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The funeral was . . . small. Jack, Nurm, and a couple of Sammy and Vos’s friends from before were the only ones there. There were no inventory piles to burn, any and all remnants of his friends left behind in the Sea Temple for the rest of eternity. Margaret was speaking about how Sammy used to steal cookies and share them with her in secret, but Jack’s mind was elsewhere.
If this is where adventuring gets me, he thought, maybe it would be best to retire. And yet, what else did he have? Nurm was his only friend left, and Sammy and Vos wouldn’t want him to stop adventuring on their account anyway. Well, Sammy wouldn’t. Vos might.
“Jack?” Margaret said.
It was his turn to speak. How he dreaded this part. He walked onto the small wooden podium anyway, because he owed them that much, didn’t he? After all, if he’d never found that gauntlet . . . “Sammy and Vos were good friends of mine.” To his horror, his voice choked up, the words barely escaping his lips. Tears burned behind his eyes. “Vos was one of the most dependable men you’d ever meet. And Sammy, she thought we were all ridiculous but she loved it–loved us. They–they were–” Slime blocks, He couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, and he cried softly. He was suddenly grateful the funeral was so small.
Nurm tugged at his arm. “Why don’t you come down?” He suggested in Villagerese.
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. What else was there to say? Everyone here knew who Sammy and Vos had been. Had been. And never would be again. He leaned against Nurm, who put an arm around his shoulder.
There were two signs. The birch one read ‘In loving memory of Vos, loyal to the end’ and the jungle one read ‘In loving memory of Sammy, who laughed in the face of danger.’ Without the inventory piles to burn, all that was left was the planting of the flowers. Jack gently placed the roses for mourning in between the two signs. Nurm placed the poppies for consolation on the far side of each sign.
And that was it.
)( )( )(
Jack dabbled in songwriting from time to time. He found it a passable hobby. But it was different this time–this time, there would be no Vos to bounce ideas off of or Sammy to make fun of his lyrics.
“What am I going to do without you?” He whispered, staring at a blank page. They were heroes. But was being a hero worth it, when this was the cost? When he could picture perfectly the moment the guardian zapped Sammy, recall in excruciating clarity her screams, and watch in high definition the moment she collapsed, the moment she died? A perfect memory was a curse when his friend’s inventory piles were what he remembered.
“It’s a lonely road . . .” No, that wasn’t right. “Those faces . . . They’ll never leave . . . Gravel.” His friends’ faces! He couldn’t bear to keep thinking of them. Scrunching up the page, he dropped it in the furnace. The smell of burning paper would stink up the whole room, but he didn’t care. How could he, without Sammy and Vos beside him?
)( )( )(
The sun didn’t shine as bright, food couldn’t tempt him, and conversation was dull. The only exception was Nurm, but he knew how to sit in silence with Jack. Words weren’t enough, not anymore. The world moved on, but Jack stayed behind, because that’s where his friends were. Where they would have been, if not for him. If not for the pit, and the gauntlet, and the temple–
More than once Nurm found him crying. Eventually, he sat down and talked to Jack.
“You’re killing yourself like this,” he said.
“It’s better than living without them.” Every day he had to gasp just to breathe in enough air to go on.
“You’re killing me like this.”
Jack started. He looked at Nurm–really looked–and saw how worn-down he looked. There were deep shadows under his eyes and his clothes hung limp on his body. It hit him that he wasn’t the only one grieving. “I’m sorry, my friend. I didn’t . . .”
“I know.”
A lump rose in Jack’s throat, but he had an idea. “Why don’t we go to all the places we said we were going to go? As a way to honor their memory.”
A slow smile spread across Nurm’s face. They were adventurers; of course they had a bucket list of other places they wanted to explore. Sammy especially had a long list.
And so they packed their bags and traveled, from snowy mountains to jungle temples, icy fjords to empty mesas. They met many others, adventurers and villagers alike. Whenever they found a village, they didn’t stay longer than a few days. Nurm created maps and Jack fought off the monsters.
