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Alex hates lava. She highly doubts that anyone doesn’t. Why in the world anyone would put a pool of it right under a portal is beyond her.
“Would you like to do the honors?” Steve holds out the last eye to her.
She recognizes that tone in his voice, the way he jokes to hide nervousness. It doesn’t work on her anymore, but she supposes it’s not really so much for her as him.
She reaches out, grabs the eye, but doesn’t take it from his hand; together they push it into the last empty slot.
There’s a bright flash, the boom of thunder. They both leap back instinctively.
When they look through the portal again, it’s full of deep black sky speckled with stars. It’s clearer than any night sky Alex has ever seen, and it’s beautiful.
She looks up, meets Steve’s eyes again.
“All right.” He smiles, just slightly, trying and failing to be cheerful—but cheerful or not, Alex knows it’s a real smile. “You ready?”
“Yep.” She smiles back, bumps his arm lightly. “We got this.”
Together they take a step and fall into the portal.
The feeling of portal travel is familiar by now—the dizziness, the purple glow and then the dark.
Except this time it’s just dark, falling through darkness fast, fast, faster than what feels right.
Alex almost makes a surprised noise, and maybe she does, but she can’t hear it or anything else except that weird portal silence that’s a noise in itself.
And then it’s over, there’s ground under her feet, suddenly she’s standing, not dizzy at all, and that combined with the fact that it’s still dark makes her brain confused enough to want to fall over.
“Careful.” Steve’s hand brushes her arm.
She breathes deeply, shifts her feet under her, and looks around.
They’re standing on a square platform of obsidian suspended in the middle of empty blackness that seems to go on forever.
Ahead, a huge… island, for lack of a better word, floats in the void, all stone, a strange pale yellowish color. Alex takes out an ender pearl, glances around the platform and across the gap. “We can make that, right?”
Steve snorts. “I sure hope so.”
“Stop.” Alex shoves him playfully, except she doesn’t actually touch him because this platform quite literally does not leave a lot of room for error. “You ready?”
He takes out his own pearl. “Yep.”
“One. Two. Three.”
They throw their pearls in unison. The blue-green orbs arc across the black sky. Alex watches them fall closer and closer to the island, and braces herself.
Suddenly she’s landing hard on the solid stone of the island. Thanks to the enchantment of her boots, it doesn’t hurt, but teleporting is always disorienting.
Once she feels steady again, she looks up.
Massive obsidian pillars are placed in a ring around the island. In the center is a mass of gray and black with two glowing purple—those are eyes. She quickly ducks her head. “Don’t look.”
Steve presses something into her hand—a pumpkin. She grumbles to herself. She hates this, but she takes off her helmet and pulls the pumpkin over her head. It smells… not unpleasant, but it smells. And it’s sticky. And she can barely see.
She raises her head and, through the tiny holes carved in the stupid pumpkin, sees something she’s heard of only in stories.
When it opens its mouth to roar, she sees fire in the back of its throat, similar in color to its eyes but hotter, more vibrant. Huge wings unfurl, and it takes off into the sky, just barely visible against the blackness. It’s majestic, beautiful even.
Then it dives.
Alex doesn’t know why, but something tells her that she needs to run and she does, stumbling for the relative cover of one of the columns. Steve is right behind her. They crash hard against the obsidian.
“Okay, well there goes being nice,” Steve pants, exchanging pumpkin for helmet and taking out his sword.
“Yep.” Alex tears the pumpkin off her head, trying to shake the stupid sticky stuff out of her hair.
The dragon wheels up and away from them, a beam of gray-white energy flowing into it as it banks around the top of one of the columns, and suddenly Alex notices the crystal floating there.
Steve is looking too. “You think you can hit one?”
She narrows her eyes slightly, already nocking an arrow. “Can’t be that hard.”
“All right, I’ll distract it.”
He runs off. Alex raises her bow. It’s almost beyond conscious thought by now; some part of her knows how far the crystal is, how high it is, exactly how much higher to point her arrow, and the exact moment to release the string.
The arrow flies silently up, up, and even though Alex knows it’s really not a good idea she does what she always does—stock still, watching the arrow arc through the empty sky, and suddenly it hits and the explosion is blinding.
She allows herself a grin, reaching for another arrow—and then the grin disappears very quickly because now the dragon is coming for her. She whirls, fires her arrow in its general direction and runs, putting one of the huge obsidian columns between it and herself. The dragon whooshes past, so close to the pillar that the sheer volume of displaced air knocks Alex back with the dull clunk of diamond on obsidian and she has to force herself to breathe.
Steve skids to a stop next to her. “Hey, hey, you okay?”
“Yeah.” She shakes her head quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Hey. Helmet.” He pats the top of her head lightly. “I think there’s a portal in the middle there, but it’s not open.”
She shoves her helmet on, wiggling it into place. “Do we have more eyes?”
“There’s nowhere to put them, it’s just—I think it’s bedrock.”
Alex glances up, scanning for the dragon. It takes her a second to find it—black against the black sky, a shadow moving silently across the darkness. It seems like it’s just… circling.
It’s guarding the portal.
