Sorry it took so long to update this chapter. I may, or may not, have accidentally (believe me when I say I didn't mean to) started to write another two stories while I kept you waiting... I am very good at procrastinating. So now I'm alternating between this story and another one (luckily one of them was a one-shot so doesn't need anymore updating) and there may be longer waits in-between chapters...
Woops.
Chapter Ten: Trouble Brewing
Cold. Warm. Bright. Dark. Empty. Crowded.
Improbable.
The Void of Nothing.
He remembered it all too well, having escaped from its clutches forty-two years ago after his brother killed him for the second time. He wasn't very bitter about it, as he had killed his brother twice as well, the annoying pest returning from the Void each time, as he had. Besides, he had managed to take his brother with him, even with the amount of reinforcements he had. He considered that an achievement.
Standing on the top of a ruined cathedral, the hooded figure surveyed the once-majestic castle, now nothing more than a pile of rubble. The only surviving building was the central building where the doomed battle had started. It was a well-organised attempt, but even badly injured and still recovering from yet another skirmish with his idiot brother which left him weak and powerless (as well as another giant hole in the ground where they fought), the 'victim' had been too skilled for the masses of Mobs. Perhaps he had turned sentimental, but a whim had lead him here again thirty-three years after the fortress' fall. He was not normally a whimsical person.
He closed his eyes and sighed, reaching into his own mind. Even as a fallen god, he could still sense the five Realms that made up this- this shambles of a world.
The aura of the Nether was burning a bloody shade of red, as always. That was good. It meant no Voidmatter had leaked in, and that the Realm was still healthy and functioning- under his aegis. And it also meant the Guardian of the Nether, which was the Wither, was alive and well. Though often he itched to unleash bloody chaos and tear the Realm apart (he could destroy a world with no more thought than lifting a finger, it's preserving what matters that's hard), he resisted the urge because while Notch did not care for his Realm, it would bring him to Notch's attention and lead to another fight, and he tended to go out of his way to avoid them. Notch may lack the actual power to defeat him by himself, but he did not relish the thought of dripping blood everywhere for however long the inevitable injuries took to heal.
The ethereal dark silver aura of the Twilight Forest and the brilliant blue-and-green of the Overworld was much the same, meaning the Elder Guardian and the creatures that had spawned as the Guardians of the Twilight Forest were still active.
He avoided the bright white-and-gold of the Aether. Looking at it always makes him think negative, cold thoughts. Besides, Notch, as slow as he can sometimes be, would make sure no harm befell his precious, perfect creation. The being thought with some level of muted bitterness. All his emotions were muted now, as he couldn't afford to have them get in his way.
The aura of the End was just as ghostly violet and mysterious as he had left it. But he couldn't let go for some reason- something felt wrong.
He considered teleporting there for a brief moment, then dismissed the idea. Zariah would give him a scolding for doubting her abilities.
Then the light of the End flickered, and went out.
A tremor of surprise passed through the being. Nothing in this world was more powerful than the Dragon save him and his halfwit brother, not even the other Guardians. Then came a brief flash of cold fury, quickly subdued. Anger clouds judgement, and he couldn't afford that. When the light goes out, it meant the Realm was no longer under his aegis- nor that of his brother.
Still, another powerful being had invaded his territory, defiling it. It was not acceptable. He, like any other predator, would protect his domain fiercely.
Blindly charging in will gain him nothing, and teleporting would make his signature flare up like a firecracker. He had to be subtle about it, but if he wanted the invader to think he was still unaware, he must lay a false trail.
Just as he readied himself for a series of teleports that would no doubt alert the invader as well as his brother of his continued existence, a gust of wind caught the hood of his cloak, blowing it back from his face. He let if fall, as there was no point in wearing it anymore. Where the hood once covered, there was a face of improbable beauty. With pointed ears like that of an elf's, messy black hair curling slightly at the ends, and an unreadable aura of danger. The sun peeked just above the horizon, but no light reached him.
