AN: This Short Chapter will either make you cry or make you shrug. But more in a touching way, I guess.

You have been warned.

You'll be happy to hear I've recovered from my little intestinal problem... for now. Hopefully it doesn't resurface, but I'm feeling back to normal. Also, good news, since I was so worried about what to eat and only ate steel-cut oats and walked for the past month - staying away from sugar and fat and salt and shit - I've lost ten or twenty pounds.

Now, I don't look at sugary snacks the same way I did before.

If you ever go on a diet, eat steel-cut oats for breakfast. It's all fiber and it'll keep you full all day long. Made with water, not milk. Soluble fiber stays in your body longer and cleans out bad cholesterol. It tastes bland, so maybe put a bit of honey in it, but a bowl of it really keeps you full. Then you walk a mile or two a day and boom! Skinny!

I'm sticking with it.

Also, been playing Witcher 3 recently. It's been... HANG ON! What if it was the video game that made me lose the weight, not the steel-cut oats!

Disclaimer: I don't own Minecraft. If I did, I'd add Oats.

Chapter 180

Amor

[Dover Plains]

It was nice to know that Dover Plains' Hall of Records hadn't changed location in three-hundred-and-eighty-two years. The buildings surrounding it might've differed, but the hall itself was just as Carmen remembered. Spring had no problem locating it with her guidance. They entered an ornate wooden building and passed a squad of yellow-capped guards before coming up to a stone counter. Spring was very careful to draw the bandana around his neck up so that the three mini magma clones of Carmen wouldn't be seen.

Even though the Hall of Records wasn't the hotspot of the Kingdom, there were plenty of Crafters working behind the counter. All of them were ready to assist at the slightest word.

"Hey. Hello." Spring greeted with a wave, his hands resting on the counter.

"Hello, sir." A pretty clerk greeted with a smile. "How can I help you today?"

"I'm trying to look up a friend of mine." He started. "His name's Alton_Browne. That's Browne with an 'e'. Number is…" Three different vibratos whispered up to him at once. "…three-hundred-and-one-thousand… nine-hundred-and-sixty-two." He pieced together before tucking the bandana closed. "Anyway, I haven't seen him in a while. Current events have me jumpy; I want to make sure he's okay. You understand, right?"

"Completely, sir." The clerk nodded somberly. "When news about Ringwood and Akasha reached us, plenty of Crafters came here to search up their friends and loved ones. See if they were still in the Kingdom and not at risk. Plus, we've gotten a few refugees from Ringwood registered in the records. There's been a lot of movement is what I'm saying. That you know the name AND number makes this easier. Just give me a moment and I'll pull out his records."

"Thanks." He nodded right before the clerk darted off. She went to a trapdoor in the floor and opened it up before climbing down. The records were kept underground for safekeeping.

While he waited, he tugged the bandana up to indulge in idle chatter with Carmen.

"Hey, are your other bits keeping up with us? Dover Plains is a big place."

"They're in an alley outside." One of the clones assured before all three closed their eyes. "I can see where they are—where I am—just as if I was there. We share the same senses. A mente de la colmena."

"I'm guessing that means hivemind."

"Hive…mind…?"

"Multiple beings sharing a single mind. A single consciousness." Spring explained.

"Mm." Carmen hummed noncommittally. "Three of my normal sized selves have reformed. One of them is still as small as a bebé." She blinked her eyes opened. "I've tried my best to stay in the shadows but some of my selves were seen. Artesanos ran at the sight of me. Recoiled from me." Her expression soured. "I'm a monstruo."

"Monster? You can fit in my bandana." Spring tugged it, jostling the three clones out of their misery. "Monsters are reserved for the really scary people in life. The strong ones that can topple a kingdom without breaking a sweat. Like those Hackers I told you about. They're real monsters. Slaughterers."

"Not like you?"

"Whatever you say about me, I never wiped out a kingdom." He argued.

