Season 1, Chapter 2 - Rumors

The mangrove swamp stretched before them like a jungle of twisted roots and murky water. Thick leaves hung in dense curtains from curled branches, blocking out most of the sunlight and turning the air heavy and humid. Vanilla pushed through another tangle of foliage, her wings folding tight against her back to avoid snagging on the persistent vines.

"Ugh," she groaned, spitting out a leaf that had found its way into her mouth. "I can't breathe through these damned leaves."

Behind her, Shew drifted forward with considerably less effort, their phantom nature allowing them to phase through the worst of the vegetation. Their poncho barely rustled as they moved. "It's not so bad."

Vanilla shot them a look over her shoulder, goggles slightly askew. "Says the one person who can just waltz through everything. Some of us are actually solid..."

"Couldn't you fly over it?" Shew offered, their mismatched eyes glinting with amusement.

"And have you running in circles? I have the map." Vanilla ducked under a low-hanging branch, her boots squelching in the muddy water below. "Besides, the village should be close. I saw smoke from up high yesterday. Has to be somewhere in this mess."

"Or a lava pool," Shew added.

"Where you're gonna be headed," Vanilla muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

They pushed deeper into the swamp, the croaking of frogs and the clouds of humidity filling the air. Vanilla's scarf clung to her neck, damp with moisture, and she tugged at it irritably.

"So what are we hoping to get?" Shew asked, navigating around a particularly gnarled root system. "Besides fresh air?"

Vanilla's expression brightened slightly despite the discomfort. "Maps, definitely. Maybe some nametags if they've got a decent stock. I want to see if anyone's got fireworks."

"Not sure about the fireworks," Shew chuckled.

"Hey, if I'm marching through this swamp, I'm not walking away with three carrots and a handshake." Vanilla grinned, then paused to yank her boot free from a particularly clingy patch of mud. "What about you? What's on your list?"

Shew's tail flicked thoughtfully. "Books, maybe. Enchantments. Something useful for the camp. We could use better tools if we're going to keep expanding."

"Wow... Very practical," Vanilla said approvingly. "We're so good at this."

They walked in companionable silence for a while, the sound of their footsteps and the swamp's natural chorus being the only interruption. The oppressive heat made conversation feel like extra work, so they saved their breath for navigating the terrain. Though only one of them needed to care.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of mud and leaves, the mangrove trees began to thin. Vanilla let out a relieved sigh as actual sunlight broke through the canopy ahead.

"Thank the gods," she breathed. "I was starting to think we were in hell..."

Shew emerged beside her, considerably less damp. "Told you it wasn't so bad."

"You say that one more time..." Vanilla began, though she was smiling.

They stood at the edge of the swamp, looking out over clearer ground. In the distance, they could see the faint outline of structures, wooden roofs and the telltale smoke of chimneys over the treeline.

Vanilla's grin widened. "There. See? Told you I saw something."

"Never doubted you," Shew said.

"Of course you wouldn't." Vanilla started forward, her mood considerably improved now that they were out of the oppressive greenery. "If this village I found is already ransacked by Illagers, I'm going to burn something..."

The words were meant as a joke, light and throwaway, but the moment they left her mouth, the air between them shifted.

Shew went quiet.

Vanilla realized what she'd said a heartbeat later. Her stride faltered, just slightly, and she glanced back at Shew, whose expression had gone carefully neutral.

"Yea," Vanilla said quickly. "That was... bad timing."

Shew's tail curled. "It's fine."

It wasn't fine. The weight of last night, of James and the fire and everything that came with it, settled back over them like a fog.

They walked a bit further in silence, the village growing closer with each step, before Shew finally spoke.

"So," they said carefully, "about last night."

Vanilla's jaw tightened. "The million diamond question..."

"Hard not to think about it." Shew adjusted their poncho, claws fidgeting with the fabric. "James burning his own house down. The whole camp on edge..."

Vanilla's wings flared slightly, a tell Shew had learned to recognize as frustration. "What's there to think about? Guy torches his own place and disappears. That's not confusion, Shew. That's intent."

"Maybe," Shew said slowly. "Or maybe it's desperation."

That made Vanilla stop. She turned, goggles catching the light as she fixed Shew with a look. "Desperation? He's a nutjob. Simple as."

Shew met her gaze, their brass lens glinting. "Think about it. James has been isolated since he got here. Doesn't talk to anyone, doesn't let anyone in. What if burning the house was... I don't know, a cry for help? A way of saying he doesn't belong?"

