Response to reviews:

idontwritetoomuch: Ahahaha yeah, and I did it again lol. . .

lucysnuffle: Oh, you think so? Thanks!

Well, guys, you asked for it, and here it is!

Lukas: *screams while falling headfirst into a chair*

Northern: Ooh, that's gotta hurt.

Lukas: Agh, tell me - Wait. . . where am I?

Northern: Good question. *Clears throat while looking at script* Welcome to the fourth cube, where a particular character of your choosing - that'd be the reader - would interact with the author of the story, which is me.

Lukas: *Stares blankly*

Lukas: What.

Northern: Oh, that's right. You don't know about the fourth wall, much less the fourth cube.

Lukas: Fourth. . . wall?

Northern: Ah. . . *talks to reader* You guys go ahead and start the chapter. I'll sit with Lukas here and explain the fourth wall to him real quick.

Lukas: Wait, what is the fourth wall?

"So - you're the one the Founder was throwing a ruckus about?"

Jesse, startled, glanced up at the newcomer in the prison, who was currently leaning against a pillar. The newcomer was wearing a gray shirt with blue suspenders, one of which had currently fallen. His messy blond hair was accompanied with a red hat along with a short mustache and beard. He seemed to be surveying Jesse with an analytical eye.

"I mean, if you count freaking out about Wither Sickness and throwing me in prison," Jesse conceded, shrugging, "then yeah, she was having a panic attack. Huge one at that."

The newcomer snickered slightly, sending a twinge of satisfaction in Jesse. At least somebody wasn't trying to murder, capture, or imprison him.

"Sounds like her." The newcomer rolled his eyes. "Trying to enforce the 'rules' and all that." Though his tone was joking, Jesse could discern a slight hint of bitterness in his words.

Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

The newcomer chuckled. This time, there was a notable amount of bitterness in his laugh. "Oh, yes." He walked up to the bars and thrust his hand through the space in-between the iron rods. "Name's Milo. I'm the Innkeeper of The Builder's Inn."

Jesse raised an eyebrow again as he grasped the middle-aged man's hand. Truth be told, he found the name a little more than. . . odd. "Interesting name."

"What, 'Milo'?" Milo sounded offended.

"No, the inn's name."

"Oh. Yes." This time, the man let out a genuine laugh. Jesse was a little surprised; he couldn't remember the last time he made someone laugh.

Guess there is one other thing I'm actually good for.

"It was named for a small revolution we tried to start," the blond explained. He began rubbing his neck in an awkward fashion. "It. . . worked."

Already Jesse could sense some catch that the innkeeper was about to explain. He raised an eyebrow. "But. . . ?"

"But I ended up in jail." Ah. That explains the bitter tone that the man held when he was talking about the Founder. He nodded towards Jesse. "Sat in that same cell, I did."

"Huh," was all that Jesse could manage. Hey, what could a guy say to that? I feel sorry for you? No, because pity is the last thing that he wanted to give someone.

He should know.

"Apart from the Wither Sickness, what else are you imprisoned here for?" Milo wiggled his eyebrows, as if eager to get the inside scoop.

Jesse shrugged. "She says she's not imprisoning me, just containing me to keep the sickness from spreading."

"Riiiiiight." Milo sounded unconvinced. "And zombies will fly."

Jesse frowned, unsettled by Milo's cynical tone. "What is with you and the Founder?" he inquired. He was actually curious about Milo's apparent distrust of his authoritative figure.

"Well -" Milo sighed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. "It's just that. . . she's very strict on enforcing the 'rules' and all that. It had been getting to the point where she was being all-around controlling. 'Do this,' or 'Build that.' She didn't allow much freedom for us."

Jesse nodded. Though he himself hadn't been subjected to what Milo was describing, he has seen it happen before, in opposing Warlord armies. Often, though, their uptight nature lead to their demise, especially when his own army employed chaotic strategies.

