Chapter Text
Not for the first time, he finds himself questioning: "Why did it have to be a desert?"
With the heat of the sun bearing down on him, Steve hurries to Sand Haven, the village he sorta kinda lives in but not really. It's more like he lives there in spirit, since his actual house is about a thirty minute trek across the hot and sandy desert biome to the edge of a forest biome, where there are plenty of trees for wood. As a miner, wood is pretty important to him. Also cool breezes and greenery, lots of greenery.
But Sand Haven had been his first home, after he’d woken with no memories a year and a half ago and stumbled upon it after weeks of harrowing travel, so he makes an effort to visit them regularly. Usually every morning does the trick, sometimes more if he needs supplies in a hurry.
Today is like most days. Though the sun has only just risen, already he feels like he's being cooked alive in his boots. The bag on his back feels extra heavy and he can already tell his shirt's going to be soaked through with sweat if he doesn't get out of this heat.
Luckily the village comes into view shortly, and he hurries his pace in eagerness, both to see the villagers, who are like family to him, and to find some shade before he bursts into flames.
He sighs as he finally makes it under cover, using the awning from the blacksmith's shop to shield himself from that deadly sun. He swings his bag forward and pulls out a water bottle, watching the people of Sand Haven start their days.
When he feels like he's recuperated enough, he makes his way to the cleric's house. Everyone greets him as he passes, and he them, happy to see those he considers close friends and family. After all, they're all he's ever known.
The cleric, Jacob, is not at his house, as Jacob's grandson James tells him when he answers the door. He's at the "potion place," as young James so eloquently puts it. Steve thanks him and heads there instead.
When he knocks on the door to the apothecary's house, Jacob opens it and smiles widely at him, though Steve can see an underlying sense of stress to his features.
"Ah, Steven! What great timing, come in come in," Jacob urges, leading him through the house until they come to what looks like a storage room. Several chests are lined against the walls, and potions sit brewing in their stands. An elderly woman is looking through a chest, disapproval heavy on her wrinkled face as she mutters to herself. Jacob clears his throat.
The potion master and the village's resident apothecary, Bethany, glances over her shoulder, flicking her eyes between them before her gaze settles on Steve. Her expression relaxes. "Speak of the devil, eh Jacob?" She croaks.
"Indeed," Jacob replies, putting a hand on Steve's shoulder and turning to him. "Beth and I were just talking about you."
"Were you now," Steve says slowly, noticing their odd behavior. They seem more anxious than normal and are clearly hiding something. "Just say what you want to say."
"Very sharp you are Steven, that's some gift," Jacob says. He glances over at Beth, who waves a hand at them. "Very well then, I'll say it plainly. We're out of Nether wart."
The implications of this pass over Steve's head entirely. He’s never been one for brewing. "And this is bad because..."
Jacob sighs and rubs a hand across his brow. "Without Nether wart, we can't make potions of healing or regeneration."
Steve's eyes widen. A lot more serious than he’d thought then. "Really? I know it’s involved in potion making but I didn't know it was that important. What are you gonna do about it?"
Jacob looks nervous again, and Beth comes up next him, tapping her cane against the floor impatiently.
"We...we were wondering if you could retrieve some for us." Jacob continues uneasily, as if fearing Steve's reaction. "As I'm sure you're aware, Nether wart is only obtainable in the Nether. I don't want you to feel obligated to do this, the Nether is extremely dangerous and little is known about what lies beyond the portal into that realm. If you—"
"If I don't do this," Steve interrupts, "Then a lot of people will suffer in the long run. Of course I'd be willing to go for the sake of the village." Plus, just running through a mental list of the villagers who live here, not a single one comes to mind to be a good candidate to undertake a mission to the Nether. Steve is the most capable fighter by far.
Jacob sags in relief and he clasps his hands as if in prayer, a kind smile tugging at his lips. "Oh bless you Steven, you're our savior."
"I do what I can," Steve shrugs. To him, it’s a no-brainer. He’s able to go, so why wouldn’t he? He owes everything to these people and this place.
Beth whacks Jacob lightly on the back of his legs with her cane for his attention. They share a long look before Jacob turns back to him.
"When can you go?" Jacob asks.
