Chapter 3 of 5
The King of Winter
The air was warm, but unnaturally thin. It was hard to breathe. There simply wasn't enough air to fill his lungs.
Or maybe his lungs were the problem.
Whatever the issue was, it made his heart beat unnaturally fast as it struggled to make up for the lack of oxygen. He gulped in as much air as he could, but it wasn't enough.
The little amount he did get smelled salty, with the slightest tinge of acidity. Fruity, almost, if he had to put a word to it. Something he was well acquainted with, although the fruity tang was stronger than the salt, which was weird. Since when had he gone this far inland? It had been… years at this point.
Even though he had no idea where he was or why, he still kept moving forward. As he moved, the jungle seemed to fill out around him. Trees climbing higher than he could see without looking straight up, vines of both inanimate nature and sentient- the latter of which snapping at him and angrily rattling their leaves as he pushed past them- and low bramble thickets with red and yellow banded snakes hiding amongst their thorns- bits and pieces of it seemed to appear in front of his eyes. And yet, he still didn't register how off it was. No, he was focusing too much on the twin goals of moving forward and getting enough oxygen in his lungs to prevent passing out.
And so, that was what he did. Traveling a route he wasn't sure of, to a place he couldn't remember.
A breeze suddenly whistled through the trees, sending a whole host of new scents his way. He felt his back twitch as it twisted through his short fur. Rich scents of greenery bathed his tongue. The smell of venom was rich in the air, and a quick glance showed a venomous snake in the process of swallowing a bird. He shuddered. It felt like a sort of warning.
Still, he continued to move forward. He had to. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he would know it when he found it.
Another breeze brought a new smell, and this one he was familiar with in a different way. It was sweet and peaty, stained with salt despite being a good distance from the ocean. It was warm and agonizingly familiar, a scent that once hung in the warm, quiet air of an abandoned crocodog den. A den that had been repurposed by a beautiful prime ape in order to shield her newborn from the rest of nature.
"Elizabeth?" He called into the wilderness. There wasn't any response, but now that he knew what to look for, he noticed several signs of a nearby prime ape troop. Ground packed into a trail, bushes that had been picked clean of berries- there were hints everywhere. His walking turned into jogging, which quickly transformed into full-out sprinting. He was no longer even trying to breathe. His chest was impossibly tight, but he was desperate. He had to know. He had to know.
And then, the jungle vanished. He skidded to a stop directly in front of a tall stone wall.
He was tiny. Only a few months old. His body was littered with claw marks, tearing through the brown fur that marked him as different. He heard footsteps behind him, and he immediately started searching for some place to hide. Somewhere to go until their anger wore off.
It'll never wear off. It'll only fade just enough that you'll survive another day.
Today, he was not so lucky.
The deep shadows around him made it impossible to find any openings. Just as he started scrabbling at the stone, a massive body landed on his tail and started to drag him backward. He let out a shrill cry of terror.
"I'm sick of you, Wilbur," the Splumonkey growled as she dragged him closer. His chest heaved with sobs, and the last of his air was wasted trying to plead for mercy.
"P-please, Momma! I'm sorry! Please, I promise I'll be good! Please, please don't hurt me-"
"You'll never be good," she snapped. He was so small, and she was so big, she didn't even need to put much weight on him to pin him in place. She simply kept him still by planting one hand on his chest, pressing him against the stone and threatening to crack some of his ribs. He squirmed and cried and begged, but she didn't let up. She only pressed more and more weight into him. "You were born wrong. The second I saw you I tried to get rid of you, but your father wouldn't let me." More weight. He shrieked as his chest started to give, tiny cracks snapping through his ribs. "Even he understands now."
"It should've been you," Elizabeth growled. She padded around him with her gray-brown fur bristling. Bathed in the dappled light of the jungle, you could almost confuse her for her mother. The only difference was Elizabeth's deep brown eyes, in contrast to Roselyn's ocean blue ones.
She was wreathed in vines and flowers, crowns and bracelets and necklaces that bathed her scent in a soft floral perfume. The lingering smell of other prime apes on the makeshift jewelry proved they were offerings created by others in her troop. The steely glint in her eye and the confident way she held herself proved what he had already expected. She was the leader of her troop.
"But no, you had to be the one to survive," the Splumonkey continued. She arched her neck closer to the cowering child beneath her. "Do you realize how many other Splumonkey children died that cycle?"
"Do you even care that Mom died? Have you even thought about her once since then? Do you expect me to forgive you for letting it happen?"
"You're an unnatural -"
"-monster," Elizabeth hissed. "If you weren't so-"
"-pathetic. I expected you to-"
"-fight me! If you really think-"
"-you deserve to live? When you-"
"-are nothing more than a pathetic coward. You always have been. I wish-"
"-you died at birth. The one who-"
"-didn't deserve her!"
"Please!" Wilbur cried, cowering away from Elizabeth's glare, shrinking back from his mother's fangs that came far too close to his face. "Please, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
"I loved her-!" A hoarse, desperate cry. Grief.
"I love you-" The last attempt of a baby Splumonkey to get through to his raging mother. Fear.
"Look at you now, father. You've really lost it, haven't you? If it weren't for that crown of yours, you'd already be dead." Elizabeth bared her teeth. The vines and flowers covering her were wilting, rotting unnaturally fast and clinging to her fur like sludge.
He grabbed at his face, wincing as his own claws sank into his skin. A manic laugh bubbled in his throat. "I watched her die. I wanted to save her. But only a fool could face Nightmare's wrath. A fool, a fool, a fool~"
"You could have saved her!" The prime ape screeched. "And you did nothing."
"I didn't mean to, momma. Please-" Wilbur gasped as his mother struck him. Her hand swiped out to grab something, and before he could even register what it was she was raising the item far above her head. His mother's eyes were wild and feral, her purple-gray fur bathed in the red light of the Nightmare Light.
"I've dreamed of being in her spot~" Wilbur said in a gruesomely light tone. "To be sliced open and dissected like a slaughtered crabbit. But Roselyn wouldn't like that, no she wouldn't. She always said I had the most beautiful fur~"
"You're insane." Elizabeth's eyes were blown with rage. "Do you think you could intrude on my troop without consequences?"
"Perhaps," Wilbur purred. "After all, I know the leader~"
Elizabeth struck him. Hard and fast, a violent lash towards the chest to rip the necklace off of it.
