Fear drove Cleo like a mad dog, running through the wet and humid woods. There was blood in her hair, blood in her mouth. They kept their hand over their sword, knowing it could no longer serve them well. It was all the reassurance she had anymore.

The wood was dense and golden in the growing dusk. It was thick, in a horrid, oppressive way, like the tanglings of a spiderweb. Cleo trampled through the undergrowth and bushes, ducking under boughs and stumbling over crevices. If she’d still had her axe, she could’ve cleared herself a path, but she’d lost that a while ago. They’d have to make due without.

“Cleo!” Pearl cried after her, somewhere in the distant woods she’d left behind. It was hard to distinguish the woman’s voice from the choral howling and whining of the dogs that followed her. Pearl held every advantage Cleo did not- she was armed, she was protected, she was soulbound to someone who wasn’t dying in a ditch somewhere. Cleo knew who was going to survive this fight. That wouldn’t stop them from trying.

Cleo’s head pounded from their own injuries, their leg ached from Martyn’s. She turned to the left, into thicker bramble, hoping Pearl would think better than to follow her. Where the hell was Martyn? The two of them had been separated sometime during the fight, and he’d gone- where had he gone? Didn’t he know better? If they died, he died with them!

Cleo kept on her feet, even as she heard the thuk-thuk-thuking of Pearl’s axe hacking through the underbrush. The brambles and thorns tore at the gaps in their armor, ripping at their clothes and skin. Cleo didn’t pay them any mind- the scratching wounds were minimal compared to the pain in her body and head, and if she lived long enough to deal with the infections from them, she’d deal with that when she could.

Past the bramble pit was a clearing- Cleo could just see it through a gap in the trees- and beyond that, a river. A river that could wash them of the stench of blood. If they crossed the river, Pearl’s dogs might lose their scent. If they crossed the river, they might run free- run free to where? They didn’t know. They still didn’t know where Martyn had run off too, and their life was as good as gone if he ended up in Pearl’s hands, but they didn’t need to think about that. What they needed was hope- and hope was past the bramble pit, over the clearing, and across the river.

They only got halfway across the bramble pit when one of Pearl’s hounds showed up in front of her, growling and nipping at her boots. It was over. This was it.

“Cleo!” Pearl cried, from behind them. Cleo turned around slowly, trying to keep her clothes from snagging on the brambles any more than they had already. They raised their hands in- in what, surrender? It was disgusting, even to think about surrendering to Pearl. And yet, they raised their hands anyways.

Pearl stood in a small gap between the trees- the same doorway Cleo had raced through during their pursuit. She stood there, framed by shadows, all in red- red cloak on her shoulders, red blood on her face, red rage behind her eyes.

Her dogs swarmed at her feet, all giving Cleo the same death-glare as their leader. They bore their teeth, and so did Pearl- through gasping, horrid breaths.

Cleo kept her hands in the air. She knew if she provoked Pearl, she wouldn’t make it out. They might as well stall for time. “Pearl-”

“You!” Pearl bellowed, like an injured dog. She raised her axe- diamond blade still gleaming in the evening light, despite the crust of blood upon it. “What have you done with Tilly?”

“Tilly?” Cleo found herself spattering. Was this seriously all about Pearl’s dog? “What do you mean- Martyn-”

“I’ll take care of Martyn” Pearl growled, and advanced forward, hacking at the brambles as she passed them.

There was no way Pearl could dispose of Martyn without also killing Cleo. They knew this, and they were certain that Pearl did too. Maybe, that’s why she’d come after them in the first place. They were an easier target.

Instinctively, Cleo found themself bargaining for mercy. “Pearl, please, we can talk about this.”

“Bdubs and Impulse hurt my dogs, and I put them in a ditch where they belong!” Pearl shouted. “Do I need to put you there, too, Cleo?”

“Pearl,” Cleo repeated, desperately. “Let’s talk. We don’t have to fight. We can be friends-”

“Friends?” Pearl’s voice raised to an anguished cry. “You want to be friends now, Cleo? You’ve forgiven me for everything I never, never did to you?”

Bile and blood rose in Cleo’s throat. Instead of letting them out, she forced herself to say a measly, “I forgive you,”. It was an entire lie. Cleo could never forgive Pearl, not after everything she’d done, and everything she was still want to do. You couldn’t forgive a curse.

“Well,” Pearl laughed, haughty and sick and afraid. She lifted her axe again, its weight carried entirely in her one hand. “That’s too bad, because I don’t forgive you.”

She swung her axe heavy- all the way behind her skull, her dogs howling in energy and anguish-

The hit landed, right in Cleo’s neck.

Even in the evening, the wretched haze of summer was oppressive. It washed over the entire continent, from the crystal sea to the wooded, inland plains. It was stuffy and sauna-like in any building Pearl dared enter, and too bright and humid to properly think outside. The anguish of summer only eased slightly as the sun set.