"Right now if need be," Steve replies honestly. For these people, he would drop everything to help them. Plus, not like the mines will be going anywhere.
"Oh need certainly be," Jacob nods. "In that case have David fit you with some armor and I will gather some supplies for you. When you are ready, meet us at the temple."
"Sure thing," Steve says, and leaves for the blacksmith. David is strangely emphatic to the task he's been assigned, and gives him a full set of the strangest armor Steve’s ever seen, a mix of chain mail and leather. The leather pieces have been strategically affixed to more sensitive areas of the armor, like the chest, forearms, thighs, and so on. David even goes so far as to personally fit it to his frame. Steve thanks him before leaving for the desert temple located just outside the village, the strange armor making him feel confident.
Jacob and Beth stand shoulder to shoulder in front of a large obsidian structure located in the middle of the sand temple. Steve eyes it as he approaches. He’s seen it a couple times over the last year, but every time leaves him with a strong sense that he’s forgetting something.
"Well, Steve, this is it," Jacob explains. He eyes Steve, nodding appreciatively at the armor. "What do you know of the Nether?"
"Not much," Steve admits. "The most I've heard about it are from the same legends everyone knows."
"Those were born from truths, believe you me," Beth says, tapping her cane against the strong obsidian base. "Do not let your guard down in there. You must be ever vigilant, twice as much as if you were mining."
"What should I expect?" Steve asks, feeling apprehension in the pit of his stomach. The portal, though clearly inactive, gives off an ominous vibe of impending doom. And that damn sense of forgetting something is drilling into his brain.
"Pigs that walk on all fours and carry swords of gold with unnatural strength—"
"Slimes made purely of magma—"
"Blackened skeletons with stone swords—"
"Giant flying monsters that shoot—"
"Okay! Okay," Steve exclaims, holding his hands up in signal for them to stop. They didn’t have to be so literal. "I get it, dangerous place with dangerous mobs. Sheesh," Steve mutters to himself. "I shouldn't have asked."
"We don't want you to get discouraged," Jacob supplies, handing him a sheathed sword. Steve looks at it curiously, though is quickly awed as he discovers the blade is made of diamond, and not only that, but enchanted diamond. The brilliantly crafted weapon shimmers with power. Just holding it makes him feel stronger. There are no signs of use on the pristine blade. He secures it around his hips. "I just want you to understand how careful you must be. But the village will forever be in your debt for this act of kindness. Though born of necessity, not many people would venture into the fiery depths of the Nether."
"Yeah," Steve mumbles. "I can see why..." He stares at the portal, asking himself if he truly wants to go through with this. It's not that he's afraid of looking like a coward, more like he knows he's the most capable fighter in the village and another would take several days to arrive. Who knows what might happen that could necessitate the use of a potion? "Anything else?"
"You will only find the warts in a fortress," Beth says wisely, staring straight at the portal as if seeing what lies beyond. "Look for dark red bricks, and make haste."
"Got it," Steve nods. "So how do you activate it?"
"With a spark," Jacob says, handing him a flint and steel. "Light the base of the portal and it will flare to life." Jacob glances at the portal, considering something, before speaking again. "There are stories telling of those pigmen crossing the portal into our world. I hope you understand when I say I cannot have the portal opened for an extended period of time."
"That...makes sense," Steve admits, though the thought of being cut off from the Overworld and essentially trapped in a hellish realm of fire and death frightens him a little. "Can the portal be lit from both sides?"
"Oh yes, if you wish to return you may light the Nether's portal, same as in the Overworld. Once one is lit, the corresponding portal will activate as well."
That's good to hear, Steve thinks to himself. He takes several deep breaths to calm his racing nerves before walking up to the portal and striking the flint and steel. Sparks land on the obsidian and instantly the portal bursts to life, filling the frame with a swirling purple essence. Tucking the flint and steel safely in his pack, Steve looks back at Jacob and Beth. "I'll be back soon," he promises, and steps into the portal, disappearing from sight.
"I hope so," Jacob says quietly, and Beth taps her cane against the hard sandstone ground.
][][][
Hot and dry air slams into his face as Steve steps out of the portal, coughing at how incredibly smoky the area is. When he gets his bearings, he surveys the land he's arrived in with a growing sense of both dread and wonder.
