So this was drawn by my friend RyanBerries. It was one of the first fan arts I received, so it's special to me.

On a somewhat unrelated note, I forgot to say that while I did make the cover for this book, my friend Nil really gave me some pointers to make it look a lot better.
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When Grian stirred awake once again, this time he was not met with a sharp pain. This time it had dulled some, more of a painful soreness that pinned him onto the bed. He let out a groan as he moved his body to sit up. The soreness posed as crushing weight, fighting against him, but he was able to do it.

His head was throbbing. A headache and black spots clouding his vision threatened to make him pass out all over again. He took long, painful breaths to steady himself. It didn't get rid of the headache, but at least the lightheadedness and black spots disappeared.

Now that was done with, Grian could take the time to collect his thoughts. He had run away from the Watchers and this must've been the place he ended up in. It was a simple room, made of simple stone brick slab floor and ceiling. Stone bricks were also used for the walls. There wasn't much décor, just a bed, a bed stand and a chair near the bed. A single window let light in, but Grian couldn't see the outside world from where he was.

There was no sound except for the hum of pistons pushing and minecarts rolling on tracks. It must be some kind of redstone at work. The sound , however, seemed loud to the ex-Watcher that was used to the complete and utter silence of the Downside Up.

Shifting a bit, he paused as he felt something other than the silky smooth robes he was used to wearing in the temple. He looked down at himself, finding that he was now in a soft cotton button up and based on feel alone, he could tell his pants were made to match. 

Had he made this place for himself? Had he changed his clothes? His blood ran cold as he realized he must not have, that someone found him. Someone took off his clothes. Did they undo his bandage? They could have easily unwrapped it.

Drawing breaths as sharp as daggers, he began to spiral. Whoever it was could have easily seen his true form. They'd see he was a Watcher. They'd call the Watchers, and they'd take him all over again. He'd go to the Void. No— two incidents of leaving the Downside Up, that was completely unforgivable. They'd kill him in cold blood without a second thought. He was going to die! After all these years, never really living, he'd die! This was all for nothing, his life had been wasted and worthless! He had been a slave to the Watchers his whole life and now that he had his first taste of freedom, this would spell out his doom! Just what was it that he had done?

He hadn't noticed how tears had begun to flow freely down his face, but he did notice how tight his buttoned collar seemed. Had it gotten tighter? It was nearly choking him, he couldn't breathe. The fabric was as heavy as a thick blanket, and he was subconsciously aware of the sweaty wetness between his skin and it. It had turned into an adhesive, bringing the fabric to stick to him, causing him to sweat all the more. In the process, his clothes seemed to tighten even more around him, despite the fact that they were meant to be baggy, causing the choking feeling to worsen.

He let out a cry as he pictured one of the Watchers coming after him. They'd grab him by the wing, then rip off his power concealer. They'd scold him with signed hands digging into his flesh, letting his blood spill out. They would break each one of his wings, playing with them to cause even more pain. From there, he would be put on trial with each of the Watchers spitting out their grievances with him. Just like with any person put on trial, he'd be declared guilty, having an unforgivable sin. Unlike humans though, it would lead to his demise.

His entire body was trembling now, and although he was vaguely aware of how the movement pained him, he didn't feel it. All he could see was how he'd be torn limb from limb, all he could hear was the mockery of the others. All he could smell was the smell of burning feathers, and he could only taste blood. Worst of all, he could feel it all.

He hadn't noticed when the door to the room opened, revealing the mustachioed Mumbo Jumbo. He had been carrying a tray of soup, but with one look at the sobbing Grian he dropped it, running to him as it clattered to the ground.

"Woah! Woah!" He called as he rushed into the seat beside him before taking his hands. He pulled them away from his face, forcing Grian to look out into the grey room. "What's wrong?"

The little man blinked a few times, the light catching his eyes blinding him momentarily. The world full of colors (although mostly monotone ones) overwhelmed him, he couldn't make sense of them. Sound hit his ears as well, but he couldn't decode them easily.

Despite being overwhelmed by his senses, what overwhelmed him most was actually his mind and the horrors that played within it. He could almost hear the scolding of the Great Ones, the he knew that it would be coming soon.

Mumbo still held his hands, unsure of what to do exactly. Whatever was wrong was greatly distressing the blonde, to the point he couldn't even be reached. He swallowed, getting a shell of an idea. "Grian." He tried. Louder, he tried again, "Grian. You are safe here."

It must have worked, or at least in part, because Grian paused, his eyes no longer completely glazed over, his body shaking a bit less.

