Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a cool day, cool enough for the boy to shiver a little in his short-sleeved shirt. The stiff breeze rustled the leaves of the trees that loomed over the boy, casting shadows on the rough and tangled forest floor that he stumbled over. His stomach growled as he trod, head down and arms crossed on his chest to hug himself, his caramel-coloured hair dangling into his face. His feet were sore and hot and heavy and each step was harder than the last.

The boy lifted his head enough to see through his bangs. “Hello?” he called, brown eyes searching the forest. His tone was empty and hollow. “Anyone?”

He didn’t expect an answer, and he didn’t get one. The leaves in the trees rustled and the birdsong halted for a moment before continuing, but no one answered his call. Goosebumps on his arms prickled as he looked over his shoulder, blinking blankly at the unidentifiable forest behind him, his footprints invisible among the grass and dirt covered in a mulch made of long-dead leaves. Spots of warm sunlight tracked his path as he trudged onwards, hugging himself tighter as the wind picked up, pushing him from behind as if urging him on.

If he had remembered the way back to his village then he would have been fine when he was returning from his little walk in the forest, but he had already lost all hope of finding it again, now relying purely on luck to get him home. He had been walking for hours. Maybe he was just curving a huge circle and would stumble back on it at some point. Maybe he would never find home again.

So lost in his thoughts, with a mind made numb by exhaustion and the heavy heat in his feet, it was a few crucial moments before he heard the snuffling and shuffling behind him and a moment more before he realised what it meant. Fear made his heart leap into his throat as he spun around, mouth open and eyes wide as the predator behind him halted, tilting its head at the small creature now frozen in its tracks.

The boy ran his frightened eyes over the beast; it was huge and on all fours, at least three times as big as an adult human, covered in long shaggy black hair that seemed nearly glossy in the pinpricks of sunlight. Its eyes were black but not void of intelligence as it rose onto its hind legs, long claws dragging up clumps of dirt and grass as it growled and then roared, spit flying from between its sharp, stained teeth.

The boy screamed and ran.

His feet pounded on the soft, loose dirt as he stumbled and tripped over tree roots and dead branches and rocks, panic driving him into a headlong sprint as he heard the bear thumping after him, easily navigating the forest floor, getting closer and closer until the boy imagined that he could feel the bear’s breath on the back of his neck-

His foot caught on a branch and his ankle twisted but the branch didn’t let it go. The boy gave a shout and came crashing down, frantically pulling his leg to try and get free as his sticky hair flicked in his face and the bear loomed over him, baring its teeth, claws drawing back to deliver the killing strike. The boy shut his eyes and looked away, crying in terror.

He heard a grunt and then the furious roar of the bear as something gave a horrible ripping sound that rang again, instantly followed by another roar and the heavy thumps of the bear’s paws. The boy peered up enough to see someone standing over him, facing the bear, protecting the boy from death. In his hand was a long sword flecked with fresh blood that was close enough to the boy for him to be able to see strange markings etched into the blade, sitting near the hilt.

The boy’s eyes were ripped from the markings as the bear roared and the man standing over him gave a shout and charged forward, ducking under the bear’s swipe and jabbing with his sword. The boy tugged again at his trapped ankle, still frantic and terrified, his ears filled with the crashing roars of the bear. The root refused to yield and his ankle became more and more thoroughly wedged until each tug made it burn and the boy’s vision grew blurry.

A heavy thump paused his actions and he looked up through fluttering eyes to see the black bear spread out flat on the ground, leaves that were thrown up at the impact fluttering down around it. The boy’s rapidly dimming vision faintly saw the man withdraw his sword from the beast and then there was a small, faint flash of white light and then nothing.

His ankle was sore and stiff when the boy drifted awake and the sun’s light was at an odd angle, the sky a bright blue with orange and pink tinges. The boy winced and covered his eyes as he sat up, a thin blanket slipping off his shoulders as he did so. He didn’t recognise where he was, which wasn’t a surprise given that the forest was indistinctive and unremarkable at best, but he didn’t remember making the small fire that smouldered beside him. In fact, he didn’t know how to make a fire at all, and although his memories from before his unconsciousness were sketchy at best, he knew that he hadn’t had a blanket. His ankle ached as he slowly stood but when he took away the bandage that had been wrapped there, he only saw a few light bruises.