The Nether stretches far beyond his sight in all directions. The strange red block that comprises a vast majority of the terrain feels slightly squishy under his boots. Outcrops and divots litter the visible landscape. He takes several careful steps forward, testing his footing against the unfamiliar environment. There's a drop in front of him, and his eyes widen as the largest pool of lava he's ever seen comes into view. It's really less of a pool and more of an ocean, stretching far beyond what he can see. Looking up now, he sees more strange geometry, and thinks about how alike the Nether is to a cave. He wonders what he'll find if he digs up through the blocks on the ceiling. Light shines around clumps of a glowing material high up, like natural lamps.
The platform he's on, though suspended over lava by at least fifty feet, seems relatively safe, so he stands and allows himself the time to get used to the harshness of the air, which is so dry undoubtedly because of all the fires about. It also gives him time to examine the land some more as he waits for his body to adjust to such a sudden change in climate.
Pouring from the ceiling are long streams of lave, not unlike waterfalls. These lavafalls, as he sees fit to call them, seem periodic but are fascinating. He can’t help but compare what he’s seen so far of the Nether to a giant cave. And from what he can see of lava, it moves differently. There isn't any around him presently, but it looks to be moving faster than what he's used to. He wonders if the heat is making him hallucinate already.
After several minutes of inactivity, Steve's startled when the portal behind him abruptly fizzles out. He hadn't noticed before but with the portal gone, so too is the eerie sounds it made. Left in relative silence, Steve feels cut off from his home in a way he's never felt before. In the back of his mind, that feeling of forgetting something is strangely muted, and though he does feel lonely, there’s something about being in the Nether that also makes him feel...he’s not entirely sure—happy he supposes, though it makes little sense.
Feeling parched, Steve pulls out a water bottle from his pack. When he opens it the water evaporates immediately, and he stares at it in shock before deflating. "Well, there goes that."
Stuffing the empty bottle back in his pack, he deems himself ready enough and checks his compass for direction. However, the compass needle spins in circles, rendering it useless to him, so he turns his back to the portal and walks.
The only thing remotely familiar about the Nether are the mushrooms growing in abundance on the ground. It's weird that mushrooms, of all things, would find this hell habitable, but he shrugs and moves on.
He doesn't know how much time passes, and he feels worse than when he walks across the desert to get to Sand Haven from his house, but eventually he spots the dark red brick of the fortress, and thanks Notch that his stay in this Gods-forsaken realm will be short.
So far the only mobs he's seen are the pigmen and huge flying beasts that shoot fireballs. The pigmen don't attack him, and he suspects they're more like wolves than zombies—though half dead and decaying, the pigmen mind their own business if he minds his. He takes extra caution around them, unsure just what might set them off and how, if at all, they would attack. Gold swords, usually more for show and grandeur, look threatening and deadly in their hands. The fireball shooting creatures are far more terrifying. Steve had been alerted to one’s presence by its terrible, shrieking cry. Being so large, they don't fly particularly fast, but their attack range is impressive and deadly accurate. Through coincidence and pure luck, Steve had discovered that he could deflect the balls with the flat of his sword, and though he’s reluctant to let the fiery blasts get too close to him, deflecting the shots back at the flying mobs worked best in killing them. Had he a bow, he might have been able to fight them off more efficiently, but Jacob had not supplied him with one, nor had he thought of bringing one.
But with the fortress coming into view, Steve can soon leave the troubles of the Nether behind him and continue on in his life. He'll not be returning to the Nether in his lifetime, he swears it to himself.
He crouches along one long walkway, keeping in mind to be cautious, though his eagerness to find the warts and flee this miserable place fuels his determination. When no mobs make themselves known, he jumps up onto the walkway and starts toward the bulk of the fortress. He does not know where to find the warts—he hadn't thought to ask—so he checks every corner and cranny.
He peeks around one corner and stops. Breath barely leaving his lungs, he attempts to stay as still as possible as to not alert the large skeletons in front of him.
Their charcoal bones are a stark contrast to their Overworld counterparts. They also tower over him in height, a disadvantage for him. Like the gold swords in the pigmen's hands, stone swords have never looked so deadly, and though the skeletons have thin arms and look weak, Steve knows that this is most likely not the case.