She thrust the shard of rock down and plunged it into his chest with an animal screech of fury. Wilbur wailed as it shattered bones and pierced blood vessels on impact. It scraped his lungs. As he gasped in air, bubbles formed in the blood rising from the wound.
Elizabeth had him pinned. She was bigger than him now, he dully realized. Closer to her mother's size. He couldn't stop laughing. She took his crown from where it had fallen on the ground nearby and pressed the points of it into his heaving chest. "You won't die. I know you can't when you rely on this stupid crown to heal you. Get out of my territory, and pray that I never see you again."
Wilbur held his breath, holding as still as possible as the Splumonkey circled him. His lungs were screaming at him enough as it was, but the deliberate lack of oxygen was causing a brand new sensation to grasp his throat. He knew he had to stay still. He had to play dead, or else he wouldn't be playing any time soon.
And in the end… his ploy worked.
When he was sure the Splumonkey wasn't going to see him, he slowly started to move. He wasn't sure where he was going. Just that if he remained here, he was going to die. The shard remained in his chest, but he was too scared to pull it out. His hands were so slick with blood he wasn't sure he'd be able to.
Severely injured, Wilbur limped slowly towards a familiar spot. It wasn't remarkable; in fact, if you didn't know exactly what you were looking for, you wouldn't be able to find it. Yet, Wilbur knew what to look for. The second he saw the unassuming patch of Glowing Tear Roots, he knew he had found it.
He collapsed on Roselyn's grave, his blood tainting the beauty of the glowing blue flowers. He closed his eyes.
He saw light filtering into the cave. So close to civilization, but he couldn't move any further. His tiny legs had given out, and now he lay on the cold stone, unmoving save for the labored breathing wracking his chest. He closed his eyes.
…
The next time Wilbur opened his eyes, the pain was gone. Well, it wasn't gone, but it was definitely fainter and had shifted to different spots on his body. He groaned faintly and lifted his head slightly to get a look at his surroundings.
It took him way too long to reassociate himself with the real world. Icy air tickled his nose and nipped at his ears, and he saw a makeshift set of earmuffs a few feet away from him, neatly piled together with rabbit pelts fashioned in a way that made them look useful for gloves or socks. A golden crown sat on top of the pile, glimmering in the light. He was in some sort of bramble den with a fire in the center, smoke wafting through the cracks in the branches above his head.
His injuries were covered and seemingly treated. When he stretched out his back leg, a shock of pain tearing through his muscles warned him not to go any further.
He looked down at his chest to see not a shard of stone, but intricate wrappings, fashioned out of some sort of spongy material, that wrapped all the way around his back and over his abdomen.
These injuries weren't consistent with what he remembered.
He continued to examine his surroundings, and when his eyes reached the fire in the center, he realized that… he wasn't alone.
His breath caught in his throat. Wilbur shifted as if to run, but he cringed back at the pain in his leg. It was enough to catch the woman's attention, though, and she turned to look at him. "Wilbur?"
And suddenly, everything came flooding back to him at once.
He wasn't a small child, waking up after surviving his mother's attempt to kill him. He wasn't a grieving mate and father, waiting patiently for his death on the grave of the prime ape he had given his heart to.
He was, in fact, four thousand, two hundred, and ninety six years old. He was three worlds deep into Maxwell's stupid game, in a world frozen over with permafrost. He was traveling with Wilson, Winona, and Tyler.
Tyler had attacked him.
Both the boy and Wilson were gone.
"Where-!?" Wilbur suddenly gasped, pulling himself to his feet. He gritted his teeth against the pain as he moved. Winona immediately jumped to her feet and raised her hands, eyes wide.
"Wilbur, you have to lie down. You're going to open your wounds again."
"I don't care!" He snapped. He was already violently shaking with the effort of standing, but he couldn't sit down. "Where are they?"
Winona pressed her lips together tightly and decisively turned away. Her eyes traced on the fire, her body language tight and closed off.
"I volunteered to stay back," she said quietly after a moment. "I… I want to be out there, looking for him, but someone had to look after you. I figured you'd… be less upset if you saw me."
Wilbur lashed his tail, even though it twinged at a spot on his spine. "Where. Is. My. Son?"
"Wilbur, that's not something you need to be worrying about right now. You're injured-"
"I've healed from worse!" He snapped. He furiously swiped his crown from the pile and replaced it on his head. That was it. Winona was dodging the question, and that meant that she didn't know, which meant that Tyler was still out there- "I'm going to go find him."
"No, you're not!" Winona protested. Before Wilbur could even properly get his feet under him, Winona was holding him back. He thrashed in her hold, growling all the while, but she didn't release him. "For once, worry about yourself!"
"I'm not the one in danger here!" He shouted. "I'm going to survive! It's not the first time someone I've loved has tried to kill me, and they did it better! I'm not going to let Tyler just kill himself-!"
He broke off abruptly as he heard something. Footsteps. Hope immediately soared in his chest as he turned towards the sound, hopeful scenarios pouring through his mind. Maybe the boy really just needed to get some space and was returning. Maybe Wilson had found him and got to him before anything bad happened. Maybe, maybe, maybe-
But the look on Winona's face… how long had he been unconscious? How long had Wilson been searching for the boy?
And all of his fears felt agonizingly realized when he saw the lack of urgency in Wilson's movements… and the chilling, horrific stillness of the child in his arms.
Winona was up and speed walking towards the scientist before Wilbur even had the opportunity to process what was happening. She spoke quietly and quickly, and Wilson hung his head and slowly shook it in response to something. Winona reached out one hand, wavered for a moment as if unsure, then finally pressed two fingers against Tyler's neck, against his jugular.
The silence was nauseating.
Wilbur was falling. He was falling physically, hitting the ground and certainly tearing most of his wounds open, but that wasn't his concern. He was falling mentally. Something deep inside of him was collapsing. Dissolving. Tentative bridges and hope that he had tried again and again to rebuild, but had been destroyed again and again. He couldn't move. He could only watch as Winona's shoulders started to shake with sobs that he couldn't hear. As Wilson's tired, empty eyes gazed just beyond her shoulder. As his child remained impossibly still in the arms of a man who wasn't him.
Dissolving, like salt in water. Impossible to repair. Impossible to return back to normal.
And it was then, when he was teetering at the very edge, that something snapped into place.
His pain and his anger and his grief all fell away. And he was left with nothing but pure, solid, determination. He had given up so many times. This would be the time Wilbur would not give up.
He would never give up again.