He opened his glowing silvery white eyes just before the teleport. He hadn't had a good fight in ages.
Whoever intruded on his territory will pay.
I glanced at the window positioned next to my bed. Bright, sunshiny day outside. Nice.
THUMP.
I rubbed my head and groaned in pain. Let me rephrase that: Nice day. Or would have been if I hadn't taken another knock to the cranium. Would have been even nicer if I hadn't had nightmares about severed heads rolling down the street.
Yeah, about what happened last night...
I may be a bit sensitive about, err..., dispatching human beings, even if they were criminals, but yeesh, what went down last night was just plain harsh. Almost as bad as the time Aurorion decided it was a good idea to flirt with the star goddess, Asrin. That was a disaster resulting in much spilled blood and shed tears, and many pointy objects stuck all over Aurorion.
I admit, I've never killed another human being before. Yes, twenty something years being an awesome superhero, and no bad guys have being killed.
Horus, as per usual, seemed to appear silently out of nowhere, breaking my train of thought. I ignored him, trying to make clear the fact that I was still pissed. It didn't seem to bother him at all. In fact, he looked like he preferred the silence. That kind of put me off a bit.
Without so much as a glance at me, he walked away, smoothly flicking a pair of sunglasses open and placing them over his eyes, probably to hide the distinctive blue eyes that seem to mark him out from the rest of the crowd. I could never be bothered with glasses, as they tend to fall off at the most awkward moments.
I hurriedly got up to follow him. As much as I disliked him at the moment, I couldn't continue the journey without a guide. Silently cursing Notch for failing to install a GPS (Global Positioning Sorcery) system in the human being, I traipsed after him in a dispirited manner.
"We have to sleep outside tonight."
I flinched. He had been so silent I'd forgotten he was there. "Pardon?"
"There are no human settlements in a fifty-mile radius, so we have to sleep outside tonight. Just to let you know in advance." Horus said quietly.
"In the open?" I gestured listlessly at the plains around us. Not a tree, bush, or tall grass in sight. Anyone resting here would become zombie chow about as soon as night fell. I was quite happy while not being chewed to death by zombies, thank you.
He didn't look at me. "With a campfire, of course. And we can build a shelter out of the Mobs' reach. If you haven't forgotten, Crafter constructions don't exactly obey the laws of gravity." He lifted his head and gave me an unreadable look.
I nodded, and kept on walking, trying to avoid his gaze. I felt a pressure on the back of my neck, almost like the stare was physical. Like someone pressed two fingers into the back of my neck. Cold fingers.
After a while, I felt very uncomfortable. "Stop staring at me." I snapped. I had an urge to rub my neck to get rid of the tingle left by the stare, but I stopped myself.
"You haven't ever killed a human before, have you?"
The question came out of the blue with no warning at all, startling me. Horus hadn't ever started a conversation of his own free will before. This must be one of the Seven Signs of Apocalypse, some of the others being Notch finding his sense of direction and Jeb failing to blow something up at least three times a day. Or me not falling out of bed every morning.
"No." I answered. "And I won't start, either." I met his gaze, silently daring him to call me a coward.
"How old were you when Notch recruited you?"
That question I'd answered so often that I simply spoke out of habit. "Seventeen years." I answered, almost in reflex.
He shook his head. "No, I don't mean normal age, I mean Crafter age. You can't have been seventeen years old back then in Crafter age because you're eighteen in Crafter age now, and you don't look like a newbie to me."
I faltered a bit. I wasn't sure whether the last part was meant as a compliment or just a casual statement. Besides, I wasn't used to people asking after my Crafter age. Crafters were so rare that when one did pop up, it'd generally cause a ruckus and rouse Crafter-hating humans up to do Crafter-hating things to the poor person. For example, a guy got shot at, ran over with a pig, ended up spending a night in a dumpster, and had deadbushes thrown at him all morning just because he publicly announced himself as a Crafter. Which was generally why us Crafters keep our Crafter-ness to ourselves these days. Of course, not all humans hate us. Well, I liked to think so, anyway.