I'll just...go this way, he thinks to himself, turning about face and walking as quickly and quietly as he can away from the mobs. Unfortunately, Steve has always had bad luck when it comes to escaping mobs unseen, as a small cube jumps from around the corner before him and causes him to pause, his shuffling alerting the large skeletons to his presence. Without preamble, they charge after him, moving quicker than he can walk, unlike Overworld skeletons. He'll have to run if he wants to escape.
Thoughts of sprinting mobs and a horrible death plague him as he tries to escape. Luckily their top speed is only just faster than a normal walk, so Steve finds comfort in the fact that he will most likely flee successfully.
He rounds several corners, attempting to confuse the mobs, and hears what sounds like bones clinking heavily against each other. He hopes one of them tripped and stalled the others, and when he hears nothing more, he slows and catches his breath, which proves difficult in the stifling heat.
He misses the eyes watching him from the shadows, distracted as he is.
He walks a little farther down the hallway just to be sure he’s in the clear and sees a flash of red up ahead. Hope filling him and fueling his steps, he comes to a staircase and on either side—nether wart.
"Yes!" He exclaims, wiping the sweat from his brow. Riding on a high from accomplishing the first part of his mission—the next being getting out of here in one piece—Steve goes to work harvesting the warts. Halfway through he realizes that the warts seem to be growing on some kind of sand.
He takes a moment to inspect the brown sand beneath the warts. The more he looks at it, the more uneasy he feels, and he doesn't quite know if he's hearing things or not but there are whispers, like someone is speaking right into his ear. But when he checks, there's no one there. Shaking himself out of the weird stupor he'd fallen into, Steve gathers the rest of the warts and shoves them all into his pack, shoveling some of the sand into his pack as well, on a whim.
Just as he stands upright an arrow races past him. Looking to his left sharply, he sees an Overworld skeleton aiming its bow at him and a little behind it, two more of those tall dark skeletons.
"Great," Steve mutters, his heart racing in his chest. Hauling his pack onto his back, Steve runs up the stairs, just barely managing to dodge an arrow aimed at his head. Glaring over his shoulder at the regular skeleton, Steve breaks out into a run and navigates his way outside the fortress. His only problem now?
"Well perfect!" Steve stands at the edge of the broken walkway, where lava awaits him. Glancing behind he sees the three skeletons still chasing, and he shifts back and forth nervously as he weighs his odds.
Fighting three normal skeletons might have turned out okay, but fighting two of those tall, dark, and scary skeletons? He'll probably end up skewered and tossed into the lava below.
Its not like him to give up, so he’s not going to start now. He thinks of the people in Sand Haven—his family. He thinks of how they'll suffer under the hands of sickness and injury if he does not return with the warts.
He pulls the diamond sword from his belt and stands at the ready with it poised in front of him. The archer stays back while the taller skeletons rush toward him. One of them is slightly ahead of the other, and as it brings its sword down, Steve blocks and shoves the stone sword to intercept the other's blow. All three swords clash and Steve uses his position to push them away from him. Tangled together and off balance because of their mindlessness, the dark skeletons stand still and Steve takes the opportunity to run past them. He manages to dodge one arrow and block another, though a third nearly lodges itself in his eye, that he barely manages to avoid by stumbling. Ignoring the pain in his ankle, he cuts down the archer skeleton and makes a mad dash down the stairs. He uses vague landmarks to backtrack and whoops in joy at finding his original entrance point.
All the while, eyes in the shadows watch him, and when he jumps from the fortress and starts running off, they follow.
The hot air steals his breath quickly and he's breathing heavily by the time he's back at the portal. Good thing he has the intuition of a miner and thought to leave a torch trail or he surely would have gotten lost. He doesn't dwell on his chances of survival should that have happened.
But he's here and that's what matters. He's back and he has the Nether wart, in what he suspects is a timely fashion too. He wonders if Jacob and Beth had expected him to take longer, and then wonders if someone else had been sent in here long ago, before they’d had him.
Pushing those thoughts away Steve digs out the flint and steel from underneath the warts and strikes it a few times across the obsidian. Once again the portal bursts to life, and Steve eagerly stands in the purple mist, ready to go home.
Those eyes watch as he disappears.