Mere minutes after he woke up, he heard sets of footsteps treading lightly in the forest and he whirled around, rapidly peering into the forest and noticing the small band of hunters before they saw him. He didn’t move as they entered his small camp, and he resisted shuffling on his feet as they looked him up and down, noting the blanket that was on the dirt and the dying fire and the lack of… well, the lack of anything.

“Are you with someone, son?” one of the men asked kindly.

The boy swallowed nervously, dropping his gaze. That was an answer enough for the man, who stepped away from his group to approach the boy. “Are you lost?”

The boy sniffed and nodded, crossing his arms to hug himself. He was tired, he was hungry, and he just wanted to go home and sleep in a real bed in a place that he knew.

“What’s your name, son?”

The boy wiped his face and finally looked up, meeting the man’s concerned gaze. “Mitch.”

Chapter Text

Years later...

The sword stabbed into the ground, its owner thrown off balance for only a moment before they ducked under the enemy blade and yanked their weapon from the ground, dancing away from the flurry of strikes before meeting and answering the sword with a ringing clash that sent sparks flying, both men bracing against the other, throwing their full weight into the stalemate.

The training grounds of the Sky Army was in chaos, recruits streaming from their designated training activity, word spreading across the base as off-duty recruits also started running, all heading for one of the central duelling circles. There was already a sizable crowd around it that was cheering loudly but it was now settling down, excited tension palpable in the air as the two men kept their swords interlocked, panting and grinning at their opponent, both with identical badges on their left shoulders. 

“Kick his ass, Jason!” a recruit shouted from the back and several laughs and echos sprung up from the quickly swelling crowd before being quelled, watching and waiting for the response.

General Jason, a younger man with short brown hair, glanced away from his opponent to grin in the direction of the shout before returning his blue gaze to his partner. “Well, you heard him,” he panted between breaths.

General Mitch flicked his sweaty caramel-coloured hair out of his eyes, returning the grin. “Give me your best shot.”

With a sudden heave, Jason shoved Mitch away, unlocking their swords and forcing Mitch to yield a precious step as Jason’s sword flicked forward, biting and snapping and always slicing at nothing but empty air or the hard steel of Mitch’s sword.

It was like watching art when Jason fought, twirling and flicking his sword like a viper’s tongue or a fan of steel or a flash of lightning. He used his blade like an extension of his whole body, beginning and ending his calculated strikes with precision and grace in perfect balance that came from years of practise and knowledge and skill. It was not uncommon for his opponent to stare at his strikes and forget to defend themselves. No one wanted to fight him. Jason didn’t often lose.

Conversely, though Mitch was just as skilled as Jason in every way, his style and technique lay on the far opposite side of the spectrum. He was impulsive and unpredictable with his strikes and sometimes changed his style part-way through an attack but he was always, always on point. His sword was an extension of his entire being, just another way to express himself and wreak vengeance in the form of a spinning and flashing piece of perfectly formed metal. While Jason traced an intricate dance, Mitch dived and darted and held his ground like a panther, his eyes alive with the thrill of the fight. Everyone wanted to fight Mitch because no matter what, he always found a way to win.

Jason was an expert. Mitch was a natural.

The two vastly different styles always made the duel between the two Generals extraordinarily interesting to watch as the air was filled with clashing and ringing and the shuffling of feet across the dirt and the involuntary grunts as the two blocked and attacked. Though they were nearly equals in terms of skill, the duels nearly always ended in Mitch flicking his sword, twisting Jason’s weapon from his grasp as a foot lashed out and his hand shoved him backward and the dirt flew into the air as dust as Jason hit the ground, the breath knocked out of him and Mitch’s sword pointed in his direction as they both became deafened by the cheers and shouts and laughter of the crowd of recruits. 

Mitch lowered his sword and held a hand to help Jason up, which was happily accepted. The other dusted himself off, brushing the brown particles off his sweaty light blue shirt. “You know, I nearly had you there,” he remarked lightly, speaking loud enough for Mitch to hear him over the hubbub.

