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The Winners Toll
Summary: The aftermath of third life, from the winners point of view.(With a slight cannon rewrite)
760 words
Warnings: Major character death
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The dust has settled. The excitement he once felt was gone. He stood silently next to the body of the man who was once his friend. This was supposed to be a fun series, working with the rest of his friends to survive against the elements. When did it all go wrong? When did it became a battle to the death? When?
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Grian scraped together some bandages from the base and attempted to wrapped up his broken wings. It was a cold summer night, with the soft glow of a torch being his only source of comfort. It was a struggle to reach and bandage them properly so they hung uselessly.
Maybe Scar could help. Any help is better than none. He’s about to call out his name but he stops.
Scar is gone. There’s no one left. He’s all alone in this world.
He shakes his head. He did what he had to. Only one of them could win after all…
Since when did it become a competition?
Frustrated, he didn’t bother to properly clean his other wounds. Fortunately, most of the injuries were bruises, some already turning purple. His knuckles being the worst of it, they were raw and still weeping blood.
He climbed up to the second floor of the blown up base. The first floor was mostly gone but the second remained intact. It should keep him clear of mobs during the night. Not that many would spawn due to the desert being fairly well lit. He lays a blanket down and tries to get some rest.
But the events from the day replay in his mind, haunting him. His bruises ache as though they’re freshly made and not from hours ago. He tosses and turns, trying desperately to think about anything else. Searching for any sort of distraction.
Then a warm breeze flows through the decrepit home. As well as a lullaby being softly hummed by a familiar voice. As if he’s under a spell his mind starts to clear. The warm air feels comforting, and lulls him to sleep.
“Goodnight G.” The voice whispers as he falls into a deep slumber.
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The next day he wakes with the sun glaring in his eyes. Everything seems as it was the night before. He drops down to the lower floor and drinks what little water he has left. Making a mental note to get more later. Out of instinct he begins to look for Scar, only to remember when he sees the cactus ring in the distance.
Something is strange though. All he sees is a ring of green and Pizza’s tombstone. No body to be seen. Against his better judgment he goes to investigate. No matter where he looks, Scar couldn’t be found. He searches the area around the ring for a bit before sitting down to rest. Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe?
Looking over at the cacti he realises he hasn’t yet checked inside the ring. There was a suspicious, large mound of sand in the middle, but his head began to hurt so he preferred not to move. A warm wind blows, almost urging him not to go near. The heat must be getting to him. He’s starting to imagine the wind to be a person.
He continues to stare at the cacti. It seems, almost shorter than yesterday, as if someone is trying to cover it up in a mountain of sand.
He sighs. The sweltering heat really is getting to him now. He considered taking off his shirt but he doesn’t want to risk damaging his wings further. He gets up and stumbles back to the shade. The base doesn’t have much to offer in resources but hopefully he can find something to eat.
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While rummaging for food he starts to feel lightheaded. And tumbles from the second floor.
He lays there in the sand, crushing his wings. It sends a wave of sharp pain through them and into his back, but all he could do was lay there. As he struggles to breathe, all the more. Unable to move, unable to scream, he feels his throat going dry and his stomach rumble. When was the last time he ate anything? Even in this state he manages a glance at his wrist.
Three hearts in a vertical line, only one of them still beats. Two black and the last one, red. His rapidly beating heart eventually slows, until they come to a complete stop. The last thing he feels is a warm comforting breeze, blowing through his hair.
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Inspired by this drawing I made:
