The Edge of MINECRAFT (Being the Second Volume of the Minecraft Trilogy)

True Colors

They were close. Israphel knew that much. He could feel the air changing. They were no longer in any charted region of Minecraft. Snow covered everything in sight. They honestly couldn't be too far from the Northern Ocean. Even the toughest of monsters were shivering now; November down south was cold, and up here it was exponentially worse.

There were times Israphel thought he was dreaming. The snow could get so thick that all around him, the world was one blank white canvas. There was nothing, and yet, within the nothing, everything. Israphel almost laughed. He was getting poetic in his old age.

"What in the Nether are we looking for?" roared Five over the whipping wind.

"We'll know when we find it!" Israphel shouted back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" came the bewildered reply.

"I'm jussst following orders!" the creeper protested.

"Whose orders?" demanded Five. "Herobrine's or your own delusional little--"

The zombie general paused. All was quiet, for the wind had died. Silently, the crisp white snow settled on the ground. Israphel could see clearly, and what he saw was breathtaking.

From the misty horizon, several shapes materialized. Seemingly gliding across the snow, these figures were tall and mysterious. As they got closer, Israphel observed their bodies made of snow, ice-coated branches sticking out to form arms. Their faces, pumpkins with blank hollow stares and gaping frowns, rested upon shoulders of frost.

Ice golems.

One of them came forward, larger and more intimidating than the rest. "What brings you to this place?" he asked, his metallic voice literally chilling the monsters.

Israphel strutted forward. "We are friendsss of Herobrine. We have come to seek your alliance."

"Herobrine is dead," scoffed the the lead golem. "I witnessed his death myself."

"He did not die in that fall," Israphel countered. "He was merely exiled, and now he hasss returned!"

"What proof do you have?" demanded the snow monster.

"The last thing Herobrine said to you as you headed into battle that day was 'My brother will soon pay.' Or are you not Istal, King of the Icelands?" This took the golem aback.

"So it is true. Herobrine has returned," he relented. "Only he could have known such a thing."

"And now he seeks your help once again."

"What did we gain from helping him once? We only sought to overthrow the unfair rule of the iron golems, but a people no better replaced them, and our only reward was exile. Why should we help him this time?"

Israphel persisted: "But you did destroy the iron golems, and the pigmen as well. The only thing that stopped your ultimate triumph was Notch, and his players are gone now. Help Herobrine take control, and you will see a new order overtake Minecraft."

"Your offer is tempting," Istal admitted. "Truly, Herobrine is a visionary. But will he succeed this time?"

"His power has returned."

Istal appeared deep in thought. The monsters stayed stock still. Surely they wouldn't be so lucky as to win the endermen and the ice golems! But then, Istal gave a quaint nod.

"I accept your master's proposal," he said. "We shall join the fight for a better Minecraft." Israphel glanced back at the other monster leaders. Many appeared joyous and triumphant. Deadbones gave a small nod of approval. Five stayed his normal self, stewing over this new complication.