Chapter Text
Grian couldn’t help but laugh. This situation was, frankly, ridiculous. All of the Hermits had been gathered around a campfire during the middle of Season Seven, sharing stories with varying levels of scariness. Some of the Hermits had been good at it, others… Well, let’s just say that Mumbo couldn’t make something creepy for the life of him.
Some things didn’t change.
“You’ll never guess what happened next,” The mustached man had said with a smirk.
“What?” Scar asked. He’d looked genuinely invested in the ‘scary’ story Mumbo had been telling.
“It was nowhere to be found. He lost all his redstone dust! Terrifying, right?”
“Totally.” Grian had smiled fondly at his best friend. Of course Mumbo thought losing all your redstone in a chest monster was scary. Grian didn’t expect anything different. Never change, Mumbo, never change.
Grian had stopped listening to the stories being shared to look around. The Hermits surrounded the campfire in their best attempt at a circle, but the Avian hadn’t actually known the name of whatever shape they’d ended up forming.
Blob. The Hermits had formed a blob.
And Grian had loved everyone in that blob more than he thought he would be possible after last time. All of his friend’s faces had been illuminated by the flickering light of the fire, some of them had leaned on each other for warmth on that cold winter night.
He missed this more than he’d ever admit aloud. The comradery on Hermitcraft was practically unparalleled in terms of servers, and Grian had felt right at home amongst it.
He wished he could do this now. But he couldn’t. Not again.
Scar, who was telling the story at that moment, said something that made everyone laugh. Grian had closed his eyes and did his best to enjoy the moment. He was, after all this time, home.
Or so he’d thought.
The Avian had leaned over and rested his head on Mumbo’s shoulder. He had been tired, building all day would do that to you. Grian had taken a deep breath, trying to take note of everything in that moment. The soft smell of campfire smoke, the light dancing on the other side of his eyelids, the laughter of his friends, no, family, the way Scar spoke when he was sharing a story, the warmth of Mumbo’s shoulder against his cheek.
This had once been home.
Grian must’ve dozed off, because the next thing he remembered was the Hermits chanting something excitedly. This might’ve surprised anyone who wasn’t used to their antics, but the Avian was well-adjusted to the ways of his family.
Not flock, not yet. Just family. And then, that had been enough. The Hermits couldn’t be flock until Grian told them the truth, and he hadn’t been ready for that quite yet. And that was okay, because healing takes time. Nobody expected him to share more than he was comfortable with, and he was eternally grateful for that.
He would tell them, eventually, but not yet. It was still too soon.
At least, that’s what Grian had told himself.
It had always been too soon. Now he didn’t have much of a choice, did he?
Xisuma’s voice had floated through Grian’s head. Oh. The Hermits had wanted their Admin to tell a story. That could’ve been interesting.
“Well…” Xisuma said, sounding hesitant. “Has anyone ever heard the story of Evolution SMP?”
Oh no. No no no. No no no no no. Bad. Very very bad.
The general consensus had been yes, the Hermits knew the bare minimum. Old server that was taken by the Watchers. That’s it.
Great. Just. Great.
Wonderful, even!
Grian had wondered where the nearest cave was for him to hide in. Would it be suspicious for him to flee?
It hadn’t been worth the risk. The Hermits wouldn’t push him for answers, but they’d draw their own conclusions, which was worse.
He’d sit through his own story.
He missed when that was his biggest problem.
“Well, Evolution SMP, or Evo for short, was known for its unique mechanic. The server traveled back to Beta, and would slowly update to modern day.”
“Isn’t that dangerous? Like, insanely dangerous?” Tango had asked.
“Yes, but we only know of the risks of going to Beta because of Evo. The server was the first and last of its kind. You might not know this, but the Admin was the youngest person to ever get his license to date.”
“Is that why the server crashed?” Zed asked. “The Admin was too young to be able to run it properly?”
Zed was, in a way, correct. It was Grian’s fault Evo failed.
Just like the Rift was Grian’s fault.
It was always Grian’s fault. He was a magnet for trouble.
“No.” What. “I’m not there yet. Stop interrupting me.
“It stared out innocently enough. A group of friends, just like us, led by their Admin with a crazy, yet plausible, idea. They probably had fun together. Pranks, competitions, all that fun stuff. Around the third update, two entities joined the Evolutionists.
“These beings had the players go on scavenger hunts, made them do tasks, and confused them with their rhymes. They called themselves the Watchers.”
Several Hermits who hadn’t heard this part of the story gasped.
“Things began to get worse. The code was corrupted, even down to it’s base. No Admin has ever figured out how it happened. And then all outside communication shut down. The Evolutionists were trapped.
“They went to the End in hopes of fixing the issue, but when they retuned, their Admin was gone. Wiped from all of their memories, even the server code didn’t show an Admin in any of the logs.
“Servers need Admin’s to run them, or else they’ll collapse. And that’s exactly what happened to Evo. About two months later, the code for the server was too far gone for the council to help, and all traces of the server even existing disappeared a year later.
“Nobody knows what happened to the code. All servers, active or not, have a code trace somewhere. Except Evolution.”
There was silence for a moment. Grian had never considered his life to be a horror story, but now that he had heard it out loud, he wasn’t so sure.
“What happened to the Admin?” Cleo asked.
“Nobody knows, but the popular theory is that he was taken by the Watchers, and Void only knows what They could’ve done to him.”
They made Grian one of Them, that’s what They did.
The Hermits didn’t need to know that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“GRIAN. MOON. WHAT THE HECK.”