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“No act of Kindness, no matter how Small, is ever wasted.”
- Aesop's Fable, The Lion & The Mouse
Steven struggled against the ropes holding his wrists flush against his back, a black cloak draped over his eyes so he could only see the floor as he was forced forward.
“What is going on?” he snapped. “Let me go! What do you want with me?”
“They have approved,” one man said.
“Really? They’ve never approved before!” a woman gushed.
“They must think he’ll sate the beast!” said a third person.
Before Steven could ask what they were talking about, they gagged him up and forced him forward again into a musky hallway full of smoke that made his eyes water and his brain sluggish.
“Good, the compound is working,” said the first man, causing Steven to subtly shake his head. He had to stay alert. He was in danger.
His body moved forward obediently as his mind fought against its bindings, and it took Steven far too long to realise that he had fallen for their trap. He was too busy trying to stay alert that he hadn’t realised they’d stopped.
“Må odjuret sova mer och mer,” sneered a second man into his ear, making him struggle more to regain control of his body. He needed to get out of here, now.
“För äppelblomningens kung!” chanted the others, making Steven’s heart lurched as he realised what was going on.
The second man’s words only sealed his face as he whispered, “Thank you for your glorious sacrifice…” before he was shoved into the yawning maw of darkness before him.
Steven felt his autonomy return as he escaped the smog to be consumed by the black ink of the pit. He curled into a ball before he hit the hard stone, a grunt escaping his gagged tongue as he laid there for a moment in pain.
Well, I’m feeling that in the morning, he thought to himself as he sat up, favouring his now sore left side. He looked around, seeing only glow berries for light, though very faint. It felt like the darkness was leeching away their luminescence, a prospect that Steven was not fond of.
Carefully, the miner looped his arms under his legs so that his bound wrists were in front of him once more, allowing his hands to search for a sharp rock to cut the ropes. Or, that was the plan until a new sound froze him in his tracks.
“Well, well, well… The gods must truly despise you if they allowed those fools to get away with this… You’re the first one who’s made it all the way to my little home away from home…”
The voice was smooth, as if honey pouring from the jar was given a tone. It made Steven want to shiver and relax at the same time, but he did neither, standing up with a little difficulty as he looked around the dark pit.
“Who’s there?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly.
Laughter rang out, echoing across the small cavern in a raucous chorus of condescension. The mortal’s body trembled at the power behind such a sound, feeling like a chick under the sight of a fox, far too small and far too vulnerable. He wished he had his tools on him, a torch, something so he wasn’t so defenceless.
“Who’s there? Oh, little mouse… You’ve gotten yourself into a mighty fine pickle, haven’t you?” the voice crooned.
“Maybe,” Steve admitted. “What’s it to you?”
“Well, I’m not very fond of those buffoons upstairs, but… then again… Neither are the Aetherians…” he admitted, humming thoughtfully. “Why are you here then…? Why do they forbid so many from being sent down to me… and yet you are allowed? It… intrigues me.”
“What are you talking about? Do you know why I’m here?” Steven asked, looking around to try and find the speaker.
“To sate the beast. Did you not hear them?” the voice scoffed. “Pitiful human beings. Fools played by the Aether. The beast in question has no need for their paltry practices. I don’t know why I’m even here.”
“Are you another sacrifice?” Steven asked hopefully. Maybe they could work together to get out!
The voice laughed once more and that was when Steven noticed the piercing white spheres in the dark, watching him carefully. “No, little mouse, I am not a sacrifice. I am the monster they seek to lure into an enchanted slumber. They will fail. They know not what they have bound in their depths.”
Steven watched as a lithe form gently and elegantly leapt down the stone outcropping like a cat, the owner of the voice stalking closer with a smirk ever so slightly lit up by his eyes.
“But then again, I do not know what the Aetherians have gifted me, so perhaps it will…” he murmured, tracing Steven’s chin with a talon mere centimetres from his skin.
Steven’s heart ran cold. He knew who this was. Anyone worth their word knew of the white eyes of the fallen.
Herobrine, the tyrant king, fallen god of the Nether.
“What do you want with me?” Steven asked carefully, backing away from him.
“I want nothing from you, pathetic mortal,” Herobrine hissed. “What I desire is my freedom from this wretched excuse for a prison. They call me a monster and yet leave me here to starve. I am…” Herobrine’s stomach rumbled as he turned away to grab some of the glow berries, though Steven saw a hint of desperation in his eyes as he turned.
“Do you have any tools on you?” Steven asked.
“Yes, but I’ve tried using them and it fails every attempt. There is something holding me here,” Herobrine scowled, looking down at the berries in anger.
