CHRONICLE

BOOK ONE: LYDIA

PART ONE: OUT OF THE GOLDEN CITY

Chapter Seven: Darkness Falls

The base of Laskig's skull-topped scepter struck the stone tiles with a sharp crack, awakening Herobrine from his ruminations. Herobrine glanced up and sat straight up, rigid. Before him, at the entrance to the grand hall of the throne room, stood the god of dreams, leaning on his three-foot scepter with both hands folded on the smooth top of its miniature carved skull.

Surreptitiously, Herobrine glanced around the throne and out the window, checking the hour by the stars. Past midnight. Everyone except the night watch was asleep in the city.

"Do you not have duties to attend to, Laskig of Dreams?" Herobrine asked sourly. The events of the past days had taken their toll on his mood, with many accusations and threats made for problems that were not his fault. He still sensed that a traitor lurked among the gods- all more acutely now- but his investigations had turned up frustratingly little. For once, he felt that he was outmatched.

Only one thing was clear: Something out there had evil intent, and it was now being directed specifically against him. And his people would suffer for it if he did not uncover it soon.

They were the weapon being used against him now, after all.

Not a day went by that he wasn't accused of some form of tyranny or injustice by the Council. There were people in the city that remembered Ari, the late thief and murderer that Herobrine had personally executed, as a hero. People saw Herobrine, by contrast, as a domineering king that held them enslaved, and they could only be free and happy if he were overthrown.

It disturbed Herobrine to think about where they had gotten this idea.

"The sleep of this hour is a dreamless one," Laskig replied, approaching the throne. His scepter tapped evenly in time with his stride on the stone floor, the sound sharp and loud in the dim darkness.

"Then why are you here?" Herobrine muttered. He didn't like being caught dozing. The presence of the lesser god at this hour rankled him.

"I am here," Laskig smoothly answered, "to inquire about the unusual fears I have encountered on my nocturnal rounds."

"Don't flatter yourself," Herobrine snapped. "You come to make the same accusations everyone else has since the Gathering." Immediately, he regretted those words. Biting the inside of his cheek, he looked away. Laskig stiffened, but did not retaliate.

"On the contrary," he said, his voice calm and soothing, "I want to dispel any prejudices I may have gained from the Gathering. May I at least explain myself first?" He bit of his words on the last question, his voice tightening. Herobrine knew he had insulted Laskig, and told himself to be more careful about his words. Sluggishly, he made an affirmative gesture to Laskig with one hand, and rubbed his aching temple with the other.

"The dreams of late have been dark and fearful," said Laskig. "Some have dreamed of you directly, most have dreamed of your monsters. They fear the night, and they blame you. I have tried to affix their desires to their dreams rather than their fears, send them dreams of beauty, but..." Laskig trailed off, politely leaving the unnecessary unsaid. "What my scepter has shown me little better. As you know, it-"

"It shows you an individual's greatest desires, I know." Herobrine interrupted. "I'm the one that gave it to you."

"Yes, well, the desires are changing." Laskig continued. "They are unclear. More importantly, they are more violent. Men do not believe they must earn their desires. They believe they must wrest them from others."

Herobrine looked Laskig in the eye, but he saw no lies. He expected none- Laskig's words confirmed his own knowledge.

"I cannot tell you more than you already know." Herobrine said with a sigh. "I am just as befuddled as you are on this. Tell me, can your dreams affect their fears and desires?"

Laskig shook his head. "Dreams reflect what is already there."

Herobrine narrowed his eyes. He sensed that Laskig had just avoided answering his question directly, to avoid being caught lying outright.

Laskig was hiding something. Prudently, he avoided pointing this out and pretended that he hadn't noticed.

"I just want to know," Laskig continued, "Is there anything you could have done to affect them so? It is worrying."

"I have done nothing!" Herobrine snarled, rising suddenly from the throne. "My every action has had reasonable cause. My every thought has been for the good of mankind. The troubles of mankind are my troubles. No action of mine will do them harm. I am their creator." Laskig had taken a half-step backwards at the outburst. Now he quickly stepped towards the dais again.