"Give him to me," Wilbur said. His voice was emotionless, stern, and precise. The two humans jumped, and two sets of eyes shot towards him. He set his jaw and stared right back.
"Wilbur…" Winona whispered.
"I said," he repeated, a hint of irritation and impatience creeping into his tone. "Give him. To me."
Wilson bit at his bottom lip and gazed down. His eyes were impossibly soft and sad as he looked at the child in his arms. Tyler looked… almost peaceful until you saw his face… twisted with grief and misery and pain.
Wilbur would not let that be his last expression.
Finally, Wilson seemed to give in. With a gentleness Wilbur wouldn't have expected from the scientist, he brought Tyler's b-
Tyler. He brought Tyler over… and laid him on the ground next to the fire.
Wilbur immediately neared the boy and pressed his fingers against his throat. He needed to feel something, anything.
No pulse.
"Get some wood on that fire," Wilbur ordered. "If there's anything warm around here, cough it up."
"Wilbur-" Winona started carefully, but she was quickly cut off.
"You can't say someone is dead until they're warm and dead," Wilson said grimly. "He's right. It might not be too late."
He pulled Tyler as close to the fire as possible and grabbed his own gear: the earmuffs, gloves, and socks, and quickly used them to cover those vulnerable parts of his body. There was only so much they could do without proper medical care, but Wilbur and Wilson's knowledge together had to be enough.
As Wilbur worked, bouncing between different tasks as quickly as he could, Wilson sat next to Tyler and took his limp hand in his own. There was a sort of shakiness to the scientist's movements, but a stern determination on his face as he dutifully worked at drying the boy's fur and clearing the remaining snow away.
"Let Winona do that," Wilbur said without looking back. He scavenged fire-heated rocks and wrapped them in rabbit pelts before pressing them against Tyler's neck and armpits. "I assume you're more familiar with life support measures."
Wilson opened his mouth as if to ask further, but he seemed to understand after a moment without posing the question. Winona didn't hesitate to step in and take over Wilson's job as the scientist started chest compressions.
When Wilbur saw this, he felt bile rise in his throat and his stomach clench. It was the right thing to do, but…
Seeing this situation. Tyler's form limp and pliable and still, someone performing chest compressions on him…
He wanted to throw up.
When there was nothing else he could do, Wilbur situated himself on the side of the boy opposite of the fire. The thought of doing so little made his chest ache, but he knew, once again, that it was what he needed to be doing.
As Tyler's body temperature started to rise again, Wilbur noticed other things as well. Wounds scored across his arms and abdomen, all self-inflicted if the shape and depth of them meant anything. Blood that had been too cold to move well now beginning to flow freely once more.
There wasn't any active communication about it. Winona immediately started to patch the wounds to the best of her ability without getting in Wilson's way. The scientist paused to let her get to a nasty gash across the boy's chest, and as he did, he lowered his head to listen.
Wilbur held his breath. It felt like the world was frozen in time and temperature. Like the entire land was waiting to see if their efforts were in vain.
And then, he saw it.
The smallest, most inconsequential of movements. The simple, painfully faint rise and fall of a breath.
"Heartbeat," Wilson blurted, as if he couldn't believe it. He must not have, because immediately after he fumbled for a pulse again.
The joy that flooded over his face was so real and palpable that Wilbur wanted to cry. He didn't need to double check for a pulse. Now that he had noticed it, he could see without a shadow of a doubt that the boy was breathing.
He was breathing.
Oh stars, Tyler was breathing.
…
When he had first seen Wilson carrying Tyler in his arms, Wilbur had genuinely believed for a moment that the boy was gone forever. His pitifully short life ended by his own hand in such an awful way.
Wilbur didn't know that two emotions could possibly exist on such opposite sides of a spectrum.
He still lay next to Tyler, his head resting on the hybrid's furry chest and listening to his heart beat a slow, steady rhythm. It was such a tiny thing to feel such joy about, but every single time he heard the gentle ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump he felt himself relax a little more.
Tyler was alive.
Tyler was alive.
Tyler was alive.
"How's he doing?" Wilson asked quietly. The scientist came to sit on Tyler's other side, lowering himself slowly to the ground and grimacing as if the movement hurt his legs. Wilbur let out a soft little chuckle as he saw it.
"He's alive," Wilbur responded, and even though it should've been such a nothing answer, it meant everything.
Wilson looked down at his hands as he twisted his fingers together. "He's not doing well, is he?"
"I don't know yet. We'll have to see how he-"
"Not… physically, I mean. Mentally."
Wilbur winced. Suddenly unable to meet Wilson's gaze, he instead turned his eyes down towards Tyler and started to gently groom the boy's fur. "No. He hasn't been for awhile."
"I thought he was doing better," Wilson sighed. Wilbur could hear the slight hiss in his tone as Wilson's hands tightened into fists.
"He never recovered from losing his brother. I'm not saying that's the only thing, but… I think it hurt him far deeper than he wanted you to know."
"He really calls WX his brother, huh?"
Wilbur nodded slowly.
"...and he really thought of me as a father."
He felt his tail twitch at the very end. Wilson's voice took on a sad, melancholy note. His hands slowly relaxed again until they laid flat, palm-up, on his lap. "He wanted a family so bad, but I ruined it."
"It's not entirely your fault, Wilson. Only mostly."
The scientist's lips quirked into a wry smirk. "Yeah. That… sounds about right."
Wilbur reached up to gently tug a knot free from Tyler's fur, and the latter twitched slightly at the touch and let out a quiet murmur. Wilbur hesitated, his chest tightening in a strange mixture of pain and relief.
"What about you? He roughed you up pretty badly… you seemed really shaken up."
Wilbur blew a thin stream of air from between his teeth. "Well, I guess it's time I shared one of my greater secrets."
"You seem to have a lot of those."
Wilbur tested his leg and gently brushed claws against his chest and face. Pleased with what he felt, he began to remove the coverings. Wilson looked like he wanted to protest, but he held his tongue long enough for the first set of wrappings to fall away.
Instead of bleeding, raw wounds under them, there were now thin, pink scars and flaking scabs. Wilson remained quiet as Wilbur revealed more and more magically healed wounds, but he could practically feel the shock and surprise in the scientist's eyes. The claw marks across his face still pulled when he made facial expressions, but they weren't in any danger of breaking open. They had almost entirely healed over in the span of a couple hours.
"What…?"