"See?" Mumbo contained, this time quieter. He was sure to say it in as soothing of a voice as he could muster. "You're okay, Grian. You're okay. Nothing will hurt you here, you're okay. It's just me and you in this world. I'm not going to hurt you." 

Grian was still shaking, though his eyes showed that he recognized that someone was there talking in front of him. His throat was dry, he couldn't find the words to speak. The terrors of his mind fought back, choking him, dragging him back into the depths.

Yes, the Watchers were sure to find him. No one could hide from them, what had he even been thinking? He would surely die; the pressure pressing his entire body, squeezing him tightly was enough to make him believe that he was halfway there already.

"Grian." Mumbo tried again, squeezing his hands. "Grian. Can you hear me?"

It took a few moments for Grian to remember how to open his mouth, and a few more moments to muster a hum, almost as if he was unsure how how to say yes.

"Good." Mumbo said gently, showing the trembling man a smile. "Grian, can you feel my hands?" He asked again, giving them another gentle squeeze, hoping that's being them more into focus.

The touch was far away, he could barely feel it, but it was there. "Y..yeah..." he somehow made out.

"Can you see my mustache?" Mumbo asked, making weird faces so he could wiggle the black bush on his face. His silliness would've made himself laugh, but he was too concerned with the injured man at the moment.

It was a few more moments of silence before he received a weak, "yes." He was sure to keep the smile on his face, telling himself that this was progress.

"It's just me and you. I know you feel awful right now, but you're safe. You're safe, Grian. No harm will come to you." Mumbo said, running his fingers over the grooves of Grian's knuckles so he could have something to feel and focus on. "Just... breathe with me, okay?"

Slowly but surely, Grian's world truly came back into focus as he listened to Mumbo speak for the next ten or so minutes. The screams of the darkness that had once filled his ears subsided, replaced by this unfamiliar yet sweet-sounding man. He stayed mostly quiet through it all, with exception to the loud, painful and shuddering gasps he took every few moments, trying to tune them to Mumbo's breathing. His flowing tears lessened to a crawl, and the color began to return to his face. His heart began to steady, and his trembling died down.

"See?" Mumbo asked, keeping his voice gentle but level. "You're going to be okay. You're doing just great, mate."

Grian blinked a few times, suddenly aware that he had been crying in front of a complete stranger. He hadn't had the mental capacity in the heat of his panic attack to either recognize or deal with that, he couldn't really recall which.

"Who... who are you?" He asked warily, taking his hands away. "Where am I? How do you know my name?"

"My name is Mumbo." The mustachioed man explained, recalling how confusing he worded it the day before. It had been how he usually introduced himself, but to a man who can hardly think that probably wasn't a good idea. "I found you stuck in one of my machines. You were pretty injured so I brought you here so you could rest up. You woke a day or two ago, but you were pretty out of it. You told me your name then."

Grian stared down at his lap. He didn't recall this at all, despite how much he tried to think against his headache. "I... break into your world and you helped me?" He asked, feeling tears come all over again. "Why— why would you do that? I— I could be dangerous..."

Mumbo only chuckled, holding a hand to his mouth. "Well, I didn't really think that far, I suppose." He admitted. A bit more seriously, he replied, "No one would try to break through such a tough barrier unless they were in trouble. I couldn't possibly leave you to die permanently. That'd be cruel... so cruel..."

Grian still didn't get it. "But... I broke in... I'm an intruder... I could ruin your world..."

Mumbo only shook his head, laughing. "But you haven't yet, have you? So it'll be fine!" He paused before muttering under his breath. "Maybe. Probably. Well, in any case he's too weak to try anything anyway.... No one would be stupid enough to try it... it's fine, certainly. He's just like..." the man stopped, realizing that Grian had tilted his head in confusion, showing that he was listening. "In any case, please don't worry yourself, mate. You need to focus on recovering."

Grian was growing increasingly confused by this man, and with the confusion grew his headache. With his headache grew the pains that radiated from his wounds. Before he knew it, he was laying back down, side-eyeing Mumbo. Tiredness plagued him, both from all the energy he had used by healing and from the panic attack he just had. He fought to stay awake, his eyes flickering open and closed repeatedly. There was one thing that he desperately needed to know. "Are... are you the only one in this world?" he asked. Just because one man wouldn't ban him didn't mean that others wouldn't.

"I am. Now, don't fight it. You need your rest." Mumbo explained. He moved to grab the edges of the blankets, moving to pull them over the winged man. With his careful hands he pulled them up and over Grian, tucking him in as the man fell right asleep.

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I really hope I wrote that panic attack realistically. I think I did alright, but it's hard to tell when your the author.