Herobrine's Legend (The Wielder Chronicles Book One)

Second Half

Zach's POV

This wasn't right. It couldn't be.

Who was this guy? I had heard of the Herobrine legend, but...

Steve? Why...

I could barely breathe. My body was shivering, and not from cold.

Its not true, its not true, I kept replaying in my mind. Steve can't be Herobrine. Everyone knows its just a myth.

But whatever this place was, wasn't a myth.

I reached out. I touched the painting of Herobrine/Steve, making sure it wasn't my mind making illusions.

My hand went straight through the painting.

And I screamed.

Because I, being myself, fell through the painting.

I hate it when karma strikes you back. Ive never been a klutz until now.

I fell through the painting, expecting to hit a solid wall. No such luck. It was a deep and narrow passageway leading, and from what I could see, it was pitch black and looked extremely long.

I didn't really have control of my actions. Like I had one voice telling me to run away, the other telling me to keep going.

Apparently the second voice was winning the war.

I crept through the dark and seemingly endless tunnel, the air hot and heavy, and the walls brushing my shoulders either side. I saw a glow up ahead, a glow of... Lava?

I stepped into a room. Only, it wasn't just a room.

Like the other one, this was covered in paintings. But of people.

Dozens of portraits, but there was something different about them. They were split in half, a line dividing them. Two pictures of the same people.

If you saw it that way.

Because the people in the second portrait... Well, weren't people at all. They were the same, but darker, sadder, and... Eviler. And their eyes were pure white.

I looked to the first picture. A man, looking happy in a wooden home while cooking pork in a furnace. And below it, the same man, standing in front of his house while it burned to the ground. His eyes were white.

A second, a woman with two children clinging to her while she observed a construction zone. Below it, the same woman with those empty white eyes. The two children were gone, and the construction zone was up in flames and hostile mobs were everywhere.

There were just so many pictures of so many happy people, but they all resulted the same: fire, mobs, darkness, and glowing white eyes.

It didn't make any sense.

I walked back smashing into a painting of an older man and woman. It fell to the ground with a crash.

I picked it up, blowing away the dust.

I noticed something written on the back.

'Jones Parker. 45. Wielder.'

I gulped. Wielder? Wasn't that... What Nya had been mumbling in her sleep.

I put the painting back on the fall, avoiding the gaze of the white-eyed man on the bottom half of the canvas.

I picked up the painting of the first man I had seen.

'David Harrison. 24. Wielder.'

And the picture of the woman.

"Elaine McKinnon. 34. Wielder.'

Again with the wielder. And every other painting had the same thing. The name, age and 'wielder'. Whatever the hell that was.

It was creeping me out. Its what Nya was having dreams about. She would wake up in a sweat, scared and exhausted. Everynight she would murmer 'wielder' in her sleep.

I saw one painting I hadn't seen, slightly hidden behind another. I went over, my curiosity to much for me, and pulled the painting that was covering it away.

I nearly collaspsed there on the spot.

Because the painting was a picture of Nya...

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*cue dramatic music*

HEROBRINE HAS RETURNED!!! MWAHAHA

WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT...?

I know ;) You needa find out ;)

SO KEEP READING

Its a boring saturday afternoon so be expecting more chapters within the next few days.

REMEMBER TO VOTE GUYS

Anyways, see ya

-Jazzcat :D