Suddenly, as I let my mind pull my body into the void again, I feel a sudden jerking motion. I turn around and assess my surroundings, and realize I am still at the same city block I was before.
I try to reach out with my mind to the void again, but this time I feel nothing. I feel my breathing getting heavier, my muscles getting sore.
Whatever the enderman equivalent of mana is, I seem to be out of it. I suppose I shouldn't have expected any better after seventeen years of near abstinence. If only I didn't let Cubit bait me into fighting him, perhaps I would have had just enough energy to reach Chevron. But now, with my ender energy completely drained, I cannot even sense the life forces around me. Or perhaps if I could sense my own ender energy, I would have known when to stop teleporting.
Or this... or that. Does it really matter? I don't want to be a mage anymore. I shouldn't have to rely on magic for anything.
So, I have no choice but to rely on others. Unfortunately, the only people that might know Chevron's location are magi. My best bet is to travel to the city arcane library, and hope some poor soul pulling off an all-nighter travels through those doors, and simultaneously is willing to reveal the location of an important city mage. It's practically impossible, but I don't know what else to do.
So, exhausted of options so late at night, I use my fragmented memory of the city to find the arcane library, and wait in front of its pillar-framed entrance. Perhaps hours and many undead monsters pass by. It is still surreal to me how creatures who once tried so hard to kill me now completely ignore me. I'm so used to avoiding them, whether by instinct, nighttime curfews, or everyone else around me being afraid of them.
To my fortune, a hooded figure appears from behind the corner of a building, walking toward the arcane library entrance. I intercept him.
"I am sorry to bother you, but I have an emergency and was hoping you could help me," I tell him.
"I'll do what I can," the hooded man replies, audibly tired but sympathetic.
I wrack my brain for what explanation I could possibly give to this man. I feel desperate. How could he expect a halfblood to be affiliated with such a prestigious mage as Chevron? I simply can't invent an explanation. With the lives of my two best friends at stake, I decide to gamble on my anonymity and tell the man who I truly am.
"This is going to be hard to believe, but my name is Jonas Lisa Ti'Drannes. I am a grandson of the Arch-Mage Chevron Ti'Drannes. A bold claim, I know, as Jonas Ti'Drannes is supposed to be human and to have died nearly a century ago."
The hooded man nods along, seemingly receptive. "That is pretty hard to believe, but please continue."
The man's openness gives me a glimmer of hope. If I tell him just how bad my situation is, is there a chance he could take my word, and truly help me find Chevron?
"My best friend and closest cousin are in grave danger," I explain. "The former is being controlled by a demon, and the latter is being sentenced to a slow death for a conviction he doesn't deserve. My grandmother is the only mage I can trust to help them. I need to know where she lives so I can get her help."
"Gosh..." the hooded man says, "I really wish I could help you. Even if I did know where Arch-Mage Chevron lives, I doubt I would be responsible enough to know whether to tell you. I just became a student of magic nine months ago. I hardly know anything. I truly am sorry. I hope you save your cousin."
With those words, the hooded man walks past me. As I hear the library door slam behind me, I perceive a strange finality to it. Every minute that passes by, I know my cousin Dan is creeping closer to his death. I can't help but imagine him, leaning on his hands and knees inside of the obsidian room, his skin sagging, the color draining from his eyes, his face locked in pain as his overtapped mana pool erodes ever-so-slowly his very life.
It is all to much to bear. How I wish I could forget the cousin and scholar I've known so well, but how can I when I have no place of solace to return to? Without Fristad, a companion to join me on the longest days, to chat with joy on the shortest, the farm is nothing to me.
I can't watch the buildings any more. I look down. My mind shuts itself off. All I perceive is a sickening past and a lonely future, a trapping fate I've condemned myself to.
A great while passes. I stand in sadness, but no other mage comes.
Then, I hear the sound of an enderman surfacing from the void right next to me. I expect it to teleport away to continue on its trek, but it stays there. I look at the creature, and the creature turns toward me. Purple sparks swarm around it. Its eyes stare into mine, conveying an aura of sadness.
"You poor creature," it speaks, in its strangely echoing voice. "A creature of Ender should never be forced to endure such pain. Your energy is drained. Please permit me to lend you some."
Never before has an enderman ever teleported to me, let alone spoken to me. I am surprised by the creature's altruism.
"I... would be grateful," I say.
The enderman shapes its hands as two C's. Purple vortexes swarm within them, coalescing into two floating teal beads which grow in size. I recognize the process; it is the very same process that I could not help but compulsively perform: the creation of ender pearls. Except... it is far faster.
The enderman places the pearls in my hands, and waits for a moment.
"You do not know how to absorb them, do you? What a shame. Remove your eye shields, and I will show you."
I pull my goggles down, a bit nervously, as I anticipate the possibility of a human appearing out of the corner of my eye.
