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In lieu of that mid-roll ad, I will now read a haiku of my own devising.
The moon lifts us up.
But will letting us all down
Bring us together?
— Joe Hills, HermitCraft 8 ep 20 – End Times With Scar!
Moonlight. Masquerading in motion. Making magnificent morphs of mineral and mountain. Maintained by magical materials reflecting from its surface. Here, it is made to move by magma. To mask the light of thousands of lichen. To magnify the magnificence of the dripstone. The magnitude of which has no match in all the world. For this meticulously manicured manner is mine. A landscape scarcely manoeuvrable and often misleading. This land yields to no man, nor woman, nor moon. A land comprised of no malformations, malefaction, or marginalities, a land which masterfully manipulates all malicious madmen with a myriad of mazes. Many have met a meteoric demise within this malice canyon.
And so you too, moon, you shall meet your maker.
— cubfan135, Hermitcraft 8: THE MOON ARRIVES (Episode 43)
Pearl watches patches of dirt rise high up in the air, blocks taller than her starter base. She watches them rise and then not fall, stopped in her tracks. Then, she thinks: my sweet moon cousin, what happened to you?
Little square holes stay in the ground. The world, honestly, kind of looks like the kind of cheese with holes in it. Swiss cheese, Pearl thinks. The type of cheese that people say the moon is out of, and that the world is now made out of.
This, she knows, is the beginning of the end.
//
We’re in the end times, guys. We’re in the end times.
//
The Hermits try their best to stop the moon. Mumbo attempts a redstone contraption. Tango flies a rocket to the moon and Doc and Ren try to keep up with their experiments. Scar sacrifices Bdubs and Cub flings a cow to the moon. Keralis builds the KISS and Jevin drinks potions. Pearl creates chains to keep her base on the ground.
After a while, though, it becomes inevitable. The moon will crash into them, and there will be nothing left soon. All that’s left is to try and survive, and the Hermits prepare for the end of the world and settle their affairs. Grian speedruns the rest of his base. Zed concludes his experiments, and Etho … goes shopping? He’s always been like that. False and Gem build a bunker, and XB and Keralis make one as well (even though XB says it isn’t). Cleo prepares to Bug Out.
Bdubs doesn’t pay attention to the panic. After all, why should he? He’ll be fine. All the Hermits will leave, and he’ll be left with a large, beautiful island with all the possibilities in the world. This is his life, forever, and what a life it is!
Still, though, he sends a transmission to Tango. He doesn’t know when Tango will see it—it could be hours, days, or weeks from now—but he hopes that Tango will get it before the moon hits.
When the world ends, Bdubs is admiring at the moon.
//
I just don’t want basically to have her panicked. She was a little bit panicked. But I think if we can, erm…. Yeah. We’re just gonna … we’re just gonna get out of here. And then go—go to the eagle.
She won’t know that I’m gone, and she won’t know where I am, I’ll just … I’ll be in a secret area of the bunker, let’s say, and it’ll be fine. So let’s just, uh, get ourselves out of here.
It’s fine. It’s fine. She’ll never know.
I’m just gonna fly. I’m just gonna fly—panic and fly. Panic and fly. She won’t know. She won’t know. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. She won’t hate me.
//
The ground rumbles, buildings flying apart block by block. False’s hands are shaking as she watches, and she thinks that she’s crying. She doesn’t even know anymore. “The moon is eating the world,” she says, slowly falling—gliding, really—down to land on one of her roofs.
Logically, she knows that her mushroom-topped houses’ survival is the least of her problems. After all, her and her friends might die, permanently this time. But when she watches the roof shingles rise, she can’t help but sob. She loves this world, but she has to say goodbye. Has to stab Gem in the back. Has to watch her friends panic and be … gone for an indefinite amount of time.
What kind of sick person came up with that?
(False never thought that her life would become a tragedy. Well, you live and you learn.)
The ground stops shaking, and False stumbles, catching herself on the wooden ground. She needs to leave soon; she knows it. But first, she gives herself ten seconds to appreciate the world, her friends and her life for the past months.
