Before you explore this story, please be aware that it deals with and includes themes that may be triggering to some readers: medical and childhood trauma, needles, manipulation, injury, death of close characters, fear, body horror, shipping, grief and loss, reality breaking, transformation and possession. Specific chapters will be marked with relevant content warnings.

This story may not make a lot of sense if you aren't familiar with Watcher (Evo) lore or the events of Hermitcraft. I will do my best to explain within the story when I use my own personal headcanons.

Have fun! -Miso

Xelqua’s cell was cold and lonely as ever. Separated by walls that shimmered a transparent purple, he could just barely see the cloaked figures—Watchers—surrounding him, obviously studying him despite their hidden features. Their massive white wings obscured most of the room beyond, but Xelqua had been in the cell long enough to know that there were no exits, no way to break his glowing chains, and certainly no friendly faces in sight. 

  One of the Watchers moved closer toward the cell wall, and Xelqua scrambled back as they phased through it like it was nothing. The figure snapped their fingers, summoning a cruel-looking syringe into their dark-clawed grip. “How is the little traitor doing today?” they asked, their voice just as distantly familiar as all the rest.

  Xelqua felt his young face mold into a mask of defiant courage, though his eyes refused to move from the needle’s tip. He didn’t bother responding to the Watcher who’d questioned him, didn’t bother to protest that he wasn’t a traitor, didn’t even know what he’d done wrong. Protests, false bravery, truth-telling, crying… He’d tried it all, and they’d just eaten it up like they did any emotion. 

  “Not talking today? That’s too bad.” The figure gestured for Xelqua to give up his arm, which he did, trying not to wince as the Watcher rammed the needle into his elbow. Dark void-blood began filling a vial on the needle’s end, and Xelqua found himself staring at it, as though trying to reassure himself that he was just like his imprisoners. He bled the same as them, even if they seemed convinced he was different. Xelqua stood there, one arm restrained by chains, the other immobilized by the needle, for what felt like eternity. He sometimes wondered whether the Watchers stretched this time out on purpose just to mess with him. 

  Finally, a sharp pain signaled that the syringe had been removed, just as brutally as it had been put in. Xelqua looked down at his arm, thoroughly bruised purple from hundreds of treatments like this. Their monitoring done, the adult Watchers left the prison room through various portals, off to do something more important.

  As soon as they had all gone, Xelqua collapsed to the ground, a whimper escaping his lips. His small wings crumpled against the onyx-colored floor, the cold seeping into his feathers. As terrible as it was when the Watchers came to torture him, the silent loneliness he felt the rest of the time was even worse. He had no way of telling how long he would be left here, with nothing to keep him company but the memories and nightmares.

  VOIP! 

  Xelqua looked around. Had a portal just opened? It couldn’t be time again already, could it?

  “H-hello?” No, it definitely wasn’t them again. This voice sounded young, around Xelqua’s age even, and very, very lost.

  From around a corner Xelqua hadn’t even known was there, a dark-haired boy appeared, hugging a small mustached robot for dear life. “...This place is creepy. I-I don’t think I’m supposed to be here…”

  Then the boy spotted Xelqua. “Wh-what are you?”

  “I…. I’m a kid. Like you,” Xelqua answered. Was he like this boy, though? This boy didn’t have white wings, or purple eyes… He looked human. “How did you get here?”

  “Well…. I was trying to see what this guy could do, and it turns out he can open rifts in reality?” the other kid said, patting his little robot on the head. “Something about the energy here being really strong.”

  “...That should be impossible,” Xelqua said. “Nothing’s supposed to get in here, much less a human invention.”

 “WELL, I DO A LOT OF THINGS THAT ARE IMPOSSIBLE. FINDING YOU WAS JUST THE START…”

  Xelqua’s feathers puffed out in surprise. “Your robot talks?”

 The bot’s mustache twitched as it made a disdainful noise. “I HAVE A NAME, YOU KNOW. AND SO DOES MY HUMAN.”

 “R-right, names! I’m Mumbo… and this is Grumbot! Wh… what’s your name?” Mumbo approached Xelqua’s cell as if the young Watcher was a scared animal he was trying to befriend. 

  “Xelqua…” Xelqua reached up to meet Mumbo’s hand as the human boy placed his shaking palm on the glass-like cell wall. “I still don’t really get what happened here. I mean… I’ve been alone for so long… and then you’re here?” He had a sudden flash of doubt. “Am I dreaming? Are you real?”

  “Of course I’m real, mate! You’re the one with the wings and glowing eyes and weird chains. …Why do you have those, anyway?”

  Xelqua sighed, letting his hand drop into empty space. “I don’t really know. They told me I was a traitor… and they still call me that. I was just trying to make friends… but I’ve never met anyone who wants to be my friend back.”

  Mumbo smiled, though his eyes were filled with naive sadness. “I’ll be your friend, Xelqua.”

He set Grumbot down on his desk, not bothering to sweep away any of the blueprints scattered about. "What... was that about?"