"So… fun fact. My crown is Thulian magic. But it only works on me… trust me, a lot of things would be so much easier if it worked on anyone."
"Thulian?" Wilson echoed in disbelief. "What- how-?"
"I am a Thulian- Ancient-, you know," Wilbur sighed. "Or… I guess, more accurately, I'm from the same time period as them." He shifted a little bit and took the crown off of his head. The gold, despite everything, was still clean and pristine. Almost impossibly so. "I joke a lot, but I wasn't joking about my age."
"What… are you?" Wilson sounded… well, in awe. Wilbur figured it was appropriate.
"Old." Wilbur let out a soft chuckle. "But, well, I am the very first of my kind. My parents were Splumonkeys." He waved one hand as if it was trivial, despite that entire situation being an incredibly traumatizing part of his life. "I am clearly not a Splumonkey."
"I… don't even know what those are."
"You're lucky, then. They're awful creatures. Bigoted jerks. If you aren't just like them, good luck being accepted. I was the first born like this- their fur is normally purple, and they usually don't have bare faces. Clearly, I'm an exception to both of those facts. To be honest, though… the other prime apes typically aren't much better."
"Wait, so…" Wilson frowned. Wilbur noticed he was picking at his thumb absently. "You were the first of your kind, but you're not the only. Are they all descended from you? Didn't you have a mate…?"
Wilbur scoffed so hard he nearly choked on his own saliva. "Oh me no. No, the rest of the prime apes are descended from others like me. They started popping up randomly over time… some sort of mutation that spread amongst them. I just happened to be the first. Trust me, Roselyn was not related to me at all." He stuck his tongue out in disgust. "I can't believe you'd even suggest that."
Wilson raised his hands innocently. "Hey, I was just curious. So then… how did you get the crown?"
"An accident." A faint smile graced Wilbur's face. "I was just an infant when…"
She plunged the shard directly into his chest. He choked on his own blood.
"When I got injured," Wilbur said vaguely. He would save that trauma for a different day. "I thought I was gonna die, but I found an opening in the roof of the caves we lived in. I guess it was where the Thulians threw their trash. It was among the garbage. I think it just never worked for them, so they thought it was broken. I don't know why it only works on me… it'd sure be convenient if it worked on others.
"Long story short," he continued with a shake of his head. "I'm fine. That whole… situation," another hand wave, another brushing away of the genuine emotions. "It scared me, but I'll be fine." Wilbur pouted and touched a hand to the scars on his face. "Sucks that he got me here, though. It's a lot harder to hide scars on bare skin."
"Hey, guys." The duo turned their heads at the same time as Winona pushed her way into their shelter. She had a sort of sad smile on her face as she came to settle near them. To Wilbur's surprise, she held two dead snowbirds in her hands. "Those traps worked."
"I told you they would," Wilson scoffed.
"It's been awhile since I had to pluck a bird." Wilbur dragged himself to his feet, but didn't quite move yet. Instead, he checked Tyler's vitals again. "Sixty one," Wilbur said aloud.
"That's pretty average for a sleeping heart rate," Wilson confirmed.
Wilbur nodded a single, short time in response and marched over to take the birds from Winona. Her eyes widened at seeing his healed wounds and painless gait. "Whoa… how…?"
"Magic crown," Wilbur quickly summarized. He winked at the woman. "I'll tell you about it later. I just got done telling the story once and I don't want to do it again." He collected the animals before promptly returning to Tyler's side to pluck them.
There was a moment of silence among the group, broken only by Wilbur's movements. The prime ape sighed.
"Okay, let's get some more conversation in here. Winona, tell Wilson about how you and Scarlet met. That's a wholesome story."
He had meant this prompt to relax them a bit. For Winona to reminisce about her past lover and for Wilson to get a sorely needed chuckle. Instead, Winona immediately winced back, her eyes wide as if Wilbur had said something hurtful. Wilson tipped his head in confusion at the handywoman. "Who?"
Winona's eyes darted back and forth, between Wilbur and Wilson. Wilbur could almost see sweat beading on her brow. "No one," she sputtered. "Er- just someone I used to know. A coworker."
Wilbur was… confused. But he wasn't going to push her. It was clear she didn't want to reveal the nature of her relationship with Scarlet to Wilson, but he couldn't even begin to guess the reason. She had mentioned that some people thought it was wrong for… some reason. Maybe she was afraid Wilson would feel the same?
He had no intention of spilling that if she didn't want to, though, so Wilbur drew the attention back to himself. "I think Winona's a bit too stressed to think about the funny moments right now, huh?"
"Uh, y-yeah," she agreed quickly.
"SO, instead, I get to share the funny stories." Wilbur masterfully cut the first bird open with barely a glance, and his stomach growled as he considered what to make with it. "When I was teaching my daughter how to hunt crabbits…"
They talked for a while after that. Wilbur dredged up as many old stories as he could think of (and there were a lot of them considering how long he had to gather said stories) and shared them with the group. Some of them were real events, others fiction. As his eyes started to get heavy, and the food started to feel warm and comfortable in his stomach, Wilbur pulled one last story up.
"This one was part of Thulian myth," the prime ape said. He had his body curled up and his head perched on Tyler's chest. The gentle movement of the boy's breaths were lulling him to sleep. Wilson and Winona looked equally tired, but at the mention of Thulian myth, Wilson seemed to take some interest.
"According to the legend, there used to be two gods. A beautiful god in the sky, and a mysterious god in the ground. The god in the Sky was said to be benevolent and giving. They looked down upon their subjects with love and care. The god in the Ground was said to be malicious and twisted. It glared up at the Sky and did everything it could to hurt their subjects.
"You see, though, the Sky had a little sibling. One that was not a god, but just a normal child who lived on the Constant. If I remember, they called them the Mediator, as the one who formed the bridge between god and mortal.
"The Mediator was loved among their people. They would travel across the land, finding every problem that needed fixed and bringing ways to fix them. It was said that if they visited your village, you would be blessed by the Sky.
"The Ground was jealous of the Mediator. Every step of their way, the Ground would do everything it could to hurt them, but they were always saved. One day, the Ground had enough. A massive crack formed beneath the Mediator's feet, and they plummeted into the earth, never to be seen again.
"With the death of their sibling, the Sky grieved. Water fell for weeks as they wept, and villages were destroyed by the floods that it caused. The Thulians begged to be saved from their grieving god, but their pleas fell on deaf ears.