"But if you had the kind of power Hackers do, wouldn't you? Cultista?"

"…Okay, yeah." He admitted. "But isn't that just the next logical step for a killer like me? Difference is, I take lives to feel alive. Lots of cultists do that—Teal among them. The Hackers, though, they kill because they see us as lesser pests. Vermin. They don't feel anything killing us. Which makes their decision to exterminate Akasha even emptier."

"Si. A killer with principles."

"It's my principles that are keeping me from squashing you in my fist." Spring growled threateningly. "And you killed too. What makes you so high and mighty? Because you killed killers? Because you were fighting for your survival and I kill because it thrills me?"

"If that's the only way you feel anything, then you must live a sorry, lonely existence." Carmen said with pity in her glowing orange eyes.

"Muy estúpido." Another clone nodded.

"There's nothing lonely about me. Like Ember said, I'm common. A dime a dozen." Spring said. "There are killers all over, filling prisons or filling graves. They kill just like me. Do I try and justify it? No. Do I convince myself I'm good? No. Do I hide behind Next Life Theory? No. I just do it because I'm satisfying an urge. That's how it's always been." He added almost to himself.

"Dios mío! Why do you even roll out of bed?" Carmen bemoaned. "What do you subsist on? What dreams do you have? Any aspiraciones?"

"My one aspiration was to stand out to Ember. Finally get noticed." He sighed. "I blew it. And with everything accelerating, she won't have time for me anymore."

"Desperation is leaking out of you like a bad odor." The clones pinched their noses in unison. "If she doesn't love you, she doesn't love you. You can't force it. Mi amor and I, we both owned restaurantes, and we clashed like rivals. We saw more of each other, learned our strengths and weaknesses, and, soon enough, we just clicked. You and the bruja? Bah! Nothing in common but the color of your hair."

"What are you, Livin' La Vida Dating?" He shouted into his bandana. "I can't help that I want to envision myself beside Emb—heeeey! You're back!" Spring controlled his voice and struggled to appear nonchalant as the clerk returned from the trapdoor. "So, uh, did you find him?"

"You're in luck, sir." The clerk beamed." Your friend, Alton, is alive and well. His home address is up by Salt Point. It's one of our villages along the coast. Beautiful and tranquil, if a bit chilly. Great fishing."

"Salt Point!" Carmen whispered, prompting Spring to press a hand to his bandana.

"That's great." Spring faked enthusiasm. "Is Salt Point far?"

"No more than a day by horseback. Just follow the coast north and you can't miss it. Let me write you the address."

The village of Salt Point was quaint as they came. Instead of a wall, its protection was an inlet of sea water that wrapped around three quarters of the village. Only way across was a small bridge of land on the east side. The ocean was on the west side along with a lighthouse and a handful of docks devoted to fishing and boats. Off in the distance, you could even make out the Morel Islands.

Spring glanced out to it as he and Carmen rode up the coast. They had started out there only to circle back this close. It was ironic Alton had chosen to move here, only a boat ride away from his imprisoned wife.

"Carmen, I have a question."

"Qué es?"

"How come all sixteen of your mini clones are small enough to fit on one horse," he gestured to the steed covered in miniature dark red and black inchlings, "but together, you're as big as a house? How does that work?"

"Cabrón! You think I know the science!?" Carmen bewailed as a chorus of vibratos. Fifteen bits of her were hanging onto the horse for dear life while the sixteenth was nestled in Spring's bandana. First Class seating. "It just works."

Getting close to the strip of land into Salt Point, Spring urged most of the clones to reform and hide somewhere while one would remain in his bandana. Easier to hide that way. They acquiesced and oozed off the horse before Spring eased the horse into a light trot up to the village's gates. A guard with a yellow leather cap was waiting for him.

"Citizenship Information, Entry Pass, and toll." The guard spoke automatically.

