The Rise Of CuteGuy

Mumbo pov

We made our way down to my office, the air thick with tension. Xisuma led the way, his posture rigid, while Grian kept glancing at him, wings twitching like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Scar was uncharacteristically quiet, and I—well, I was trying not to think about how my office might be home to some impossible, possibly-dead Void Walker.

When we stepped inside, I wasn’t surprised to find nothing. No more glowing red feathers, no strange lingering presence. Just my usual workspace—messy, but normal. If I hadn’t held the feather in my own hands, I’d have thought I imagined it.

Scar huffed. “Great. So the one weird thing we could’ve used as proof just—poof!—vanishes. Fantastic.”

I checked the corners of the room, the floor, even under my desk, but there was nothing. "They all disintegrated,” I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. "It's like they had a time limit."

Xisuma stood in the center of the room, scanning everything like he could force an answer to appear. His fingers tapped against his armor, the only outward sign of frustration. “Void Walkers don’t leave things behind,” he finally said, almost to himself. “Not like this.”

Grian frowned. “But if it was Xavier, and he’s this weak…” He trailed off, expression troubled.

Scar crossed his arms. “Then what happens when he isn’t weak?”

No one answered.

And that was the part that unsettled me the most.

I looked between them, waiting for an answer, but neither of them spoke right away. The silence stretched, heavy and uncertain.

Xisuma shifted slightly, his fingers still tapping against his armor, but now it felt more like a nervous tic than calculated thought. His posture was tense, like he was trying to pull up memories that just weren’t there. Grian, on the other hand, had gone completely still—his wings tucked in tight, eyes flicking between Xisuma and the empty space where the feathers had been, like he was trying to make sense of something that didn’t add up.

Then Xisuma finally spoke, voice quieter than before. “I don’t know.”

That alone was surprising enough. But what really threw me was what he said next.

“I barely even remember him.”

I blinked. "What?"

Scar had been leaning against my desk, but now he straightened up, eyes narrowing. Grian looked like someone had just yanked the floor out from under him.

Xisuma's fingers curled into a fist, tension rolling off him in waves. "I should remember more," he admitted, frustration bleeding into his voice. "I know I had a brother. I know his name was Xavier. But beyond that? It’s like trying to grab smoke."

Grian’s wings gave an uneasy twitch. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“No,” Xisuma agreed. “It doesn’t. and now I guess I know he had red feathers because I recognized the one that's in my armor plate right now as his" he says moving his glove tan to his helmet kind of like he was trying to rub his head

Xisuma let out a slow, frustrated breath, his gloved hand pressing against the side of his helmet as if trying to push past whatever mental block was keeping his memories out of reach. His stance was rigid, shoulders locked in place like he was fighting off the urge to pace.

"I should remember more," he muttered, voice tight. "I should remember what he looked like, how he sounded. I should know more than just his name. But all I have are... fragments. And now I guess I know he had red feathers because I recognized the one that’s in my armor plate right now as his."