CHAPTER 7

A bitter wind blew through the camp. The sky was gray, but at least it wasn't snowing. All that could be seen for miles was cold, snow-covered wasteland and the occasional rabbit. The wind made the flames of the campfire flicker and Herobrine shuddered.

Okay, what was going on? The change between the last memory and this one was rather startling. Almost a full century had passed since the last memory, and a war had broken out between the Nether and the Aether in that time. A set of Aetherian twins named Entity and Null had taken over the Nether, rallied up an army of Piglins and wither skeletons, and attacked the Aether. Herobrine, who was now an adult, had been drafted into the military and Steve had moved to the Overworld to escape the conflict. By now, they were almost two hundred years old.

Alex actually remembered learning about the Aether-Nether war. It ended just a few years before she was born, with the Aether driving back the Nether and putting heavy sanctions on trade. She had no idea that Herobrine fought in this war. Is this what turned him evil? She'd have to see.

Herobrine reached his hand into the fire and lit his hand ablaze. The flames didn't hurt him, but they instead thawed out his numb fingers. He danced the flame between his two hands, trying to use it to warm himself up. He looked out at his small military camp perched on a rather small island. They were on the coldest, most northern islands of the Aether because, apparently, someone saw a Nether portal up here. Nowadays Nether portals meant the twins' forces were nearby, so of course they had to check it out. There was nothing up here but chunks of ice that somehow got deemed official islands. Herobrine sighed and tucked the flame close to his chest. The last thing he wanted to was be up here, freezing his butt off over a portal that may or may not exist.

Another solder rubbed his hands together and joined Herobrine next to the fire. He gladly slid over to let the soldier sit. Judging by the looks on almost everyone's faces, no one wanted to be here any more than he did.

"You're lucky you can make fire," the soldier muttered.

Herobrine glanced over at him. "Yeah, but even if I lit myself on fire I'd still be cold. That's what happens when you're standing outside in the gods' icebox." He snickered and the soldier laughed.

"At least your power is useful out here. I can control plants, and as you can see, there isn't a speck of green for miles and miles. All I have is this." He pulled out a small potted rose. The petals were wilting and the leaves were turning brown. "I've been trying really hard to keep it alive, but it's just too cold."

Herobrine nodded in sympathy. "I would offer trying to heat it up, but I don't want to burn your only plant."

The soldier chuckled, then sighed. "Yeah. Thanks anyway." He tucked the small pot away. "I'm just out of my element. I can't wait until we get to go home."

Suddenly, an arrow sailed through the air and shot the soldier right in the chest. Both he and Herobrine screamed as the soldier fell to the ground. "I'm okay! I'm okay," he reassured him, ripping out the arrow. Herobrine whirled around to see where the arrow came from—and his heart dropped out of his chest.

Just barely visible in the distance was another island. Through the blowing snow and thick clouds, Herobrine could barely see about two dozen Piglins lined up, all pointing crossbows at the camp. Behind them, though, was something far more terrifying than a bunch of armed pigs.

Two figures stood on top of the island, their ink black skin standing out against the white snow. The first had glowing white eyes, the unmistakable sign of an eldest Aetherian twin. She had long, thick black hair that waved in the wind. She wore deep red robes with Aetherian runes sewn into the edges with gold thread. She held a staff made of crimson wood and a small soul flame burned at the top. The second had bright red eyes. He wore heavy Netherite armor that was clearly enchanted and a tattered white cape on his back. He held an overly massive sword with bright red lines running down the blade.

Entity and Null were here, and they had brought an army.

…

Rain pattered on Alex's face as she slowly opened her eyes. She was looking up at the gray sky and tree branches reaching over her head. She looked around a little bit, trying to remember what she was doing in the forest. Her head throbbed and the tips of her fingers felt numb, which probably wasn't a good sign.

Alex spotted the half-melted, twisted remains of Cyrena's sword and everything came back to her. Right, the fight. She fought an Aetherian… and won. Wait, she won? How… how was that even possible? She was just a human and that was an Aetherian. People don't win fights against Aetherians. That's just not how this works. And yet, here she was.

Alex slowly sat up, wincing at the pain in her joints. The rain was slowing down, but there was evidence of a downpour earlier. Alex was thoroughly soaked to the bone. She rung out her hair as she stood up. Oh no, Tropelet! It had probably been hours since she left, and the Ender probably wasn't able to search for since everything was wet. She hurried back to the village, ignoring the side eyes from the villagers. They were probably curious about why she hadn't sought shelter during the storm, but none of them were going to ask about it.

When Alex opened the front door, she was immediately met with a very angry Enderman. He kept making a strange grumbly noise in the back of his throat and his gaze was locked on Alex's eyes, a clear sign of a threat. "Where in the four realms have you been!?" he demanded.

"Relax. I was just… out." Alex didn't really want to tell him she failed to turn him over to the Aetherians and got into a fight.

"You didn't tell me where you were going! I was afraid you had been captured!" he screeched.

"What are you, my mom? I don't report to you!" Alex snapped back.

He snarled, showing off his sharp teeth. "Maybe not, but I am responsible for you. I have made numerous promises to both you and Herobrine. If you die, I break all of those."

"Why do you care about promises so much?" Alex demanded. "They're just debts you put on yourself. You're promise to me is one thing, but to Herobrine? You don't owe him anything."

"He put his trust to me! That is a debt enough!" Tropelet retorted.

"It doesn't matter, he's going to die anyway," Alex said with a shrug. She turned away, but Tropelet let out an infuriated screech and grabbed her by the shirt collar. He hoisted her up to eye level with him. "Don't you EVER speak about Herobrine like that again, you tsalb rekluhs! He has done more for me than you could ever imagine! I OWE HIM MY LIFE!" he roared. Alex fought against his grip but he was a lot stronger than he looked, even with one arm. Her feet were dangling a foot off the ground. She was completely powerless in his grasp. His eyes narrowed and he pulled Alex's face uncomfortably close to his. "If me keeping my promises is such an inconvenience to you, then I should kill you right now. It is both my debt to Herobrine and you keeping you alive right now. Without that, I have no reason to preserve you."

Alex stared at him in terror. He had a scarily good point, and now it was up in the air if he was going to kill her, literally. Luckily, Tropelet instead scowled at her and set her back on the ground. "You're fortunate my loyalties are more important to me than what you have to say. Next time you feel like being ignorant, though, do it in a way that doesn't endanger your own life." Alex adjusted the now stretched-out collar of her shirt while Tropelet walked away.

"Tropelet, I'm… sorry. I… I didn't mean it like that."

Tropelet hesitated, but didn't turn to face her. "Then how did you mean it?" he hissed.

Alex hesitated, unable to pull up a good excuse. "I'm sorry."

Tropelet just scoffed and teleported out of sight.