Pearl watched the sky dim from her vantage point at the top of Froggie Tower. BigB was mining below, no doubt also experiencing the worst summer the world had to offer, in a completely different way. A few hours ago, she’d finished up her own work of the day- increasing fortifications on the tower, making sure they were still getting enough wheat out of that ‘lifetime supply of bread’ deal with the Bad Boys (despite the fact those Bad Boys were, for all intents and purposes, not on the same side as them anymore). Pearl had finished up all the work she’d set out for herself, and she didn’t want to make any big decisions without BigB, so she gave herself the evening to relax. She deserved it.

From up on Froggie Tower, Pearl could see across most of the inhabited world. The rocky cliffs she and BigB had settled on, the thick, dark forest, even the distant shores, their white sands glistening in the evening sun. She could see the ever-growing maze of bridges, but only when she looked up. No one was up there now, thank heavens. She didn’t know if she could handle another surprise TnT attack.

The best- or at least, the clearest- view from the top of Froggie Tower, was that of their neighboring spire. The Clocktower of Entertainment Rock stood parallel to hers and BigB’s, blocking out the harshest of the evening sunrays. Its features were difficult to discern in the dim light, but it didn’t need such features to make an impression.

“They’ve outdone themselves, this time…” Pearl mused as she watched Bdubs and Scar idle around the base of the tower, poking around chests and feeding their dogs. They didn’t notice her watching

Who did notice Pearl, though, was Cleo. Because Cleo was watching her straight back.

Pearl didn’t know how she hadn’t noticed them before. Surely, if she were to call herself a Nosey Neighbor, she’d be better at spotting other people being nosey about her>. But sure as day, there Cleo was. She stood at the base of her tower, gazing up at Pearl with that fierce, cold intensity she’d only ever seen Cleo muster.

When Cleo noticed Pearl watching them back, they began advancing towards the ravine between their towers. Pearl immediately, instinctively moved to clean up her posture, and pretend like she’d never been spying on Cleo in the first place. She stuffed her fists in her pockets, then drew one out to pretend like she was watching her own timer tick down. Forty-seven seconds, forty-six seconds, forty-five…

Just as Pearl’s clock hit forty-four seconds, Cleo called out a greeting, startling her from her pretend-investment.

“Evening, Pearl!” She stood on the rocky outcropping that separated the Clocker’s land from the new ravine.

“Evening.” Pearl replied, waving down to Cleo. Idly, she reached for her bow, but didn’t make a show of it. It’d be handy to have it, just in case.

“Don’t suppose you’re going to clean up this mess anytime soon?” Cleo gestured to the ravine.

“Mess?” Pearl feigned shock. “BigB and I spent a good evening’s work making that ravine! And a whole lot of TnT!”

Cleo shook their head, grumbling something Pearl couldn’t hear. “Why you used all that TnT for a hole in the ground, I will never understand.”

“It keeps you out of our territory, doesn’t it?” Pearl retorted.

Even from such a distance, Pearl could see Cleo rolling her eyes. “Come down here,” They called out, “I don’t want to yell anymore.”

Seeing no reason to object to the request, Pearl slid down her ladder and made her way across the rocky lawn, keeping her hand over her sheathed sword. Once she reached the edge of the ravine, she spread her arms out in surrender. “Well, here I am.”

Cleo’s sour expression was easier to discern in the closer view. She looked tired- the blood painted over her cheeks doing little to disguise her eye bags. “Pearl, I need to talk to you, and I need you to be honest with me. Seriously honest.”

Pearl had not expected such grave sincerity from her neighbor. It was rare, to hear Cleo’s voice completely free of sarcasm. “Yeah? I’m listening?”

Cleo breathed out a deep sigh through their nose. “Are you really willing to do this?”

Pearl paused.

“Do what?”

“This!” Cleo outburst, gesturing wildly at the ravine. “Are you really willing to throw away our alliance like this? I thought you knew better, but-”

“If I remember correctly, you attacked us first.’ Pearl corrected.

“Pearl, that’s not the point-”

“Then what is, huh?” She challenged. Cleo said nothing. “Are BigB and I not allowed to defend our own lives?”

Cleo remained silent for a good long while. More than that, they remained still, like a statue of a bitter, melancholic warrior, perfectly captured in her worst moments. “I really thought- nevermind.” They cut themself off. “Final chance. You’re really not going to back off?”

“Nope.” Pearl said. For good measure, she put her hand over her sword’s hilt.

“Alright,” Cleo said once, then confirmed it to herself. “Alright. It’s your head, then.”

Cleo was well aware of how pathetic they looked, but it didn’t make the staring any better.

They had to be fair, though. Pearl was trying not to stare, and was focusing most of her attention on digging through her chests. Her curiosity got the better of her, though, and every so often, she’d glance up at them, checking over their body to see if anything had changed.