10, 9, 8—False looks around at the Swamp, and the lump in the middle, and the swirling Nether portal, at the sign Gem put up and the Halloween decorations—7, 6—then, she leans forwards and—5—pries one of the shingles off the roof and—4, 3—puts it in her pocket.
She looks at the eagle, her lonely and terrifying escape route.
1.
Then, as promised, she flies.
//
I hope we see each other on the other side, whatever the other side may be.
//
Mumbo had always assumed, for some inexplicable reason, that buildings would be untouchable. But they’re disintegrating underneath his feet, the world torn apart by gravity. If the builds are gone, what’s next? The animals? The members of Boatem? Mumbo himself?
He doesn’t really want to think about it.
Instead, he flies around Boatem. With a lump in his throat, and Grian’s heartbeat loud in his ears (really, Mumbo’s never met someone whose heart beats that loudly), he revisits the site of his home. His armchair, Boatem itself, Treeza—there is everything he’s created, what he’s given his all too in the past few months.
He’s never been prouder of himself.
He’s going to lose everything soon; he knows it. For the moment, though, he watches the world fall apart.
It’s a quite nice sight.
//
Gravity’s so messed up that I can just … sort of ș̵͌̊̊͂̕it in air, f̷̖̳͖͈̝̯͑͒̓͌̑͒̉ļ̸̈́͛̓͆͗̒͒͝ạ̸̞͛͜shing̸̼̜̮͊̀ in and̵̰̠͖͈͚͌̎̊͆͝ oȕ̸̟̣̣̲̈͂̈́̃̌͌͘͝ͅt of existence li̴͍̻͖̻̗͍͓̓͂͌̓̕͝k̵̢͓͑̈̃e this is some kî̶͕̜̗̟̺͖͎̗̗̋̂͌̂̔͘͠͝n̸͇̮̼͂̾̆͜d̸̦̺͚̞̤̖́͊͗ of s̸̤̱̯̻̭̔̔̀͊͠i̷̡̤̙͍͐̒̎̃̒͆̍͂m̵̛̪̻͋̏̊̏̈̚ũ̸̟͊̓̂͛̈̉̎͘̚l̸̼̺̰͖͕̩̟̟̆̀̓̚ą̶͙̬̤̋̋̍͆̐͐̕̚t̵̛̳͔̹̻͙̥̩͎̳͑̈́͋̆̕͝ͅȉ̴̛̺͈͖͂͒̆̕͝ó̵͔̲̠͍̞̅̈́̑̄n̴̝̲̭̓̿͋́̋̎̿.
//
When False is back in her base, packing the last essentials, she changes her to-do list.
PANIC PANIC
LEAVE PANIC
//
Some people might call him a scammer or a capitalist, but Scar’s always considered himself as an opportunist.
When everyone else is panicking, Scar takes the opportunity to profit. He manages to trade all of Boatem’s diamonds for a guaranteed safe travel. He makes his business to take people’s pets into the next world with them, appealing to their sentimentality.
He calls it Offworld Escapes, with the tagline Escape the world with your life or favourite pet or item.
(He’s rather proud of that name. It has a ring to it.)
What he hadn’t considered, however, while making his business plan, is that he’d actually have to fulfil it. The rocket was difficult enough to build with the flying blocks. Transferring four entire animals on the rocket? That’s a fool’s errand.
Shame, really, that Scar is a fool. A worried fool and a scared fool, but a fool nonetheless.
First goes Diamond Hooves. While the horse does get stuck in a hay bale, Scar manages to get the horse out and alive. Then goes Mooooooooooon, and Goose, and Nugget. Thankfully, none of the four die.
Scar beams at his own reflection in the coloured glass. He’s so good at this business thing!
//
“Alright,” says Keralis finally, after they’ve toured both of their bases. “We’ve made plans. We’ve made great plans!” There’s a Plan A and a Plan B. Keralis can’t remember the last time he had a Plan A in the first place, let alone a Plan B! Oh, this is all going so well!
“I mean, we’re-we’re gonna survive. Right?” XB glances over, eyes crinkled in worry. “We will survive.”
“Obviously we’re gonna survive,” says Keralis, before he laughs. Death is too distant, too far out of the realm of possibility to conceptualise. “Oh—have you seen the blocks? Have you seen how far up they go? They reach the space station.”
