Man, I don't know what I'm doing with this story. Apparently this isn't a one-shot anymore. How much longer it'll be, I have no idea. I'll just keep going until the inspiration dissipates. Anyway, enjoy!

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought this was a library. Books were stacked, arranged, and piled on every available surface, including the floor. Shelves reached the ceiling and were overstuffed with books of every size, color, and subject. Upon closer inspection, however, it would be clear this is actually a bedroom. A tiny bed peeked out from the book piles and two holes had been cut into the shelves, one for a closet and the other a door into the rest of the one-bedroom apartment. The rest of the apartment was very tidy. A thin layer of dust on everything, told that things were only tidy because no one had been there in a while.

The screech of an alarm clock tore the silence and startled a pile of books on the bed to life. Dr. Goodman shoved the books off her and slammed her hand down on her alarm clock, luckily hitting the off button and silencing the alarm. She groaned and laid back down. She must have fallen asleep while researching last night. Not an uncommon occurrence, but definitely not comfortable. She pulled a book out from under her, but her back was still aching. Well, that isn't good.

She finally dragged herself out of bed, through the shower, and got dressed. She nearly fell asleep waiting for her pot of coffee to brew, and really didn't wake back up until she was halfway through her second mug. As she ate a bowl of cereal, she scrolled through social media on her phone. An article popped up in her feed that caught her eye.

ZOMBIE BREAKS INTO STONESPIRE NATURAL HISTORY MUSEUM, DESTROYS PRICELESS ARTIFACT AND WINDOW

Around 2:00 AM last night, an undead mob snuck into the museum and managed to destroy a priceless runed coffin from the brand new Natqaina exhibit, which should have opened today. The grand opening has been pushed back, to get refunded tickets and purchase new tickets click here. Security spotted the zombie shuffling through the hallways and attempted to kill it, but it broke through a window on the main floor and escaped. Authorities claim that this is not a cause for concern about an outbreak and police forces are working hard to contain the virus before it can spread any further. Read more…

Dr. Goodman's heart stopped. There hadn't been any reported cases of the zombie virus in Stonespire City in years. Mobs were really only seen deep in forests since the bright lights of civilization drove them off. Besides, this couldn't be a coincidence. A "runed coffin"? As far as she knew, the only coffins that came into the museums were sealed bodies, and none of them had any runes on them. But… that was impossible. John promised that the runed wall they found wouldn't be broken. He even promised that the entire temple wouldn't be excavated, but of course Sam wouldn't have missed the opportunity to sell priceless artifacts. But that coffin was more than an artifact, it was a prison.

It was no coincidence. This wasn't a zombie.

He escaped.

Dr. Goodman was shaking so hard she dropped her phone in her bowl if cereal. She swore and used her shirt to dry the milk off. What was she going to do!? Who could she tell!? John hadn't even known about Him, and he had studied Ancient Slyvica! No one would believe her if she said a murderous immortal from a thousand years ago was back!

Wait. One person might. John. She had warned him this would happen and now that it did, he had no choice but to believe her.

Dr. Goodman shoved her phone in her pocket, grabbed her car keys, threw on some shoes, and ran out the door. She nearly ran into one of her neighbors carrying groceries to his apartment in her mad scramble to get out of there.

"Woah, where's the fire?" the neighbor called.

"Sorry, gotta go!" Dr. Goodman called back.

She started her car and drove out of the underground parking lot beneath her apartment. She would have probably drove several miles above the speed limit, but unfortunately she got caught behind some old guy driving about five under. The kind of self-control she maintained to not swerve around the guy was inhuman. About fifteen minutes and a good chunk of her sanity later, Dr. Goodman made it to the museum.