"Yet their dreams-"

"Their dreams!" Herobrine spat. "Their dreams are but a reflection of their perception of reality. Their perceptions are the one thing I cannot control!" He broke off suddenly with a huff and turned around, facing the windows behind the throne. When he spoke again, his voice nearly cracked. "For mercy's sake, do none of you understand?" He slowly turned to face Laskig again, his expression closed. "I and my brother are creators. The origin of our universe. And don't you doubt either of us when we say this universe is our life. I will clear the air now- I do not play games with my creation. I do not flirt with disaster and I do not deceive my comrades or my subjects. Listen to me- I will do anything to protect my people."

Laskig blinked several times and glanced between Herobrine and the throne, his fingers shuffling in a little dance across the smooth surface of the skull. The jewels inset on the eye sockets flashed in the light from the windows.

"Why?" he asked. "Why so much?"

"Because they are my people," Herobrine replied, sitting down again, "and I love them."

Laskig heaved a sigh and picked up his scepter, swinging it in one hand.

"I suppose there are no other questions I could ask you after that," he said, shaking his head. "I believe you."

Herobrine said nothing as the lesser god strode out of the throne room and let the doors shut after him. He folded his hands before his face, contemplating the last conversation. There was something strange about this one, as opposed to the other conversations he had had with the other gods, but it was something he just couldn't put his finger on. Blaming his drowsiness, Herobrine sat back and closed his eyes, letting his thoughts settle once more.

He could contemplate this in more detail in the morning.

Laskig smiled to himself as he left, flying back to his newly established headquarters at the end of the world. He kissed the skull on his scepter, and the eyes flashed again. The power the Thing had given him was great indeed, allowing him to improve on such small tools as this one. Herobrine had given him the scepter as a tool for his duties as the Lord of Dreams, and now he used it to wield a part of the Thing's power. Once it allowed him to see a human's greatest desire. Now he could use it to see their greatest fear as well, and he used it well to produce nightmares of the most terrifying kind.

He could also use it to see the greatest fear and desire of gods, Herobrine included. The little conversation had given him access to more than Herobrine had bargained for, Laskig thought. Now he knew what he needed to take the powerful Creator God down.

It was time to declare war.

Unaware of Laskig's sinister plans for them, Jonas's family lived happily on their homestead outside the city.

Lydia wrote eagerly of her accomplishments when she turned nineteen. Her diary was filled with her overflowing joy at receiving her Ranger's badge at last, making her a full-fledged ranger. Drayda had heckled Jonas that day, recalling all to clearly his disapproval of her becoming a ranger.

"Look at her now!" she said proudly, hands on her hips. "She makes me remember why I took up my own ranger badge again!"

Jonas had been quiet, but at the end of the day, he pulled Lydia aside and expressed to her how proud of her he was, and asked her to take care of herself on her new career. With tears in her eyes, Lydia promised she would.

Then the entire family came home to have one last dinner together before Lydia left home for the season. Alayne and Drayda embraced as the father, daughter, and old ranger came in the door, and Hanna nearly bowled Lydia over in a fierce hug. The twelve-year-old was still small, but deceptively strong for her age.

Laughing, Lydia pried her sister off of her and eased in past her mother and former apprentice master, stumbling when Hanna took her hand and dragged her along after her to the kitchen. Hanna gave her a look that Lydia knew well from all of her past visits over the last three years- it meant Hanna wanted stories. Digging around in her pack, Lydia drew out her green leather-bound diary, flipping to the first entries since her last visit.

"How long have you had that?" Hanna asked. Lydia looked up.

"Oh, twelve years or so. I got it on my seventh birthday."

"How do you remember?" Hanna asked, suspicious.

"It was the year you were born," Lydia answered. "I have it written in here, you know. It was just a week after I had gotten this diary." Hanna nodded eagerly.

"That was when you met Herobrine for the first time. I remember now!" Hanna said, savoring the memory of the stories her sister used to tell her of the god. She remembered when she first met Herobrine as well, but the memory was hazier. She had been very young then, and the day had ended in fear. She could barely remember life back in Luminara now. "Now can you tell me about your work?"