“I know, I was panicking,” Mitch admitted with a wide grin. “You gotta watch your feet, when you’re preparing a complicated attack, you keep them still, it makes them an easy target.”

“Yeah I know, I’m trying to work on it,” Jason said distastefully, looking down at his dusty shoes. “I noticed you’re dropping your guard on your left side when you’re doing one of those spinning attacks you’re so fond of, which is unusual for you.”

“Oh, I was?” Mitch huffed as he sheathed his sword, adjusting his red and black checked jacket to a more comfortable position. “I was trying to work on a new movement that might give me some better stability, I guess I let my focus get too caught up in that.”

“Well, it’s just good that we weren’t actually trying to hit each other.”

Mitch laughed as the crowd of recruits slowly dispersed, heading back to their training routines or various other tasks that came with being part of an army. The heavy smack of wooden swords on training poles and the bark of captains and commanders once again rang around the huge training grounds. 

“Are you running the afternoon training sessions today?” Mitch asked his friend with a raised eyebrow.

“After I get changed, yeah. Why?”

“Oh phew, I have a meeting with Jerome, I was worried that I had stuffed up my schedules and would have to cancel it again.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Oh no, you have a meeting with your best friend, poor you.”

A stream of spluttering protests came out of Mitch’s mouth, ended by “What do you expect, the eight of us run an army, of course we have to have meetings with our best friends-”

“Chill Mitch,” Jason laughed, giving his friend a light slap on the back of the head. “I’ll handle the training session, you go talk to Jerome.”

Mitch was very tempted to judo-flip Jason, but he only allowed himself the satisfaction of an exaggerated eye-roll as he stepped out of the dueling circle and headed up the wide streets of the city-like army base to the castle that stood in its centre.

Established over a century ago, the Sky Army had nearly always been run by a team of eight Generals, one of whom usually ended up becoming the unofficial head of the army. Mitch and Jason were two of these eight leaders, and together the two of them oversaw all of the training for the entire army, as well as the breaking in of new recruits and the retirement of old ones. Jason had been in the army for longer than Mitch was, although they had both become Generals at roughly the same time. 

The gentle breeze that brushed the streets cooled Mitch’s sweat as he hopped up the stairs to the castle, passing Ian - somewhat unremarkable with his dark blue shirt and black hair and sunglasses - who was chatting to the guards at the door and gave a nod to the warrior without breaking his conversation. Out of the eight, Ian had been a General for the longest, but for one reason or another, he hadn’t become the unofficial leader of the eight. And he never seemed to be disappointed by the fact.

The path to Mitch’s room crossed over a large antechamber and Mitch couldn’t help peering over the railing as he crossed. It was unusually full today, though Mitch saw the reason why when he spotted the dark purple cloak that could only belong to General Seto leaning over a large book that was spread out on the table, his hands gesturing in the air and to the book as he explained something to those gathered. Given the large number of coloured cloaks in the crowd, it was probably something magic-related. 

One quick shower and clothes-change later and Mitch was heading towards one of the larger guard towers towards the edge of the army base, near the large thick wall that ringed the community. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword that he constantly had strapped to his side as he reached the door of his destination and headed inside, head instantly swivelling to assess any possible threat.

Luckily for any potential intruder, the only other person in the room was a man who could only be a year older than Mitch, with darker brown hair leaning over a large piece of paper spread out on the table, chewing on the end of a pencil. He didn’t look up from the page as Mitch came around and leaned over his shoulder, looking at the blank squares that made some sort of timetable on the paper.

“What’s up?” Mitch asked.

The man didn’t respond for several moments, then he turned his head to look at Mitch, still chewing on the end of the pencil, a blank sort of look in his eyes. “I’ve been staring at this table for two hours and I have no idea what I’m doing,” he said flatly.

Mitch threw his hands into the air. “Oh come on Jerome, you’ve been making guard schedules for three years! Ian’s always happy to help you, you do remember that you two run the guards and scouts together , right?”

Jerome winced. “I feel bad asking him for help again.”

A long suffering sigh came from Mitch, who was pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is this what you wanted to meet about?”

