Legacy of Herobrine ✓

Chapter 22

Pain. Lots of pain. From the moment that Faolan slipped back into consciousness, his body was racked with pain. Aching, stinging, throbbing. Everywhere in his body. Making him want to slip back into his mindless, peaceful dimension of silence.

With difficulty, he opened one green eye. But instead of seeing the comforting stone brick walls of his home in the Descendant village, or even the wood that surrounded his bedroom back at the restaurant, he saw a wall of cobblestone about five blocks away from him.

What the... he thought as he opened his other eye. He saw a dungeon; like the ones that Kat or Amia or Kyle would talk about from exploring and mining. The high ceilings, cobblestone walls, and mossy floors made sense. But the shining monster spawner in the middle was missing. There was a chest on the other side of the room, and a lone torch illuminated the room a couple blocks away from him. There was an iron door cut into the wall. There was no way out.

Slowly, Faolan sat up. Once the sharp pains in his temple and shoulders and hands faded enough for him to be aware, he realized that he was on a bench of stone slabs that was two blocks wide. He rubbed his right shoulder--his sword arm--and took a look around. The place was desolate and quiet, unused in a while. He listened and found nothing except for the echo of his breath from the stone walls.

Quickly, painfully, he took check of his inventory. Everything was gone except for a melon slice he didn't know he had and a clock. His hunger could wait--he had a while until it would stop regenerating lost health. The clock told him that it was a little after noon.

Slowly, memories of the last time he was awake started to resurface. The blur of America's sword. The sharp jaws of Flint lunging at his right shoulder. The blue light of Bridget's force fields. And the laughing in his mind, clearly Sky's voice. The laughing.

Faolan groaned. Why did I take them on? That was so stupid of me, he thought. Celeste's voice rang clear in his mind, just like the day that he boldly confronted those bullies at school and Celeste came to visit him in the nurse's office.

Not like that, she snapped. You need to be sneaky. And have common sense. That was really dumb to do.

And it was. Taking on Bridget, America, Sky, and her dog was one of the dumbest things he had ever done. Amia gave her life. And he was trapped in this... place.

"Where am I, anyway?" He muttered. The dungeon was completely devoid of life. He stood up shakily, but had to sit down when a throbbing pain in his ankle shot up his leg. There was a bed next to it. He stared at it. I'm not sleeping in that, told himself. I'm not giving them satisfaction.

He assessed his wounds. At best, his ankle was sprained. His shoulder ached from a savage bite from Flint the dog, and his temple throbbed from a well-aimed punch. The rest of his body ached plenty. He grimaced and stood, trying to put weight on his leg. It stung like the Nether, but he didn't cry out. He balanced most of his weight on his other foot and hobbled over to the door. The small holes in the iron door let him see a better-lit room, but it was more of a hallway. There was a chest on the other side of the corridor, likely housing his belongings.

Uttering a curse, Faolan limped back over to the bench and sat down. What's going to happen now? Bridget has me at my worst. I can't get out. On a better note, he mused, But it's not like she has an army.

Just as soon as the good feeling came, it went away. She probably did, given the number of Descendants of Herobrine there were. Who's to say that Notch had the same, or more?

"I'm dead," he said under his breath.

Suddenly, a familiar voice from nowhere exclaimed, "No you're not!"