Vanilla stared at them for a long moment, then barked out a laugh that had no humor in it. "You're serious... You think the weirdo is asking for help?"

"I'm trying to understand," Shew insisted. "People do strange things when they're struggling. Maybe he felt cornered... We had a good thing going."

"Or maybe," Vanilla countered, stepping closer, "he's dangerous and calculating. You don't burn your own house unless you're sending a message or covering something up." She crossed her arms, wings tucking tight against her back. "I've been saying it from the start, Shew. That guy's bad news. I'm damned to think otherwise."

"You've been saying he's unfriendly," Shew corrected gently. "That's different from being a threat."

"Oh, is it?" Vanilla's voice rose. "He ignores everyone, skulks around like a ghost, and now this? What's next, Shew? What happens when he decides the whole camp needs to burn?"

Shew's tail curled defensively. "...you're jumping to conclusions."

"I'm being realistic." Vanilla's scarf whipped in an errant breeze. "Look, I get it. You want to see the good in people. That's... that's admirable, honestly. But sometimes people are just bad, and no amount of understanding is going to change that."

The words hung between them, sharp and final.

Shew looked down, claws tracing patterns in the dirt. "I just think... if we give up on him now, without even trying to understand, we might be making things worse."

Vanilla's expression softened, just a fraction. She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "Maybe. But I'm not willing to risk anyone to find out if you're right."

They stood in the dappled sunlight, the forest sounds filling the silence neither knew how to break.

Finally, Vanilla turned back to the path. "Come on. We've got a village to ransack."

Shew followed, the weight of disagreement settling between them like a third traveler. They walked for another twenty minutes, the conversation turning to safer topics, trade goods and landing spots, before Vanilla's sharp eyes caught an opening ahead.

"There," she said, pointing through a gap in the trees.

Beyond the forest's edge, a cluster of wooden structures rose against the horizon. Villagers trudging over farmland with the faint sound of grunts carrying on the wind.

A village.

Shew's mismatched eyes widened. "Finally."

"You can say that again," Vanilla said, though her voice lacked its usual triumph. She glanced back the way they'd come, toward camp, hidden somewhere in the distance. "I better not find no nitwits."

Shew nodded, and together they moved toward the village.

* * * Fizz sat cross-legged on the floor of their hut, elbows on her knees, staring at nothing. The dark oak wood grain of the floorboards blurred as her thoughts spiraled. Outside, the camp moved on with its routines. Hammering, voices, the distant clang of someone building. Normal sounds. Comforting sounds.

Except nothing felt normal anymore.

What does this mean for us?

The question kept circling back, relentless. James had burned his house. That was a fact. But the why, the intent behind it, that's where everything split. Some people thought he was dangerous. Others thought he was troubled. And Fizz? Fizz didn't know what to think.

Defending James felt wrong, like excusing something that shouldn't be excused. But condemning him without answers, without even talking to him, that felt wrong too. She could normally brush it off as a bad joke, but this time, this time was different. The camp was built on trust, on people coming together despite their journeys. If that trust shattered now...

A knock at the door broke through the spiral.

Fizz looked up, blinking. "Ello?"

The door creaked open, and Cheri stepped inside, her heavy coat buttoned high despite the warmth of the day. Her single visible eye, silver and sharp, studied Fizz with that calm detachment she always carried.

"You look terrible," Cheri said flatly.

Fizz snorted despite herself. "Thanks. I've actually been feeling great."

Cheri shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. "Just calling it like I see it. You've been holed up in here all morning."

"Yeah, well." Fizz gestured vaguely at the walls. "Thinking."

"About James."

It wasn't a question.

Fizz sighed, running a hand through her hair. "What else? Whole camp's buzzing about it. I can hear them out there, whispering, taking sides. It's like everyone's forgotten we're supposed to be a community."

Cheri was quiet for a moment, then pushed off the doorframe. "People do weird things, like you. Doesn't always mean something."

Fizz blinked at the dual compliment. "He burned his house down, Cheri. Almost took the camp with it. Not really a prank..."

"Yeah. Weird thing." She tilted her head, horns catching the light filtering through the window. "Could mean he's plotting. Could mean he's an idiot. Could mean he had his reasons and didn't feel like sharing." She shrugged again. "Look, you don't know. None of us do."

"That's..." Fizz trailed off, frowning. "That's not exactly comforting."

