Chapter Text
In the beginning, there was The Void.
No one is quite sure when The Void gained consciousness. And no one fully knows when that consciousness faded. But, what is known is some of the life the Void brought forth.
There are rumors that The Void formed the dragons, found in The End. There are hints that the Enderians may have been given their forms from it. Even some of Mojang might have claimed their start from this entity that existed, once upon a time. A few other species claim a relation or at least a connection to The Void– but only one retained that claim through the generations that followed The Void’s slumber.
The Voidwalkers.
A people, a culture, a species, that can claim to be older than Mojang themselves. They were the original coders, born with their ancestors' ability to weave the lines of reality around them. They dwelled deep in the void– the inky abyss that, over time, became deadly to the inhabitants outside.
Or, at the least, most of the inhabitants.
The Watchers also dwelled deep in the void.
In the beginning of the Voidwalkers known history, the Watchers were a neutral people. They existed before The Void– their creation and origin unknown to it and anyone who came after.
The Watchers did as their name implied: they watched. They watched the worlds outside the void, observing triumphs and mistakes. They kept a record of the ancient builders, the civilization that existed before Mojang’s Players came to inhabit the desolate worlds. They watched kingdoms rise, then fall. They saw death, destruction, creation, and beauty.
They did not interfere in what they observed.
At least, that is what history claims.
But, near the beginning of Mojang’s Players, some Watchers began to drift from those ideals. And that slope turned out to be a rather slippery one, as the Watchers became corrupt in what felt like the blink of an eye.
Experiments on Mojang’s Prime Players caught the attention of the Voidwalkers. It wasn’t hard to hear the screams that echoed through the deep void as those players– human and hybrid, were torn apart with just a look.
The Voidwalkers acted quickly, forcing the Watchers deeper into the abyss, far from any life they could harm. The Voidwalkers became a barrier. A wall. The Watchers could still watch, but getting past a people armed with code at their fingertips? That was another story.
And so, peace remained in the overworld, while the inhabitants of the void clashed– the destroyers vs the creators.
There they remained for almost a millennia, mostly untouched and unheard by those outside the end.
And then came the twins.
Voidwalkers are born from the remains of The Void. The process is called, “The Awakening” and it happens once every century or so. Most of the details of the ceremony are unimportant for this story, but there are a few things you should know.
It is a tradition of the Voidwalkers that the firstborn of every Awakening is named Void.
Visxu had been chosen by the Synod (the Voidwalker leaders) to be that voidlings guardian, and as such had reached into the inky abyss and pulled, expecting a tiny inkling that he would bestow the traditional name upon.
He had not expected two, both clinging tightly to the other. The first one to open their eyes had given Visxu a look that, despite only being seconds old, warned of atrocities to come if he was separated from his twin.
Voidwalker twins and even triplets were not unheard of, but were extremely rare. Most pairs would be split up. It was not a Voidwalkers nature to raise more than one voidling at a time. They were one people, born of one soul and mind. Pairing off in any form outside of a Voidwalker and an inkling was discouraged, even looked down upon.
And yet, as Visxu looked at the little inklings, the two eldest of a generation, he made the decision to break tradition with barely a thought. He couldn’t explain it, outside of the single glare the one had given him.
It felt as if The Void itself was warning him of a calamity that would unfold if the two were ever separated.
Visxu held the two up and gave the first who had opened his eyes the name of Void.
The second was called Xisuma.
Void might have been the eldest– a destined member of the Synod, and perhaps a future Voice of The Void (the leader of the Synod), but he didn’t have Xisuma’s way with code.
Xisuma was weaving the lines before he could even speak. The inkling breathed and the invisible strings of zeros and ones that made reality bent to his wants and desires.
The Synod was concerned.
“Void and Xisuma need separate caretakers.”
Visxu held the two just a bit tighter. “I can handle both of their training. Test them in a few years, if it pleases the Synod, and you will find them better than the rest of their generation.”
A begrudged acceptance and Visxu withdrew with the twins to the outer depths, safe from Watcher hands and away from the watchful gaze of the Synod.
Visxu trusted The Void’s choice to give him two inklings and he was not going to let it down.
One of Xisuma’s first memories was Void hugging him.
It had been a nightmare, one that Xisuma couldn’t remember. But the spike of fear and terror that had forced him awake, had been enough to wake Void.
Visxu had held them both close, whispering comfort but the main thing Xisuma recalled was Void’s grip. It was tight and grounding and protective.
And it never changed. Whenever Xisuma was afraid, unsure, sad, or just a bit too quiet, Void would just appear and hug him tightly and ask, “What’s wrong?”
Xisuma couldn’t always answer that question. There were just some days that he felt… not all there.
Visxu explained it as Xisuma’s deep connection to The Void itself. That was only proven when the boy could see the lights of the void, on top of his code manipulating abilities.