"But I found a lot of citizens who agreed with my observations." Milo's voice startled Jesse out of his thoughts. "They agreed that we needed to fight for our own freedoms. And so -" Milo puffed out his chest, his eyes shining with pride as he reminisced about the rebellion - ahem, revolution - much to Jesse's amusement. "- the Builder's Club was born."

"Interesting," Jesse hummed, and he was being honest. Though he was a Warlord by nature, which meant fighting a lot of battles, he never experienced being the center of a revolution. He always wondered what it was like to be a part of something that was life-changing.

But there was one person that could've loved the chance to participate in something life-changing, something revolutionary. She would've done that while Jesse had been off, fighting his battles as a Warlord.

Jesse knew that she would've loved it.

Even just thinking of her sent a barrage of flashes through his head. It's because of you, that voice hissed again, that she would never be a part of something life-changing. She might've even been the cause for something life-changing. But we won't ever know, because you robbed her of that, didn't you, when you took her life!

That's not true! Jesse tried to argue. Herobrine was the one who killed her.

He could picture that voice screeching with laughter, directed towards him. Oh please, the voice scoffed. He wouldn't have killed her if you hadn't decided to tick the one person who was even capable of killing her! You're a pathetic fool.

Jesse struggled to search for words to contradict the other voice's logic, only to come up with nothing. He's right, Jesse conceded.

So many more flashes of everything that Jesse had failed to be, all of them condensing into one, humiliating presentation that Jesse wasn't capable of stopping. See? See what you've done? the voice taunted. You couldn't make a difference back then. You're a murderer, a coward, a liar, a pathetic fool! The only reason why you even have friends is because they pity you. They pity you with all your failures! How do you think they'll react if they knew you killed your own sister?

You will always be alone.

Always.

Unaware of Jesse's internal struggle, Milo glanced down at him. Jesse's face must've betrayed one of the many emotions that was in turmoil in his heart because the blond's faint smile turned into a frown. "Are - are you alright?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine." The lie rolled off of Jesse's tongue effortlessly.

Milo merely raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Their awkward silence was disturbed when the captain - Reginald, Jesse thought his name was - came marching in. From the scowl on his face that was rapidly darkening, Reginald was not happy to see Milo.

The blond reacted similarly. Eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, muscles tensed, Milo gave a curt nod towards Reginald. "Reginald."

"Innkeeper." Reginald's voice was a snarl.

Milo raised an eyebrow. "I have a name, you know." His voice was cool, though Jesse noted the flickering of his eyes, the subtle curling of the blond's fist.

Reginald snorted. "A name that is beneath me to utter," he scoffed.

Now there was definitely an inferno raging in Milo's eyes. "Why you -"

Jesse was through with drama; after spending years on the battlefield, he preferred the straightforward, cut-to-the-core type of interactions. Drama wasn't something a Warlord had time for on a battlefield.

He supposed some habits never die.

"Is there a reason you're here?" Jesse drawled, drawing both the innkeeper's and captain's attention. "Or are you here to bicker with each other?"

Though Milo looked oddly embarrassed, Reginald's nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing. "Show some respect, boy," he growled, pointing his sword at Jesse, "or I'll -"

Jesse's patience has run out, and he wasn't in the mood for sparing the captain's pride. "Look, I know you're here for a reason. Either the Founder sent you here, or you came here on your own free will. Which is it?"

Reginald, taken off-guard, blinked at the Ender hybrid, looking at a loss. Jesse waited as the captain collected his thoughts. "The Founder requires me to bring you to her."

Jesse nodded. "So are you going to take me to her?"

Reginald finally snapped out of his stupor. He sent one last glare towards Milo, who returned the heat, and the captain unlocked Jesse's cell.

Before letting Jesse out, Reginald placed handcuffs on Jesse. "If you try to escape," the captain warned in a low tone, "there won't be anything left of you to bring to the Founder."

Jesse's lips inadvertently twitched with amusement. He has no idea who he's dealing with. "No," he agreed. "Of course not."

Jesse glanced around the tiny interrogation room that had been set up. The walls were similar to the cell walls: dark stone that were aged. In front of him was an iron door, one that was currently guarded by two of Reginald's soldiers.