“Actually I was hoping that you could check over it when I was done, but umm…” He waved a hand to the empty timetable.

“Alright.” Mitch pulled up a chair and sat next to Jerome, pulling the paper so that it was angled towards the two of them. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

Now Jerome might not have been the smartest person in the world, but that wasn’t to say that he was stupid. After Mitch spent some time helping him get started and finding a system that worked for the different days, Jerome was able to finish it off on his own as Mitch took a walk along the wall of the base, often stopping and leaning on the battlements to watch the outside world. 

He was looking for something. He was always looking for something.

When he returned to the guard tower several minutes later, Jerome had finished filling in the guard schedule for the next two months, which he made Mitch check over before putting it up on the wall for the recruits to see.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Mitch told him once he had finished, leaning back in his chair.

Jerome gave him a withering eyebrow over his shoulder as he finished tacking up the paper. “Don’t say that, I have to get your help every time. And don’t rock on your chair like that, you’re gonna fall over.”

Mitch ignored him. “You don’t have to get my help every time, it’s only when you forget that-” His words were cut off with a swear as his chair slipped from under him and sent him crashing to the floor, groaning as Jerome laughed.

“Ow,” Mitch complained.

Jerome didn’t stop chuckling as he moved over and offered Mitch a hand up. The younger gave him a scathing look before accepting the hand up. His back was sore and it protested as he picked up the chair and shoved it back in its place by the table.

“Oh, that was great,” Jerome said, wiping away his happy tears. “Anyway, it’s getting close to dinner, let’s go up to the castle.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Mitch said as he followed Jerome out of the guard tower. The sky was beginning to turn a light dusky colour, and the sounds of training that nearly always echoed across the base had died down as recruits finished their duties for the day and headed home. “You guys get started on dinner without me.”

Jerome turned to give his friend a look. “Will there ever be a day when you’re on time to dinner?”

“Probably not.” Mitch grinned and split off, giving Jerome a wave as he headed off to the training grounds again.

Chapter Text

Though the sky was dark and the lanterns that littered the streets of the base were being lit and the training ground had been emptied of recruits, the sounds of a metal sword hacking at training poles echoed faintly in the night air in a chaotic but constant rhythm. The sounds were a common occurrence and so was ignored by most of the recruits, who knew that Mitch prefered to be left alone during his personal training.

Like always, the General had dragged several of the poles that were used in the more basic training routines and assembled them in a rough circle around him, giving himself enough space to step between them. And then he trained.

Some people ‘zoned out’ while they were training, their minds barely puttering in the background and their bodies going into auto-pilot while they fought and practised, but not Mitch. He was constantly thinking as he ducked and darted and slashed, constantly aware of how he positioned his feet and where he was looking and what his next target was and the grip he had on his sword and always, always, what he could do better. 

He thought of new ways to try things and combined new techniques and changed old ones which left him more often than not stumbling away or catching himself before he tripped over and stabbed himself with his sword, but that was why he trained in the darkness, away from the sight of most people. It was one thing to fail. It was another thing to fail in front of others. And while MItch might not have minded failing, he didn’t particularly like the idea of having everyone watching. 

Time became irrelevant as Mitch worked, acutely aware of his entire body as he propelled himself off of the poles, flipping and twisting in the air and bending his knees as he landed before instantly jumping to the side and rolling up, then jumping up with a kick that landed him close to where he started, his sword in constant motion the entire time. He worked on the same series of movements over and over, starting in different positions with different targets and different orders until he could do it with his eyes closed. 

And then he did do it with his eyes closed just to be sure.

When he opened them, he spotted two recruits staring at him with wide eyes and slack jaws. Mitch gave them a small tired grin before turning away, wiping his damp hair out of his eyes. All the spinning and twisting was starting to make him horribly dizzy as he put away his sword.

“Oh sorry, we didn’t mean to disturb you, we were just… we couldn’t help watching. You can keep going if you want!”

The General glanced over to see the two recruits inching up towards him, seeming a little wary in their approach. Probably newer recruits, Mitch reasoned as he waved off their concern. “Nah it’s fine, I should be finishing anyway.”

“Do you always train by yourself in the dark?” one asked.