"The Ground, seeing the pain the Mediator's death had caused, began to grieve as well. It appeared to the Thulians and gifted them with magic and technology beyond their understanding as an apology for its acts. The Sky was not ready to forgive the Ground, and terrible storms wrecked the Constant, and no matter what was done, nobody could calm the wrath of the god.
"In the end, the Ground did what it had to. Using the last of its magic, it sealed the Sky within the moon, stopping the torrential rains but forever cutting the Thulians off from their god. Still, they praised the Ground for its rescue, and the Ground became their new god. Now benevolent, it gifted its subjects with everything they could ever need, for the rest of time."
"Wow," Wilson breathed after a long moment. "Is that all just myth or…"
Wilbur shrugged.
"That poor kid, though," Winona said sadly. "They didn't do anything, they just got caught up in the Ground's jealousy."
"I remember that story."
Immediately, everything went silent except for the crackle of the fire. Wilbur, suddenly wide awake, shot around to see Tyler's face.
"I never heard of them calling the sibling the Mediator though… they always called them the Lost. You told the story all wrong, Wilbur…"
"Tyler," the prime ape sputtered. In response, a glossy eye turned slightly to look at him. A tiny smile formed on Tyler's face, a single fang poking out from under his lip.
"Hey…"
The very next noise out of the boy's throat was a tiny squeak as Wilbur crushed him in a hug that was probably far too tight for someone who nearly just died again. He was barely aware of Wilson and Winona crowding in around them.
"You stupid, stupid, idiotic child!" Wilbur scolded without even relaxing his hold. "You absolute moron." His knuckles were turning white from how hard he was gripping Tyler. "I'm going to fill your stupid head with so much love propaganda you won't be able to think of anything else."
"Let him breathe, Wilbur," Winona chastised. Wilbur grunted, but he did release Tyler. Without any support from Wilbur, he really wasn't able to keep himself up, and Wilbur's hands twitched with the urge to right him. "Tyler. How are you feeling?"
"I don't think that's a smart question," the boy rasped. He sounded awful.
"Right…" Winona hovered awkwardly at Wilbur's shoulder. She clearly didn't want to push the prime ape out of the way.
Wilson did not have such reservations. Wilbur let out a huff of derision as the scientist shoved him back. Before he could fully protest, Wilson was already reaching out to check the boy's pulse.
Tyler clearly hadn't lost himself, though, because the second Wilson's hand neared his throat he swiped him away and bared his fangs. It was a pathetic display, especially with how weakly and sluggishly he moved, but the intent was clear.
"I need to check your vitals," Wilson said patiently. "If you don't want me using your neck, then give me your arm."
Tyler wavered. His eyes uneasily flicked between the group as if waiting for something. He slowly offered his hand towards Wilson, who immediately took it.
"I know you probably don't want to talk about what happened…" Wilbur started gently.
"I don't," Tyler immediately snapped.
"But I think we really should."
Tyler closed his eye, a stuttered sigh escaping through his lips. He looked as if he desperately wanted to say something, but the words were caught in his throat. Wilbur waited patiently for him to speak. Finally, he seemed to gain the strength (or wits) to talk. "Why did you save me?"
A conversation Wilbur was sure he had already had a million times, and he'd be more than happy to have a million more. He opened his mouth to answer, but he wasn't the first to speak.
Wilson beat him.
"Is it really so hard for you to believe that we care about you? That we like having you here and we don't want anything bad to happen? Why can't you understand that?"
Tyler pressed his lips together and didn't answer.
"Dangit, Tyler," Wilson growled. "The three of us? No, the four of us?" He opened his arms in reference to someone who wasn't there. Tyler flinched. "This is a family, okay? Do you genuinely believe family would happily watch one of their own die?"
"I'm not part of a family," Tyler murmured distantly. "I never have been. It was just… wishful thinking."
"That's a lie," Winona said sharply. "How long have you been calling WX-78 your brother by now? Heck!" She motioned towards Wilbur. "Have you even realized how many times Wilbur has called you his son?"
"Because he lost his daughter," Tyler said bitterly. "I'm no one special to him. He only thinks I am because-"
"For god's sake, Tyler!" Wilbur exclaimed, just a little too loud. Okay, maybe it was a bit more than an exclamation and a bit closer to a full out yell. He had tried everything else, though. Maybe this was how he got through this kid's thick skull. "You are not Elizabeth! I KNOW you're not Elizabeth! How terrible do you think I am, that I'm not capable of loving more than one child!?" He felt the fur on his shoulders begin to bristle. "Elizabeth was determined and level-headed. She knew exactly what she wanted and how! She could never learn how to cook, no matter how hard she tried. She burnt water!" Wilbur ran his hand through the fur on his head, a sort of manic laughter rising in his throat. "You are scared and hurt, but you try so hard to hide it until it gets so bad you can't hide it anymore. You don't know what you want because you think you don't have the ability to choose so it doesn't matter! You learn so fast that I'm worried you're going to end up a better cook than me! You. Are. Not. Elizabeth! You are Tyler, and you are my son, and I love you! I don't care that you're not related to me. I don't care that you are a human. I don't care that you hurt me! I. Love. You. Got it?"
Wilbur realized far too late that he had worked himself up. All of the stress and terror and tension that had been building in his muscles had released all at once, and at the expense of his poor kid at that. He couldn't read the look on Tyler's face. A shudder started in the boy's whiskers and spread towards his limbs, as if slowly regaining awareness of the rest of his body.
"When I lost Charlie," Winona said in a much more respectable voice. She kept it low and quiet, a distinct difference from Wilbur's rant. "I cut myself away from everyone. My friends and family begged for me to give it up, to just accept that Charlie was gone and move on." She shuffled closer, taking Tyler's lame hand in her own. "But no matter how hard I tried to explain it, nobody seemed to understand. I don't give up on family. Any kind of family. Blood or… otherwise."
Wilbur wondered if she was thinking about Scarlet for a moment.
"That includes Charlie, yes. But apparently living through Hell with someone is enough for you to start considering them family, too. The experiences we share are different from the experiences I shared with my sister, but that's what makes them special. That's what makes them unique." She intertwined their fingers together, something that Tyler simply stared at as it happened. He didn't pull away, though, so that was a bonus. "That's what makes the relationship we share with you unique."
"But why me?" He whispered, and oh Wilbur's heart just shattered at his tiny voice. They had pulled this boy from the brink of death and he still couldn't understand. "Why would you… why me?"