“Oh, do they?”
Keralis says, “It’s getting mental.” That’s why we’re leaving.
XB pauses for a second, before he nods in agreement. “Yeah. Something’s … just not right. It’s not right.”
//
How about a good ole Aussie barbecue for the Earth falling apart? What do you guys reckon? Ay? Ay? Uh … yeah. Oh dear.
//
Honestly, Impulse is more surprised by Charlie contacting him than the moon growing bigger. He’s more concerned about the moon, but Charlie’s message? That’s something he never expected.
Still, though, Charlie’s right. Impulse doesn’t want to leave the entire base behind. He’s worked on it for so long, following the blueprints down to the exact trapdoor (of which there are a lot). So, Impulse takes his advice—he swallows his pride and apologises to a magic pig, and then asks the pig for help.
“I just need you to take all the blocks that was built in the factory,” he pleads, “and just, like, shrink it! Shrink it down and put it in the Shulker box. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?”
Timmy stares at him for a moment, eyes beady and unblinking.
Then, there’s a flash of light, and a projected image shrinks into the Shulker box. Turns out, Timmy took the blueprints and put them in the Shulker box, which is great! It’s great. He’ll still have to build the factory again, block by block, but at least he has the ability to do that.
He looks around—he’s gonna miss this place, but at least he doesn’t have to leave it completely. Not while he still has these blueprints.
//
Gem’s lost in her thoughts when she arrives at the meeting, called by ‘Hermitcraft’s CEO’ MumboJumbo. (Which, wait, isn’t Xisuma the admin? Why is Mumbo the CEO?) Just a few moments earlier, she left False in the bunker. She really doesn’t want to see False’s reaction to her betrayal, or the I’m not mad, just disappointed face that she knows False will pull.
So, instead of standing next to False, she stands in-between Wels and Scar. She likes them both, so it’s not a sacrifice or anything, but it is … weird. It’s weird not to be on False’s side.
And Gem knows that she could go back to the bunker after this meeting and pretend like the betrayal never really happened. But she also knows that she won’t do that. Not in a million years.
“Why are people blaming me?” says Mumbo, as Gem starts paying attention to the meeting. “It makes no sense!”
The Hermits laugh and jeer at Mumbo, always joking.
“Don’t blame the janitor!” yells Scar from her left. Gem stifles a laugh with her hand.
“I mean, since I put this hat on—“ Mumbo gestures to his … toy plane helmet? Gem isn’t sure. “—things have been going weird, so that could be a theory. But I feel like the moon is now very big. Like, it’s about as big as a moon can be. Has anyone seen a moon be bigger?
The Hermits respond with a bunch of nos. Gem stays silent, steadfastly not looking across from her at False. “It’s the biggest moon I’ve ever seen,” supplies Ren.
“Right, so can confirm that the moon is big. Blocks are leaving pretty fast, yeah?” Mumbo stops, as if transfixed, before he continues talking. “Builds are just … disintegrating. I’m just watching a stair travel off from that building over there.”
Gem turns around, the stair floating up in the air. Nothing’s safe anymore.
“Look at that fence post,” says Pearl, and others murmur their agreements. The world is gone, and so is everything they’ve built on it.
Mumbo then says, “You don’t think that we should get leaving as well? I think these blocks—this is, like, I think they’re smarter than is. It isn’t the moon pulling us up, it’s the blocks choosing to leave. Should we do that?”
He gets an enthusiastic response to the audience.
“Doc and I have one more thing we can try,” says Ren a moment later. That’s something that Gem would’ve worried about BM (Before Moon, not Boatem)—her weird neighbours are up to some stuff again—but it doesn’t matter now. She’ll be gone soon anyway.
The meeting ends with a quiet unsettling, a shifting of feet and exchange of goodbyes. Gem flies off too fast for False to confront her, even more panicked after that whole ordeal.
After all, if the smart people are panicking, then it’s really bad.
//
“Cleo,” says Joe. His face is ashen, fallen, as the world crumbles apart beneath their feet. Pearl struggles to lift off the ground beside him, but he pays her no mind. Nothing else matters except for Cleo and the life together, the castle and the gym and the bees, that he has to mourn in only a few minutes. “What should we do?”
