Zane's Second Chance (Minecraft Diaries' Fanfiction)

Chapter 27

Garroth's POV:

I told them that I was retiring to bed- I was actually tired, but instead, the open window was a perfect excuse for me to jump out and explore the city for a bit. Now, I'm hiding behind a garbage can in an alleyway watching the moving contraptions called "cars" speed by. There's a different air to this city than Phoenix Drop, more busy and fast as if everything is in this rapidly paced motion that everyone follows and never breaks. Zane told me once that the city was rather beautiful in its own way, but I guess he forgot to mention the alleyways and the people's carelessness with their trash. Every city has these kinds of things, though, even O'khasis.

I'm not sure why I decided to lie to Xandra- she's just a sweet girl; maybe because somewhere deep in my gut, I knew that she would follow me.

Like Raven would.

"Hey, boy, why you in my alley?"

I spin around to catch sight of a man who towered above me, his shoulders tense and his eyes blazing for a fight. He cracks his knuckles and his hands are huge.

Maybe I should have slept in.

"What?" I can't understand his words and accents- or anyone's really. Even Xandra's words were hard to decipher. This city captivates me and confuses in many ways.

"I said-" He takes one step closer and out of the darkness, two more men emerge, buff and obviously strong. "Why are you in my alley?"

His alley?

From his blazing eyes and his tense muscles, I know I shouldn't try to rouse him. "Don't make an enemy when you have the choice of making a truce," my trainer from the guard academy once told me, and those were very wise words. Words that made me reconsider killing Zane after he first threatened Phoenix Drop.

"I was just walking around and ended up here the next moment. I didn't mean to-"

"Do I look like I care, boy?" the man who seems to be the leader of the small group yells at me, his knuckles glowing white. An unnatural white- a color that reminds me of Zane's skin. These days, almost everything and anything I see reminds me of my little brother, but I don't pay attention to that thought for long.

I blink, momentarily taken back. Nobody has ever called me "boy" before, except for my father. Perhaps it was because of my position in the Ro'meave family- the oldest son of the lord of O'khasis, or that I aged quicker than most people my age, saw too much and felt many things. After faking death and disguised as the head guard of Phoenix Drop, I felt the harshness of the common people but I was never insulted. Sure Laurance called me "Stutter King" and "Helmet Head", but never "boy".

And it was never yelled at me.

Until that fateful day that ended everything.

"Answer me!"

No, I don't want to. I refuse.

I shake my head, the memories taking over my sense of direction and reality. I take a step back, the sound of crunching from where my foot is. I stare down and see a strange red object under my foot. I gingerly lift my foot while eyeing the three men who are slowly advancing towards me.

I really should have stayed in bed.

"You wretched boy! Listen to me!"

"You wretched boy! Listen to me!" I see my father replace the leader of the group, black hair now blonde and dark eyes turned deep blue. All at once the desolated alleyway transforms into a vast but dark room, the curtains drawn tight and stacks of paper messily covering a carefully crafted table. The two backup men disappear and are replaced with a dark-haired boy of two years and a small girl with bright purple eyes. The man- or rather my father, continues to yell at me, calling me all the possible names he could think of. In his hand is his sword, its jeweled hilt gleaming in the small amount of light that the candle near the bed produced.