He was seated at an oak desk, similar to the one he had back in his treehouse: same design, same texture.

Just thinking about his old desk formed a lump in Jesse's throat. Home.

He has never settled down before arriving in this world. As a Warlord part of the army, it was required - and understood - that no matter what, settling down wasn't an option. He had lived with that for so long, it became ingrained as a part of who he was. Even Je- she accommodated him along with their adventures, albeit grumbling and complaining.

Then he moved here.

Suddenly, it was a chance to try something new: a chance to try something that wouldn't even been considered by the Warlord army. Back when he was younger, he used to talk to old farmers, who provided him some insights on the benefits of settling down.

He had once scoffed at them, though only in his mind. Who needed to settle down, when you could travel the world? What was the point of sitting alone on a farm, reaping and sowing, when you could experience new adventures?

Now he understood.

The treehouse wasn't only the first place Jesse had built for himself in this world; it was also the first place where he considered home. With Olivia, Axel, and. . . and Reuben, living in that treehouse was the first time where he felt he truly belonged.

The iron door creaked open. Like a bucket of cold water that had been dumped onto him, Jesse snapped back to reality. The Founder strolled in. Instead of her normal, imperial self, though, she looked. . . weary.

"Jesse."

Jesse sent a curt nod towards her. "Founder."

"Please, call me Isa."

Jesse started, frowning. Dropping formal titles already, when he's barely even met her? That was odd, in and of itself. Nevertheless, she is his authoritative figure at the moment, so he may as well abide. "If that's what you want. . ." Jesse paused for a moment, her name foreign on his tongue. ". . . Isa."

Isa only nodded, taking a seat opposite of him. "I am here," she began, "to ask you a couple questions."

Jesse mentally calculated where this was going. "Is this an interrogation?"

"Of sorts." Isa brushed some of her hair to the side. A nervous tick, Jesse noted. "Think of it more as an. . . informal questioning session."

"It's an interrogation," Jesse deadpanned.

Now it was Isa's turn to frown. Jesse could practically see her mind calculating all the different things to say. Finally, her shoulders slumped, as if defeated. "Well, I suppose it is."

Jesse merely nodded, not trusting himself to speak at once. "So what is it that you desire to ask me?"

Isa fidgeted for a moment. For that split second, she didn't seem like the regal ruler he knew; rather, she seemed almost. . . unsure of herself. "It was what you had said earlier. You 'did' have Wither Sickness. What do you mean by that?"

Jesse tilted his head to the side. "I once had it," was all he replied with. He waited, wanting to see if she wanted him to elaborate.

The Founder frowned at him. "You once had it," she repeated. "But you don't have it anymore?"

Jesse shifted. "That's correct."

"That's impossible."

Jesse glanced at her, scrutinizing her. She wore a look of disbelief on her face, but in her eyes were a flash of something that he couldn't discern. "Is it?"

"But how?"

Jesse realized what that look in her eyes were. It's a look that he seldoms comes across these days, in this world. It's a look that twisted his heart, because the answer would potentially crush it, stomping it flat before scattering it to the winds.

Hope.

Jesse glanced away, unable to bear the look in her eyes, the desperate gleam that was trying to hold on to the tiniest piece, even a particle, of hope. "It's only because I have enderman blood," Jesse murmured.

Isa looked confused. "What do you mean by that?"

Jesse sighed, hating himself for what he was about to do, before explaining everything. About how Ender blood somehow repels the effects of Wither. About the difference between full-blooded Enders and hybrids. About the consequences of injecting it as a cure in humans.

As he talked, he could see the hope in Isa's eyes fade, dying out. He hated himself for doing this to her, but at the same time she deserved to know everything.

When he was done, Isa leaned back in her chair, staring blankly ahead. "So that's it, then," she murmured, half to herself. "There is no cure for this disease, then."

"No," Jesse insisted. He disliked that look that Isa had in her almost-vacant eyes. "No, there is a cure."