The outer depths was their first home. But they became a distant memory once Void and Xisuma moved past the inkling stage (around five years old in human-player terms).
Xisuma vaguely remembered taking a kind of test after they arrived in the main gathering. He also remembered Visxu hugging both of them close and crying after the test was over, a big smile on their caretaker's face.
“What’s wrong?” Void had asked.
Visxu shook his head. “Nothing. I’m just… happy I get to take care of you two.”
Xisuma learned very quickly that his code manipulation ability was… advanced, compared to the rest of his generation.
At first, he thought it was fun. But that quickly changed.
Void had been told by Visxu that many people would watch him, as he was the oldest. But even Visxu had underestimated the amount of attention that Xisuma himself would draw. So much so that many Voidwalkers began to overlook Void (and some even argue that Xisuma should have been named as the eldest).
Void hadn’t liked that, but not for the reason most would suspect. “You’re my brother. Not something to poke at!”
Xisuma was both comforted and frightened when Void began to lash out at their teachers (not including Visxu, of course). Void was loud, brash, and would jump in front of Xisuma whenever someone got too close, snarling and gnashing his teeth.
It got to a point that the Synod had to ask Visxu to severely reprimand Void for his behavior. Visxu had just nodded politely, then had Void and Xisuma stay home from lessons as a “punishment”. The reality had been an outing to the outer depths with plenty of games and good memories made.
Years passed, much the same as the first.
Visxu was their shield, as much as he could be.
Void was Xisuma’s other shield, as much as he could be.
The two were the best of friends, rarely apart, practically attached at the hip.
Then came “The Walk.”
The Walk was a ceremony that acted as a transition from inklings to voidlings (or, in human player terms, a child to teenager). An inkling returns to The Void from which they were born, then emerges on the other side. It is considered a simple and safe task, and a necessary one as the inkling’s return then rebirth picks up any magic or strength that might have been left behind during their Awakening.
Many Voidwalkers have memories of coming out on the other side feeling more whole or complete. It is a symbol of and being literally reborn.
Traditionally, The Walk is taken alone.
Xisuma quietly informed his older brother that he was frightened to go alone.
Void stood before the Synod and The Voice of The Void, his brother’s hand in his. "We Awoke together. We Walk together."
There was debate. There was controversy. There was begrudged acceptance.
Visxu wished his inklings luck and promised to meet them on the other side.
He watched Void and Xisuma, hand in hand, enter the depths of the Void.
He waited.
For a day.
Two days.
Three days.
He waited with The Voice, with worry and fear as the days slipped into a week.
Visxu waited, then watched, as his people fled for their lives. He waited with his sword in his hand, magic at his fingertips, and fire in his eyes as The Watchers descended and murdered his people.
He waited at the edge of the Void, arms numb and blood staining his skin, with a dead gaze locked on the exit of where his inklings should have emerged.
It would be centuries later when one of them would, eyes shining with tears and inky black, scars lining his arms and back, and clothes more tattered than intact. He would find Visxu, floating in the carnage, the only recognizable feature being his tattered green cloak and the emerald in the sword’s hilt.
Xisuma had not been an Inkling for a long, long time.
But oh, how he wished he could have been.
Xisuma blamed himself.
It was his fault after all. Visxu had been a proud guardian and teacher. He had encouraged X to not hide his talents. "Be proud," Visxu would say, "The Void has given you favor."
Later, Xisuma would wonder if Visxu had just been trying to get Xisuma to do something with his "gifts." Then maybe X could have done something when what happened happened.
X had hated the attention. "Strongest Voidwalker born in generations," they would say.
Who cared? Xisuma didn't. He was an inkling. He wanted to have fun and play like the other inklings. He wanted to be treated like them.
The only person who treated him as an equal was Void. His big brother had listened to Xisuma complain about the attention only once. Then Void made it his mission to get people to back off his brother.
His plan… kind of worked. Except now everyone believed that the Twins were two of the strongest Voidwalkers born in generations.
Well, Void called it a win because now their attention was split.
Then came The Walk.
It was simple.
It was supposed to be simple.
It was not supposed to be two large Watchers waiting for them inside, having somehow slipped past their people’s defenses.
It was not supposed to be running for their lives and being dragged deeper into the abyss, away from their home in fits of screams and wails.
It was not supposed to be waking up in a cell, lined with pure white walls that made Xisuma feel as though his very soul was being drained from his body.
"Which one of you is Xisuma?" was the only question the Watchers asked upon the twins return to consciousness.
Xisuma was too scared to say anything, clinging to his big brother like a lifeline. Void hugged him tightly back, the same way he always did. Reassuring. Warm. Firm. He stood straight and tall, expressionless and calm.