She glances at Steve. Their eyes meet, and it’s one of those moments where somehow without words the same thought passes between them.
“Be careful,” he says quietly.
She nods. “You too.”
He looks around, then runs off to draw the dragon’s attention again.
Alex feels her mind drop into function mode. Her body is moving even as her brain is catching up. Her arm draws back another arrow, her eye sights it and it flies up and up and destroys another crystal. She doesn’t need to think. She’s already running to get a better angle for the next shot. Experience and muscle memory guide every shot, and each one lights up the blackness with a brilliant white explosion. Part of her mind stays vaguely aware of everything—where the dragon is, how many crystals there are and which she still needs to destroy.
Two of the crystals, incidentally on two of the tallest pillars, are surrounded by iron cages. There’s a chance she could shoot through the bars, but it would really be up to sheer luck.
She picks the taller one. She doesn’t trust her arm enough to pearl up there, but she should have… yep. Her hand closes around a stack of ladders, and before she can think about it enough to hesitate, she starts building her way up. Feather falling, feather falling, she reminds herself, trying not to look down. She’s not scared of heights, not like how she used to be about storms, but it would be stupid not to feel some degree of stress way up here.
She pulls herself up onto the edge of the column, grabbing onto the cage for support. The crystal is floating inside, pink and covered in strange runes, a fire burning underneath it.
She raises her pickaxe to start breaking through the bars—and then suddenly something in her heart clenches and she turns just in time to see the dragon slam into Steve.
So many things scream in her mind, maybe one makes it to her lips but she doesn’t know, she’s already leaping from the ladder. Her boots dampen her fall and she runs. She can see Steve, still holding on—
and then he isn’t.
“No!” she cries, stumbling to the edge one moment too late.
She can do nothing but watch him fall. The fading form of her friend blurs before her eyes, her breath comes in shaky, ragged gasps and Steve is dead and they said they would always be there for each other and they promised and he gave her his trust and she broke it she failed he’s dead because of her and it should’ve been her he deserved better than her she never deserved to call herself his friend and—
And then the dragon growls.
With sudden clarity, all the pain, all the guilt and grief and despair and heartbreak resolve into one single thought.
She is sending that monster back to the abyss.
It’s perched above the portal, just staring as she turns to face it. It’s taunting her. It knows. It knows what it did. It knows she’s helpless and weak and she couldn’t do anything but watch it kill Steve. And it knows there is nothing to stop it from doing the same to her.
It’s wrong.
She meets the cold purple eyes. She’s small, tiny to the dragon, but the rage that fills her entire being makes her huge.
Her teeth bare in a silent snarl. Her sword comes up in both hands.
And she charges.
The dragon snarls and spews purple flame—except it doesn’t seem hot enough to be fire, and if it is, Alex feels nothing but the blazing rage tight in her chest. She feels a scream tear from her throat as she slashes and slashes; sharp aching pain shoots through the bones of her arms, her sword scathes and scrapes across black scales and suddenly there’s a painful crack and she falls hard onto the bedrock.
Dark claws curl around her, crushing her between the diamond plates of her own armor. Her cry is only in her mind; her body can’t muster the strength for anything more than a whimper.
Gasping for breath, she tries to raise her sword. The blade still glows a weak purple, but half of it is in jagged pieces on the rapidly plummeting ground.
She plunges what’s left deep into black scales. The dragon roars, deafening, and suddenly she’s falling and she flails, tries to bring her feet under her, her boots—
Her feet are the only part of her that don’t hit. There’s a crack too sharp to only be her body hitting stone. She’s dimly aware of the pain, but it all hurts so much that it doesn’t; it all blurs into a numb ache and her limbs just don’t want to move and it’s almost comfortable, but then she hears the dragon snarl again.
Steve’s sword is lying there, a vibrant blue against the pale stone, and she wills her body to move, forces it, as if it’s something separate from her that she can force, and she pulls herself up just enough to stumble out of the way of the dragon as it swoops past.
Moving makes her acutely aware of how much everything hurts; she stumbles one, two, three four five six steps and manages to twist so her fall doesn’t add too much to the pain. Reaching drives a sharp stabbing into her side, maybe a corner of twisted diamond, maybe a broken splinter of a rib, she chokes on her own cry and she tastes blood but her fingers just barely catch the hilt of the sword.
It’s so light, and somehow, as her fingers close around it, she feels stronger.
She still feels the pain as she pushes herself to her feet, but it’s detached from her. The sword blazes and hums in her hand and even as something whispers that she’s not worthy to hold it her entire being screams that she is going to make the dragon pay.
It’s coming back. She steels herself, staring straight into its eyes.
Only at the last moment, when it’s close enough for her to reach out and touch, does she duck, dodging to the side and driving all her hatred into one deep slash at its neck.
It makes a horrible shrieking, gurgling noise, like an enderman but octaves deeper and darker. She throws herself sideways, praying she won’t be crushed.
She isn’t.
Pure brilliant light fills her vision; the gurgling noise gets louder and louder, tighter, until it’s no more than a high crackle and then suddenly everything is silent and dark again.
When she dares to open her eyes, the dragon is gone.