Lydia heaved a mock sigh.

"Okaaay," she whined, flipping back to the proper entry slowly enough to make her sister squawk at her with impatience.

"Aw, Lydia! Come on!"

Laughter emitted from the family room, and Drayda limped in, taking a seat at the table next to Hanna. "Can't wait to hear her side of the story, can you?" she asked her, and Hanna nodded vigorously. "Wait until you hear mine. Remember when we were crossing ice last spring, Lydia?" Lydia looked up from her diary, a sinking feeling in her gut. Drayda was generally a warm-hearted person, but she knew how to tell the most embarrassing stories.

Especially about Lydia, or so it seemed to her.

"I remember," Lydia countered. "I slipped and fell through a patch of thin ice, but then a zombie came out from behind a tree while you were laughing at me with everyone else and your horse crow-hopped."

"I remember staying on, thank you," Drayda argued, but Lydia grinned wickedly.

"Yes, you did. But it took some effort, and you were howling at the rest of us while hanging sideways off the saddle."

Hanna covered her face with both hands and laughed helplessly. Drayda looked over, frowned, and roughly ruffled the twelve-year-old's hair.

"Laugh it up," she growled. "You try keeping on a panicking horse with a bad leg." She sounded hurt, but Lydia saw the twinkle in her eye. Drayda was one that could take a joke.

Drayda and Lydia's family exchanged stories as they lounged about later that night after dinner, cradling mugs of Alayne's mulled cider from the orchard outside. They were in Alayne's sister's old house, which had been given to Alayne when her sister, Isabelle, left for a growing kingdom to the south, leaving the house vacant for a time. The family had been living here happily for eight years, giving Hanna plenty of space out of doors to grow up and when the time came, Alayne and Jonas a nice, comfortable place to grow old.

Lydia was about to open her mouth to say something when Drayda stood, listening. Lydia caught on and listened too, sorting out the natural sounds of the surrounding forest and the creaking of the house to find something foreign- distant shouting. She looked up at Drayda.

"What's going on?" she asked, with a sense of dread. Drayda shook her head.

"Nothing good. Come with me."

The rest of the family watched them as they picked up their swords and bows and went outside to investigate. Hanna sprang out of her seat, tugging on Lydia's sleeve.

"Stay here," she said sharply, and Hanna stopped and backed away.

It was a cool autumn night outside, with a steady breeze blowing in from the hills to the north. Lydia stopped and listened again, ears pricked up, and was able to make out the sounds of fighting. She recognized the voice of one of the rangers of her party.

"Baulder!" she exclaimed, looking to Drayda. The old ranger stood stiffly, still listening to the sounds on the wind.

"It's coming this way," she said, her voice soft. "We have to get ready. Now." Lydia nodded and rushed back inside to warn her family. Drayda drew her sword and jogged towards the source of the sound, hoping to get a clearer view of the situation. "I have a bad feeling about this," she muttered.

Lydia burst back in the door and went straight to the family room.

"There's fighting going on out there. It's headed this way, and some of my party are out there." she said. Alayne stood suddenly.

"Fighting, coming here, towards the house?"

"Yes."

Alayne swallowed, looking at her two daughters. "I need to get my weapons." Her voice was cold, regaining some of its old steel from her ranger days. She was younger than Drayda, but unlike the older ranger, she had retired permanently to raise her children. Drayda was childless. Still, she never let go of her old skills. Lydia let her pass to go up the stairs and retrieve her sword and bow from her chest in her room.

"LYDIA!"

Lydia rushed outside as Drayda roared her name, and the old ranger nearly ran her down as she came back to the house at full tilt and out of breath.

"What's the situation?" Lydia demanded. Drayda paused long enough to regain a lungfull of air.

"Brigands. Dozens of them. It's a whole pack on the run, and judging from their arms and the condition of their mounts, they've come all the way from Luminara. Their horses are foaming."

Lydia cringed. That meant that they had been galloping for hours and hours on end, with no breaks. These were desperate and cruel men they were up against. "What about the others in our party?"