Ah, so very new recruits then. “Every night,” Mitch told them, grunting a little as he started to heave one of the poles back to the storage container. The two recruits quickly jumped to help with the other poles. “It’s a habit of mine.”

“How long have you been doing it for?”

“Fifteen years?” Mitch dropped the pole in its spot and put his hands on his waist as he thought. “Yeah, about fifteen years. I was training nearly every night just before my father disappeared and I’ve been doing it ever since.”

One of the recruits gave him a curious look. “Your father? Did he train you?” Mitch nodded, knowing what question would follow and he wasn’t disappointed. “Why did he disappear?”

“Don’t know, he just did,” Mitch said with a shrug, getting the other poles. “What training activities do you guys have tomorrow?”

“Uhh…” one looked to his fellow recruit. “I think we’re supposed to be helping with… stocktake? Whatever that means?”

Mitch gave a grim chuckle. “You’d best be getting some good sleep tonight then. Stocktake is when you have to count all the items we have stored, and General Ty is very particular about how you do it.”

Both of the recruits grimaced but recognised their dismissal and after helping Mitch pack away the rest of the poles, they left in the direction of the barracks. Mitch headed in the other direction towards the castle which was predominantly empty of people until he reached the fourth and fifth levels, which functioned as the living quarters for the eight Generals.

One shower and clothes-change later and Mitch jogged down the hallway and a few small steps and opened one of a set of double doors, stepping in and nearly instantly dodging the crumpled up paper that someone pegged at the bin beside the door.

“Oh hey Mitch, we left some stew for you in the kitchen,” Ian said as if he hadn’t nearly hit Mitch with a ball of death.

Mitch rolled his eyes with a grin as he headed out one of the open doorways of the room. Ian and Jason were bent over the table that was placed near one of the walls, scribbling on several pieces of paper while several more were crumbled in and around the bin, so whatever they were working on clearly wasn’t going well. Jerome was sitting at the table too, although he was only watching blankly while he ate his stew and keeping it well away from the paper.

The edges of the room had a few bookcases against the walls; some barely used, others full to bursting (they hadn’t yet gotten around to sorting them out). In the middle of the room were several couches and plush chairs, one of which had a sleeping Ty stretched out across it, another with Seto sketching something while Quentin pointed out things he had forgotten in his drawing, referring to a complicated-looking book he had on his lap.

Mitch leant on one of the doorframes as he chowed down on his dinner, glancing across the room in time to see Jason peg another crumpled up paper ball at the bin and spy Adam sitting in one of the armchairs, looking at the bundle of papers he was holding like someone who was severely out of his depth and regretting every decision of his life. Mind you, it was his own fault for choosing to take the logistics job and somehow also ending up taking the unofficial leader role. 

“What do you have there Adam?” Mitch called between bites. 

Adam flicked his head over to Mitch, his expression unchanging. “Reading the update report from our allies down south,” he said with no tone.

“Do you hate reading that much?” Mitch asked, putting down his spoon.

“Yes.”

“Alright then.” Mitch drank from his bowl. “Anything in there that could be about my father?”

Adam sighed as he flipped back to the few pages he had already read. “Nope, nothing so far. And there was nothing in that report from up north the other day.”

Mitch hummed. “Hey Ian-”

“No news from our scouts, nothing that could hint to where he might be,” Ian said, forestalling Mitch’s question. “You just gotta accept that he very well might be dead, Mitch.”

“Well he’s not,” Mitch said, nearly snapping. “I know what I saw, and I know he’s alive.”

“We’re not saying that you’re wrong, Mitch, just that the chance of finding him is growing lower every day,” Seto said, glancing up from his drawing. “All the leads you’ve found over the past few years have led to a dead end. There might not be many leads left to find.”

“And we don’t want to see you getting hurt at some point because you’re distracted,” Adam added.

“Until I find him alive or see his dead body, I’m assuming that I’m right and he’s alive.” Mitch finished his stew and dropped the bowl into the kitchen sink. He left the room without another word, leaving the seven other Generals in uncomfortable silence for several minutes.

“He’s not going to give up, is he?” Jason asked finally.

“Well it’s not like any of us can blame him for it,” Quentin said. “It’s his dad, after all.”