"I don't have an Entry Pass. Not for Dover Plains anyway." Spring said. "I got emeralds, though—"

"Five emeralds for a pass, then another two for the toll." The guard cut him off. Spring quickly handed over the emeralds as well as his Citizenship Information and allowed the guard to peruse it. Seeing everything in order, the guard returned the information with an Entry Pass and allowed Spring to enter. "Enjoy your stay in Salt Point."

"Will do." Spring nodded before stepping forward. Once he was far enough away, he lowered his voice. "Alright, we're in. Address was Three Coastal Way."

"Exactamente." Carmen nodded. "Coastal Way… It'll be by the agua."

They set off down the street, their eyes peeled for the proper sign. Only a few Crafters were out in the small fishing village, though there was a big crowd surrounding a trio of Testificates. They were shouting something and Spring couldn't help but overhear.

"Another Bounty Day is approaching!" One Testificate shouted. "We've sensed it as regularly as we sense the weather! It is coming!"

"But this one will herald bad times!" Another Testificate added. "We can feel it in our bones! A threat we Testificates could never imagine!"

"Our way of life will be threatened!" The third Testificate wailed. "People of Salt Point! This village must be fortified! All villages must be further fortified to combat this approaching calamity!"

The Crafters exchanged troubled looks while Spring slipped past them.

"Another Bounty Day? That's the sixth one this year."

"That means another Hacker died, right?" Carmen inquired.

"Yeah, but the Hack Clan has been stirred up enough." Spring mumbled. "Akasha was retaliation for losing some of their own. No telling how they'll react to this."

"Well, the Testificates don't sound so enthused over this one. Oh! Cultista! The address!" Carmen pointed.

Coastal Way. As she predicted, the street was right along the coast. Beachfront property. Even if the beach was just a few meters stretch of sand.

It was enough for some sea turtles, though. Abyssmal had been right about the explosion of wildlife. Spring had never seen the animals before today. Neither had Carmen for that matter. They moved slow, and were as wrinkled as prunes, but there was a kind of tranquility to them.

Spring pulled out his sword. "I'mma kill 'em."

"Bastardo! Tocas esas tortugas y te derretiré el pene y te converiré en mi perra!"

"Alright, alright! Heel, girl!" Spring re-sheathed his sword even as the mini Carmen kept cursing him out in words he couldn't follow. "Sorry. Never killed a turtle before." An idea suddenly struck him. "Wondered if they'd drop anything. Like turtle meat or turtle soup."

Carmen suddenly stopped, her eyes wide and a bit of drool leaking out. She shook her head. "Your tricks won't work on me, cultista. Now step away from the tortugas."

"…"

"The turtles!"

"Oh, alright." He complained before going down the street.

As it so happened, Three Coastal Way was the address for the lighthouse. It was constructed out of red and white terracotta with redstone lamps at the top that glowed in sequence, signaling to boats where Salt Point was and guiding them to shore. A small wooden house was attached to it. Nothing special, yet Spring could feel Carmen quivering inside his bandana.

"He… He's in there." She breathing started to grow labored. Like she was hyperventilating. "E-Esto fue un error." She whimpered. "I can't do this!"

"Sure you can. You want to see what happened to him, right?" Spring said. "Well now's your chance. We'll just creep by the window and—"

"No, no, no! I can't! I thought I could, but… but now that we're here, I'm too afraid! Olvídalo! Let's just leave!"

"Oh, you're not chickening out!" Spring reached into his bandana and grabbed Carmen, holding her tightly in his fist as he talked down to her. She tried burning his hand, but he endured it. "You roped me into this craziness, we spent all this time tracking him down, and now you're getting cold feet? A Magma Cube Hybrid with cold feet! What a thing! What sort of kidnaper needs encouragement from her kidnapee!?"

