Chapter Text
D3rlord3 stumbles as he makes his way through the cave. The visions flooding his mind don’t let up as he grips the wall, the scenes flash rapidly. He can't keep any of it straight -
unrecognizable boots pounding on the ground
- he trips on his own feet and tumbles onto the cold stone. He clutches at his helm as if it will help slow the incessant flashing -
a gray cat sits primly in a window, her owner is not back and she is getting hungry
D3rlord3's face burns, yet at the same time he can’t feel it at all. His hands rake over his face, trying to make it stop or maybe start feeling again. His gloves prevent him from doing any -
hands that don’t belong to him writing a book in a basement
- real damage. There's too much stuff in his head, if he could just get a second to think-
winding tunnels stretch on and on, he floats and tries to pick one and he is making a mistake but he cannot stop here
A loud clank reverberates through the cave as he bangs his head on the ground. The metal of his helmet dents. He hits his head again, and again, and he needs to focus on something or his head is going to split and -
One of the visions catches his attention. A... man, he thinks, who is made of slime. A slime hybrid, his name is Avery, Avery, Avery. He’s in the entrance to D3rlord3’s mine. The image folds and he is farther in. He picks up a bloodied book. D3rlord3 wrote that book. He hasn't written it. He will write that book, and Avery (avery avery) will pick it up and read it.
The other visions do not stop intruding. D3rlord3 forces them back to focus on more visions of Avery - Avery dodges out of the way of a sword strike and swings his own with a confident smile, Avery is sitting on a wooden floor with his eyes shut tight, Avery notches an arrow and sticks his tongue out as he aims it at someone D3rlord3 cannot see, Avery leans down to bring someone's arm over his shoulder - an injured teammate - and helps them to a medical setup. The teammate sneers at him.
D3rlord3 is The King's prophet, he knows. He can’t tell if these things will happen or if they already have. The King… He can tell The King will target this man next. D3rlord3 can see The King beckoning Avery, feels Its intention to compel him like It had done to D3r. It wants Avery to Look (don’t don’tdont Look Avery close your eyes).
The book that Avery will pick up - the one that D3r wrote will write. D3r will write it, and Avery will read it. He can warn Avery, he needs to warn Avery. D3r won’t let the same fate fall on him.
D3r wrenches his eyes open (when did he close them?). He’s still curled up on the ground, writhing from the knowledge ripping his brain in twoeightsixteeninfinity.
Focus, idiot, stand up!
D3r’s whole body protests as he forces his arms underneath him. He needs to - he needs to get up, damnit, just one push. He pants, gasping for air as he finally extends his arms to hold himself up. His limbs are slow to respond to his commands, but he wills his legs move too, and his hand hits the wall as he makes himself stand. His breath is coming too fast and too shallow. His legs wobble. He won’t be able to stay up for very long. He needs to move. His breath shakes. Just - just one foot in front of the other.
He keeps his hand on the wall for balance as he stumbles through the last stretch of the cave. It looks like a dead end, but D3r knows his mine is behind that wall. He’s not sure - he can’t remember where his pickaxe went, but he needs to get through the wall. His hands will have to do. It’s not like he’ll be alive awake for much longer to deal with the pain. His head hurts, his body hurts, and his hands will soon hurt, but he needs to warn Avery.
His hand hits the wall, and the gauntlet clangs. He sees more than feels his fist hit the wall again and again. The pain in his fists does not compare to the pain splitting his skull. The wall is not thick, but it’s still stone and it takes him a while (too long, no time at all compared to the stretch of past and future flooding into him) to finally make the hole big enough that he can drag his body through.
There's blood covering his hands, and the gold of his gauntlet is almost more misshapen and scratched than his fingers. Where does he get the - right, the random items that had appeared in his inventory when he’d stepped on- on the- it doesn’t matter. There’s a book in his inventory that he did not place there, and he takes it out to start writing.
The blood spouting from his hands is covering the pages. The King was not kind enough to lend him ink, so he dips the quill in his the blood to start writing. His hands shake as he writes.
Whatever you do, at the crossroads, don’t turn left.
Avery will - he’ll listen. If the words aren’t enough warning, the his blood covering the book will convince him. Or maybe the corpse covered in gold armor will be enough.
ATt the crossroadsa dont durn left
It’s still listening, watching. D3r He can feel it. He doesn’t know how It feels about the book, and he doesn’t want to know. He will be dead gone soon, so it doesn’t matter either way.
23-2 29 2, 24 29 10-2 10-3 4, 19 30-4 15, 6 10-2 10-3 10-2
The writing is barely legible between the shaking and extra blood smears. Avery will understand, he has to.
Avery. Avery is the only reason he had made it out of the cave. Something to hold onto to drown out the foreign information being forced into his too-small brain. Someone who smiles in a fight, who sticks his tongue out when he focuses, who helps a person who dislikes him because they are injured and he can do something about it.
D3r’s muscles give out as he places the book on top of the chest, and he collapses behind it. His blood is everywhere; on the chest, the book, his armor, and there's a clear path from the wall to where he’s laying face down. He doesn’t try to get back up.
He can feel himself fading. He drags his eyes up to look at where the book is sitting. He can’t see it on top of the chest, but he knows it's there, where Avery (avery, avery) will find it. He realizes will never meet Avery, dying on the floor as he is. He wants to. He hopes Avery doesn’t even find this mine. Hopes he never gets compelled to go down, down, down.
He loves him. He's never going to meet him, and he loves Avery. The visions of Avery that flashed through his head hadn’t shown him everything, but it had shown him enough. He loves Avery, he will never meet him.
He does not remember anything after that.