Xisuma didn't know what their tribe's greatest enemies wanted with him, but it couldn't be good. He didn't want to die, he didn't want to leave Void, he didn't want–
"I am."
Xisuma's gaze snapped up to Void's.
Void didn’t look at him, gaze hard and firm to anyone else. But Xisuma knew his brother.
And Void was terrified.
The Watcher did not question the lie. Looking back, they had no reason to. The Watchers did only that: watched. They drew conclusions from what they saw. And when facing two Voidwalkers, one trembling, sobbing, and terrified; the other calm, firm, and powerful, why would they doubt Void's word?
They were looking for the most powerful Voidwalker born in a generation.
They were not looking for a sobbing mess.
Void had time to squeeze Xisuma's arm before he was swept away by Wings and purple eyes.
Xisuma was left in the white cell with barely a second glance.
Many years later, Xisuma would still not know why the Watchers let him live.
He had suspicions, but nothing concrete.
Perhaps he was a motivation for Void (or "Xisuma").
Maybe he was a backup in case "Xisuma" failed at whatever it was they wanted..
Maybe he was just a plaything. Entertainment. Amusement.
What X did know was he was fed. Not enough, but at least once a day. Sometimes more. Once, X got five meals in the span of twelve hours.
X was trained, to an extent. A Watcher would fetch him and take him to another room of blinding white. This room was larger and allowed for movement and activity, which X was ordered to do. Obstacle courses, learning to fight with a sword, using tools, building basics, etc. It was always random in both subject and time of day.
Xisuma never found out why, but he was careful to never touch the code of anything, too frightened to even try.
Void and Xisuma were allowed to see each other every so often.
The first time they brought Void to his cell, X clung to him and sobbed.
Void was bruised, had multiple cuts across his face, and was limping on one side. Their first visit consisted of silence, minus Xisuma's sobs.
The second visit was months later. Void was less beat up, but his eyes had started to lose the inky blackness, being traded for almost a violet color. His skin, once a mix of vibrant purples and blacks, was starting to fade in color. Void clung to him this time, whispering in Xisuma's ear only one thing, "Don’t tell them I lied. You'll never survive."
On the third visit, Void's eyes were purple and his skin was completely gray.
Fourth, magenta and light gray.
Fifth, red-violet and pale gray.
Sixth, red and almost white.
Void's appearance never changed after that, albeit growing taller and getting older with the passage of time.
And how slowly time passed.
The visits were sporadic. Once, the brothers saw each other twice in one week.
Once, Xisuma didn't see Void for ten years.
At the start, they wouldn't say much. Mostly Void would talk about his training and X would gently wrap any wounds leftover from said training. X hardly spoke, too afraid that if he did, he'd slip up.
As time went on, things changed.
Void stopped talking. Xisuma didn’t know how to fill the silence and soon followed suit.
One day Void ignored Xisuma’s open arms, sitting against the wall. Xisuma never asked for a hug again, no matter how much he wanted to. He took the hand-holding without complaint.
Then that eventually stopped in favor of just shoulders touching.
Then Void refused to touch him at all, sitting on the opposite side of the room. The two brothers would just stare at one another for an hour or so. Void would leave after that without a word.
Xisuma hated the distance but never knew how to close it. He wasn’t even sure if he could or should close it.
The years had turned into decades, which had turned into a century, and they were now approaching two centuries.
Despite the distance, Xisuma cherished the visits. Void was his brother– his twin, for void’s sake. Of course, Xisuma loved him, even with the distance. And Xisuma was pretty sure Void felt the same.
Until he didn’t.
The Watchers had barged into his cell without warning, yanking him from a restless sleep.
Void was escorted in, a new scar running diagonally across his face.
It looked fresh.
Xisuma bit his tongue to keep from speaking.
One of the Watchers held up his sharp claws in the light, pressing it against X's neck.
"I will kill him," the Watcher hissed.
Xisuma…
…did not know if he should be terrified or relieved at the possibility of ending this nightmare.
Void's expression was that same blank, empty face from the first day.
Xisuma wasn’t sure what to expect. Begging? Apologies? Maybe Void finally cracking and telling the Watchers the truth.
Xisuma had not been expecting the eyes to turn cold, Void’s voice cutting through the air with a hiss. "Be my guest."
Xisuma's heart jumped to his throat.
The Watcher was silent. Perhaps even surprised. "...You do not care if your brother dies?"
Void's gaze was one of hate. Two centuries of whatever the Watchers had done to him, built up in a rage, all directed at Xisuma. "Why should I? He's the reason I am in this mess." He shrugged, "If you don’t kill him, then give me the knife– I’ll do it myself."
Xisuma’s world shattered. His breath was quick and sharp, body trembling from fear, pain, sorrow, he didn’t know. Xisuma reached out a trembling hand, his voice soft and shaking. "...Void?"