“True, but surely Lords Notch and Steve would have sent out search parties when he disappeared, they knew Mitch’s dad, right?” Seto asked.

Jerome stirred his stew a little. “Apparently they didn’t find him, or at least not as far as Mitch knows.”

Ty’s mumbled voice spoke up over from where he was ‘sleeping’. “And Mitch is stubborn as a mule, so we won’t be able to change his mind no matter what the facts are.”

“We don’t need to change his mind,” Adam said firmly. “We just need to help him where we can and be ready to support him when he needs it. That’s our job as his friends.”

“And to protect his butt when he gets in trouble,” Jerome added.

“That goes without saying.”

Ty suddenly sat up and threw one of the couch pillows at Adam. “Oi! I’m trying to sleep here!”

Adam threw the pillow right back. “If you’re trying to sleep then go to your room!”

“I want to sleep here!” Ty threw the pillow again.

“Then I’m going to keep talking and waking you up!” The pillow slammed back into Ty’s face.

Ty threw the pillow again at Adam and quickly rolled over the couch to be protected from Adam’s returning strike before running from the room, shutting the door behind him just as Adam’s second pillow went flying. Adam was on his feet in an instant to chase after him but glanced at the papers in his hand and flopped back down with a huff.

“Can someone else chase him down for me? If I don’t read this tonight then I’ll never get it done.”

No one volunteered.

Chapter Text

That night, Mitch spent more time than usual sharpening his sword. It was a mundane task, one that allowed one’s mind to wander to the regular shing of the whetstone, and it wasn’t until Mitch heard a knock and his door open that he realised he had been staring at his sword, completely lost in thought, for who knows how long.

“Hey, you okay?” Jerome asked, leaning on the doorframe to Mitch’s room.

Mitch stood up, turning away from Jerome as he sheathed his sword and put it in its spot on his wall. “Yeah, fine.”

Jerome watched him for a moment. “You’re thinking about your dad?”

His friend gave a sigh of defeat. “Of course I’m thinking about my father, Jerome. I know that my chances of finding him are tiny and everything, but I know what I saw, and I saw him.”

“You mean with that bear attack?”

Mitch shook his head. “No, that was earlier, only a year or two after he disappeared. And anyway, I don’t… I don’t think the guy who saved me from the bear was him. If it was, then he would have stayed instead of leaving again, and…” Mitch rubbed the back of his neck. The details of the bear that had tried to eat him were fuzzy at best, but the was something about that moment that made Mitch sure that that man wasn’t his father. “Anyway, I saw him later than the bear. A bit before I met you guys. But I swear it was him, Jerome. I didn’t see him for long, sure, but I swear it was my father.”

Jerome nodded. “I trust you. We’ll find him Mitch, or at least find out what happened to him. One day.”

“Yeah.” Mitch glanced away but then gave his friend a smile. “Thanks Jerome.”

“Anytime Benja.”

By coincidence, Mitch happened to be close to the main entry gate of the Sky Army base when the routine scout group came back mid-morning, which meant that he got a very brief version of what they had found. But what he was told was enough to send him running along the base of the wall, sprinting to the main guard tower and bursting through the door, surprising the two Generals and several recruits inside. 

“I’ve got a lead on my father, I’ve got to go!” 

He instantly made to run out of the room but Ian managed to grab onto his jacket and pull him back before he could take two steps. “Woah woah Mitch, you want to explain?”

Mitch rapidly shook his head. “No time, the scout group just got back, apparently there’s a retired guard visiting one of the outposts offering free training lessons, it could be my father, I’ve got to go- ”

“Mitch, do you have any other proof apart from that one thing the scouts heard?” Ian asked. “What if it’s a trap?”

“I’ll find more proof once I get there,” Mitch argued. “And if it’s a trap then I’m willing to risk it, but I’ve got to go now while the trail is hot!”

“I’ll come with you,” Jerome said, stepping forward, glancing at Ian. “I’ll keep him out of trouble.”

Ian sighed, knowing that this argument had been decided before it even began, and let go of Mitch’s jacket. “Alright, fine. If we don’t hear from you in three days, we’ll send people after you. I’ll let the others… know.”