Nearly a decade later, they decided it was time for a break. Deciding to put their years on the road to good use, they created Jack & Nurm’s Adventure Emporium. And things were good, despite the times Jack would dream that Vos and Sammy were still alive, or that he or Nurm had died instead. That is, until about fifteen years later, when the Witherstorm came. While the beast ravaged the world, he and Nurm ran, searching for anywhere remotely safe. It seemed like no place was spared. The nightmares came almost every night during that time.
And then it was over. New heroes had risen to the challenge. A new Order of the Stone was formed. Jack doubted they’d hold up to the first Order, even if there was some deception going on there. He didn’t pay much attention to the New Order until seven years after they formed when Jesse and Petra walked into his shop with a familiar gauntlet. It was just like he remembered–of course it was, his memory was perfect. His memory was a curse. But he couldn’t very well let them look for the Sea Temple on their own. They were young and probably thought they were invincible, and it would do them good to have an older, more experienced guide on the journey.
Of course, he hadn’t planned on seeing Sammy’s inventory pile. He should have. It featured often in his nightmares, but he was blindsided anyway and he froze. The others were understanding, but he cursed his squishiness. He’d gripped the past and never let it go, and it was coming back to bite him.
Then they found Vos. For a short time, Jack was almost happy again. He made plans with Nurm and Petra to go adventuring, to show Petra some of the amazing sights they’d seen throughout the years. But Vos–it was all a lie. He wasn’t able to process it before he was launched into a place unlike any other, where everything was pain and he couldn’t control himself, having to bow to the Admin’s whims.
He was sent to fight Jesse. She’d angered the Admin even more, which didn’t surprise Jack. He only wished he didn’t have to pretend to be against her. As soon as he was able to, he whispered his plan of attack. It didn’t work. The Admin stole Jesse’s face and Jack wondered if, had he played along for a little while more, it could have been avoided. But he couldn’t bear to betray them, and apologized for doing so until Petra told him to stop it with a hug. He rejoined them as they searched for someone named “Prisoner X.” They found her, but at the cost of a llama. Jack didn’t see the big deal. She was a llama; she’d be fine. Better than leaving Nurm behind.
In making their escape, they discovered that Prisoner X, or Xara, was an Admin. Petra was skeptical, but she hadn’t seen what the Admin could do. Having an ex-Admin on their side could be the edge they needed. At the same time, an Admin was what killed Vos and took his identity. So when Xara said there was a world below the bedrock, he wasn’t inclined to believe her at first. But it turned out to be the truth.
The world below was barren. Memories of the past lingered, a deserted wasteland that spoke of death and destruction without saying a word. The Admin–Romeo–was crueler than they’d known. He’d destroyed Xara’s home, taken away her bed, something that clearly meant a great deal to her, and Jack knew he wasn’t the only one whom tragedy had struck. He was only one of the Admin’s many victims.
During their brief time in the Oasis, Jack penned the lyrics to the song he’d been working on for decades now. He had no paper and pen, but his memory was perfect.
Thought my adventures were over
I was content to let life pass me by
That is until a young hero
Came along with a glint in their eye
They said, “Jack do you think you could give me a hand,
For mine is trapped in a glove from the sea.”
I thought I had left the seas behind
But the seas came a-callin’ for me
Adventures were a thing of the past beyond brief excursions until Jesse and Petra had barged into his life and turned it upside down. He’d been a spectator of his own life, not doing anything. Then he’d returned to the place that had taken almost everything from him. It turned out that the adventuring life didn’t just let you go.
That was as far as he reached in his lyric-spinning when they had to run. Of course, they managed to get split up and dangled from a cliff. Jack told Jesse they shouldn’t give their swords to the scavengers, and was glad that she’d taken his advice even when he fell. A weapon was necessary in a place like this.
He survived the fall just barely, but now he was separated from the group. It wouldn’t bother him too much–he’d spent many years with only Nurm for company–but this was a treacherous place, and he’d just made friends again, and found them after losing them while in Romeo’s company. He let out all the curses he knew. Gravel. Slimeblocks. Diamond ore. He even muttered a few in Villagerese. The lyrics came almost unbidden now.