Cleo shifts her weight from side to side, offering a shrug. Her ribcage moves with one, singular breath that only lasts a second—faster than it usually is. “Well, I-I said I was going to bug out. So….”
“Bye…?”
“What are you going to do?” yells Cleo, readjusting her stance. She really should be going now.
“I don’t know,” Joe says finally.
“You’re welcome to come with me, but….”
There’s a pause in the conversation. Joe has a plan, but it’s not necessarily a good one. He picks up the medal hanging around his neck and tilts it, the moon reflecting off the iridescent surface. “I got this No Wings Club medal finally. I stole it from Iskall’s house.”
“Oh.”
“So, it feels kind of hypocritical to just fly away, but, you know.” It’s the end of the world. Social contracts have no use these days. “If I’ve got—“
“I mean,” interrupts Cleo. “I’ve got a plan. You always turn up. You always do.”
Joe nods. This is what she needs to hear, and he knows it. “Don’t-don’t worry about me, Cleo. I’m good.”
Cleo doesn’t cry. She isn’t a crier—that’s Joe, who’s trying really hard not to cry right now for her sake—but she wraps both arms around herself. “Okay.”
“You go,” Joe says.
Cleo breathes in, stepping backwards. “Alright I’ll—I’ll see you next time, Joe. Bye!”
She’s already walking away when Joe gives her his final words. “Keep adventuring.”
And then, Joe is alone.
//
Oh my god—this is unworldly terrifying to watch my base be torn apart, and there’s literally nothing I can do about it. Come back here, diamond. Come back! I tried to catch it! Moon, give me back my diamonds! Okay, that’s it—
//
Gem’s always been prepared for disaster. She’s a sensible girlboss, and she knows what happens next when the world starts falling apart. The moon will hit the world, and her builds will disintegrate, and all that will be left is void and chunks of the moon with no gravity. Most of the Hermits are gone already, flying high up into the air after the meeting.
But now that she’s bailed on her Plan A and her Plan B didn’t work out, she’s left with a barely-coherent Plan C. It’s all that she has, though, so she makes her preparations—an amethyst portal and some food.
How’s she meant to live laugh love under these conditions? The answer is simple: she doesn’t.
She takes one final glance at the world. She hopes False is okay in the bunker, securely trapped away from the moon until the ceiling caves in. She hopes that the other Hermits will make it out alive, and that she’ll see them in another world. She hopes that Scar will keep Goose safe and secure in the rocket. She hopes that the portal she made will work, and she hopes that Stress, wherever she is, has figured out a way to protect herself.
She doesn’t have faith in the world, but she hopes anyway. They can’t take that away from her.
With only an amethyst shard in her pocket and her froggy hat tied securely around her head, she jumps into the portal.
I’ll see you on the other side.
//
“Timeskip!” Joe yells as he flies away. Defeat has never tasted so bitter.
//
Xisuma’s escape plan isn’t as complicated as the others’ are. He knows that False has an eagle with a space helmet and an oxygen bubble, and that Boatem has a rocket, but his plan is simple. The Nether is a different dimension that doesn’t have a moon—in fact, the Nether isn’t orbited by anything at all—so it won’t be affected by this new problem. He’ll go into the Nether and survive. He’ll be fine; that’s the important part, his first priority.
So, he lets the others run wild. He knows of some of the preparations they’ve made, but there’s some gaps in his knowledge. He doesn’t bother to fill them. Instead, he prepares his rations.
When he’s flying away from the meeting, Wels follows him. He follows him all the way to Xisuma’s Nether portal and listens as Xisuma explains his plan. It feels good to have a friend with him, though he knows he doesn’t deserve one. The Hermits have always been too good for him.
“That might work,” says Wels, humming something under his breath. It sounds suspiciously like We Will Rock You. “I’ll follow you,” he promises. “One frame at a time.”
//
In some way, Tango knew of his fate when he started this mission. He knew that his level of survival was low and that even if he did survive, finding his way back dow to Hermitcraft would be even more difficult. The chance of him surviving was one in thousands, and that’s before he gets bitten by a death bunny.