"But… but… what if after seeing him, my heart will ache to return to his arms?" She sniffled, twin streams of lava dripping down her neck instead of tears. She had stopped scorching Spring in her worry. "Mi amor will be repulsed at the sight of me, but I might not be able to hold myself back—"

"Then I'll hold you back." Spring assured.

"…Verdaderamente? You will…?"

"With all my strength." He uttered sarcastically, the Hybrid fitting easily in his palm. "We're just going to take a look, okay? Take a look and keep quiet."

"…Si." Carmen wiped her face, her glowing eyes firm. "Just a peek."

"See? Nothing scary." He crept quietly around to the back windows in case the Crafters on the street called him out for peeping. When he found a good one, he stood beside it and peeked covertly inside, his hand supporting Carmen to give her a better look.

The window looked into a kind of sitting room, with two chairs and a carpet floor. A potted tulip was placed on a central table and the walls were decorated with quaint old paintings. It wasn't luxurious, but it wasn't poorly furnished either. A standard middle-class home.

And, sitting on one of the chairs, reading, was Carmen's husband, Alton_Browne.

"Mi amor…" Carmen whispered from within Spring's hand, her tiny hand pressed to the glass. After being apart for so long, the two were separated by a simple pane of glass. It frustrated her to no end how she couldn't bridge the gap because of her hideous form.

He had a prominent forehead—his hairline unusually high—and light brown hair that was thinning in places. He also wore black glasses and a white apron around his waist that read 'Kiss the Cook'. As far as occupational wear to spawn in, it was dead on.

He flipped through a newsbook dully, his eyes reading the daily goings on like he probably did every morning. Yet to Carmen, every mundane action had her enraptured, like she'd never see him again. She was drinking him in, and wishing she brought her other clones so she'd have more sets of eyes on him.

Suddenly, Alton's eyes looked up and Spring backed up for fear of being seen. But it wasn't that. Alton was looking at a clock on the wall.

"Lunch rush." He heard Alton speak to himself before he got up off the chair and moved out of the sitting room.

"Follow him!" Carmen urged. "The cocina! He's gone to the kitchen!"

"You worked in the same restaurant. Didn't you see enough of his cooking?" Spring chuckled, though he complied all the same.

"I want to remember what he was like." She spoke softly.

Unlike the sitting room, the kitchen was lavishly furnished. Three furnaces, a large double fridge, a countertop table, chests with raw foods, a brewing stand for stronger drinks. Even a corner of the room containing tilled dirt and growing crops, like its own little herb garden. Alton slid across the smooth stone slab floor and whistled as he took out some raw meat from the fridge. He then went to the cabinets and took out a few bowls.

"He's making a soup or stew." Carmen whispered, her eyes glued to the window Spring found. "And a meat dish. Bet he'll go for a loaf of pan too. Pairs well with soup." Just as she said, he drew a loaf of bread from a chest. "Ah, muy predictable…"

Alton conducted a series of smooth movements as he cooked. He popped meat in the furnaces, he scooped mushrooms into the bowls, he bottled water and set it to a boil in the brewing stand with some glowstone dust. He knew where everything was; this was his space, his sanctuary. Even Spring could tell that.

"Thick Potion pairs well with the steaks." Carmen nodded, her mouth watering at the sight. She tried to staunch it with little success and her stomach growled traitorously. "Dios mío, I'm salivating…"

"Yeah, me too." Spring admitted with a gulp. "Keep it together, he's almost done."

When everything was finished cooking, Alton set two portions on the table and proceeded to sit down to enjoy it. Through the first mouthful, his eyes brimmed with delight at the flavor. He murmured something under his breath—likely the same appreciative comments Carmen shared—and took a hearty sip of his drink. Utterly relaxed.

But, wait, why was the table set for two—?

"Alton!" A female voice called as a woman entered the kitchen. "It's time for—Oh! You already made lunch. Great!"

"Hey," Alton joked, "what kind of chef would I be if I didn't know when my wife was hungry?"

Carmen's hands closed into tiny fists against the glass.