Cleo knew what was catching Pearl’s eye. It was the yellow. Yellow in her name, when viewed on the wristbands, yellow in her eyes. And they were only yellow by the grace of their new allies. If it hadn’t been for Scott and Pearl’s- mostly Pearl’s- generosity, she’d be red. And she was as good as dead when red. Pearl had saved her from that fate- offered up a life of her own, out of what? Some ploy for Cleo’s loyalty? They had a hard time believing anyone could be so unwaveringly kind, after what BigB had done to them, and yet.

They weren’t in much of a position to deny generosity, anyways. She’d gone to Scott, because some ghost of her knew he could be trusted, and would keep his promises, and an alliance with Scott came with an alliance with Pearl.

Scott had left for resources an hour ago, and left Pearl to take care of Cleo. They couldn’t believe the state they’d arrived in- dead twice, by their own stupidity. It was a horrid, embarrassing way to arrive on someone’s doorstep. Cleo could tell that, somewhere behind those starry eyes, Pearl was judging them for it. Pearl, with her dark-green name and secured fort. Pearl, with the ally she could trust with her life.

“This is just iron, but it’s enchanted, at least,” Pearl heaved a sword out of one of the chests. She inspected its blade, the violet glimmer rippling over its metallic surface. “Not too much durability, but it should hold up til we get you something better.”

“Thank you.” Cleo murmured as she was handed the sword. With no sheathe to hold it yet, they held it lamely by their side.

“As for armor…” Pearl started, then began digging through the chests once more. She didn’t finish the thought, instead seeing something that caught her eye. “Ooh, ender pearls! That’s where Scott stuffed ‘em away!”

Cleo leaned on the support closest too them, their body still tired from the fights of the day. Even if she’d come back, the wounds still took some toll on her freshly alive body. Cleo didn’t like to think of what toll death had on her. Thoughts like that never led anywhere pleasant.

Scott and Pearl’s main stronghold was a network of tunnels running under their cottage facade. Scott had led Cleo down into the tunnels, then left them both in the higher levels to venture deeper into the mining tunnels. The stronghold had a quiet warmth to it- the byproduct of its owners’ building skills. Despite its rustic simplicity, it felt like a home, stone all bathed in torchlight, chest carefully and deliberately organized. Cleo supposed that if she lived long enough, she’d find this place to be her home. It would take some time to adjust.

“Couldn’t find you any boots, but we’ve got enough iron to craft some up,” Pearl said, pulling some iron out of her chest and dumpling it all out onto a crafting table. “This shouldn’t take too long.”

At that point, Cleo knew she had to interject. She could not let things go on like this anymore. This quiet, false peace was too much to bear. They approached Pearl from behind, taking care not to appear too intimidating, and lowered themself to meet her crouching gaze.

“Pearl,” They forced out, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Pearl looked up to Cleo- starry eyes first wide in shock, then narrowed and furrowed in confusion. “What? I- if you want to craft the boots yourself, you can, I just-” Instead of sputtering any more, she simply stood up, leaving the table for Cleo.

“No,” Cleo closed their eyes. This wasn’t going well, Pearl was just sending them back in circles, all because of that damn niceness. “I don’t- why are you being so nice to me? Why do you trust me so much?”

“Cleo, you’re my ally.” Pearl forced a laugh. “Of course I trust you. And it’s not like you’re the boogeyman, or whatever.”

Cleo bit their lip to stop themself from saying something they’d regret. “Pearl… you should know better than to trust anyone who comes your way. It’s how you wind up hurt.”

They couldn’t look Pearl in the eyes. They kept their gaze on the floor, and on the sword they’d been given. All license and ability to kill, all trust in their hands.

“Cleo…” Pearl said, resting her hand on the crafting table. “I do trust you. I trust you because you’re my ally, and allies stick by each other.”

“You shouldn’t. You have no reason to trust me, no reason to treat me with any less suspicion than your enemies.”

“I’m going to, anyways.”

It only began to rain after they’d left her.

And it was horrible.

With no energy to carry herself away from the clearing, Pearl crawled under a tree and prayed the storm would pass. Even the boughs of the oak she sat beneath couldn’t keep her dry- the rainwater soaked through them in torrential streams, hitting her in the head and on the shoulder. It soaked through her hood, through her hair- it felt like it was soaking through to her skin. It was still too cold for the rain to be refreshing- all it was, was wet, and cold, and horrible.

Of course, the world hated her too. Of course.

Tilly remained under the tree with her, sheltering from the storm. She nudged at Pearl with that great ol’ snout of hers, as if to ask what was wrong. Pearl wondered if her companion could smell her tears, too, over all the petrichor and mud. She threw herself over the dog, clinging to her wet, furry body. “You’re all I have, Tilly,” She cried, “You’re the only one who stayed.”