Jacob startles as the portal activates suddenly, and Steve comes stumbling out, breathing heavily. Relieved to see the young miner alive and back, Jacob hurries over to him as he kneels on the ground and coughs.
"Here, you must be parched," Jacob says, handing Steve a water bottle. The first bottle is drunk quickly and all at once, and Steve coughs still as he adjusts to the cooler temperature. Jacob hands Steve another bottle. "Slower this time."
Steve nods and sips the bottle, moving from his knees to sit fully on the cool sandstone ground. Though grateful to Notch that Steve has returned seemingly unharmed, he wants to ask if the miner found any warts but would not risk straining Steve's undoubtedly dry throat.
As if sensing Jacob's dilemma, Steve swings his pack onto the ground and flips the cover up, revealing a clustered mess of nether wart. "I've got it."
"Oh Steven, good man you are!" Jacob claps Steve on the shoulder and beams. "You've saved the village!"
"Just doing...what I need...to...for my family," Steve replies. Jacob looks prideful as Beth takes the pack and retreats to her shop to make more potions.
Steve leans against a pillar and rests, holding the water bottle close to him like a lifeline. Never has he been happier to have water.
From the corner of his eye he spots the swirling mystical purple of the portal. He turns his head fully to gaze at it, distantly aware of the darkening atmosphere as the sun dips below the horizon. More time has passed than he’d thought. He feels utterly captivated by the intricate designs the purple mist twists into and cannot find the will to look away. The sounds of the village just outside the temple slip away as Steve sits in a stupor, a light-weightlessness falling over him.
Trapped to look by some unseen force, Steve watches as a figure emerges from the portal, struggling as though held back by great bindings. But it breaks free and stumbles to the ground, landing on its hands and knees before tilting its head up in triumph. Brown hair frames a soot-smeared face as burning white eyes bore into him. Transfixed, Steve stares back and doesn't notice how the rest of the world has stilled.
Steve...
"Steven!"
Shaken, Steve blinks and time resumes. The wind has picked up outside and Jacob is looking at him fretfully. "Are you well? What's gotten into you lad?"
His mouth feels inexplicably dry and he drinks from the bottle again before responding. "I'm fine, I promise," he says, looking into Jacob's worried eyes. "Just let my mind drift for a moment."
"Come now," Jacob urges, helping Steve to his feet. With the pack of warts missing from his back he feels off-balanced and walks on unsure footing alongside the cleric. "You're in no state to be leaving for home now, not with the sun down. I offer respite at my home. I'll not have any disagreements either."
Steve smiles at Jacob's kindness and accepts his offer. The sticky heat of the Nether is washed away and clean clothes replace the dirtied, sweat stained ones. Exhaustion strikes him suddenly and forcefully, and he wonders briefly, as he pulls the blanket over him and settles for rest, if he'll sleep forever. He certainly feels the need to.
Steve rises with the morning sun, rejuvenated and ready and willing to take on the day. Yet despite his outwardly appearance, confusion befuddles his thoughts. His dreams had been flashes of another life, that of a great warrior's from the glimpses he can remember. Him and another, fighting side by side against a common foe, though that is the extent of his memory regarding the strange dreams. That, and the overwhelming sense of completion. It gives him pause and he reflects on the vision he'd seen at the temple. Jacob had gone back and deactivated it, but Steve got the distinct feeling they'd been too late, though for what he couldn't imagine.
Jacob and James coerce him into sharing a breakfast of eggs, bread, and milk, and then Steve thanks Jacob for his hospitality and goes to Beth's to retrieve his pack. As he walks the short distance to the apothecary, the village gradually springs to life, bringing a smile to his face. It makes the experience from yesterday worth it.
His pack is at the door when he enters, and Beth keeps to herself despite his calls. Shrugging, Steve takes his pack and leaves. Jacob had taken the responsibility of returning the chain and leather armor to David, so Steve sets off across the desert, eager to be returning home.
The trek is oddly comfortable, and Steve attributes this to having spent some time surrounded by lava and fire. Compared to the heat of the Nether, the desert biome is a joke, and Steve makes the journey swiftly without needing nearly as much water or rest as normal.
Having come home to an empty house countless times, Steve doesn't think to check for intruders as he enters, which is the reason he startles so badly when someone speaks to him.
