PROLOUGE

Thunder rumbled in the distance and dark storm clouds obscured the last of the fading light. The trees whispered from the wind tussling their branches. The very earth seemed excited from the coming storm.

A figure ran through the forest as fast as his legs could carry him. His heart pounded with his footsteps and his glowing white eyes shined unnaturally bright in the growing gloom. He had one arm around his stomach, where a diamond sword had been firmly planted inside him. His light blue shirt was shredded from the blade and dyed red with his blood. If he had been human, this would have been a fatal wound. However, the healing magic in his blood would erase the wound within a week, leaving nothing but a faint scar. He'd have to pull the sword out first, though, but he couldn't afford to do that right now. He couldn't afford to leave a blood trail for his pursuers to follow. That sword was currently a plug in his body.

Herobrine heard shouts behind him, and he forced his body to move faster. His legs throbbed from overexertion and his wound was becoming harder to ignore. He looked at his hands, which were wet and slick with his own blood. He swore in a few different languages and kept running.

As he ran, he started criticizing himself. Of course that lone soldier in the forest was a trap. How could he be stupid enough to fall for that? Now he was mindlessly running through the forest being chased by a dozen soldiers and he was too injured to teleport away. What an irritating way to end his weekend. Uncommon? No. But irritating all the same.

A familiar "Vrrp" of an Ender teleporting echoed through the forest. A smile tugged on his lips and he slowed his run. Since the death of the Ender Dragon almost a thousand years ago, the Enders had rebuilt their society and had become active participants in trade and delegation with the other dimensions. Their colonies could be found all over the Nether and Aether, but not quite as commonly in the Overworld because of rain. Most Enders would have fled at the sight of the upcoming storm, which meant that there was only one person this Ender could be.

Suddenly, Herobrine tripped on an unseen root and fell on his hands and knees. The sword cut deeper into his flesh and a small cry of pain escaped him. He clutched the weapon and let out a long string of profanity. Someone grabbed his arm and instinctually, he swung a punch at whoever it was.

"Hey, hey, hey! It's me!" a familiar voice with a thick Ender accent said. Herobrine immediately stopped fighting and looked up to see a friendly pair of purple eyes.

"Tropelet!" The Ender helped Herobrine to his feet but he almost immediately lost his balance and fell. Tropelet caught him and leaned him against a nearby tree.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" The Ender asked.

"A group of soldiers. They're somewhere around here, looking for me. I can't teleport and I… I don't have it in me to run anymore." He drew his weapon, a diamond pickaxe shimmering with enchantments. "Looks like it's coming down to a fight." He winced from the sharp pain just moving caused his injury.

"If you can't even run, then you can't fight! They'll kill you!" Tropelet pointed out. "I would fight for you, but…" he cast an anxious look at the dark clouds. No matter how loyal he was to Herobrine, he still had a deep, instinctual fear of water.

Herobrine sighed and looked up at the sky with a mixture of pain and remorse. "So, this is it, huh. I thought I'd go out a bit more spectacularly than this." He looked down at his pickaxe, where his name had been carved into the handle in Aetherian. Memories flooded his head, particularly of who had carved that name. He had failed him. Herobrine was going to be captured tonight or killed, and all his fighting will have been for nothing.

Herobrine screamed in pain as the white claws of magic dragged down his body, forcefully scraping the magic out of him.

He flinched from the memory. No doubt that if he was captured, he would have to endure that painful procedure again. Except this time, he wouldn't be allowed to live afterward. King Haurus wouldn't make that same mistake a second time. Herobrine sneered at the very thought of the Aetherian king. The king would probably take his powers for himself. He'd always lusted for the kind of magic Herobrine wielded and if given a second shot, he wouldn't hesitate to add Herobrine's power to his own. It would make him the most powerful Aetherian to have ever lived and he would probably rule forever. Just the thought caused Herobrine to recoil in disgust.

No. Herobrine was not going to let that monster of a man get his hands on his power. He couldn't fight his inevitable capture, but he wasn't going to roll over and let the king take his power.

"Tropelet," The Ender looked at Herobrine when he said his name, "I'm going to ask a great favor of you. I'll probably never ask something this serious of you ever again."

"Of course, anything."

"I will not let Haurus get his greedy little fingers on my magic," Herobrine sneered at the very thought. "So, I want you to take them and hide them somewhere safe. If Haurus executes me, I want you to destroy them so no one can have them. Please."

Tropelet straightened his posture. "It will be my honor."

Herobrine struggled to his feet, gritting his teeth from the sharp pain moving caused him. He held out his hands in front of him, closed his eyes, and began the spell.

White lines of magic appeared across his skin and his eyes shot open, glowing brightly. An orb of solid white magic appeared in his hands and started drawing the lines into itself, pulling the magic out of Herobrine's body. He threw his head back and shrieked in pain.

"Herobrine, stop! You don't have to do this!" Tropelet exclaimed, but his words went unheard. Herobrine continued the spell, but the longer it went, the more it hurt. The orb grew larger and larger as more of his power was added. But just before the last of his power was removed, he stopped the spell. He fell to the ground, tears running down his face. The orb rolled to the side and Tropelet picked it up. It was about the size of a softball and radiated with pure energy. If Tropelet had any hair, it probably would have been standing on end. He tucked the orb away and looked at Herobrine, who hadn't quite recovered yet from the spell. "Herobrine?"

Herobrine groaned and looked up at Tropelet. His white eyes no longer glowed with power, but more concerningly, they lacked any familiarity when he met Tropelet's gaze. "What the… who are you!?" Herobrine demanded, scrambling away from the Ender. He quickly stopped, though, from the pain this was causing his wound.

"Herobrine, what—" the realization quickly hit Tropelet. "Oh no, Herobrine, you removed your memories! We need to get this back inside you!" Before Tropelet could do anything, though, a large drop of rain fell onto his shoulder. He hissed in pain as the water burned a small hole into his skin. He looked up at the sky and saw the storm clouds were right on top of them. The wind whipped the trees and the air smelled like rain. The storm was here.

"I think I saw something over here!" A voice shouted in the distance. Tropelet saw a few armored guards moving in the distance. They were coming this way.

Tropelet was out of time.

He looked down at Herobrine, who was still staring at him in terror. "I… I'm so sorry," he whispered as he took a step back.

"Wait, where are you going!?" Herobrine demanded. He reached for Tropelet, but almost immediately regretted it. He winced and instead wrapped his arms around his stomach. He looked back up at Tropelet, tears welling up in his eyes. "Please, don't leave me," he begged.

"I'm sorry," Tropelet bit back his own tears. Another drop of rain landed on the top of his head and the soldiers' shouts were getting closer. He took another step back and vanished, leaving no trace he had been there except for a few floating purple particles. He left just in the nick of time, too, because at that moment, the soldiers arrived. There were seven of them, all clad in enchanted netherite or diamond and wielding swords. All of them were Aetherian.

The leader of the soldiers smirked triumphantly at Herobrine. He stared up at her in pure terror. She grabbed the handle of the sword imbedded in his stomach and violently ripped it out. Herobrine's scream of pain went unacknowledged and he doubled over, sobbing. "Huh, I honestly thought I'd never see this again," the woman remarked as she admired the bloodstained blade. She sheathed the weapon and looked down at Herobrine with a satisfied sneer. "By the decree of the King, you're under arrest," she said. Two of the soldiers forced Herobrine to his feet, ignoring his sobs of pain and the blood pooling around him, and cuffed his hands behind his back.

The expected rain finally started. Massive drops of water fell from the sky, drumming against the trees and washing away the blood on the ground and with it, the last traces of Herobrine's capture.