Not even Martyn had remained with her. Not even Martyn, who had dragged her to the nether in the first place. Who had taken her from her soulmate just as she had taken him from his. He, out of everyone, should’ve understood. And yet.

He had seen that hatred in Cleo’s eyes. He had seen how it was directed at her. And he’d gone anyway. He’d decided that she was too much- too much work, too much baggage, too much Pearl, and he’d gone on without her.

Somewhere, deep in her rain-sodden heart, Pearl knew things weren’t supposed to be this way. Things weren’t supposed to go like this, she wasn’t supposed to be alone. Yet, she was. The only person who was ever supposed to love her had gone, all because of-

-all because he’d listened to Cleo. Cleo, who’d said they were ‘chosen soulmates’, and that Pearl was reckless and dangerous and a curse. Did Scott really believe all that? Did he truly want to hurt her? She didn’t know which truth would hurt more.

Tilly smelled of rain and tears and wet dog. She kept licking Pearl’s face, trying to clean away the tears that kept coming. Pearl wiped her face, and looked at her dog through eyes clouded by rain. “Oh, Tilly,” She sobbed. “You’re my soulmate. You’re the only one I need.”

She meant it. She didn’t need Scott or Martyn. She didn’t need Cleo. All she needed, she already had. She’d show them all.

It wasn’t the pain that was the worst. That passed within minutes- seconds, with how Pearl had struck the blow.

It was the rot.

Cleo did not know a body could rot like this, in death or in life. They didn’t truly know what it was like to decompose, to become dirt and bone and food for the worms. There was a poetry to it- a horrid, sick poetry, the poetry of the flies and the vultures.

And there was some beauty in the infiniteness that was everything now.

She could feel somewhere, Martyn. He had died with her- taken his final, grasping breath the moment she did. They never found out where he was, but in some sense, they knew. They knew he was underground, his bones pressed into the soil like a final bed. He’d be spared the sun, and the elements. The trees would grow their roots into his body, and he’d disappear. They all would.

And once all traces that they were once there were gone, they’d move on. To something else. To something worse.

In their vacant, decaying heart, Cleo wondered what had become of Pearl. A ghost could not leave their body so much as a moon could not leave its orbit, and Pearl had ensured them dead with a clean hacking of their head from their shoulders. She’d been there, she’d killed them, and then she’d been gone. They knew, when Pearl died. They only knew because Pearl was the last. Something shifted, after she was gone. The world quited, like a held breath that had finally been released.

Cleo wondered, what had finally become of Pearl. She wondered what had taken her- if it was her choice, or if it was Scott’s. They wondered if she’d gone out of the world quietly. They wondered if Pearl could do anything quietly.

More than anything, they wondered if she’d gotten peace, at the end. Maybe, in some sense of the word, she deserved it.

It was not an easy task, to watch a body. Pearl burdened herself with it anyways.

She did not know what else she could do.

It was quiet, for a moment. Quiet in a way things never had been before. Quiet, in a way that meant the world was emptier. It felt cold, despite the summer.

So many were gone, and they’d all died so fast. First Bdubs, then Tango and then Scar- and now Cleo. Cleo, dead by Pearl’s blade. It was sick, how similar it felt. But they were all gone now, every last one of them, without a second to spare.

It had all happened so quickly. Pearl didn’t know what to think about it.

Grian and BigB were off doing something else, something better. They were preparing for another fight, against the enemies that still pursued them. They only needed two people to refresh the tnt traps outside the tower, so they’d let Pearl be. ”You look like you need the time by yourself, anyways, Pearl”, Grian had said. Pearl didn’t know how he always saw everything she tried to hide. Then, she was too tired to care.

It had been Pearl’s axe that felled Cleo. It seemed too familiar.

It wasn’t as if they’d been friends. No, that was wrong. It wasn’t as if they’d been friends, at the time. They had, once, though. They’d once been as close as allies could be, without being on the same team. Pearl once thought she could trust Cleo. But trust was foolish. That’s something Cleo had always believed. It only made sense their actions would prove it.

Cleo lay face-down in the mud, disgraced by their own death. Pearl was grateful.

It took a certain kind of someone to want to look into the eyes of the person they killed, and Pearl did not have that kind of muster. She did not want to look into Cleo’s vacant, dead eyes, or inspect the wound that’d finally killed them. She did not want to gloat in the spoils of her conquest. This quiet, empty moment in a quiet, empty world was enough.

Pearl’s wristband pinged, and a message from Grian popped up. He said they were all going out to the beach, to try and steal some supplies from Martyn and Scott’s.

Pearl pulled herself up from the dirt she’d nearly made her grave, and took one last glance at Cleo- rotting and dead and cold.

“I did always care about you, you know.” She said, to the emptiness that had once been them. “I just want to make sure you know that.”