Deep in the Void

Chapter 3: From the Jaws of Death

Ceris walked along in front of the wither skeletons, her hands bound in enchanted rope that prevented her from teleporting or summoning her armblades.

As she and her guard walked, she looked around at the devestation the Nether had wreaked on Dragonspire. Several towers had been smashed apart by giant skeletons, and Ceris's throne room looked as though a bomb had hit it. ('Of course,' thought Ceris, 'he wouldn't want to be reminded that he can't sit on the true throne.')
The worst part was the bodies. The Nether hadn't bothered to clean up after themselves, and the lanky corpses of endermen and the occasional Enderkin were sprawled over the shallow-hilled endstone. Their purple blood lent the air a sickening smell. Further away, at the edge of the island, Ceris could see the scorch marks which Infernius had left on the ground. Ceris felt a savage pleasure seeing the dent he had made when he hit the ground. She wondered vaguely whether the skeletal pyromancer had been destroyed by the upper parts of the void, or if he had enough mass to fall through. She hoped the former. Being devoured by void spawn wasn't a fate she'd wish on anyone.

Pulling herself out of her reminiscing, Ceris looked ahead, and saw a raised platform of wood and Netherite.
To her horror, she could see what remained of the enderman army kneeling in front of it, closely guarded by a cohort of wither skeletons. Men, women, even children. They would all be forced to watch their queen die at the hands of an unworthy king. The End Matriarch felt a wave of nausea at the Nether's savagery.

Waiting for her on the platform was Naeus. Ceris's skeletal escort stopped at the foot of the stage. The Nether king walked down the steps, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her roughly up the steps to the middle of the stage. Pulling out his spear and placing the blade against the back of her neck, he boomed
'Ceris, deposed End Matriarch. For the crime of resisting the Nether, your future rulers, of dispersing the End Crystals and the Ender Artifacts in the hope the Nether could not use their power, and even after defeat, refusing to submit your crown by allowing yourself to be wedded to me, the ruler of the Nether and End, you shall be executed by decapitation, ending your threat to the wellbeing of the Nether.'
Ceris noted that even some of the withers looked uncomfortable at the arrogance of this speech.
She felt Naeus swing his spear back from her neck, making ready to cut off her head. She didn't close her eyes. Instead she gazed sadly at the kneeling endermen. Several were crying. She knew without vanity what her death would mean for them - the end of peace, and the beginning of tyrannical rule by primitives. Black tears welled behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. No matter how wet this stage might become with her blood, she would not give the crude planks her feelings.
There was a whistling sound, as Naeus swung his spear forwards. And this time, without meaning to, she did close her eyes, readying herself for the blow. Something cold and hard pressed into her hand - maybe one of the polished nubs of the crudely cut wood. The blade easily cut through the base of her hood, slicing into the back of her neck-

She was lying in what felt like sand, water lapping gently around her boots, seeping through the stitching. Held in her hand was what looked to her befuddled mind like an eye of ender. Feeling it slowly, she knew it was what she had felt in her hand at the execution. Whatever it was, it had clearly used her own energy transporting her to wherever this was. Black lapped at the edges of her vision, moving inwards quickly. Just before she blacked out, something warm and soft pressed lightly against her cheek, and a lilting voice spoke
'Well, haven't you grown. What fun this is going to be...'