"Wasn't trying to comfort you," Cheri said, a faint smirk tugging at her mouth. "Just saying maybe it doesn't have to be a big deal. Not everything is."

Fizz stared at her, trying to decide if that perspective was refreshing or deeply unsettling. Cheri's nonchalance was almost enviable, the way she could look at chaos and just... shrug it off. But it also felt wrong somehow, like caring too little was just as dangerous as caring too much.

Still. Maybe she had a point.

"Come on," Cheri said, jerking her head toward the door. "You're gonna drive yourself crazy sitting in here..."

Fizz shrugged, then pushed to her feet. "Yeah, yeah..."

They stepped out into the camp together, the sunlight almost blinding after the dim interior of the hut. Fizz squinted, adjusting to the brightness, and fell into step beside Cheri.

For a while, they just walked. Cheri pointed out small things, a parrot perched on a fencepost, someone's laundry hung crooked, the way the dirt path curved around the dark oak trees. Casual observations that required no response. It was strangely soothing.

Fizz's mind began to quiet, the tight knot in her chest loosening just a bit. Maybe Cheri was right. Maybe it didn't have to be a big deal. Maybe they could just... wait. See what happens. Let things sort themselves out.

And then they turned a corner, and the ruins of James's hut came into view.

The blackened wood stood stark against the greenery, charred beams jutting up like broken teeth. Ash still clung to the ground in patches, and the smell of smoke lingered faintly in the air.

And there, kneeling at the edge of the wreckage, was Rain.

They were planting flowers.

Fizz and Cheri slowed, both of them watching as Rain's delicate hands pressed tulip bulbs into the soil surrounding the burnt frame. Their ashen hair fell forward, obscuring their face, but their movements were careful, reverent almost.

Fizz approached quietly. "Rain?"

Rain's head snapped up, eyes wide and startled. They looked between Fizz and Cheri, then quickly back down at the flowers. "Oh. Hi."

"Whatcha doing?" Fizz asked gently.

Rain's hands stilled. "I... I thought maybe it would help. Make it less... dead." They gestured at the ruins, voice small. "It just looks so empty like this."

Cheri crouched beside them, inspecting the tulips. "Not a bad idea. Better than leaving it a mess."

But Rain didn't look comforted. Their hands trembled slightly as they pressed another bulb into place. "What if he comes back?" The words came out in a rush, barely above a whisper. "What if he's angry we put out the fire? What if he... what if he does something worse?"

Fizz exchanged a glance with Cheri. The fear in Rain's voice was real, raw, and it cut through the fragile calm Fizz had been building.

"Hey," Fizz said, forcing lightness into her tone. "James isn't gonna come back swinging because we saved his neighbors from burning down too. If anything, he should be thanking us."

Cheri snorted. "Yeah. Real grateful type, that one."

Rain didn't laugh. They just stared at the flowers, eyes glassy. "Cake's afraid too."

Fizz's attempt at humor faltered. "Where is Cake?"

"Muffin took her." Rain's voice was barely audible now. "To gear up."

The words landed like a stone in water, ripples spreading outward.

Fizz straightened, the lightness evaporating. "Gear up? What do you mean, gear up?"

Rain finally looked up, and their expression was miserable. "He said they needed to be ready. In case James tries something. He's been talking about getting us... prepared."

"Oh, you guys..." Fizz muttered, rubbing her face with both hands.

Cheri rose to her feet, her single eye narrowing. "Muffin's rallying us?" she said in disbelief.

Rain nodded shakily.

Fizz felt the weight settle back onto her shoulders, heavier than before. These weren't just rumors anymore. This was sides forming, lines being drawn. Muffin was preparing for a fight, and if Muffin was involved, that meant others would follow. The camp wasn't just divided. It was arming itself.

Fizz looked at Cheri, whose detached calm had finally shifted into something resembling concern.

"This isn't going away," Fizz said quietly.

Cheri didn't argue.

Rain went back to planting, hands still trembling, and Fizz stood there among the ashes and tulips, the joke they'd tried to make withering.

* * * The dock swayed gently beneath Callum's boots, the rhythm of the waves a steady pulse against the weathered oak wood. He sat at the edge, legs dangling over the water, arms resting on his knees. His fishing rod lay forgotten beside him, line coiled and hook dry.

He wasn't fishing. Hadn't been for the last hour.