"Because you're a pain in the rear," Wilson spoke up. Wilbur and Winona immediately turned to glare at him, but Wilson wasn't deterred. "You act like a cat that pretends to hate humans but wants nothing more than to be pet. You hiss and claw at everyone that tries to get close to you. Because you're stubborn and opinionated and frustrating. Because you have so much love to give but you don't save any of it for yourself. Because you starved yourself when you couldn't hunt because you were so hurt after accidentally killing a rabbit. Because you take up space, and the world is all the better for it." His gray eyes softened as he looked down at Tyler. "Because we want you to take up space. We want to hear you argue and snap when you're mad, and we want you to cry when you're sad, and laugh when you're happy. Because this is a family that you are a part of, whether you want to be or not."
"I can't believe I'm agreeing with Wilson," Wilbur lamented. "But… he's right."
Another shudder ran through the boy's body, harsher this time, like he was containing something. He squeezed his eye tightly shut. The tiniest of whimpers rose in his throat.
"I know you're struggling… and the fact you've made it this far is amazing. You're amazing. And I know that you can't see that. I know that you look at yourself and only see flaws. So just…" Wilbur tipped his head and smiled softly. When he blinked, twin tears fell from his eyes. "Let us love you until you remember how to love yourself. We're here for however long you need us."
Tyler took in a sharp breath, but it caught in his throat. He raised one hand towards his neck and swallowed hard. Wilbur reached one hand forward and pressed it against the hybrid's cheek.
He had seen the boy break down many times now. Violent, sobbing fits as he struggled to contain a bursting dam. This was… different. It was more careful. Gentler. He turned his hand until he was pressing against Wilbur's hand, and let out a long, quiet sigh. A stream of tears from his eye followed it.
And then, the sensation rose in Wilbur's chest. It tickled his throat and put a strange pressure against his lungs. He had to take a couple of deep breaths of his own in order to speak properly. It wasn't a painful feeling. In fact, he couldn't even describe it as unpleasant. It was warm and soft, like the light of the necklace against Tyler's chest.
"Have you felt?" Wilbur asked gently.
Tyler breathed out a tiny whimper. He didn't answer with words, but he did nod against Wilbur's hand.
"What have you felt?"
Tyler opened his mouth, then closed it. After a moment of consideration, he gave a verbal answer. "I've felt the warmth of my friends," he whispered. "I've felt a fire protecting me from long, cold nights as people laughed around me. I've felt proud when I got a recipe right, or when I caught a rabbit that I thought I wouldn't be able to. I've felt joy when I played in the snow, or when my family carried me on their shoulders so that I could reach something. I've felt comfort when I wake up, late at night, from a nightmare, only for others to pull me close and hide me from my past mistakes. Or when I saw my brother standing over me, singing a lullaby to help me sleep. Or when my father held me in his arms and told me he was proud."
"What have you been shown?"
A strangled sob escaped, one that Tyler quickly bit back. Another rattling breath in, another rattling breath out. He opened his eye, displaying a vibrant, forest green glow engulfing his pupil. Although it was difficult to see beneath the glow of his necklace, Wilbur knew there would be a twin glow rising from beneath his fur.
"I have been shown Love."
And, as if the sentence had taken everything out of him, Tyler promptly passed out.
What followed was a long, tense moment of silence.
Wilbur took it upon himself to break it. "Aww. It was love."
"Do you think that means that he… understands?" Wilson asked hesitantly. He wavered a bit as he pressed a finger to Tyler's wrist. "That we're on the right track?"
"With any luck." Winona swiped a fist at her eyes, although not before Wilbur caught the suspicious wetness glimmering in them. "This is the start of his recovery."
"I can't believe it had to get to this point…" Wilbur shook his head. He reached out and brushed his fingers against Tyler's head, and even unconscious, he stretched out a bit to press against the touch. "Talk about cosmic design, right?"
"What now? Do we just… wait? You know as well as I do that the second he wakes up again, he'll be dragging us towards wherever to continue…" Wilson frowned and scratched at his thumbnail.
"We're definitely going to have to make some changes with him. This can't continue the way it has been." Wilbur curled his claws slightly to scratch around the boy's whiskers. "Trying to keep him out of danger is not the answer. That only hurts him, and… I think we all know now that the most dangerous thing to him is himself. I…" Wilbur hesitated. Was this a stupid idea? "I think it might also help if… we get more familiar with both sides of him."
"Absolutely not," Winona said immediately. "The last thing he needs is for Webber to have more control."
"Webber's not evil," Wilbur argued. "He makes Tyler miserable because he's been contained and forced back for so long."
"Did you forget what happened the last time the spider had control?" Wilson said. "He nearly killed the both of them. In the end, the spider is just a spider. It's a predator incapable of higher thought. Besides, this isn't about making Webber feel better, it's about helping Tyler."
"Oo, Wilson's using the real names. Things are getting serious." Wilbur gave the scientist a wry smirk, but it quickly dissolved as he let out a long sigh. "I know. I'm just… I don't really know what else we can do. I usually don't see family again after they try to kill me, so I'm in new territory here."
"We could try asking him," Winona said. "I know that… Tyler's a little kid. And we want him to be able to be a little kid. But… Wilson was right about one thing a while back. To simply call him a kid is… wrong. He's gone through things no child should ever go through. He knows things most adults can't even fathom. We can't just make decisions for him and assume he'll go along with them."
"That's what I've been saying!" Wilson sniped.
"Yeah well, maybe don't be a jerk about it next time," Wilbur growled back. "So what? Are you expecting us to just ignore him when he needs us because an adult can handle themself?"
"No!" Winona exclaimed. "I just mean that…" She shook her head. "Grr, I don't know how to say it."
"He's a peer. Not a child," Wilson said bluntly. "When you don't let him do things because they're dangerous or because he's too young, he just feels useless. Hence, the opposite of what we want."
Wilbur bit at the inside of his cheek, but he couldn't deny there was a good point to be made. Tyler needed so much help, but the best way to start with that would be to let him feel needed again. Wilbur hadn't missed the excited glow in the boy's eyes when they initially decided to spar. He wanted to make his own decisions, and take his own risks.
Had they really been hurting him this whole time in their attempt to help?
"We can discuss this later, when he's awake," Winona said. She waved one hand. "For now, I think we all need to just… relax a bit. It's been a stressful day."
