as everything began to fade to dull grey. The bedrock became smaller and smaller above him as he continued to fall, wings uselessly limp at his side.

Finally, the loud hiss of static began to fade before falling to a deathly silence as the void consumed him.