"Look into my eyes," the enderman says.
And I do so, staring into the being's purple ellipses, at once aware of how similar it is to the strange face which stares at me in the mirror. Calmness and order fills my mind. The enderman's strangely-shaped consciousness brushes against my own, and with it a mosaic of voices far too alien for me to understand. A body silhouette is projected into my mind. I see an image of enderman hands grasping ender pearls, with the pearls rapidly shrinking. A sharp-edged, irregular polygon is etched into my mind, a concept of thought which commands an exact schematic of an ender pearl. It demands me to understand it, its assembly, its absorption, its existence as a concrete thought distinct from all others. I perceive the polygon. The ender pearls shrink from my hands, and energy surges through my arms. My muscles become restless, the world intensely real, life forces glowing unsolicited all around me, and a topology of the void superimposed over it all.
"I am finished describing the sphere to you. You may put your eye shields back on, if you want," says the enderman.
"Thank you," I mutter in amazement, as I return the goggles to my eyes.
"Before you travel on your way, may I offer some advice?"
"Of course," I say.
"To the west, where a forest clearing is cut off by mountains from the north and a stream from the east, there is a town called, 'Marblemoss.' Golemancers live there. They are human, but they can be trusted. They have the knowledge to extract human souls from bodies. They can extract the human soul fragment from you, and make you pure. They can then refer you to one of our kind, who can give you a proper body."
"I appreciate it, however I am content with the way I am," I tell the enderman.
"What a shame. You have so much potential," the enderman says. "My name is Kleisjend Domeen. And yours?"
"Jonas," I state simply.
"I will remember you, Jonas. I hope we meet again."
The enderman vanishes. I stand dumbfounded for a moment, suddenly aware of the strange world to which the other half of me is connected.
Then, my body now overflowing with energy, I continue to teleport through the city, searching for Chevron.
It is just sunrise. I am in the east quarter of the city, where the towering buildings are packed together but nonetheless well-maintained. The white road tiles are an aesthetically pleasing sun and cloud pattern. Sadly, there is not much in the way of vegetation aside from the occasional potted plants in a windowsill.
Here, I am almost certain I sense the presence of a life force which reminds me of my grandmother Chevron. However, there is only one way to know for certain.
So, hopefully for the last time, I reach with my mind into the void, and pull myself toward the source of this life.
A dark pinewood-walled living room appears around me. Candlelight continues to supplement the still-weak sunlight. In front of me is a large figure in a chair, bending over what appears to be a ledger of some sort. The figure, startled, jerks its head up at me. Its braided hair falls over its shoulder, and I see the blood orange oval eyes of Chevron. Her hair, once yellow blonde, is now a coarse and tangled light grey. Her nose is as thin as I remember, but the the rest of her is heavy-set, cheeks plumped and back rounded.
She stares at me in disbelief.
"Why is there an enderman in my apartment?" she asks shrewdly.
"Chevron, it's me, Jonas. Your grandson," I explain. "Cousin Vrendan was convicted of dark magic, and my best friend Fristad is missing. I wish I could explain everything, but there's no time."
Her eyes grow wide. She places the ledger on a side table, and stands up slowly, her height as impressive as her girth. She steps toward me, and places the palm of her hand on my chest.
"Is it really you, Jonas? In the flesh? Jeb... it's been so long..." She lowers her hand. "Vrendan told me about what happened to you. And Fristad is your farming partner? I can't believe those wolves finally took Dan! I won't stand for it... let's leave at once."
My heart nearly flips over from these words, a sudden shock of hope from Chevron's call to action.
Chevron waddles to the edge of the room, where a red robe hangs. She undresses her current wool sweater, slides on the red fabric, and fastens the grey accent cloth in place across her collarbone.
"What are you planning to do?" I ask.
"We are going to appeal Vrendan," she states.
"But Cubit said there's no appeal for dark magic," I counter.
"He's right," she says, "but I won't let formalities stop me. Can you teleport us both across the city?"
"I don't know if I have enough energy to to that," I admit.
"Then I will get you a potion."
"I can't stand water," I state quickly. "Do you have any ender pearls? I can extract energy from them."
"Yes, I will get some." Chevron walks away, and comes back bringing a brown bag. She holds the bag open in front of me.
There are other things besides ender pearls in the bag, books and potions mainly. I take two ender pearls from the bag, and recall their nature in my mind. The pearls shrink away from my hands, and my body is more restless than ever. I see many purple sparks float around me, and an alien voice compels me to create a pearl. The geometric image once again appears in my mind, and I see once again a pearl forming in my hand. The energy in my body feels less intense. I then place the remaining pearl back in the bag. Perhaps two pearls was one too many.
"Are you ready?" Chevron asks.
I nod.
Chevron hands the bag to me, and holds my hand. The two of us vanish from the apartment and onto the city roofs.