"Most of them dead," Drayda said, her voice flat. "We have to get down there."

Lydia gasped and paled, but nodded nonetheless. She unslung her bow from her shoulder and went to her mount, a dappled gray mare, and rode with Drayda off of her family's property and downhill to where the fighting could be heard.

Drayda hadn't been exaggerating. There were indeed at least a score of men, fighting hard against a tight group of four rangers. Six others in ranger uniform lay unmoving on the ground, side-by-side with a dozen others in the random array of rags and finery that thieves wore. Lydia checked the sky quickly- it wasn't full dark yet. The monsters wouldn't start to appear until it was. They had to hold them until then.

"We have to keep them stalled until nightfall!" she shouted to Drayda as they rode, and Drayda nodded.

"That's what I was thinking."

The two rangers reigned in their horses and nocked arrows, sending a twin volley at the bandits. Two of them were struck and fell. They sent more volleys in, until arrows flew back at them in response. One arrow nearly hit Drayda, and another hit Lydia's horse, striking it in the foreleg. Her horse shied back and reared, prancing from the pain, and Lydia fought to stay mounted.

Drayda, thinking fast, pulled her horn from her belt and blew, calling the surviving rangers up to rally around her. In unison, they turned and ran, pursued by the bandits fiercely. One saw Lydia and attacked, sending her horse panicking again. Lydia was thrown from the saddle, and she hit the ground and rolled, tossing her bow aside as she fell to save it.

The world swooped as she tried to regain her feet, and she realized she had hit her head.

Drayda's arrow killed the bandit where he stood ready to attack, leaving Lydia looking around for another opponent. She met eyes with Drayda, and they exchanged a nod. But then Lydia saw a party of bandits slip past the rangers and run for the light coming from the top of the hill- and her house.

"NO!" she screamed, tearing after the bandits. They reached the house first, and began to break down the door that Alayne had barricaded against them. Lydia drew her sword and attacked the nearest one, tearing his hamstrings before swinging hard enough to sever his spine near the base of his skull. He fell to the ground, quite dead.

The other two took no notice of her and succeeded in breaking down the door.

Alayne was waiting inside.

While Jonas took Hanna to safety upstairs, Alayne attacked the first bandit in the door with such ferocity that he never stood a chance. His blade was knocked away, and he fell to the ground an instant later, choking on his own blood. The second was close behind, but she met his attacks head on, ending up in a blade-lock with him and struggling to keep control.

But just as Lydia was coming through the broken door to help, a bowstring twanged from the doorway to the foyer, just behind Alayne.

Lydia saw Alayne's face contort into a look of blank shock, and stiffen. She was pushed back by the attacking bandit, who was quick to press his advantage, but Lydia had buried her sword into his back before he could harm her mother.

That was when Lydia saw the arrowhead glistening red from the front of Alayne's chest.

"Mother!" she gasped, grabbing her shoulder before she fell to the floor, helping her down to a sitting position. Someone swore from the doorway.

Lydia looked up and saw the archer fumbling with the arrow he had dropped and reacted without thinking. She ran the three steps it took to reach him and swung her sword over and over. The first swing he evaded, but it sheared through his bowstring. The second swing caught him in the leg, bringing him to his knees.

The third swing ended his life.

Gasping, shuddering from the effort, Lydia straightened and looked around, hearing the groans of zombies outside at last. Bandits screamed outside as they were eaten by undead corpses and skeletons, killed by Herobrine's terrible new creation.

Lydia had never been so glad to see the monsters.

Sensing that the danger had passed, she put down her sword and ran back into the foyer to her mother, who was coughing weakly, blood coming up. Her hands shook as she pulled a wad of bandages from her belt pouch and pressed them to the wound around the arrow. She knew what something this bad meant.

Alayne was fading fast.

"Father!" she shouted. "Father, get down here!"

Jonas heard Lydia's call and knew before he even came into the foyer it was bad. Lydia never, ever called him 'father' unless she was either angry or afraid.

He saw his wife bleeding out on the floor and rushed to her side.