"About eight years old in Crafter age." I said, counting off the years on my fingers. The older the Crafter was, the slower they age, until they stop ageing on a random age that no one can predict.
"I wasn't doing dangerous stuff the whole time." I said, in case Horus was about to degrade Notch for being irresponsible. "I trained until I was thirteen, and then started doing dangerous stuff." Okay, that sounded better in my head.
He nodded slowly. " Twenty-five years in Notch's service... and you still haven't killed a human. In a way, that is impressive."
Horus went silent again. I took that as a chance to ask the question I've been meaning to ask since last night.
"You don't feel bad for killing people?" And the question is out. Bam.
He met my questioning gaze evenly. "Should I?"
"They could have had families. People who care about them." I said, heat rising to my face. "You don't feel guilty at all?"
"Don't get angry, Steve. It won't help." Horus said calmly. "If you're so hung up on hurting the loved ones of the people I killed, then why do you still kill the so-called 'monsters'?"
I paused. "What?"
"Every Enderman, Creeper, Ghast and Shulker also has a biological family. They have all shown signs of sapience. Are you prioritising their lives over human ones?" His eyes flicked over to me, still expressionless. This guy had missed his true calling. His poker face could beat the last gold nugget out of the best card sharks.
"I do feel bad about killing Endermen. If you know the Mobs have loved ones, people they're important to, then why do you kill them?"
He shrugged. "Why do I kill anyone?"
I glared at him. "Are you good at anything that doesn't involve murdering?"
"Yes. I'm told I am very good at lying, stealing, Griefing, setting dangerous traps..." he paused, thinking. "And I'm a killer with a fiddle, if I say so myself."
Is it just me, or do I need to alert a mental asylum ASAP?
"Now you're taking it as a bloody joke." I muttered angrily.
"Kill one man, and you are a murderer. Kill a million, you are a conqueror. Kill them all, and you are a God." He quoted sardonically. "Good people don't always win, Steve, but winners write history."
I didn't bother to honour that statement with a response.
By nightfall, I was adding a few finishing touches to a little hut on a raised platform. Horus was down on the ground, scratching little symbols into the dirt with a stick. Whenever he completed one, it would flare up in a certain colour for a brief moment and dim down again. He also drew a few marks on the pole supporting our platform.
As much as I wanted to give him the cold shoulder treatment for the rest of the journey, I wanted very badly to know more about magic. I was born with the potential to be a magician, after all, but never quite found the time to train, which was why I couldn't do magic any more than a jellyfish could do redstone engineering.
I kept silent as long as I could, but when Horus finished whatever he was doing and came back up, I couldn't help it anymore. Damn humankind's inquisitive nature!
"How does, uh... magic work?" I asked tentatively. I kind of expected him to ignore me (again).
Horus turned to me and took his sunglasses off. I pretended to be putting a plank of wood in place, only paying him a little attention.
"Depends on what kind of magic. There's what we call Primary magic, or, which is what we're born with- like your Ender Affinity. Primary magic is divided into two sub-groups- Elemental, and Mob Affinity. Then there's Sorcery, which is blasting stuff with beams of light, or teleporting, or throwing something- or someone- unpleasant out of the window with a little light show -every magician can learn sorcery, no matter what type of magic you use. Even some people who are not born with Primary magic can use sorcery. Basically, sorcery is the most commonly used form of magic and non-magical humans got it into their heads that all magic was like sorcery."
I looked over to him. His eyes gleamed in the firelight with the look of someone talking about something they liked/enjoyed doing. Fancy that. He did have hobbies other than heinous murder.