It was busier than usual, probably because a lot of people wanted to see how close they could get to the crime scene. The hallway to the new exhibit was still blocked off, though, so no one could see what had happened. Dr. Goodman ducked under the velvet rope with ease and walked into an active investigation. Police officers and investigators scurried around, dusting things for fingerprints and collecting evidence in sealed plastic bags. She walked past the broken window and saw it was taped off with yellow police tape. Someone was carefully swabbing a drop of blood on one of the broken pieces. In the center of the exhibit was what remained of the runed coffin. The ground was scorched like the artifact had exploded, instead of just breaking like the article suggested. Dr. Goodman bent down to look at one of the more intact pieces. There was no doubt that these were enchantment runes, but they had completely lost the faint glow they were supposed to have. As she stood back up, she saw Sam and who she assumed to be the museum curator arguing with a police officer over taking the broken coffin for inspection.

"Dr. Goodman!" she turned around and saw John running up to her. "I need to talk to you!"

"Yeah, we do," she replied icily.

John pulled her into an empty room so they could talk. "I assume you're here because you heard what happened," he said.

"You think!?" Dr. Goodman exploded. "He escaped, John! I told you He'd escape and he did! I gave you one job; don't let him escape; and you blew it!"

"I know, okay? I messed up. But you should have heard Sam. He was going to fire me if I didn't let him break open that wall!"

"And your job is more important than whether a magical mass murderer escapes into the modern world!? John, this is serious! This guy has been asleep for literally a thousand years. He basically time traveled to the future and has no idea what anything is! If He decides to choose violence, that is IT for everyone!"

"Okay, okay. I get it. Slow down and tell me everything you know about him," John said.

Dr. Goodman took a deep breath. "Alright, look. I've read just about every book written about Him, but I still don't know that much. There's very few sources that agree with each other about the facts. One said he's a demon, summoned and enslaved by people to protect them from invaders. Others say He was a human that killed a god and stole its power for his own selfish purposes. Sources around and in Natqaina all seem to agree that he was a protecter at some point, so I do believe that's true. Then, something happened. I truly don't know what, but something caused him to snap and go on a killing spree spanning almost every kingdom in the ancient world. That murder streak is also something most sources agree happened, but no one can agree on how many were actually killed by him. Some say it was in the millions, thousands, or even just a couple hundred. He has some sort of magical capability according to most sources as well, but no one can agree what exactly he can do. I've seen it range from just teleportation like an Enderman all the way to telekinesis and psychic powers. I guess it just depends on what kind of power he demonstrated in what location." She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. "Let's see… what else? He's immortal, obviously, and apparently impervious to any weapon."

John raised an eyebrow. "It's literally been a thousand years. We have guns, tanks, and missiles now. I think we should throw a grenade at Him, or at least hit Him with a semi-truck, before we can firmly say He's immune to ALL weapons."

Dr. Goodman found herself laughing. "This is serious, John!"

"Sorry, sorry. Just a thought." He paused to think. "What I heard from all that was a lot of 'I don't know' and 'no one can agree'. We really have no idea what we're going up against, do we?"

Dr. Goodman hesitated. "No, we don't," she said with a sigh.

John chuckled to himself. "Well, if he really did escape, then we're going to find out, aren't we?"

Dr. Goodman scowled at him. "I guess. But what do we do now? Just wait for Him to destroy the world?"

"We should tell the police about this. They need to know that this isn't just a zombie they're up against."

"Probably. By the way, why do they think He's a zombie?" Dr. Goodman asked.

"Apparently someone tested the blood on the glass shards for the virus and it came back positive," John said with a shrug. "And the night guard that saw him said He moved like a zombie. I've chalked that up to 'hasn't moved in a thousand years', though. The guard did confirm that this is Him, since he saw glowing white eyes."

Dr. Goodman bit her lip. "What does Sam say? You told him about Him, right?"

John nodded. "I told him, but he didn't believe me, remember? He hasn't seemed to connect the dots yet either."

Dr. Goodman thought for a moment. "Ugh, this is a nightmare," she said, burying her face in her hands.

John nodded. "Sarah, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I should have listened to you."

Dr. Goodman nodded. "We're going to fix this, though. Come on, we're talking to the police."

The night before…

Bright white eyes shot open. Herobrine's breathing was shallow and his heart pounded in his chest. What the… where was he? What happened? His memories were coming back, but not fast enough.