"A very poor one." The newcomer, Deanna, quipped as she sat down across from him and dug in. "Mmm, sho good." She moaned. "Marry me, Alton. I've fallen for you all over again."

"You say that every meal." Alton dismissed.

"Please. You love hearing it."

"I love knowing my culinary skills haven't gotten… stale." He held up a loaf of bread with a little eyebrow wiggle.

"Snrk. Was that another god-awful pun?"

"Not so god-awful if it made you crack a smile."

"That's only because of the face you made with it. You know I can't help laughing when you do that."

"What? This?" He pulled a goofy face and stretched his cheeks, earning another bout of laughter. "Or this?" He pushed up his nose to look like a pig and mussed up his hair.

"Hahaha! Stop! I'm trying to eat your delicious food!"

Carmen's hands slowly left the window and were drawn to her face, covering her eyes as she sobbed. Spring pulled her away from the window and crept away from the kitchen, his expression somber.

"Carmen…"

"M-Mi amor…" She sobbed. "He… he found another. He replaced me…!"

"Carmen, I…" Spring struggled for the right words for the heartbroken Hybrid. "I'm so sor—"

"Gracias a Dios…" Her hands moved, revealing, not a face twisted in grief, but a face brimming with happiness. "Thank goodness he found someone else. Thank goodness!"

"…Huh?" Spring was dumbfounded, his brow creasing.

Carmen wiped at her tears, but it looked like nothing could dampen her smile. "He remarried. He found someone new."

"I'm… confused? Why are you happy about that?" Spring asked. "Shouldn't you be devastated that he replaced you?"

"No cultista. I came here, worried he had become a miserable husk in my absence, and that he suffered the years apart in loneliness. And that would be how I found him." She smiled. "But he didn't suffer alone. He found love again. And he's contento. What better joy can there be?"

"But… but…"

"The vows were until death do we part, cultista." Carmen pointed out with a coy smile. "He thinks I'm dead. Why should I hold it against him for finding love through loss?"

"But you aren't dead!" Spring wanted to say. He was still having trouble following her logic. The person she loved the most and connected with the most—a soulmate so good they were practically made for one another—and she was happy he was with someone else? If that were Ember in there making kissy faces, Spring would kick the door down, proclaim his return, and sweep her off her feet. To hell with the second spouse!

"So, Alton." Deanna spoke from within the house. Spring and Carmen perked their ears to listen in. "Have you thought about my idea?"

"Can't we just enjoy our meal, Deanna?" Alton tried, looking uncomfortable. Spring and Carmen watched attentively.

"But that's what I'm saying, Alton!" Deanna gushed. "Why should we be the only ones in this village enjoying your food? We could turn this place into a restaurant!"

Carmen's glowing eyes widened.

"Put out some tables to overlook the beach. I'd serve the tables, you cook. It'll be great!" She assured. "And people would come from all around for your cooking."

"Eh… I don't know. Ingredients are expensive." Alton reasoned, moving bits of his stew around. "My job as a guard won't cover it."

Qué? A guard? Carmen thought. Why would he work as a guard? He has no talent with a sword!

"Then forget about being a guard. Have you heard the horror stories lately? The world is getting scarier." Deanna insisted. "Your life is worth more than what they're paying you. And you told me you owned a restaurant!"

"That was before—!" Alton bit his lip after raising his voice, his eyes growing somber behind his glasses. "I can't Deanna. It's still too painful for me…"

"Sweetie, you can't keep yourself from your passion." Deanna said, resting an arm on his shoulder. "You love cooking."

"It reminds me too much of her." Alton covered his mouth and closed his eyes, hunching over his bowl of stew. Carmen watched with her eyes misting over. "Losing El Celler De La Cruz was an insult to her memory. Part of her name was in that place, and I let it slip through my fingers. I can't open another restaurant. Not when I know she won't be there."