Grumbot hummed. "FOLLOWING ENERGY SIGNALS. FELT STRONGEST THERE—MOST STABLE CONNECTION COULD BE ESTABLISHED."

"You told me that before we left. But... that makes it seem logical... ordinary. Nothing about that... about him... was ordinary." Mumbo was a little scared, if he was being honest. It wasn't Xelqua's appearance; despite his huge wings and strange eyes, there was an undeniable kindness in the boy's heart. What scared Mumbo were his restraints—who would trap a kid like that, and why?

"...YOU MIGHT ALSO BE CONSIDERED EXTRAORDINARY. PERHAPS OTHER USERS EXTRAORDINARY, TOO: IMPULSE, TANGO, DOC, PEARL. NO ONE TO BE AFRAID OF."

Mumbo fidgeted with a hanging lamp, hearing faint laughter from the treehouse above. "Would they be afraid of him, though? Or the other way around?"

Grumbot's mustached face was momentarily replaced by a loading wheel. "KEEP SEPARATE. MAYBE ONE DAY READY." it finally replied.

Mumbo studied the robot. Grumbot might be shiny and new, but he could already tell there were secrets in its wiring—ones he hadn't coded in. "What aren't you telling me?"

But Grumbot had gone completely silent. And no matter how hard he tried, Mumbo couldn't get it to respond again.

"All right, then. If you're not gonna talk..." Mumbo popped on his goggles and pulled out a screwdriver. "Might as well make sure this is as safe as possible for me."

And maybe... I'll start making some upgrades. Mumbo's mind flashed to Xelqua stuck behind the force-field wall of his cell. Maybe one day I can get him out.

Xelqua waited anxiously for Mumbo to return. The Watchers' monitoring had been harsher lately. More blades. More claws. Sometimes they just left him for days, though he couldn't tell time, exactly. There were times when time and silence just seemed to stretch on forever. But those times were almost hopeful—because if the Watchers stayed away long enough, maybe Mumbo would come.

But he didn't. Xelqua began to doubt himself. Was it just another one of their illusions? False hope, fake connection, just to prove a point? Just to remind him that they were in control...

And just as he began to think he'd never see the boy again... Mumbo appeared. Smiling, warm, and definitely real. Grumbot rested in his arms, something new attached to his boxy shell. Mumbo still wore a suit, though it was stained with red powder, and a pair of goggles rested on his forehead. He said something, but Xelqua couldn't understand him, like he was trying to listen to him speak underwater.

"Hello?"

Confusion flickered over the other boy's face... before he smacked his forehead and touched a button on Grumbot's back.

The small robot's face flashed bright green. "AUTO-TRANSLATE ENGAGED."

"Forgot to do that, sorry bud. You were saying?"

Xelqua shrugged. "Just saying hello. ...How could we understand each other last time? And why couldn't I just now?"

"Oh, I usually keep it on. It's useful... but when I upgraded Grumbot, I had to turn it off. Takes a lot of extra power I didn't need at the time. As for why we couldn't understand each other... I dunno, Xelqua. I'm speaking English, I don't know what you're speaking."

"...Galactic. Watcher-tongue. I hate it, but it's the only one I know."

"Why do you... Oh." Mumbo stared at the glowing purple barrier between them. "The... Watchers... They're the ones that put you here. But then why would you know their language?"

Xelqua sniffled, but didn't say anything.

Finally, his small voice asked a question of his own. "...Mumbo? Will you tell me about where you come from?"

"Sure, buddy." He looked back at where the rift had been. "It's... Bright. A lot of the time. We have times when the sky is so full of light, you can barely see anything. And other times it's dark, but not like here. The dark back home feels... like the sky is wishing you good night." Mumbo laughed. "I'm sorry, I'm not doing a good job of this."

Xelqua smiled. "No, you're doing good! Tell me more about the light. Why's it bright sometimes... and where does the light go when it's dark?"

"Well... I don't really know. Cub says it goes to the other side of the world. But that light... we call it the Sun."

"...Is it warm? The sun?" Xelqua asked. It was always so cold in the cell. Warmth was just another thing he wasn't worthy of.

"Yeah. It feels so nice. Especially in the mornings. I wish... I wish you could feel it."

Xelqua curled up against the barrier. "...Maybe someday."

Suddenly... Xelqua noticed a slight static in the air. The beginnings of purple rifts that meant the Watchers were returning. "Mumbo, you need to get out of here!"

"O-okey!" Mumbo pressed a button on Grumbot, and a different rift appeared on the void-colored wall. He stepped through it, seeming unsure whether to be freaked out or reassuring. "I'll—I'll come back. I promise!"

Xelqua couldn't breathe until Mumbo's rift vanished, taking the eight-year-old inventor with it. Then he exhaled. Stood up. Ready to face whatever the Watchers tried to do to him this time. Mumbo's promise still echoing in his ears.

"I'll come back."