She tries to push herself up, and immediately winces; there’s nothing to keep the pain away now. Under her armor, the fabric of her shirt is damp against her skin. She fumbles, searching for a healing potion, even a piece of wool, but finds neither.
Gritting her teeth, she presses a hand to her side and stands, and slowly limps toward the center of the island. Her breath is tight and shaky; something is stabbing into her chest and her throat aches and she wishes she could even just breathe but she can’t force it to steady.
It doesn’t surprise her that the portal is open now, starry blackness filling the bedrock. Blinking hard, she turns around to look to the edge of the island; then, she swallows and before she can hold herself back a moment longer, she lets herself fall into the sky.
Does it know that it is loved? That the universe is kind?
walking home at the far side of the universe, suddenly smelling food, almost at the familiar door
had spoken to it through a dream
everything you need is within you
you are stronger than you know
and the player dreamed again, dreamed better
wake up
She’s in a bed.
The room—her room—is dark, the first traces of light only beginning to creep in through the window.
There’s a soft meow from the floor. Tiny feet jump up onto the bed.
“Hey,” she murmurs, reaching up to pet Luna’s head—then wincing as pain stabs through her ribs. She tries to push herself up enough to look.
Her armor is gone. The side of her shirt is stained dark red, still damp to the touch. The sight of blood in itself doesn’t bother her, she’s long past that, but she doesn’t want to think about what it might look like under her shirt.
Gingerly, she slides her legs off the bed. Luna darts out of the way, and Alex bites back a groan as the weight of her legs pulls the rest of her up into a sitting position. Everything blurs, her head throbs, and she tries to just breathe except that makes everything hurt more and she just has to pull in short, panting breaths to try to stay awake.
Through the pounding in her head, she vaguely notices Luna climbing back up onto the bed, feels a furry head wriggle its way under her arm. Something drops into her lap, and her fingers close around a potion bottle.
When her eyes can focus again, she blinks at the potion in the half-dark and—how in the world Luna knows what a healing potion is, she has no idea, but it’s a healing potion. She gulps it down, willing it not to come back up.
A new pain flickers in her side, but it’s the pain of things moving back to where they’re supposed to be. Tentatively, she takes a breath, and it doesn’t hurt. Her head feels a little better.
Still careful of motion, she gets her bloodstained shirt off and drops it on the floor, gets a clean one from the dresser. She curls up under the blankets, Luna slips in with her, and then it’s quiet.
The worst thing about quiet, she realizes, is that there’s nothing to cover the sheer emptiness in her heart. She hugs Luna tight, trying to focus on the vibration of the cat’s gentle purr against the sobs rapidly building in her chest. The pressure just builds and builds and crushes her even more and she wants to cry even more but she’s not crying and she hates crying but anything would be better than this silent emptiness.
Tears are running down her face, she realizes eventually. She doesn’t remember them getting there.
She curls tighter and wishes sleep would come.
The sun is shining outside. It’s so bright.
She wishes there were clouds to hide under.
There are the usual tasks, collecting food from the farm, feeding the animals—daily things that she does without really thinking or knowing that she’s doing them.
Luna keeps bringing food to her, and she eats some of it just to get the cat to leave her alone.
Thunder booms outside.
There was a thunderstorm when Steve found her, all that time ago. She was almost dead—starving, weak, scratched and cut and bleeding all over, and even though Steve had saved her and she’d been okay, she was terrified of storms after that.
She didn’t really realize it until the day there was another storm.
She remembers the growing feeling something was wrong, and then suddenly just terror like she was running, there was something coming that she had to get away from but she didn’t know what and she couldn’t think what and there was nothing to be scared of but there was and she could do nothing but curl in a ball and hope it wouldn’t find her.
It was Steve who found her. She doesn’t remember any words—maybe the words never registered, even in the moment—but the feelings were soft and calm and safe and she could almost begin to breathe again.
There was a blanket, heavy but not in a bad way, almost like it was squishing all the scared out, and Steve was there and she leaned into him for a while until she stopped shaking, and then for a while longer after that because she didn’t want to move.
Eventually, a bed. More blankets. Hair brushed gently out of her face. Curling closer. Warm, sleepy. Safe.
The next time there was a storm, Steve found her before the second thunderbolt hit. And before they knew it, it became a thing they did. And she almost started to like storms.
One of the windows upstairs is set back into the wall, forming a sort of nook that they made into a nest of blankets and pillows. It was their spot to watch the rain, which was just a halfhearted attempt at an excuse to be warm and cozy together. Really, they didn’t need any excuse.
Alex brushes a finger lightly against the glass, tracing the path of a single drop as it slides down. Thunder rolls again, and she looks out at the rain, still wandering in the memory of that first storm.
And suddenly she knows what she has to do.
A long time ago, however many months and years it is, there is an end to the reach of her memory. Steve’s memory, she knows, went back farther; but they both began in the same place.
She’s not sure how long the journey will be, or even where exactly she’s going, but she knows that somewhere out there is a place where she has been and is meant to go again, and somehow she will find her way.
She looks over her shoulder at the setting sun, the sun that rises and sets over the whole world every day, and wonders if maybe there’s a chance Steve can see it too.