Of all the ways I expected to die, Tango thinks, smiling wryly and plucking a tooth out of his ankle, killer bunnies wasn’t on my list.
//
They’re falling into the void. Mumbo winces as he hears his comm play the Fast and the Furihorse (trademarked), three times over, signalling that the rest of the Boatem members have fallen into the void. He has ringtones for each of the Hermits’ deaths, and the Boatem members are all Fast and the Furihorse.
All according to plan, Scar said. Mumbo’s starting to doubt Scar’s plan, but, well … there’s nothing else to do, really. Not when he’s falling into the void at the slowest speed possible.
“Wait,” says Grian. “We’re—we’re going to die.”
Mumbo nods. They’re still falling. It’s been, like, an eternity since the trapdoors. Or maybe Mumbo’s just impatient.
“Bye, Mumbo.”
“It’s been fun,” replies Mumbo. Because it has been. Boatem, for all its faults, had been a magical home. A place to unwind and destress, where he was excited to contribute to the village instead of scared of mucking it all up.
“High five for old time’s sake?” asks Grian, and Mumbo grins.
“High five for old time’s sake.”
Grian grins, eyes lighting up, before he punches Mumbo on his shoulder with his fist. Mumbo doesn’t know why the joke started—after all, when had a high five turn into a punch in the shoulder?—but that’s just what they do now. They’re Mumbo and Grian, best friends, soulmates, and idiots with three combined braincells.
(They share one. It’s a covalent bond. Or something like that.)
Mumbo grins, and then punches Grian back, but instead of wincing, Grian just straight up dies. Mumbo can’t stop laughing. Grian’s always been a joker.
“No—I can’t believe you’ve just done that! Can you-can you hear me?” He pauses, falling down further. He’s taking damage.
“Now,” continues Mumbo, “I’m gone.”
//
“Well,” says Xisuma, steady on the sandstone. Particles fly around them, the only comfort that the Nether can provide them. “I guess the strategy is just to wait it out here, then, Wels.”
Wels tilts his head. “Just gonna wait it out?”
“Yeah.”
“But, like, what if the entire world is destroyed? And then we have no way to ever exit the Nether? Do you really want to be trapped here forever?”
Xisuma sighs. He sounds tired, endlessly so. Wels knows a thing or two about the crushing weight of immortality, but he’s never seen it in full force until now. How do you carry pain forever? Wels is glad he doesn’t know. “It’s better than being on that island, with all the blocks disappearing, that’s for sure.”
“Well…. that’s probably true.”
“Might get sucked up to the moon and become moon dust,” Xisuma remarks dryly.
“That would be highly unfortunate,” agrees Wels.
“Indeed. I thought I’d see a few more people camping out here, as well.” Xisuma pauses for a moment, hands twitching slightly. “D’ya think more people are in the end?”
You can take the admin out of Hermitcraft, but not the Hermitcraft out of the admin, Wels thinks nonsensically, but he says, “Probably.”
//
The space in-between worlds, Grian thinks, is a weird space. For one, none of the Boatem members can move without dying, according to Scar. The in-between is a place where nobody is allowed to stay, said Scar, and although his tone was joking, his words rang true.
They aren’t supposed to be here. The in-between is fighting against that, overstimulating the five with worlds in orbs and existences in purple particles. But the Boatem crew has faced more than space itself, has defeated gods and been gods themselves, so they stay. They stay, and they talk, and—
“Does anyone want a mint?” Scar offers politely.
Grian laughs. Some things never change.
//
When Wels and Xisuma get to the Nether, there’s nobody there.
“Just us, then,” says Xisuma.
Wels nods. “Just the two of us. Potentially for all eternity.”
“Mmm. Well, I guess this is our fate then. Just … hanging out here, and waiting for whatever.” Xisuma wouldn’t mind that, not really. Not with Wels.
“You’ve got a guitar?”
“I do.”
“Can pass the time, play some tunes,” Wels jokes.
“Play some tunes, yeah,” repeats Xisuma.
“Maybe make friends with the endermen—“ Wels throws his arm up like he’s waving a white flag of surrender. “—We come in peace!”
Xisuma laughs, “Give ‘em a hug. Don’t make eye contact.”
“Ignore them. Farm.”