The last word came out as a resigned sigh as Mitch bolted from the tower, the door swinging in his wake. Jerome gave Ian a sympathetic smile. “I’d better catch up.”

The stablehands were rather alarmed to see General Mitch sprinting into the stable with General Jerome close behind him, but they asked no questions as the two opened up the stalls to their respective mounts and started saddling them up with near-urgent speed.

“So where are we going?” Jerome asked as he soothed his horse enough to get the bridle on. 

“Mayland country,” Mitch answered shortly. “The retired guard apparently lives half an hour’s walk from the outpost, we should get there in only a few hours if we move fast.”

“So what’s that, west?”

“Closer to north east, Jerome,” Mitch said, glancing over as he slung the heavy saddle over his horse’s back. “Is your geography that bad?”

Jerome was saved from answering by a puffing Adam rounding the corner of the stall, sliding to a halt and resting his arm on the stall’s door. “Oh thank goodness I caught you,” he puffed, catching a breath as he continued with “You heading to Mayland?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

Adam waved a hand tiredly. “Just talked to the scout group, ran into Ian on the way.” He bent over his knees, panting for a moment before standing tall with his hands on his head, flicking his eyes to Mitch’s horse, then nodding to a stall further down the row. “Take my horse.”

Mitch paused saddling his horse and gave Adam a raised eyebrow. “Uh, why?”

“Look, I’m with Ian on this, I’ve just got a bad feeling about it. Those bandit groups are up north-”

“We can easily avoid them, Adam. Come on.”

Adam sighed. “Yeah I know. Anyway, from what the scouts were saying, this guy lives in a forest, and the forests up in Mayland can get pretty marshy.” He nodded down the row again. “My horse grew up in that area, he won’t shy and try to throw you if he sinks in a hidden puddle. Your horse might. I know you prefer your mare because she knows how you act in battle but hopefully you won’t be going in battles, and my horse is just as fast and strong as yours.”

“That’s true Mitch,” Jerome’s voice piped up. “It is marshy over there, and you’ll probably be leading.”

Mitch pulled a face. “I’ve already half-saddled my horse though.”

“I’ll saddle mine while you unsaddle yours,” Adam said with a grin, already backing away.

“Will me taking your horse help you sleep at night?” Mitch asked.

“Yes, absolutely.”

Mitch sighed, heaving his saddle back off his horse. “Alright, fine. Just to make you happy.”

Adam’s horse was a touch taller than Mitch’s but was obedient and still as Mitch mounted. Jerome was already waiting beside the stable door with a huge double-bladed greataxe strapped to the back of his saddle, dwarfing the sword Mitch had strapped to the back of his, which was secured beside a closed quiver of arrows and an unstrung shortbow. 

With weapons safely tied down and Adam waving goodbye, the two friends charged out of the base and turned the heads of the horses north-east, and they were gone.

Chapter Text

Adam was right, the forest up north was marshy and dark, but nowhere near as bad as he had suggested. The path that ran through it was solid and firmly packed from common usage, the edges clearly marked so that there was no risk of accidentally leaving it. Mitch and Jerome galloped past others who were using the path, slowing down to pass lone travellers and carts and few families who had gone for a long walk before speeding up, eating the distance to the outpost. They didn’t get the chance to talk much as they thundered along, but Mitch’s mind was too full of what - and who - they might find at their destination to handle idle chatter.

His last encounter with his father was when he was only a boy. They had moved from the big city of Lords Notch and Steve to a much smaller village, and his father had left him in the care of one of the families they grew to know, saying that he’d be away for a few days but would come back well before the week was done. Only he never did, and they never saw nor heard from him again.

It took a few hours to get close to the outpost, by the end of which both Mitch and Jerome were sore from sitting in the jolting saddle and their horses were hot and sweating, but they encountered no bandits or thieves, despite Adam and Ian’s worries. Mitch, riding ahead of Jerome on Adam’s horse, slowly pulled the mount to a walk as he started to catch glimpses of a structure up ahead in the foliage, mostly hidden from the path. The horse puffed and pulled at the reins, annoyed at the slower pace, but Mitch soothed him with pats on his steaming neck as his eyes peered into the trees up again.