Day. Because all of this had happened in the span of twenty-four hours. Wilbur took his position again, with his chin on Tyler's chest, and gazed at his other companions. He smiled faintly as he curled his tail against his side. Tyler murmured faintly and snuggled closer to Wilbur, which the prime ape happily accepted.
There would be a lot to do when he woke up again. Given the general trend, it was likely the boy would immediately want to leave the second his eye opened. While Wilbur wanted nothing more than to keep that from happening, it would only completely negate their entire recent conversation to try. Besides, Wilbur could pray that the next world might be something other than cold. He wanted to get Tyler away from this place as soon as possible, and even though his own fur had thickened substantially in response to the low temperature, he still hated the feeling of ice. Spending over four thousand years on a tropical archipelago didn't give much in the way of cold resistance.
Wilbur hoped beyond hope that their most recent approach had gotten through to him, but he couldn't be sure until he woke up. Had they been too harsh? He hadn't meant to get so worked up, but…
"Because he lost his daughter. I'm no one special to him."
No matter how many times they had tried before, Tyler could never truly understand that someone cared about him without condition. What an awful way to live.
Wilbur closed his eyes and tucked his nose against Tyler's fur. They would find a way to get through this together. Even if he had to entirely reevaluate how he treated the hybrid, he would do whatever he could to help him.
…
He slept deeply and without dreams. In fact, Wilbur only woke up again when he was actively being shaken awake. The prime ape let out a half-asleep murmur and opened his eyes just a crack to see who had woken him up.
And nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a glowing green eye staring back at him.
Wilbur yelped and jerked awake, in turn causing Tyler to flinch back as well. The boy's whiskers drooped just a centimeter as Wilbur slowly became reacquainted with the waking world.
"Oh stars, it's you. Sorry, I'm just… not used to…" Wilbur waved one hand over his face. Tyler gingerly raised one claw and touched his own cheek, just beneath the eye in question.
"Oh. Sorry. I didn't…"
"Hey, no apologies." Wilbur shook his head. He quickly looked around to see that the sun had risen some time ago, but the others were still dead asleep. "How are you feeling?"
"Um…" Ty turned his gaze downward, picking at his fingers. Wilbur didn't press him to answer. He simply let the boy figure his own words out. "I'm- um… really hungry. The stew you made yesterday was really good but I didn't see how you made it…" He seemed to shrink as soon as he spoke, and immediately followed it up with a "sorry, I mean, I don't know why I woke you up, I just-"
"Never apologize for waking me up, especially for cooking lessons. Anything to make my boy as good of a cook as his pa." Wilbur ruffled Tyler's fur. The latter seemed surprised at the act of affection, but he didn't protest it. Wilbur took the time to stretch each of his limbs out before gathering everything he needed to cook.
Tyler remained quiet as Wilbur took him through the steps, only answering with nods and vague affirmative hums. They were running low on rabbit meat at this point, but he could make do with the birds he had prepared yesterday. It might taste a little different, but hey, when you cooked everything with such precise measurements as 'follow your heart', every meal tasted a little different from the last.
"Why are you still trusting me?" Tyler suddenly blurted. Wilbur froze entirely, one hand still hovering over the fire as he paused in his task. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
"You didn't mean to attack me," Wilbur finally said in a low voice. It took all of his energy to keep his voice calm instead of violently shaking sense into the boy. "It was my fault."
"It wasn't, though! Y-you didn't do anything! We were just having a friendly spar and-"
"And I accidentally hit you on your blind side," Wilbur interrupted. "Ty, the way you reacted- you couldn't help it. You can't help your triggers. And besides, I'm fine now. See?" He stretched his injured leg, now entirely healed with only a scar where fur hadn't grown back.
"That doesn't give me the excuse to hurt you."
"True," Wilbur agreed. "It doesn't give you the excuse to hurt me on purpose. What happened yesterday wasn't on purpose. Would you hate me just because I got scared?"
"But you-" Tyler covered his mouth with one hand, his eye glittering with wetness. The green glow made his tears sparkle like stars. "But you wouldn't do that."
"We both know that's not true. The last time I really had an episode like what happened to you yesterday, I killed my entire group. I'm not innocent. The others don't have episodes like that because they haven't been through what we've been through. Wilson never had to watch his closest friend and brother die in his arms. Winona was never mutilated by someone she thought she could trust." Wilbur took a step back to let the stew cook as he fully turned to face Tyler. "It's okay that you were scared. Nobody is mad at you."
He wrapped his arms around himself and stared hard at the ground. When he spoke, his voice was so quiet Wilbur barely heard it. "Then shouldn't I forgive Wilson for what he did to me?"
Wilbur felt his eyes widen and his tongue was temporarily paralyzed as he tried to come up with a response. Tyler filled the space.
"B-because it was an accident! He didn't mean to hurt me, it- it wasn't him who did it. If you're able to forgive me, then- then why don't I want to forgive Wilson? Why does he still scare me?"
Trivalves and cockles, Wilbur was not a therapist. He did not have the credentials to even begin unraveling the web of trauma that haunted this child.
"Do you actually blame him for what happened?" Wilbur asked slowly. "Do you still hate him?" Tyler opened his mouth to respond, but Wilbur cut him off first. "And no, I'm not asking if you're scared of him. I'm asking if you blame him."
"I… I don't know the difference."
"It might not have been Wilson who hurt you, and you might fully know that. You might not even blame him for any of it. But Ty… that doesn't mean you can't still be scared. You can control your ability to forgive, but you can't control your triggers. What happened yesterday reminded your body of what happened back then, and it reacted in the way it needed to in order to protect itself. And… even if you don't forgive him, that's okay, too. I've been here much longer than any of you. I've done things worthy of having the absolute crap beaten out of me. You're not even the first family member of mine to do that. They just got a little closer to killing me those times."
Tyler's head shot back up.
"Forgiveness is all it really comes down to. You shouldn't feel bad for what happened because I forgive you, and that's the end of the story. You didn't hurt me permanently. I'm perfectly fine now. Wilson did hurt you permanently. It's okay if you can't forgive him because of that. He has to earn that forgiveness, and he hasn't done very well in doing that lately. You don't have to do anything to earn my forgiveness. That's just what being a parent is about." Wilbur hip-checked Tyler and gave him a soft smile. "And we've got some cool matching facial scars."
Tyler let out a puff of air. Wilbur hoped it was in amusement. "I guess we do," he said, claws tracing over the scar across his eye.