"Steve."
It is merely an attempt to gain his attention and yet Steve reacts as if someone had just busted through a window, dropping his pack and pulling a sword off the wall to defend himself with. But at the sight of the intruder, the sword tilts to the ground and he frowns.
It's the man from before, in the temple. Steve had hoped that was an illusion, but it appears that is not the case. He recalls the dreams and the look of relief the man had displayed after escaping the Nether.
"Who are you?" Steve starts with. Better to start small and assess the situation. An unknown adversary with unknown abilities is sitting at his desk and observing him. He finds nothing favorable about any of it.
The man's neutral expression drops to one of vague sadness, but also understanding. "You don’t remember yet?" He shakes his head and smiles ruefully. "The Gods have been slacking."
The ease with which this stranger talks to him strikes a cord within Steve, but he can’t place an emotion to it. It's obvious this man knows him to some degree, though Steve would swear he's never seen the man in his life. The relaxed posture and expectant look also speak volumes to the man's intentions. If he's come for sinister purposes, he hides it well, and Steve's trusting nature works against him in this case.
"Who are you?" Steve repeats. Because emerging from a Nether portal to his eyes only seems suspect. The man shrugs and kicks his feet up on the table, the epitome of nonchalance.
"I'm a friend, but I can’t really say more, because you probably won’t believe me," he says with an easy air and Steve has half a mind to trust him. Something about this man makes his defenses fall.
Steve sets the sword down and slings his pack onto his bed. He crosses his arms and rolls his eyes, but smiles as he says, “Oh, well, in that case, I trust you.”
The man raises a brow. "Okay, fair. But it’s true. If you don’t remember, there’s no real use in explaining. Although that never seems to deter you.”
The images from his dream flash through his head and he frowns. He feels a headache coming on from all this talking in circles. "Remember what."
With a steady gaze the man stands and stretches. Ignoring Steve for now, he walks about the room and inspects all the trinkets Steve has acquired over the year. Steve decides to stay back and watch.
Something catches the man's eye, and he pulls it from a shelf. When he turns around, Steve's brows raise in surprise at his expression.
Cradled in his hands is something Steve had discovered on his person when he woke up in a shack several years ago. His memory begins with that day, and try as he might he's never been able to remember his life before it. He's grown to accept that he'll never know who he was before waking up there. The white shimmering piece of a star hanging from a worn leather thread has always been something that's puzzled Steve. He does not know what it is, but he’s never felt comfortable showing it to anyone and asking them. When he looks at it he feels conflicting feelings. Sadness, happiness, longing, completion.
The man looks up and bites his lip. “I’m surprised you still have this. Usually you always pawn it off for some quick emeralds. It’s always a hassle tracking it down.”
If he asks, he'll probably not get a straight answer, but the man continues before he can respond. "I need you to do me a favor. It’s going to sound crazy, but trust me." The man’s eyes are verging on begging but his expression is determined.
"I...suppose?" Steve acquiesces.
"I need you to pray to Notch."
The request takes him completely by surprise. From what Jacob has told him, Notch is the creator of their world, and of them—humanity as a whole. It is said that he and others like him live in a realm called the Aether, where they watch over everything and keep a balance. Steve believes wholeheartedly in Notch's existence, but it has never occurred to him to pray to the God for guidance or assistance. He's not sure what to do.
"What do you mean?" He asks. The man sighs and shakes his head at the ceiling before turning a smile on him.
"Just thank him for your good luck," he says, "And hold onto this." He tosses the necklace to Steve.
Turning it over in his hands, Steve contemplates the other's words briefly before clasping his hands around the necklace and closing his eyes. Uh...thank you, Notch, for my good...luck? It has to be the worst prayer ever, and nothing happens after several minutes.
"I'll be back soon," The man says suddenly, walking with purpose towards the door. Alarmed for some reason, Steve follows without a thought but stops by his door. Worried that despite the other's words they actually might not meet again, Steve belatedly realizes he doesn't know the other's name.
"Wait! What do I call you!" He calls to the retreating back. Something about seeing the man walk away makes him anxious.
Not pausing, the man looks over his shoulder and calls out, "Herobrine!" with a broad smile and a wink. Then he's gone, disappearing behind the trees and Steve's left alone again.