It had been happening more often lately—the feeling of being watched.

Even tucked away in the supposed safety of his cabin, Techno couldn’t shake it. The weight of an unseen gaze lingered in the shadows, stalking him from beyond the treeline. The voices didn’t help—they only stirred the unease into something sharper, restless, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

"They see you." "Always watching..." "Something’s off..."

He tried to ignore them, brushing off the unease with gritted teeth. But every now and then, when he was outside chopping wood or tending to his horse, he'd catch it—a flicker of movement—you.

You never ventured close, always lingering on Phil’s side of the cabin, as if some unspoken rule tethered you to the edges of Techno’s world. To Phil, you were a friend—familiar, trusted. But to Techno… you were something else entirely. Something that didn’t belong in the messy, bloodstained scuffles of the SMP. Something ancient. Something that felt like it existed outside the flow of time.

He wasn’t clueless to what you were. Far from it.

There had been a time when Techno was younger, more desperate—haunted by the curse in his head that gnawed at his thoughts and filled his ears with voices. In those days, he had scoured old texts, haunted whispers in forgotten ruins, chased fairy tales. All of them had led back to one name.

The Watchers.

God-like beings who observed from the shadows. Judges of fate. Keepers of balance. Entities who rewarded and punished, always watching, always lingering just beyond mortal reach. Techno had once believed if he found them, they could silence the voices—take away the madness clawing at his brain. He’d spent sleepless months searching.

But they never appeared. Not once.

And now to see one—you—walking the same ground as him, existing in his world, his home… it rattled something deep inside him. It scratched at an old, bitter frustration. And worse, the voices never stopped reminding him of it.

The realization festered at the back of his mind like an old wound, yet he kept his distance. If you weren't bothering him, he wouldn’t bother you. Simple.

At least, that was the plan.

But today... Today the plan fell apart.

Techno crossed the narrow stone bridge connecting their cabins, intending to raid Phil's stash for some supplies. He pushed open the heavy spruce door, expecting to find Phil sorting through books or organizing his chests.

Instead, he found you.

Standing alone by the hearth, bathed in soft orange light, your gaze lifting to meet his.

Techno froze.

His hand clenched around the doorframe, the voices rising in a dissonant, frenzied chorus in his head.

"RUN." "NO—STAND YOUR GROUND." "They see everything." "Why are they here?"

But you just stood there. Calm. Quiet. Watching him like you always did.

For once, the blood god felt... awkward.

"...Uh… You’re... not Phil."