"Let's finish up this food, alright? For this part, we have to keep a really close eye on it to prevent it from burning…"
The boy seemed to have relaxed a bit, but whether it was from the familiar act of cooking or from having Wilbur's official forgiveness, he couldn't tell. All he knew was that there was a spark of joy when Tyler tasted the stew, and he couldn't hide the enthusiasm in which he ate. It was a start, if nothing else.
"The past couple of worlds, you've been wanting to leave right away," Wilbur said as he tucked into his own meal. "Are you wanting to do that, or do you want to stay for a bit?"
Tyler let out a sigh. "I'm probably not gonna be allowed to leave for quite some time."
"I'm not asking that; I'm asking what you want to do."
Surprise glittered in the boy's eye. "Oh. I… honestly… I think I just want to rest here for a bit, if that's okay."
"Of course. It'll be your word when you want to go."
"Are… you sure?"
"Positive." Wilbur nodded. "You're the one with the knowledge of where we're going. I think it's only appropriate that you take the lead on this one."
Wilbur didn't miss the tiny smile on Tyler's face. It was hard to, when one of his fangs poked out at the action as well.
Tyler finished his portion quickly, but based on the look he was giving the fire, it wasn't quite filling enough. Wilbur didn't hesitate to give him seconds, with extra berries this time. He didn't miss the way the berries were the first to go on his first serving.
Wilbur himself wasn't nearly as hungry, and barely finished his own meal. Instead of going for seconds like the boy, he started tidying up and putting everything back to the way it used to be.
"Thank you…" Tyler said gently.
Wilbur turned to see that he was staring down at the bowl in his hands. Wilbur twitched his tail and brushed it against Tyler's face. "Anytime."
"I mean, um… for everything. Not just the food."
"I know. My point still stands. Anytime. We all do love you, even if you struggle to see it sometimes. Just know that I wouldn't lie about something like that. Okay?"
Tyler immediately looked away and started scrubbing at his face with his wrist. "I love you guys, too," he said, and Wilbur recognized the tightness in his voice as he struggled not to cry.
"Whenever you're ready to talk, we'll be here to listen. But we're not going to force you. We follow your pace, okay?"
Tyler didn't respond verbally, but he did nod. Wilbur smiled softly and went back to work cleaning up.
…
It wasn't until a couple of days later that Tyler was ready to leave. Wilbur noticed the way his eyes kept drifting into the distance, clearly spurred on by something else, but he hadn't wanted to go just yet. Wilbur was, frankly, a bit shocked. He was itching to get out of this stupid world and hopefully back to something warm. Honestly, whatever the next challenge was, he was up for it, as long as it wasn't more cold. He had seen enough snow to last him another four thousand years, thank you.
Tyler was still clearly weak, but they had already decided to not hold him back. It was his choice, and if he wanted to go before he felt one hundred percent, then that was exactly what they would do. So, they donned their gloves and earmuffs and struck back out into the cold.
As soon as they were away from the shelter they had grown used to, Wilbur was unhappy. The snow melted a bit with every footstep, just enough to cling to his socks and weigh them down until they eventually were pulled off by the weight, after which he would have to shake off clumps of ice before starting the cycle all over again.
Tyler seemed nervous to be back out here, but that was reasonable considering what had happened the last time he was. This time, however, the entire group was with him, and they were not about to let the boy freeze. He stumbled, but they let him. Winona asked once if he needed help, but as soon as the offer was denied, she dropped it.
That didn't mean Wilbur was happy to just let him struggle. But… they had come to the decision to interfere only when Tyler asked for it. He knew his own limits better than anyone, Wilson had argued.
(Wilbur would argue differently. Tyler clearly had no idea what his own limits were and no idea how to test them without nearly dying every time, as they had already learned.)
The first time Tyler nearly tripped, Wilbur immediately caught him before he could faceplant into the snow. Embarrassment crept up onto the boy's face and he looked decisively away. Now, Wilbur knew this child painfully well at this point, and he knew very well that he would keep struggling until he eventually literally couldn't anymore.
"Hey, if you need help, we're more than willing to help," Wilbur said softly. "We both know Winona has no trouble carrying you."
"I don't need help," he spat back, noticeably bristling.
Wilbur chose not to call him out on the flat out lie. "But do you want help?"
Tyler glared at Wilbur for a solid five seconds before the fight drained out of him. His shoulders drooped, and much to the prime ape's surprise, he gave a tiny, hesitant nod. Progress.
It barely took a suggestion for Winona to scoop him up and place him on her shoulders again. In fact, she seemed more than happy to do so. Honestly, she was probably just as unhappy watching him struggle as Wilbur was. Now that he was no longer on his feet, Tyler was noticeably drifting. He was only still awake through the sheer force of will, which Wilbur would've put a stop to if they weren't relying on him for directions.
The sooner we get out of this world, the better, he thought bitterly.
Just as Wilbur was sure Tyler was officially asleep, he jerked awake, nearly overbalancing Winona. Before she even had the chance to properly right herself, he was already jumping from his perch and pushing ahead. Wilson and Winona shared a look before following, and Wilbur kept right on their tail.
As he expected, Tyler had been driven forward by the presence of the wooden… thing. He was already standing before it by the time the trio caught up, bathed in the twin forest green glows coming from the machine and his own chest and eye. The area felt noticeably less hostile than before, and the nightmare fuel seeping from the wood wasn't as fragrant as usual, although that could've been due to the cold.
Tyler jumped as Wilbur came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to give Wilbur a sort of smile, one full of nerves and anxiety.
"We've got it," the prime ape promised. "We'll be going into the fourth world. We're so close to beating Maxwell at his own game."
"Over halfway," Tyler added quietly. A shudder seemed to run through his body as he looked down at the wooden thing and a strange expression passed over his face. A moment later, he shook his head as if to dispel a thought.
"Ready?" Wilbur prompted.
Wilson gave a short "Yep" in response, popping the 'P', and Winona hummed affirmatively. Wilbur turned back to Tyler and gave a short nod of his own.
Tyler took a deep breath and squeezed his eye shut. When he let it out, the machine reacted in turn.
They were familiar with the sensation by now, but Wilbur was fairly sure he'd never be used to it. Still, he was fully prepared for when the world seemed to fold in on itself. Wilbur saw a flash of light from behind his eyelids, and the next thing he knew, he was being pulled into the next world… the second to last.
And the closest anyone had ever gotten to Maxwell's Throne.