“We’re being socially awkward.”
Wels grins. “Social distance from the endermen.”
“Yes. You’re right.” Xisuma yawns. He’s tired, really tired. He’d go to sleep in a bed if he could. “Well, then! I think I’m going to rest right here, and … wait for forever.”
Wels puts down an Ender chest, a laugh already forming on his face. “I’ve got a bed for you.”
“I’m not falling for that!”
He shrugs. “It was worth a shot.”
Xisuma laughs. “I’m a veteran, don’t you forget. A Minecraft veteran.” And, sure, Wels has existed for longer than most, but that’s nothing compared to Xisuma.
“Even the most experienced fall for silly things sometimes,” muses Wels. And, well, that hits a bit too close to home. After all, that’s what Hermitcraft is these days—experienced players with no expectations to be great, creating great things for the fun and the friends rather than the glory. Xisuma is still amazed at Cub’s entire biome or Doc’s game-breaking shenanigans, as well as the entirety of Boatem. Even TFC, the most hermit of them all, has mined out most of the world for fun.
Everyone got blind sighted by the moon. They really should’ve known.
“That’s true, yeah,” says Xisuma, before he laughs. “Well! Wels, I wish you best on your wait here for the end. I’ll log out, log back in, and wait to see if the world will end.”
And then, with steady hands, Xisuma logs out.
//
The more I think about it … the less I want to just chill in the end forever. ‘Cause what if the world outside is completely destroyed, and I’m just trapped in the end forever. Like … this’d be even worse than being trapped in the Nether forever! So, I’m going to build a shuttle and get out of here.
Yeah, I’m sure Xisuma will be fine. He’ll figure it out. We’re getting out of here.
//
Who escapes the apocalypse by getting thrown into the air by a llama? The answer, of course, is Cub.
He does it in broad daylight, as to avoid hitting the moon. He hasn’t really talked to anyone about leaving—he’s just figured that the blocks are disappearing upwards to the moon, then something’s wrong. The world isn’t right, and that’s enough to get him to move.
He’ll be fine. He’s sure of it. After all, Mooooooooooon went all the way to the moon, and so Cub will go right above the moon if the moon isn’t directly above. He might run out of food or oxygen, but he’ll be off of this doomed world, and that’s good enough for him.
//
As soon as Wels is gone, Xisuma logs back in. He makes his way over to the end portal, and then through the Nether portal.
This way, at least, he won’t have to deal with the endermen.
//
“I can’t believe they left us,” says Alex in disbelief. She holds onto the walls as if that’ll stabilise her; the ground rumbles again, a part of the tunnel collapsing in on itself. The cell she’s been in has never felt like a cage until now. A large, head-sized stone from above loosens and hits the side of her head, and she desperately kicks at the brewing stand in front of her to let her out, for the love of Void.
Steve scoffs, but before he can say anything, he’s cut off by a long groan from the other end of the tunnel. With a rush of adrenaline, Alex raises her head to see the newest victim.
Agnes is slumped over her lectern, blood seeping from the head. She’s dead, just like Alex’s mother and all of her librarian siblings.
Alex screams for someone, anyone, to save them, but she knows her fate is already sealed. One more boom and—
//
Is this the end? I think it might be, my friends. This might be the end.
//
Keralis’ hands are shaking along with the ground. He’s a bit of a coward, to be honest, but he has the right to be. After all, the world’s falling apart! That’s a problem that he’s allowed to freak out about!
Distantly, he watches Bdubs swing a sword at a couple of zombies. Bdubs’ movements are stilted, but he manages to kill the two zombies anyway. Keralis cheers him on—“What a hero!”
When that’s done, though, he waits for a few moments. Where’s XB? They made this entire plan together, a plan to live through the world in a spaceship. Quickly, Keralis sends a message, but it doesn’t send.
He doesn’t want to, but he can’t wait any longer. He’s scared, and the world is falling apart, so … he has to go.
Keralis jumps into the pit, his feet landing squarely on the obsidian centre. He places the lever down on the correct block, redstone flowing through, before he flicks it. “I’m sorry, XB,” he rambles. “I waited. I waited. But-I’m-I’m-I’m scared. It’s-it’s go time. Please. Please work. Please please please work.”