…Oh. Oh right. The ritual flashed through his mind. He could still hear the priests' chanting as one of them lowered the lid onto the stone coffin. He had been screaming, but none of them cared.

He looked around, the light of his eyes lighting up his otherwise pitch-black surroundings. It appeared he was still in the coffin. How… how was he awake? He knew the enchantments placed on the box were meant to hold him forever. Had someone found him? That didn't seem possible. Maybe something went wrong with the ritual! Oh, he could hope. He was going to kill those priests. They made the mistake of trying to imprison him until the end of time, and they were going to pay for it.

He tried to move his hand, but his numb fingers barely responded. He couldn't even feel his feet. Okay, he had been laying here for a long time. He carefully tried to clench and unclench his fists to get his blood circulating again. He tried to move his feet too, but that would clearly take a bit more time.

Lets see how his power held up.

He placed his palms against the stone and closed his eyes. He felt his power surge through his body, but with it came an unfamiliar pain. He ignored it and continued. His power ran through the stone box, making red vein-like marks across its surface. The pain suddenly spiked to an unbearable level and he stopped with a small moan of pain. It was like he was being branded with red-hot knives across his arms. He hissed in pain and waited for the pain to die down. Right. He faintly remembered the priests painting the runes down his arms to prevent him from using his power. A cowardly move on their part. A little pain never stopped him.

Once the pain was almost gone, he tried again. His power coursed through the stone, redrawing the red marks. The pain came back worse this time and he screamed. He didn't stop, though, until the stone walls and lid of the coffin exploded.

He sucked in the wave of fresh air that wafted over his face. Fresh air. Oh, it had been far too long. He smiled softly as he just breathed. He was free. He was finally free.

He opened his eyes and struggled to sit up. He his legs and feet were still quite numb, but he could feel a slight fuzziness in his toes which hopefully meant they were getting blood flow. He managed to sit up, though, and looked around. Wait, he wasn't in the temple or The Hall of the Sealed.

He was sitting on a pedestal in the center of a large room. The broken pieces of the box that previously held him were scattered around his pedestal. The walls were lined with weapons and tapestries that he recognized from Natqaina, but there was something wrong with them. The swords were rusted and the tapestries were tattered. Display cases held pieces of jewelry and enchanted pieces of armor, but everything was covered in dust. This was a museum.

Okay, so he had been unconscious a bit longer than he thought.

He swung his legs over and tried to stand, but almost immediately collapsed to the ground with a small burst of ancient swears. He clutched the pedestal and tried to get his feet under him, but they were not cooperating with him. He still couldn't feel his feet.

The echoes of footsteps reached his ears. His white eyes flicked towards the dark hallway leading out of the room. Someone heard the explosion and was coming. He swore a little bit more and forced himself to his feet. He finally managed to get himself upright, but he was not confident he could take a single step without falling on his face. The footsteps were getting louder; the person was getting closer. "H-hello? Who's there?" an unfamiliar voice called.

A human walked into the room. He was noticeably overweight, with his gray uniform stretched tight over his round belly. He was holding a strange device that shined light from the end, almost like an extremely bright torch. The man pointed the light at Herobrine, and he shielded his eyes from the sudden brightness.

"Hey! What are you doing here!?" the man demanded. Herobrine didn't respond, instead he dashed for the nearest window. The man tried to grab him, but Herobrine stumbled out of the way just in time. His legs still weren't working right, so he wasn't really running he was just stumbling quickly. He ran into the window and fortunately was able to break the glass. He hit the ground, cutting himself on the glass shards underneath and around him. He looked back up at the fat man, who didn't seem too eager to follow. Instead, the man was saying something to a small black box. Herobrine didn't wait to hear what the man said or what the box was. He scrambled to his feet and limped away as fast as he could.

He was free. Those priests were fools for trying to seal away Herobrine. He didn't know how long he had been out, but it probably wasn't as long as they hoped. He was going to find them and kill every single one for what they did. Herobrine looked up at the full moon shining down on him and grinned. He was free. He was finally free.

…