“I could always try, unless you want to stay in this pit until we’re both dead of starvation,” Steven snapped, putting his hands on his hips.
“We do not know it will work,” Herobrine pointed out.
“And we don’t know that it won’t! Do you really want to test that?” Steven pressed.
Herobrine fell silent before looking at him. “Very well. Impress me, mortal,” he huffed, handing over a diamond pickaxe.
Steven took the tool reverently, noting the shimmer of deep enchantment on the crystal head, before he turned and slammed it into the wall, immediately removing a chunk of it. He smirked at the immortal, who now looked intrigued more than angry.
“How odd… When I attempted that, nothing happened,” the immortal hummed, brushing his hand over the rock before pulling his hand back and hissing.
“This pit seems to be made with keeping you contained in mind,” Steven replied dryly as he hit the wall again. “They want you stuck. They also likely didn’t plan for not killing the mortal they threw in.”
Herobrine scoffed. “Why would I kill my only key to escape?” he muttered.
“You didn’t know I could get you out when I fell,” Steven pointed out.
“Well having company is always better than sitting in a pit alone,” Herobrine stammered, trying to hide his interest.
Steven hummed, preparing a retort when the wall collapsed and revealed a tunnel. “Bingo. Do you know where we are, Herobrine or are we going in blind?”
“In the Catacombs under the city, I would assume,” the immortal mused, his glowing eyes lighting up the bricks.
“Which city?” Steven murmured, looking around for any distinguishing markings.
“I have not the foggiest idea. I am from the Nether, and spend most of my time there,” Herobrine huffed.
“Well then I wasn’t asking you,” Steven snapped when his eyes landed on an inscription. “There we go. We’re in the King’s Cross catacombs, political division. We’re standing where their mayors are buried. That was a false wall behind us leading into a cavern.”
“How do you know this?” Herobrine asked curiously.
“No bones in the rubble, but there’s a plaque. They knew the cavern was there and tried to hide it,” Steven explained, looking around them again. “Bingo. Lantern.”
“Allow me,” Herobrine said, lighting the lantern for him.
Steven raised an eyebrow, silently asking why he hadn’t done that earlier, but he supposed whatever spell holding the immortal within the pit likely wouldn’t have let him use his abilities. “All right, now we just have to find a way out. Any other abilities I should know about, oh powerful one?”
“I have enhanced strength and agility; I do not require food as much as you mortals do, but it gets uncomfortable not to eat; I have pyromancy; I have enhanced sight; I―”
“I get it,” Steven snapped, waving him off. “You’re all powerful, I am a puny mortal, I should bow down to you. You made that very clear when we met.”
Herobrine huffed, glaring down at him as Steve looked around the corner. “An insolent mouse then. Perhaps we should go our separate ways, if you think so lowly of me.”
“As much as I would like that, we can’t leave each other just yet. There’s the small issue of there being an entire cult upstairs who want my head and your captivity probably starting to realise that there’s no screaming bloody murder from a victim they thought you would murder,” Steven explained, tilting his head to listen for footsteps. “If you want to stay free, it would be better if we stayed together as they aren’t expecting us to.”
Steven looked back at the immortal as he finished speaking to find a gaze filled with growing wonder and curiosity, though when Herobrine realised that Steven was watching, he looked away and gave a small hmph .
Why did he remind Steven of a stray cat?
“You seem to have thought this through,” he said, not meeting Steven’s eyes.
“Well, unfortunately because I looked like I'm wearing your propaganda on my face , this isn't my first time being kidnapped or the victim of an attempted murder,” Steven announced in exasperation. “In fact, it's usually both! I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s started to get really annoying, but at some point you’d think they’d get some variety! I mean, the ritual sacrifice was new, but everything else? A tacky cliche. The smoke was a nice touch. Don’t know what they put in that stuff but it was freaky. Anyway, in your arsenal of amazingness can you… Why are you looking at me like that?”
It was the first time Steven had seen the fallen god look even the slightest bit concerned. If the mortal hadn’t known better, he would have guessed that Herobrine had sucked on a rather sour watermelon with that expression, almost as if Steven had personally offended him somehow.
“Why do you stay here?” Herobrine asked.
“What?” Steven asked, startled.
“Why do you stay around mortals if they are so cruel to you?” he asked again. “Why not burn them to the ground and leave? Assert your power over them?”
Steven raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know if you know this, but arson-induced murder is generally frowned upon in this dimension, and unfortunately Overland people are a social species. I don’t really have a choice. Besides, I have a friend. She’s nice. It’s not like everyone hates me. It’s just… everyone but her.”
Herobrine was silent as Steven explained, the two of them carefully traversing the corridors as quietly as they could. When he finally spoke, a hum of contemplation lifted from his lips before, “That seems like a flaw in your society.”