It’s a lonely road for a hero
The road is a bittersweet friend
For the road is cold and it’s hollow
But it’s all you’ll have left in the end
How many days had he longed to see his friends one last time? He’d given the road everything, and it had taken it all from him. Yet he didn’t know what else to do with himself but remain on it, because what else did he have?
Sure there is glory . . .
In my tragic backstory
But that is not why I’m swole
For nothing builds shoulders
Like regrets, big as boulders
As sure as the grief takes its toll
He was once one of the most lauded adventurers. The one who survived. The one who kept on.
I’m thankful my arms are so ripped
Or I’d have been crushed from the start
And I’m grateful my pecs are so jacked
To hold the pain of my broken heart
He was grizzled and renowned, but they didn’t know of his regrets. If only he’d never picked up that gauntlet. If only he’d never found the Sea Temple. If only he hadn’t taken his friends with him. If only. If only. If only.
My friends’ faces, they’ll never leave me
So I wrote them this sad serenade
For the curse of a memory that’s perfect is that those faces, they’ll never fade
If he had to spend the rest of his years haunted, the least he could do was honor his friends’ memory.
It was then that he found Jesse, Petra, and the others again. It was only moments after that another hard choice had to be made, and Radar was left behind to distract the enderman. But the rest of them made it to the surface, and though Radar was courageous, Jack could only hope he wasn’t losing another friend.
They soon discovered that Beacontown was messed up. Posters of the Admin-as-Jesse covered every surface you looked at and lava was everywhere with no regard to safety. Romeo was with Jesse’s friends and Stella, and he blew up Stella’s home. Jack had hoped that there was some chance–some semblance of decency left in Romeo–but he wasn’t sure anymore.
They got Axel and Olivia and retreated to Jack’s shop. It had been looted, his treasures–years’ worth of adventuring–gone, just like that. It was like part of his identity had been stolen. At least your entire identity wasn’t stolen, some part of him whispered when he talked to Jesse about it.
Thankfully, they found an elytra, and Ivor and Lluna found them. With only a little freaking out from Jack about one of the founding members of the Order of the Stone being there, they concocted a plan. It went off with a few snags, but Jack, Jesse, and Petra made it to the primary terminal. Jesse got another gauntlet, punched Romeo around, and chose to bring him with them as they raced to the exit portal.
After that, it was a whirlwind of rebuilding and mending bridges. The Admin had hurt a lot of people under Jesse’s name, and some weren’t quick to trust again. Petra wanted to leave to go adventuring once she was sure Beacontown was on the road to recovery. But in the midst of all of that, Jack found Sammy’s inventory pile hidden in his shop, and he knew what he had to do.
Jack gathered Nurm, Jesse, and Petra around a fire one night.
“So what are we doing again?” Petra asked.
“Sammy is from Mooji Lake. There, they burn inventory piles to symbolize moving on,” Jack explained. “I wasn’t able to do it for her and Vos back then for . . . obvious reasons, but I think she’d want me to do it now that I can, even if I can’t do it for Vos.” He wished he had something for Vos, but he was learning to let those regrets go.
Petra placed a hand on his shoulder and Jesse smiled sympathetically at him. Nurm tended to the fire, before turning to him and saying, “It’s ready.”
Jack tossed Sammy’s inventory into the fire. The stench of smoke and items burning filled his nose, and it was the best thing he’d smelled in years.
“Hey,” Jack said, “who wants to hear the story of how the three of us met?”
“I do!” Jesse exclaimed immediately.
“Heck yeah,” Petra replied.
Nurm smiled knowingly.
It’s a lonely road for a hero
But I won’t be alone at its end
For I will wait in the shallows
Until we meet again
Surrounded by friends, the past behind him, Jack finally knew how to let go of his regrets while still honoring his friends; he finally realized that he could move forward, even as the world changed around him.
Until . . . we meet . . . again.