Isa frowned. "But you just said -"

"There is a cure," he repeated emphatically. With that, he launched into the story of how he ended up here: from the Bombings of EnderCon to the appearance of his friends five months later in the End and to their travel up the treacherous mountain. When he got to the part of Reuben's death, Jesse found he couldn't bring himself to continue without choking up. But he valiantly pushed forward, forcing himself to continue. For Isa. For Reuben. For the flame of hope that must be rekindled in all of their hearts.

"And that's why we're here," Jesse summed up. "We must hide from Herobrine and plan our next move."

Isa sat there in stunned silence. Jesse wondered briefly if she didn't believe him until she saw a glint of sadness in her eyes. "I believe you," she replied softly, almost gently.

Jesse glanced up at her, shocked. Out of all the things he thought she would say, that wasn't it.

"You've faced such hardships to get where you are right now." Isa glanced away, though he wondered if she was only doing so to keep him from seeing the pity in her eyes. It certainly felt as though she was pitying him. "Even after your friend, Reuben. . ." Her voice trailed off.

Jesse felt a stinging in his eyes, but he refused to give in, refused to let the tears fall. Showing emotion is a weakness, came that voice again, taunting him. But you were always weak, weren't you? You are a weakness!

"Shut up," Jesse murmured, too low for Isa to hear.

Isa turned back to Jesse, though he noted - with some surprise - how her eyes were red-rimmed. But what does it matter to her, he wondered as he gazed at her confusedly. She couldn't possibly understand. . .

. . . right?

Isa rose, beckoning towards the former Warlord. "Come with me," she commanded. Her regal air back in place, she strolled out of the room, leaving Jesse to catch up to her.

"Citizens of Sky City." Isa's voice boomed, even when she didn't have a microphone, from the set of stairs that were right in front of the capitol building. "I have a special announcement to make.

"As you know, a trio of strangers came into our gates, seeking asylum. Of course, I understand that there was some uncertainty concerning these strangers and the potential infection of Wither Sickness."

Some of the citizens whispered amongst each other. Jesse swore that he saw a couple hostile glances flash towards him, although he couldn't blame them: after all, he looked as if he had the disease.

"However, these strangers are not infectious, contrary to how it looks." With that jab, Jesse knew that the Founder knew of the citizens' hostile gazes towards himself. "In fact, they are here to find a cure for this plague that is infesting our world. Treat them with hospitality, as they have sought asylum here, and I have granted their request."

A multitude of protests broke out, trying to shout at the Founder. Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse saw the Founder trying to calm the crowd down, though to no avail.

Finally, Reginald shouted, although he himself didn't look happy, "Alright! Settle down!"

Slowly but surely, the crowd quieted, although not without a few snatches of grumbling here and there.

When the crowd had quieted significantly, the Founder continued, "Now, I know you must be wary of these new guests, but we must treat them with respect. After all. . ." The Founder took this moment to gaze at Jesse. In her eyes was a newfound trust in them that they could fix the situation. ". . . I trust them."

This time, the murmurs that rippled in the crowd weren't hostile murmurs; rather, they were curious mutterings. Isa wrapped up her speech by saying, "Treat them with respect, the same as you would treat each other. Provide for them if needed."

Jesse could only notice one thing as the crowd broke up, even as his friends stayed down there with their expressions of relief evident on his face. He had been scanning the crowd while listening to Isa's speech, and this new development was worrying.

Aiden was missing.

A/N I really hope you enjoyed that chapter!

Yeah, Ik I went kinda MIA there, but I guess I went into this mindset where I was like, "Hey, I can take a break from writing for a bit!"

. . . and then I spend two months not doing anything.

Rip me.

Oh well.

If you guys don't know it already, I'm putting a temporary hold on some other stories, like A Children's Story and Into the Code, just cuz I wanna get this story done before moving on to committing to A Children's Story.

I've also joined the fandom of Bakugan Battle Brawlers, so I'm also thinking of keeping A New Age, the story of that fandom, going.

Review!