Void lunged at Xisuma, slamming his younger brother into the wall. His red eyes shone with a hate too much to describe. "I am Xisuma. And you are nothing to me."
The Watcher’s didn't kill him.
They dragged him out of the cell and into an arena full of spectators, the darkness of the void hanging above them.
A set of armor and a sword were shoved at him without a word.
Xisuma put it on with trembling fingers and tears. His gaze found the darkness of the void.
He hadn’t seen it in… so long. He could feel the pull of it, the want of its lost walker to come home. And oh, how Xisuma wanted to answer the call. He stretched his fingers out and felt the familiar tingle travel through his body. It felt like lightning along his veins and Xisuma was able to breathe properly, no longer surrounded by those stifling white walls–
"Hello, brother." The word was spat out like it was poison and the lightning in Xisuma’s veins died immediately.
Xisuma turned to find Void standing in full netherite armor, a shining sword of code in his hands.
Void’s gaze burned into Xisuma’s, the anger on full display. Xisuma wondered when it had gotten there and how he had missed it. But the thought of his brother, his kind, protective, loving brother wanting to kill him made Xisuma want to die.
To be honest, a part of him probably did die. He took a trembling step forward, hand stretched out in a desperate plea. “Void, please–”
“Don’t call me that,” Void growled. “I’m Xisuma!”
Xisuma shook his head, his thoughts racing. “By the void, what did they do to you?”
“What did they do?” Void repeated. A large smile stretched across his face and he began to laugh. “What did they do?!” He began to march forward, making Xisuma step back. “You did this.”
The words felt like a slap across the face. “What?”
"You left me," Void growled. He pointed his sword at Xisuma, "with them. For them to do with as they pleased."
"I never asked for this," Xisuma whispered. "I never wanted–"
"You kept quiet," Void snapped. "You never told them–"
"You told me not to!"
"I WAS A CHILD!" Void roared.
Xisuma flinched, eyes dripping with tears. "...So was I.”
Void lunged at Xisuma with an angry scream, sword slashing down with speed and accuracy.
Xisuma was unprepared. He felt pain flare across his face and nose, sharp and deep. Inky blood poured into his eyes and Xisuma stumbled back, falling onto the ground. He wiped at his eyes, squinting up at Void.
His brother held his sword, pointing it at Xisuma. “GET UP AND FIGHT!” he roared, eyes glinting dangerously.
Xisuma forced himself to stand. He looked down at the sword in his hand.
Void was better at combat. He was better at dodging and weaving. He was the better swordsman. If Xisuma fought him, he’d die in seconds.
But Xisuma had void magic. Magic that hadn’t been used or released in over 200 years.
Call it selfish. Call it cowardice. But Xisuma didn’t want to die.
Tears fell in sobs.
“I’ll give you something to cry about–” Void growled, advancing forward, sword raised high.
Xisuma looked up, finding his brother’s gaze one last time.
There was anger and nothing else.
Xisuma screamed, letting out all the sorrow, the pain, the abandonment, the betrayal, the isolation, the loss, every emotion he’d felt in the past two centuries, from anger to fear– all of it came out in a shattering sound that sent shockwaves through the arena.
And the Void answered his call.
Xisuma stumbled out of the void and to the other side.
He found the remains of his tribe and people, along with the bodies of Watchers.
He found himself too numb to cry, even when he found Visxu not far from where he emerged.
He took the tattered cape and then left everything behind.
There was no goal in mind. Just… away.
He needed to get away.
The arena was nothing but feathers and blood.
Xextin felt ill walking through the remains of what was once their people. They had seen a lot in their life but this…
This was a massacre. All caused by a single Voidwalker. The prisoner–
They had taken the wrong one. The Weapon had lied . So much so that Xima was confident the Voidwalker they had corrupted beyond recognition believed that lie in his core.
Who knew what his name had been. He wasn’t Xisuma.
No, Xisuma had been the practically untouched Voidwalker who had done all this with a scream.
“Xextin! Over here!”
Xextin flared their wings and flew down to the crater.
Xima stood at the ready, bowing their head respectfully at Xextin’s approach. “He’s alive, through some miracle, despite standing at ground zero.”
Xextin peered down at the broken, but breathing body of The Weapon. “Can he be repaired?”
“I believe so,” Xima’s eyes fixed onto both Xextin and The Weapon. “Do you want to repair him?”
“No,” Xextin glared down at the broken Voidwalker. “But he’ll want to kill Xisuma. And that’s all I care about now. Fix him up the best you can. And then…” Xextin glared up at the dark void above, “We have a Voidwalker to hunt.”
Add-on 8/16/2022
Author speaking: Apparently writing about the Hermits is not enough so here's my really quick (13 hours of my life, lol), kind of sloppy fan art of Xisuma and Void (or at least how I picture them in this story)