"There's Necromancy. Nasty stuff with shadow energy and tampering with something's life. Most powerful necromancer spells need a sacrifice to work, because necromancy works with life forces." Horus continued. "Paladins are the opposite of Necromancers. They can detect lies and such. Paladins are all about light energy and purifying things. They also work with life forces, but in a more positive way." He summoned up a bit of light in his hands and made a spinning ying-yang absentmindedly.
He paused, and I waited for him to continue. He saw the eager look on my face and looked slightly amused.
"Psychokinesis is where the sorcerer/magician/witch/wizard- whatever you've taken to calling us these days- moves something with the sheer strength of their minds. Also including mind reading, telepathy, seeing things other people don't see- that sort of thing. Mind you, actually moving something with your mind is hard. Only the most accomplished Psychics can do it. The Ancient Language is spoken- or written magic. Spells, incantations, etcetera." He moved his fingers, causing the light in his palm to twist into strange letters that I didn't recognize.
"Rune magic, sometimes called glam, is what I did with the little symbols down there." He pointed to the ground, where the marks he'd drawn earlier were now blazing up in different-coloured lights. "You can draw them, throw them from your hand, throw them with your mind, or just gather a whole bunch of runes in a circle as a combination spell. Runes are very flexible. Normally, people who are magicians can't be runecasters, but there are very rare cases where a person can be both." He put his hands together and brought them apart again, revealing a long string of runes stretched between.
Horus stopped again, and looked over at me. "Thing is, you can't fully explain how magic works. It just is, for unexplainable reasons." The light he'd been playing with faded away and he dusted his palms.
"Wait" I said, suddenly remembering something. "The guy with the axe called you Peregrine. Why?"
The sorcerer tossed an itemized bed down, expanding to full size when it hit the floor (I mean the bed, not the person. Unless the said sorcerer is actually a shrunken giant in disguise, which is not altogether impossible). He answered my question without turning around.
"That was what I called myself the first time I went to Arcopolis."
"So..." I fidgeted. "Horus is not your real name?"
He turned around and looked at me like I should be in a jar. "Just because I changed my name doesn't make it any less real."
"What was your original name?" I asked out of curiosity.
The corner of his lip twitched upwards slightly, just for a moment.
"I am Nameless, for my names are many." He quoted. I distinctly remembered that from somewhere.
"Hey wait... isn't that from the Book of Days?" I asked. The Book of Days was a religious scripture, dedicated to Notch and the other Gods. According to Notch, the Book of Days was a pile of zombie crap in the shape of a book and the people who wrote it were dead drunk on elf wine, which could be dangerous to a human's mental health. I get the feeling whoever wrote the thing wasn't very accurate.
"If it was named Book of Delusional Idiocy, it might have been more fitting." Horus said dryly.
Then, without another word, he promptly built a literal wall between me and him.
You'd almost think he was trying to avoid somebody.
I woke up to discover it was still dark. The moon hung high in the sky, and the Mobs were being very chatty. Most likely planning to turn the two tasty humans on the treehouse into two tasty human kebabs. I breathed out a sigh of irritation- I'd have to get back to sleep all over again!- and closed my eyes.
A twanging sound had me out of the bed in a second. It sounded suspiciously like a skeleton was attempting a stealthy (not really) assassination. I pulled out my slightly glowing sword and peered cautiously over the edge of the platform.
My jaw fell. The scene on the ground was absolutely chaotic. There were flaming zombies running everywhere with arrows stuck in them. The twanging sound continued. Every time I heard the bowstring, a Mob would go up in flames. Another fiery arrow arced down, ending the not-life of a skeleton, and I traced the arrow back to its source.
It was coming from the other side of the platform.
So, apparently Horus decided do target practice with Mobs. That wasn't unusual, but being the nosy person that I am, I nerd-poled over the wall to have a look.
Horus sat at the edge of the platform, occasionally taking aim at an unfortunate Mob. Whenever he fired, a Mob went down. All the arrows found their marks. The bow was gleaming with multiple enchantments, one of which must have been Flame.
"You can come down if you want, Steve." he said suddenly. Surprised he'd known I was there, I jumped down to join him, sitting down at his side.