"You still miss her, huh?" Deanna said, her expression falling.

"I think anyone would miss their first partner if they were taken like Carmen." Alton sighed before reminiscing. "She and I were the best chefs in Dover Plains. Always pushing each other with our rival restaurants. She loved food almost as much as me, and when she got angry, she'd speak in that beautiful language of hers." He chuckled. "She also had a mouth on her when I found out half the stuff she was saying."

"Well, I can't deny she had great taste." Deanna smirked, resting a hand over Alton's chest. "I would have loved to meet her."

"She would have loved to curse you out in her tongue." Alton laughed. "But, after that, I'm sure you two would have gotten along." He sighed. "I appreciate the gesture, Deanna, but I'm not ready for a restaurant."

"I understand. I won't bring it up again." She promised.

After that, Carmen tugged on Spring's hand to pull her away. Her expression was complicated, even as lava tears fell down her face. After discovering Alton's lingering feelings for her, her joy from before had all but evaporated. She was doing some serious thinking.

"Spring…" Carmen spoke the cultist's name in a rare instance. "There is something I need you to do."

It was late at night when there was a knock at the door. Deanna was still up in the lighthouse, so Alton got up and answered it. Most likely it was the commander of the guards to tell him next week's hours.

However, when he opened the door, all he saw was some orange-haired guy with a sleeveless shirt running off into the darkness.

"Hey! Is this some prank!?" Alton shouted after the fleeing man, taking a step forward. "I'm a guard, punk! You don't want to mess with—!" His eyes fell to his doorstep and the book and quill lying there.

He stared at it for a while before picking it up. It wasn't signed, so he had no idea who wrote it. He stared out to try and find the fleeing man, but he was already lost in the darkness. Alton didn't want to go out with the Drowned spawning at this hour, so he just closed his door with the book tucked under one arm.

"Who was that, dear?" Deanna asked, coming down the stairs.

"Dunno." Alton turned the book over in his hands. "He ran off, but I don't think he's anyone from town. Left this book."

"What's it say?"

Alton flipped it open and almost immediately collapsed in his chair. Deanna ran over, alarmed, as Alton covered his mouth and his eyes shone with tears.

"Honey, are you okay!?" Deanna was at his side in an instant. "What's wrong? What's it say? Is it a death-threat?"

Alton shook his head slowly. "It… it can't be… After all these years…"

The chef began to read aloud.

[To mi amor…]

[I don't know when this message will reach you, Alton, but I'm sure these will be the last words you ever hear from me. I was cruelly stolen from you, and I will soon be killed, but I want you to know that I don't blame you. I consider myself lucky to have found my other half. Cooking with you was the greatest joy of my life, and I only wish I can get back in that kitchen with you one last time and make a three-course meal that'll charm royals and make the gods envious.]

[All I have to think of you in these final moments is the nugget you proposed to me with after making that golden carrot. A combination of your love for me and your love of cooking.]

[Don't despair in my absence. Don't lament my death. I want you to love again, and I'll be watching over you to see that you do. I will always be with you. Every time you get in the kitchen and channel your inner fire, I'll be right there beside you, sharing in the passion we pursued together. Never give it up, Alton. Because you're a chef. That's the man I fell in love with.]

[Goodbye.]

[Your First Love, Carmen.]

Tears dripped on the pages from both Alton and Deanna as they closed the book and sobbed unrestrainedly.

"The g-golden carrot story…" Alton's body shook from his heavy sobs. "Sh-She wrote this… Carmen… Carmen…!"

"I-I never knew that story! That's so-o-o beautiful!" Deanna cried. "B-But she's right! You're a chef, Alton! I don't care what you say, I'm getting you that restaurant!"

"…Let's do it."

He hugged her close, his chin resting on her shoulder, even as he lifted his glasses and wiped at his eyes. His vision blurred from the tears, making him think he saw something over by the window.