The mortal scoffed. “Whatever you say, big guy. Anyway, you said you can see well, but what about your hearing?”
“It is impeccable, why?” Herobrine asked.
“Can you hear any bats?”
The fallen god stared at him. “Can I what?”
“Can you hear any bats? For bats to be down there, there’s a 90% chance that there’s an opening that doesn’t lead into town as they need a way in and out, and there’s probably a 50% chance that the opening is large enough for us to use,” Steven said, elaborating on his plan as he peeked around another corner.
“Those are not good odds,” Herobrine mused.
“If you want to go back to those crazy cultists, be my guest!” Steven hissed as he shoved Herobrine back against the wall and blew out the lantern to hide from a patrol passing by. He was surprised to find that Herobrine was staring down at his hand on the immortal’s chest when he checked on him, eyes wide in an emotion he couldn’t quite name.
“Can you relight the lantern?” Steven mumbled as he removed his hand, breaking Herobrine out of his trance.
“I do not know what a bat sounds like,” he admitted quietly. “I have not been on this plane for a long time, and there are new creatures I have yet to encounter.”
“Ah. Um… Listen for the squeaking and the flapping of wings,” Steven said, looking around worriedly as the sounds of footsteps grew louder.
“I hear it. That way,” Herobrine said, pointing in the opposite direction of the footprints.
“Wonderful. Come on,” Steven whispered, grabbing Herobrine’s hand and dragging him along behind him, ducking behind columns and hiding the lantern when cultists came near until they found the opening out under the stars.
“Oh good, it’s a cave entrance and not a small hole,” Steven said in relief, running out into the twilight just before sunrise.
Herobrine hummed, looking up at the sky before turning to Steven. “What is your name, little mouse?” he asked curiously.
“Why do you ask?” Steven asked, his tone rich with suspicion and a wariness born from decades of fear and grief.
“I want to know the name of the mortal who helped me escape,” Herobrine explained.
The mortal was silent for a moment, and the fallen god feared he would deny his request when he finally gave a small, “Steven. My name is Steven.”
Somehow, Herobrine knew that this was the most vulnerability that the man had shown this entire time, and he felt vaguely honoured. Without thinking, he said, “I used to be called Bryant,” and immediately regretted it when Steven raised his eyebrow.
“Bryant?” he asked, voice steady and calm.
“I know, it… It is not what you would expect of a god―” Herobrine began, feeling self-conscious when Steven’s words stopped him in his tracks.
“It’s a nice name,” he admitted, a small smile gracing his lips. “Why did they stop?”
“My… Well, the King of the Aether decided that it was not impressive enough and renamed me, not that it mattered in the end,” Herobrine explained bitterly, glaring vaguely at the sky. He was growing tired… That spell had taken more out of him than he had thought. All he wanted was to meditate in a nice warm lava bath and let the last dregs of magic wash away…
“Well, it seems the Aether frowns upon both of us,” Steven muttered, startling Herobrine out of his thought as he realised that the mortal had the same chip on his shoulder that he himself had.
Herobrine opened his mouth to ask what the Aether had done to him when a new voice called, “Steven?! Oh come on, they couldn’t have taken you far!”
Steven turned and his face lit up at the sound, relief solid in his expression. No, Herobrine wasn’t jealous, you were imagining things. He turned back to Herobrine with a guarded expression and said, “That’s my friend. You should… go back to wherever you’re from. I won’t be there to save you next time.”
Herobrine shoved his fondness for the mortal back into a box before giving a curt nod to hide his disappointment. “Of course not. That would be preposterous, little… Steven. Go off and do your mortal things. I have work to do.”
Steven nodded in return before jogging away, a smile on his face as he ran to hug a redheaded female who babbled about his safety and stupidity.
The fallen god stood in the entrance to freedom, feeling more chained down than ever before as he watched Steven waltz away from him with that mortal girl. Herobrine rubbed his hoglin leather arm braces as he let out a sigh.
“Finally, an interesting mortal and he wants nothing to do with me…” he grumbled, before looking up at the sky. “I know you did this on purpose. You’re trying to trip me up. It… It will not work.”
The sky was silent as he gave another sigh, staring off again after the mortal who had willingly helped him.
“Perhaps… Just this once… I shall ignore the fact that this is likely some trap and just… stick around,” he mumbled to himself. “After all, the lion always found a rather talented ally in the mouse, and there is no harm in simply watching…”
Having convinced himself that maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea, the fallen god disappeared into the dawn, searching for a Nether portal so he could return home, rejuvenate himself, and then hunt down the owner of the addicting scent embedded into his memory.
After all, who told the gods no anyway?