His mind kept circling back to the night before. The orange glow, the smoke choking the air, the way everyone had scrambled to put it out while James was nowhere to be found. And before that, their conversation. The way James had looked at him with those hidden eyes and asked questions that felt like blades, cutting through Callum's excuses until there was nothing left but the truth he didn't want to face.

I hunt because I have to.

"What did that even mean?" he muttered to himself.

Callum stared at the water, watching sunlight dance across the surface in caustic patterns. He'd wanted to believe James was just... difficult. Standoffish. A loner who needed time to warm up. But burning your own house? That wasn't standoffish. That was something else entirely. Motivated.

"You fishing with your mind?"

Callum flinched, nearly toppling forward before catching himself. He twisted around to find Chaotix standing a few feet back, hands in his pockets, expression somewhere between concerned and amused.

"Oh," Callum muttered, pressing a hand to his chest. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Woops." Chaotix stepped closer, the dock creaking under his weight. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you. You just looked... really far away."

Callum turned back to the water, his gaze down. "Just thinking."

"Yeah... that's the current trend lately." Chaotix hesitated, then sat down beside him, leaving a respectful gap between them. His obsidian skin caught the light strangely, the multicolored veins beneath pulsing. "Mind if I join you? Or would you rather be alone?"

Callum shrugged. "Free world."

They sat in silence for a moment, the waves lapping beneath them. Chaotix picked at a splinter on the dock, clearly trying to figure out how to start.

Finally, he just went for it. "You're thinking about James, aren't you?"

Callum's shoulders tensed. "Everyone's thinking about James."

"True," Chaotix admitted. "But you're different. You actually know the guy. Or... knew him, I guess. Past tense. Maybe."

Callum let out a breath that was almost a laugh. "I don't know if I ever really knew him."

"Fair. That's fair." Chaotix leaned back on his palms, looking up at the sky. "For what it's worth, I don't think anyone did. He kept everyone at arm's length. Made it pretty clear he didn't want company."

"Yeah." Callum's voice was hollow. "He did."

Another pause. The water sloshed.

Chaotix glanced at him sidelong. "Can I ask you something?"

Callum didn't respond, but he didn't say no either.

"Do you think he was ever... trustworthy?" Chaotix asked carefully. "Like, from the start. When you first met him. Did you feel that he was that kinda guy?"

The question settled into Callum's chest like a stone. He stared at his hands, fingers laced together, knuckles white.

"I don't know," he said finally, and the admission hurt more than he expected. "I wanted to. He was... he seemed like he had his shit together, you know? Confident. Capable. And I thought maybe if I stuck around him, I'd figure out how to be like that." He laughed bitterly. "Guess that was stupid."

"Not stupid," Chaotix said quietly. "Friendly."

Callum's throat tightened. "He kept asking me things. Like he was testing me. Whether I was helping because I wanted to, or because I needed to prove something. And the worst part is, I don't even know the answer. Maybe he was right. Maybe I am just... trying to convince myself I'm useful."

Chaotix was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, more thoughtful. "You know, being useful isn't a bad thing. People need to feel like they matter. That's just... human."

"Easy for you to say," Callum muttered. "I'm not special."

"Maybe." Chaotix tilted his head, considering. "But I get it more than you think. I mean, look at me." He gestured at himself, at the demonic features, the dark skin, the veins that pulsed with something not quite blood. "I don't even know what I am half the time. Demon, sure, but what does that mean? Am I supposed to be evil? Violent? Everyone looks at me and sees something different, even if they don't say it out loud."

Callum glanced at him, surprised.

Chaotix met his eyes. "Point is, I've spent a lot of time wondering if people are right to be scared of me. If maybe there's something wrong with me that I can't see. And the only thing that's helped is realizing that... people aren't black and white. Even a demon like me, or whatever I am... The nature of people isn't black and white."

The words hung there, genuine and unguarded.

And something in Callum snapped.

"Yeah," he said sharply, pulling his legs up and standing abruptly. "Because a demon would know what a human thinks."

The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. Chaotix blinked, the openness in his face fading into something quieter.

"I'm just... saying..."

"I should go," Callum said, already turning away. He grabbed his fishing rod, not looking back. "Thanks for the company, Chaotix."

He left before Chaotix could respond, boots thudding against the dock as he put distance between them. His heart pounded, shame and anger twisting together in his chest.

Behind him, Chaotix sat alone, staring out at the water, the silence heavier than it had been before. He turned his gaze to his palm, rubbing it absently with his other hand.