"Why aren't you resting?" I asked.
He pulled the bowstring back, a cracking noise sounded and a shaft of blue light appeared on the bow, solidifying into the shape of an arrow. He loosed the arrow and a zombie flamed up before disintegrating. He put his bow down and I waited patiently for him to speak.
"Nightmares." he answered. He looked tired, his brilliant blue eyes dull. "I didn't want to get back to sleep."
"What did you dream about?" I asked, curious.
A dark look flashed across his face and the air seemed to turn cold. "None of your business." he replied stiffly.
I dropped the subject immediately. For a moment, we were quiet as more zombies met their second deaths at the ends of flaming arrows. I broke the silence after a while. "Can you..." I hesitated. Maybe he'd think I wasn't worth it. Horus tilted his head to the side, silently prompting me to finish the sentence. "Can you... teach me magic?" I hadn't bothered with sorcery because I deemed it unnecessary and I couldn't be bothered to take the lessons Jeb offered (partly because I didn't trust him to not blow me up). But seeing Horus using it as if it was no more than a dangerous plaything and the joy I'd glimpsed behind his normally emotionless mask had made me reconsider. Also, sorcery kinda seemed cool. I'd never be bothered by the Silverfish hiding in my house again!
"I could." he shrugged. "But will I?" His eyes glinted, the moonlight reflecting there washing over the dark cobalt blue and turning his irises into a pale silver.
I sighed in exasperation. "Fine. Will you teach me magic?" I looked at Horus and gave him my best beseeching look.
The shadow of a smile played with the corner of his lips. "I will." I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought he'd refuse for sure.
Just then, a massive BOOM came from somewhere over a hill. I leapt to my feet and saw a plume of smoke, followed by an explosion of flames.
"Which idiot decided to plant a nuke there?" I exclaimed as another mushroom-shaped cloud of smoke rose to the sky.
Horus looked bored, like he always does. "Just a fire magician dealing with Mobs. No need to worry- all monsters within a half-mile radius is likely to be more overcooked than the soup my brother made now." For a moment, he looked surprised at himself.
I turned to him with one eyebrow raised. "You never told me you had a brother."
"You never asked."
"Is he a magician like you? What's he like?"
Horus paused for a bit. "No. He isn't a magician like me because he prefers weaponry magic over pure sorcery. As for your second question, I can't really answer that now."
I tilted my head. "Why?"
He gave me an unreadable look. "He's dead. To me, at the very least, even if he had somehow escaped from the Void again." He picked up his bow and shot a random skeleton. There was a brooding look on his face, and his eyes were narrowed to slits like he was thinking about something unpleasant.
"The Void?" I asked. "I thought people go the the Aether or the Nether after they die. How does he get out of the Void if he's dead, anyhow?"
Horus sighed. "My brother wasn't... isn't what you'd call a normal person. I wish he was. Then the bastard can die and stay dead, along with his Void-damned followers." He opened his eyes, staring blankly at nothing as another pillar of flame roared up to the sky.
Normal person... according to the Book of Days, when gods die, they were imprisoned in the Void. But coming back was impossible, as the death of the first Fire God during the Dawn Wars had proven. Then again, I'd never heard anyone in the Aether mention the Fire God. And Notch himself had said the Book of Days was a heap of trash.
"Do you know why Notch recruited you?"
"I... there was a burning building. Me and another kid was trapped inside. He was unconscious. I made a hole in the wall by throwing a chair at it, and I tossed him out first. I ended up dying, because the building collapsed afterwards. Then Notch respawned me. So... yeah." I looked up at the dark sky, wondering what sort of shit the others up at the Aether is thinking me to be right now.
Horus scrutinised me with calculating eyes. "I don't think that was why Notch wanted you. Thousands of people have died more heroic deaths and been ignored."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm flattered. It's good to see how worthy you think I am. Why do you think he took me in, then?"