The fuse shortens.
//
Can you die if you were never real in the first place? What happens when you exist for someone else’s simulation, an extra in a holding cell? Did he even live, or did he simply exist? Will he die, or will he simply stop breathing, stop trading, stop talking, stop being?
Steve doesn’t know, but he says one final prayer to any god that will listen. His throat is parched and the words hurt to say, but he says them anyways, a chant for a proper ending. One where he’ll live on, even if it is in this prison he hates so much. Please. Please. Please. Please—
//
He’s launched into the air, TNT propelling him upwards. “Yes!” he yells, punching a fist as he careens upwards, with no path in mind. But when he’s only halfway there, his speed slows, and then—
He’s falling. He’s falling.
“Oh,” says Keralis dumbly. “Oh. Oh no, oh no, oh no.” He grasps at air, a flimsy attempt to keep himself up, but he falls down, slowly and gracefully. “This is … bad. Oh no.”
His feet land on the ground, and with a heart full of fear, he looks up at the moon.
//
I don’t want to live in this world anymore, Doc. I don’t want to live in this world anymore. Let’s go. This is it. This is it. This is it! This is the end—
//
It’s only fitting that the man living in a moon is destroyed by one. Call it fate, call it revenge—both terms are applicable here.
He isn’t dead. Not yet, at least. But he will be in a few seconds. 3, 2, and—
//
Goodbye, says a robotic voice. Nobody’s around to hear it.
(And, well, you know what they say about trees falling when there’s nobody around.)
(Does Holsten exist if Tango doesn’t? What happens when the creator is gone? What happens if Holsten’s on the moon and no one’s there to hear it, if it’s calling for help and nobody is there to hear? What if—)
//
So we can peep on ourselves. Right? Like Keralis.
I don’t know what’s happening, but—we are safe. You can see—there’s no floaty blocks. Right? Right? Riiiiight? Mhm. I mean, there’s earthquakes and stuff like that, but I think we’re gonna be sa—
//
Cleo’s on her hands and knees when the world explodes. She’s whispering words under her breath, goodbyes to those she wasn’t able to see before the end, while the endstone beneath her digs into her knees and leaves a mark. Joe will be fine, she thinks, a weighty reassurance, he’ll be fine. He always is.
When the ground stops shaking, she pushes herself upwards. Every step is unfamiliar, the body betraying her. She peers down at the end portal, and her stomach flips as she stares down at bedrock and bedrock only. There’s no swirling portal to bring her back—just bedrock, endstone, and the void.
She’s all alone now. There’s nothing else to do except for—
//
The in-between, Pearl thinks, is prettier than she thought it’d be. It’s cold, and Scar really cheaped out on the suits, but the in-between is shimmery, and that makes it okay, right?
Yeah. Right.
“Well,” says Grian, clearing his throat. Grian attempts a smile, a final goodbye to their home. “I guess I’ll, uh, see you later.”
Scar interrupts, “Where do you—plan on going? We’re all—we’re all floating at the same speed.”
“Where are we going?” says Pearl, arms clutched around herself. “Where are we flying to?”
Grian’s smile twists. Pearl wishes that she could reach out to him, and offer her brother a hug, both for his comfort and hers, but they’re not allowed to move. Not if they don’t want to end up dead, like Bdubs and Evil X. “Nowhere. We’re just … waiting.”
//
False waits. She opens up her comm, eats her food, goes to the bathroom, and then waits. The guilt of leaving Gem gnaws on her, tearing her apart, until some days she gives up on sleeping. Instead, she paces back and forth in her eagle.
On one particularly demanding day, False opens the hatch to the outside world and climbs straight up. She can’t take it anymore—can’t take day after day of this mindless emptiness, where the only thing she has to worry about is whether she wants to eat golden carrots or the few cakes she packed. She’s an adventurer, a wanderer, a builder at heart.
When she’s finally outside and on the roof of her eagle, after weeks of loneliness, she closes her eyes. It’s overwhelming, but she manages to breathe in the air of the in-between. It’s clean; the oxygen bubble must’ve worked.
