Herobrine X Reader - Love's Wither Rose (COMPLETE)

12 - One Week

He needed to let off some steam - and, well, maybe he'd gone a bit overboard. Herobrine sat and watched as the forest burned, hearing the fires crackle and his blood pumping in his ears.

This was who he really was. He just needed a little nudge to remember. Herobrine wasn't supposed to be pining like a teenager; no, Herobrine was powerful. Destructive. He did whatever he needed to get what he wanted.

Everything he'd felt for (Y/N) wasn't real, he told himself. It was all just him seeking a folly escape from his reality.

It wasn't real.

"It was nothing."

Then...why did it hurt?

Because he had to watch them die? Respawn, he corrected himself. They respawned. He knew they were respawning - so why did he let himself break like that? Was it because...? Of course it was. The irony was almost comical: he had all this power coursing through his veins, and yet he couldn't - couldn't...

Herobrine told himself that the guilt he felt was an illusion, or that he was guilty for allowing himself to get sidetracked so easily. He had a goal, and he'd be damned if he wouldn't see it through.

The smell of burning pine filled his nose. He took a deep breath, feeling the familiar scorching heat focus in his fingertips at his sides. With a swift movement of his hand, he was engulfed in a flurry of red and blue flames.

The fire surrounding him soon cleared, leaving him standing alone at the entrance to the grand hall he had carved into the mountainside. The cold embrace of the air here was the total opposite of that of his real home. A lectern stood at the far end of the hall, with an open book laying open upon it.

That wasn't there before. Herobrine paused for a moment before stepping towards it.

As he got closer, he noticed a sword, glowing with enchantments, leaning against it. The name of the sword - (S/N) - was etched crudely into the blade on one side. It was (Y/N)'s.

Herobrine didn't dare touch it. He tried to ignore it as best he could, choosing instead to focus on the book. It was a hard cover, and the writing was somewhat neat, half-cursive. Deliberately written, yet the ink wasn't pressed too hard onto the paper. There were only a few written pages, and most of it (Herobrine realised with an unsettling chill) was (Y/N)'s handwriting. Most of it, except the last two words, neatly scrawled in large letters across the page.

One week.

Herobrine flipped the page, and a folded sheet of paper slid out, falling to the stone floor beside his foot. He stooped to pick it up, unfolding it carefully.

A map?

Sure enough, there was the marker that moved with Herobrine, showing exactly where he was and where he was facing. Towards the upper right-hand corner was a vague sketch of what looked like a house. A square box with a triangle on top.

Herobrine stared at the map, trying to process it all. Had (Y/N) been kidnapped? If so, by whom?

One week...

He didn't have any horses, so it would likely be a four-day journey at least to that house marker. Herobrine had already exerted enough of his powers so he couldn't teleport himself there. Thin wisps of pale smoke rose up from the paper. Herobrine dropped the map and stepped back. He had burned the edges where he was holding it.

Now that he thought about it, couldn't he use the Nether? It would be significantly faster than going by foot in the Overworld. Even if it did take him practically to the front door of -

Herobrine shook his head. May as well kill two birds with one stone.

Herobrine snatched up the map as he marched up to his library, letting the heat and red light from the blazing torches perched on the walls and the steady beat of his echoing footsteps fuel his determination. He shoved open the huge wooden doors, striding over to his desk and picking up that hardcover book. He knew the words by heart, but still he flicked through the pages again, pausing on a drawing of what looked like four tall, dark towers standing at the compass-points adjacent to a larger,more detailed tower in the centre.

He faltered a moment. Would he really risk himself to save (Y/N), when the very thing he had been working towards for so long was just within reach? They could handle themselves, couldn't they? Yeah (he didn't let himself think about their abandoned sword downstairs). Yeah, of course they could.

But something still nagged at him to go after them. Herobrine shook it off.

"Focus," he told himself. "Don't get distracted. Again."

Herobrine snapped the book shut, dropping it back on the desk. He continued on upstairs until he reached his armoury, there he grabbed his sword and cloak and a few other necessities (namely as many healing potions as he was willing to carry) before storming back into the cold corridor. His breath rose in small clouds in front of him. There was no firey torchlight up here, and so the chill of the biome was allowed to set in.

Before long he reached his portal. The obsidian border and purple void within almost appeared to be an eye, watching him. Judging him. Knowing that his decisions now will either make or break his future. He chose to ignore the stare that cautioned him.

He stepped into the purple iris, letting it envelop him.

Today.

He was going to reclaim his kingdom.