"Because you remind him of his brother." he said softly, drawing his knees up to his chest. I realised how young he looked.
"What?" I asked, sure my ears had malfunctioned. I looked nothing like Notch. For starters, I was not bald.
"His brother. What you people call the Nether Prince. I've seen pictures of him on the walls of forgotten temples. You look curiously alike." He paused.
"Wait, you mean... The Fallen One?" I asked, being careful to avoid speaking his name out loud.
Horus flashed me a look of dark amusement. "It's quite safe to say Herobrine's name. If I know anything at all, he's occupied at the moment. Besides, if he killed every single being that spoke his name out loud, the world's population would be a quarter of what it is now. He's not going to bother. Also, speaking a God's name out loud is the same as thinking of it in your thoughts. They can hear it just as well." He paused. "On that note, don't say Notch's name after this. Try not to think about it either. As scatterbrained as he normally is, he might pay attention for once. Though it would be hard to hear you out of the thousands of beings praying to him at all times."
I nodded with a gulp, wondering if Notch had already heard me. I didn't want to spend the rest of my short life in a prison cell.
Morning came upon me with a vengeance, ripping me from the sweet clutches of sleep violently. I groaned against the harsh light.
Horus kicked me in the side none too gently. I got up reluctantly, and helped him deconstruct the shelter. Within moments, we were on our way along our seemingly endless journey. It was a pretty cloudy day, and soon started to rain. Horus pulled his cloak on again and murmured something in another language. A dry circle appeared around us. I was very happy for it, because I never packed an umbrella for quests (the one time I did, it got smashed into a scrap pile because I accidentally pulled it out instead of my sword in a fight with some rogue dwarves. I can honestly still hear them laughing).
After what felt like an eternity, a line of grey loomed up on the horizon. The circle of dry ground started getting smaller and smaller, unnoticeably at first, as we got closer and closer to the massive wall. Soon I was pressing up to Horus' shoulder to keep out of the rain.
"Why are you making the rain shield smaller?" I asked, accidentally bumping into him again. His eyes were fixed on the massive wall that I couldn't see the ends of.
"That's the Boundary Wall." he answered, nodding to the wall . "It separates the four Regions of the Overworld. It's the same wall between every Region. Apparently the Gods built it to keep four warring factions from tearing at each other's throats. That's not exactly true, because it was Jeb who built it without help from the other Gods."
The circle tightened again, and I ended up walking behind him to keep out of the rain. He continued: "The closer you get to the Wall, the harder it is to cast spells. It was built from bedrock, which absorbs all forms of magic except for the Godly kind. Jeb simply magnified the magic-soaking abilities so no one can get over the Wall without been authorised. In addition, the Minecraft Laws which enable Crafting don't work at close range either. Missiles get vaporised when they get too close, so no one can Ender Pearl over."
I stepped even closer to him as the circle shrank. At this rate, I was going to be pressed up against him like a fish stuck on a shark before long. I did not relish the thought. "How are we going to get over, then? Put ourselves in a TNT cannon and hope we make it there?" I said sarcastically. Horus rolled his eyes at my remark.
"What are you, deaf? I just said missiles get vaporised before they go over. As full of air your head is, you are sadly not physically empty, so you do count as a missile." he snapped. He sounded annoyed, which may or may not have been caused by the lack of sleep last night. He had faint black rings under his eyes, and he looked tired.
"We're going to make a Nether Portal, go into it, walk for a bit, and make another Nether Portal to come out on the other side." he said casually. "While Jeb was very careful about not letting people sneak through, even he can't bend reality to make it impossible to make Nether Portals. The Nether is not his domain, and he wouldn't want to risk his life messing around with someone else's territory. If he so much as sets a single toe in the Nether he's doomed."