"Let's start that restaurant. With the two of us—the three of us—we'll make it the best damn restaurant in Minecraftia! We'll call it Carmen's!" He declared with a wobbly smile. "Let's put this village on the map!"

"That's a wonderful name." Deanna hugged him tight. "A wonderful name."

Over by the window, Carmen smiled fondly before saying her silent goodbye and leaving that house by the sea.

"Gracias, Spring." Carmen returned to the cultist at his hiding place. He lowered his hand and helped her up onto his shoulder. "Without a name anymore, I couldn't have signed that book. I certainly wouldn't have been able to deliver it."

"You sure about this?" Spring asked, to which she nodded.

"He thinks I'm dead, and he's struggled with finding love. Why would I step into his life and rekindle any remaining embers while looking like this?" She gestured to her dark red and black skin. "He has a love in his life. He's contento, and I won't ruin that. Now he won't be burdened with any lingering guilt. He's free to cook again. Gratis."

"But…" He faltered. "Don't you still love him?"

"I do." She nodded, looking back to the lighthouse with a longing gaze. "And it's because I love him that I have to let him go."

"…" Spring folded his arms, his face contemplative. "I just don't get it. You both love being with each other. Yet you purposefully keep yourselves apart. And that's love?" He shut his eyes. "You should be allowed to indulge your urges."

"It's a love that endures." Carmen noted fondly before her expression darkened. "If that Deanna ever breaks my Alton's heart, though, she'll have an irate, oversized señorita on her hands… or four irate, normal-sized señoritas… or sixteen irate—"

"I… get the idea." Spring stopped her before clapping his hands. "So! Guess this is it for us, right? I helped you find your restaurant and settle things with your amor. So now you'll turn me loose, right?" Suddenly, six normal-sized hands rested on Spring's back. "Not right?"

"Not right." The miniature on his shoulder shook her head before jumping off and reforming with the three other miniatures to form the fourth normal-sized clone. "Sorry, cultista. I still need your help."

"Ugh! What else is there?"

"Nada tan malo. It's nothing too bad." They assured in unison. "You can also go back to your cult base if you have to. And you will have to."

He didn't like the tone there. "What do you want?"

"I need Cabezas. Heads." She stated firmly. "One thousand Cabezas. We're going to fix this burnt complexion."

AN: And with that, the Triplex Arc is concluded.

A bit of After Arc Notes: Starting Part VI of My Craft, I knew there'd be a lot of movement going on across all the factions. To adequately adress everything, I knew I'd have to change my writing - split it up - so that everyone would be given their focus. The Endward Cult is accelerating. People are getting stronger. Alliances and friendships have to be forged, connections need to be made and unmade, and future threats need to be set up. Many tracks have been laid in the east and the west, and our heroes will have to hang onto their minecart for dear life as they get there.

This Arc also gave me a chance to show how much the world of Minecraftia has changed following the attacks on Ringwood and Akasha. People are scared, Kingdoms are getting ready for war, and a new climate of fear has settled over the populace.

The toughest part was getting all the days straight. This Arc happened across five or six days. Not weeks, DAYS. That means Cobb had to struggle internally for five days before he reached an understanding with the Paragons out of Spite. Ideally, something like this might take a lot longer, but I don't have that kind of time. He's not fully back to normal, and he might never be normal again, but he has matured. Of that, there is no doubt.

The parts I liked writing the most were either the Endward Cult perspective or the Cobb perspective. To me, they were just far more engaging than the stuff with Carys. Maybe you guys feel differently, but that's just my opinion. I will say writing in three parts gave me a chance to focus on separate characters in a rotating fashion. This must be how Coeur Al'Aran feels whenever he has to write five stories a week.

It was an interesting experience and I'm not sure if I'll continue it for the next Arc. Maybe I'll just have it focus on one group for a while. I haven't decided yet.

FAV. FOLLOW. REVIEW. PM. FORUM. DISCORD. OATS.