* * * The sun hung low by the time Vanilla and Shew made their way back into camp, the sky bruised with purples and oranges. Vanilla's wings were tucked tight, her scarf dusty from the road, and Shew's poncho was damp from crossing a shallow stream on the way back. They'd found the village, traded for items, even shared a decent meal with some of the farmers. It had been a good distraction.

But the moment they stepped past the camp's treeline, the atmosphere hit them like a wall.

It was too quiet. People moved into their homes, voices low, eyes darting. The usual evening bustle, the laughter, the easy chatter, it was all gone, replaced by a tension that made Vanilla's feathers stand on end.

"Something's new," Shew murmured.

Before Vanilla could respond, Toni appeared from between two tents, jogging toward them with a grim expression. His usual grin was nowhere to be found.

"You guys," he said, slightly out of breath. "Been waiting for you to get back."

Vanilla frowned. "What's going on? Camp feels like a funeral."

Toni glanced around, then lowered his voice. "It's been getting worse all day. After you left, people started... talking. Picking sides."

"Sides?" Shew's mismatched eyes widened. "About James?"

"Yeah!" Toni rubbed the back of his neck, looking exhausted. "Some people think he's dangerous. Some think he's just struggling. And some, like Muffin, are convinced he's planning something and want to be ready when he comes back."

Vanilla's eyebrows raised. "Ready how?"

"Gearing up," Toni said bluntly. "Muffin's been trying to prep people. Weapons, the whole deal. He's got Cake and Pon convinced that James is a threat that needs to be dealt with."

"Are you kidding me?" Vanilla's voice rose, and a few heads turned their way. She forced herself to lower it. "That's exactly what I wanted to do." She shrugged towards Shew.

Toni rolled his eyes. "And it's not just Muffin. Callum locked himself away somewhere. Mom is trying to keep it together, but I think she's starting to crack."

Shew's tail curled anxiously. "This is bad."

"It's a mess!" Toni corrected. "And it's only been one day. If James doesn't show up soon, or if someone doesn't do something..." He trailed off, the implication clear.

Vanilla's hands clenched into fists. "I knew it. I knew he'd tear this place apart."

"Vanilla..." Shew started.

"No," she snapped, rounding on them. "Don't. Don't tell me I'm overreacting. This is exactly what I said would happen. He's not even here, and look at us. We're falling apart. This is what he wanted."

Shew flinched but didn't argue.

Toni sighed, looking between the two of them. "Look, I'm not saying you're wrong, Vanilla. But, we need to figure out what to do... Because everyone is going to split!"

Vanilla stared at him, then back toward the camp, where shadows moved in uneasy patterns. Her frustration burned hot, but beneath it was something colder.

Fear.

She hated being right.

"Where's Fizz?" she asked finally.

"Last I saw, near the ruins I think," Toni said.

Vanilla nodded sharply. "Then that's where we're going. Come on."

She didn't wait for a response, just turned and strode toward the center of camp, wings flaring slightly with agitation. Shew and Toni exchanged a glance, then hurried to follow.

Fizz stood at the edge of the ruins as the light faded, Rain's flowers barely visible in the gathering dusk. Cheri had wandered off a few minutes ago, muttering something about needing air, leaving Fizz alone with her thoughts.

The camp hummed with quiet tension around them. Voices murmured behind closed doors, footsteps moved with purpose instead of ease, and somewhere in the distance, metal scraped against stone, someone sharpening a blade.

Fizz stared at the blackened beams, at the ash-stained ground, at the tulips Rain had planted with trembling hands.

This isn't going away.

The realization settled over her like a weight. She'd tried to brush it off, to convince herself it was just a strange incident that would fade with time. But it wasn't fading. It was growing. Spreading. Infecting the camp like moss on cobblestone.

And if she didn't do something, if she didn't step up and lead, this whole place would break.

Fizz took a slow breath, then another. The air smelled like smoke and earth and the faint sweetness of flowers.

Behind her, footsteps approached. Multiple sets.

Fizz didn't turn around. She already knew who it was.

"Fizz," Vanilla's voice came, tight with frustration and something else. "We need to talk."

Fizz closed her eyes briefly, gathering herself.

"Yeah," she said quietly, finally turning to face Vanilla, Shew, and Toni. "We do."

The camp stretched out behind them, divided and uncertain, and somewhere in the darkness beyond its borders, James was still out there.

Waiting.

Or running.

Fizz didn't know which was worse.