"Oh, Notch, Alayne!" he breathed, his voice choked. Lydia checked her mother's pulse- it was fading. It was then that she knew exactly where the arrow had struck.

Alayne coughed again once and looked between her husband and daughter. I love you, she mouthed, but she couldn't breathe in again. She struggled for several moments, but then another shudder wracked her body. The pulse vanished under Lydia's fingertips.

Shocked, she slowly stumbled to her feet, dropping the blood-soaked bandages and looking out the door, where Drayda and the remnants of her party were coming. There were three with Drayda.

Just three.

Lydia turned around again, watching her father cradle Alayne in his arms, weeping softly.

Rage welled up in her heart, and she screamed.

Herobrine jerked awake from his meditations, feeling the distress in the north. Terrible things were happening there.

Quickly, he closed his eyes and reached out with his senses across the world, trying to pinpoint the distress.

Malice.

Herobrine's eyes snapped open when he saw what was happening. All across the world, violence was happening between humans. Every criminal, every den of thieves, every band of brigands was attacking this night. Whoever it was that was working against him had at last forsaken their hidden webs of plots and trickery and begun to battle outright.

Thousands of innocents had been slain.

A black rage began to build in Herobrine's chest, one that bubbled up from deep within and crackled through his entire body. Taking a deep breath, Herobrine left his throne and began to walk out of Kingshall, blowing the doors open before him. The wind picked up outside, making the trees dance wildly and the buildings within the city creak.

Then his control snapped.

Herobrine shot into the sky, aiming for the clouds that were beginning to gather above for an early snowstorm.

He would give them more than that.

A terrible cry tore from Herobrine's heart, and the sound exploded across the skies with a brilliant burst of light. Clouds condensed and blackened, and began to swirl around the god. The storm clouds spread across the entire world, blocking out the light of the moon and stars, rotating on the high winds. Thunder rolled, but it was a small sound against the cry of Herobrine. Lightning flashed again and again, and there was a sound like the scream of metal ripping.

The storm unleashed its fury.

The winds blew hard enough to flatten trees and drive them into stone. Hail began to fall, hard enough to shatter glass and knock men to the ground. Luminara slept safely in the eye of the storm, but all people outside not wearing Herobrine's symbol were swept about by the fury of the storm. For three days it raged, blacking out the sky completely and allowing the monsters of the night to wander unchecked, destroying everything in their path.

Even Laskig was not safe.

He was nearly back to his mountain home when the storm reached him, and sent him careening into the side of the peak, the winds flattening him against the stone. He struggled, hand over hand, up to the mouth of the chute that led to his headquarters, and only just caught himself at the bottom from a wild free-fall. Shaking himself at the bottom, he transformed into his natural form and looked up at the black skies above through the chute.

"So you do hear their cries, Herobrine," he muttered, glancing at his skull-topped scepter resting in the corner. Despite his many bruises, he smiled broadly.

"So this is how you react." He was nearly laughing now. "This is too easy! So this is how you face your loss!" He quieted down after a few careful breaths and a firm reminder to himself not to get carried away.

Still, the smile never really faded.

"So you hear the cries of your most desired, Herobrine," he mused. "I wonder how you will face your fear next."

At that, Laskig turned away and began to make preparations for his next step.

*crawls out of the wreckage*

Now that that's over, I guess I had better explain myself. I have been out sick for a while (check my profile for more on that..) but I'm back! And I'm writing.

Boy am I writing.

Just you wait- I have more updates prepared for the holidays. As promised, this is part of the double update as my (late) Christmas present to my darling readers, and for New Years Eve and New Years Day, I will post more updates on all my active stories. Writing bonanza declared!

Was this a fun new chapter or what? Danger is stirring- big time. The enemy has made his move, and Herobrine had better get his act together or he will be in trouble! And the biggest event of the entire story- take three guesses as to what that is: Starts with Ender, ends with War- is almost here! Tension is building up!

And it's about to break loose, so I suggest you duck.

Did you enjoy this chapter? If so, leave a REVIEW to show your support and give your opinion, and if you want more where this came from, leave a FAVORITE and/or FOLLOW to keep up with the action.

Huntress out.