I gaped at him. Horus had just casually outlined a plan to do something no human, Crafter, elf, dwarf, or Testificate has managed to do in the history of the world. No one has ever set foot in the Nether for more than an hour and come out alive and whole. "What about us? If we so much as set a toe in the Nether, we'd be doomed as well." I'd been in the Nether myself once to get Nether Wart for an alchemist (Nether Wart don't survive well in the Overworld climate), and had only been in for a few minutes and still barely escaped with my life. I swear the Ghasts had something against my continued existence.
"Don't worry about it." he said calmly. "We'll be fine as long as we don't overstay the time limit."
I frowned a bit. "What time limit?" I'd never heard of a time limit before.
He turned to me and arched an eyebrow. "You've never heard of the Agreement? Where the Gods made a pact with Herobrine to let a small amount of mortals into the Nether for one hour at a time without actively trying to kill them- as long as the Gods themselves stay out of the Nether and provided the mortals survive the Mobs and the lava?"
I shook my head. "Never heard of it." I said.
Horus sighed. "So the the mortals forgot... that doesn't mean the pact isn't in act anymore, though. We can still cross the Wall- provided we don't overstay the time limit."
"So..." I began. "When are we going to casually walk into Hell?"
He scowled at the steadily closing rain and flicked a finger at it. "As soon as we find a cave to get obsidian out of." he paused. "Problem is, we still don't know where the End Portal is."
A voice piped up in my mind. "I can help you with that."
The Ender Dragon uncurled, yawning. She was resting on top of her favourite obsidian pillar- the tallest one, which the Endermen couldn't see the top of, unless they disobeyed her and teleported in for a closer look, risking death by her claws.
She stiffened a bit as she felt a ripple in the weft of the End, then relaxed a second later. It was probably just White-Eyes coming back to make sure the End hadn't managed to tip itself upside-down for some reason (Zariah had accidentally done that with her dragon magic once before she learnt to control it), or Short-Steve-Two-Legs coming back to visit her. He always smelt of the Overworld- grass, sunshine (ew), and the last thing he ate (double ew. The Dragon hated mushroom stew, but Short-Steve-Two-Legs seem to be very fond of it).
But the scent was different. It was like White-Eyes, this thing that had entered didn't have a scent at all, but Zariah knew it isn't White-Eyes because the power signature of this individual was different. White-Eyes' signature was a shifting silver-white shot through with ice-blue streaks, strong and constant with an aura of danger and thinly veiled viciousness, and felt cold enough to burn, but it was not so harshly bright as to hurt to look at (brightness does not signify strength, so White-Eyes made sure to keep his aura dim as to not attract unwanted attention) . This individual's aura was a blindingly bright yellow, flaring up like an explosion.
Zariah growled, wickedly sharp spines rising. It couldn't possibly be Baldy-Black-Beard-Gold-Eyes, White-Eyes' brother. The last time he'd been here, Zariah and White-Eyes had given him a beating so vicious he'd kept well away for several centuries. Besides, Baldy-Black-Beard's signature was royal gold, not sunshine yellow.
The Dragon smoothly took to the air soundlessly, invisible against the End's twilight skies. Dragon magic and Ender fire swirled in her belly, ready to use. If this intruder was a threat, she would eliminate it effortlessly, as she had already eliminated countless threats.
Zariah had never failed before.
Ow. Sprained my hand. Typing was double slow today, but the show's on the road.
Also, I get this feeling that the Minecraft fan community is dying. Six months ago, whenever I got on, there were at least four stories updated every day. Now I'm lucky if there's one.
I hope the Minecraft fandom doesn't kick the bucket (so young, so much to live for!) 'cos it's still my favourite game. Partly because there's no storyline to it, so you can basically write your stories however the heck you want and still get away with it. Also because I became obsessed with dillongoo's Gods Don't Bleed (don't judge).
If there are any authors reading this, please continue your stories and prevent the tragic martyrdom of the Minecraft Fanfiction Archive.
Thank you for listening to (reading?) this scrappy excuse of a speech.
Nano
Please rate and review!
I assume that's what "R&R" means?