And when she opens her eyes, she sees everything. White pinpricks of light stick out against a black backdrop, worlds encased in blue orbs flickering in out of existence. It’s beautiful, and it’s everything, and she wishes she had someone to share it with.
She misses Gem.
She misses Stress.
She misses everyone.
//
Etho and Iskall are rarely on the server, so it’s not a surprise when nobody sees them on Doomsday.
Sometimes, though, Impulse worries about them. In reality, Impulse worries about everyone that they didn’t see when the moon crashed—Etho, Iskall, Hypno, Stress, Zed, and Beef. None of the other Boatem members knew they were there, either.
They’re gone. Missing in action. They might be dead, but they also might not be, because only the last world a player logged into can harm them, but some of them didn’t haven’t logged into any other worlds since. Cub was online too, but didn’t respond to any messages. And there’s no way to contact any of them, at least not when they’re all in the in-between, so….
They talk. They gossip. They throw potatoes at Mumbo to shut up until they realise that they probably need to save them, and then end up spitting at each other from far distances. They look into the worlds beside and try to guess who’s in there, based on their knowledge of other players. They do an ‘Aussie day’ where all that they do is talk backwards and make fun of Pearl.
Most of all, though, they wait.
//
It’s lonely up in the void.
Jevin packed enough essentials that he could survive up here for months at a time comfortably. Still, though, there’s nothing to do up in the in-between. His comm isn’t working, there aren’t any mobs or games to pass the time by. He didn’t bring any animals with him either, and the platform is too small to build anything off of.
He’s bored, and sad, and he can’t stop thinking about how blocks floated into the air and stayed there, hanging, and how everything he’s built this season has fallen apart. How everyone left on the island has undoubtedly died. How he might not see some of his friends again.
But he’s alive. That has to counts for something.
//
Xisuma’s been in the Nether for weeks—he thinks—when he hears a meow.
At first, he thinks he’s going insane. He’s wandered up and down the same, sandstone, blackstone, and accent block pattern for the longest time he can imagine, and so he can’t imagine he’s right when he hears a meow. But sure enough, when he goes to investigate the noise, he’s faced with a copper wall and a lever. A bunker.
Is someone here? Has someone been here for just as long as he has?
He flicks the lever, his heart in his throat, but there are no players that greet him. Just the smell of wild animals—llamas and horses and cats and dogs and one pig. In the corner, he spots one of the Boatem ‘company cars’, neighing delightfully as it chewed down a hay bale. The pig, Timmy, sits on the table, taking a nap. The llamas are all from Padllama Co.
There’s nobody there, but Xisuma smiles anyway, wiping away a grateful tear. After all, at least there’s other lives here from the Overworld.
He knew it was a good idea to bring Pearl to the server.
//
Underneath the rubble of the destroyed buildings, there lies four corpses.
There is the man who lived in a moon, a man who is a copy of another, a man with too much faith, and a man who, in the end, was too slow to do anything to stop his fate.
The world takes care of those who take care of it, and so the corpses are tended to. They aren’t brought back to life—that’s impossible, no matter how much cheating one does—but the world gives them dignity, a place to rest peacefully underneath the ground. They lay in peace, mourned on Doomsday and every day afterwards.
Rest in Peace
BDoubleO100, EvilXisuma, XBCrafted, and Keralis
//
Time slips by. The Hermits wait.
//
Initiating wakeup.exe. Let’s hope for the best, man.
Good morning, Hermits. Welcome back to reality.
//
TinFoilChef has never been one for lore.
It’s not in his nature. He’s too old to keep up with the other Hermits’ brilliant ideas, even if he loves them so. Instead, he keeps to himself and mines. Block after block, ore after ore, he mines.
One day, long after gravity has gone back to normal but while earthquakes are continuing, TFC resurfaces. When he does, though, he realises that the world around him isn’t moving. Where is everyone? He can see Boatem, but he can’t he see Xisuma’s place from here like he used to before. In fact, when he examines closer, half of Boatem is … gone. Disappeared. The other half is sawn in half horizontally, the tops of buildings gone.
TFC laughs. What have the other Hermits gotten up to now?
Oh, well, that doesn’t matter. He should go back to mining.
//
Let’s get these Hermits to season nine. There’s much work to be done.