Jerome pulled his horse up beside Mitch and the two walked their horses for a while, approaching the distant and partially hidden structure, venturing off the path. The ground became a little unstable, water occasionally splashing up, but Adam’s horse was steady as Mitch urged it onwards. He pushed away a low-hanging branch as they grew closer to the house and entered the clearing that surrounded it, he and Jerome looking around for threats with hands hovering near their weapons. 

Apart from the house and small stable that was attached to it, the clearing was empty. A few small tree stumps indicated the places of trees had been cut down to be used as firewood. The house itself - sturdy, with wooden planks for walls and dried reeds for a roof - seemed to have been standing for a number of years, most likely built and used by a previous occupant. The stable to the side of it was leaning drunkenly and had a sagging roof.

The retired soldier who had apparently been offering lessons to the outpost must live here, at least temporarily. That means, if it was Mitch’s father like he hoped...

Jerome slid out of his saddle with a huff. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s home,” he said as he loosely tied the reins to a fallen tree nearby.

“Yeah, I guess,” Mitch muttered, doing the same before approaching the house, Jerome only a few steps behind him with his axe hanging loosely in his hand.

He knocked on the door, heart in mouth as he waited. When no one answered for several long moments, Mitch put his ear closer to the door, listening but hearing no movement inside. Curiosity (and worry) starting to stir, he pushed open the door of the house, wincing as the hinges squeaked and stepped inside, looking around the darkened interior. The bed in the corner was neatly made and the floor was neat and tidy, a broom propped up next to the door that he had just entered, but no one was in the house.

The fire was cold and dark. New firewood was piled next to it, but it was starting to grow spider webs. One of the cupboard doors of the kitchen was hanging drunkenly open. The bed was dusty and the sheets looked more suitable for moths than for people. The broom had spiders in it. There was a thick layer of dust on most surfaces, except for several tracks of footprints that were only lightly dusted. They led from the door to the firewood pile and then straight back out; the prints varied in size, indicating that several people had been here at the same time, but still a few weeks ago.

“Uhh… Mitch?”

The warning tone in Jerome’s voice gave Mitch enough reason to spin around and step out of the door and to his friend’s side. Jerome had his axe in both hands, ready to defend or attack, and Mitch followed his gaze out to the edges of the clearing. He saw the flicker of movement in the forest, then another, then more to the left and right. 

“It’s a trap,” he whispered. His hand dropped to his sword handle but found only air. His eyes flicked to their horses, which were snuffling and shifting, and his sword which was still strapped to the back of Adam’s saddle.

“They’re surrounding us,” Jerome warned, glancing to Mitch’s other side.

Mitch saw the glint of steel in several places. “Horses,” he whispered.

Without warning, Mitch and Jerome sprinted for the beasts, and shouts and calls and yells suddenly burst to life around the forest, men springing out to intercept them with naked blades. Several ran for their horses and Jerome hacked them down with his deadly axe, taking out three in a single sideways arc. Mitch ducked under the strike of one, shoving him away harshly, which gave him a moment to rip his sword out of its sheath and strike the man down.

Three more instantly came at him, their expressions hiding behind black cloth wrapped around their lower faces and he quickly fended them off, cutting them down and pushing the cuts they gave him in return out of his mind.

“Freaking bandits!” Jerome yelled as he cut down another, blood staining his clothes.

“Jerome, come on!” Mitch yelled, freeing both of the whinnying horses as arrows started to fly around them, vaulting into his saddle a moment later and striking down another man who got too close, hissing as an arrow shaved his neck.

Jerome was a second behind him, grunting as an arrow struck him as he swung into his saddle and they both clapped their heels to the horses’ sides, the mounts instantly bolting underneath them, quickly building up speed as they aimed for the path-

“Oi! Don’t let them escape!” a rough voice called out behind them.

More bandits sprung out of the forest and crowded on the path ahead, charging towards the two Generals as more arrows flew. Mitch bent low over the neck of Adam’s horse, feeling the air splitting around him and hearing the surrounding shouts that were quickly closing in.

“Right!” he shouted to Jerome, tugging on the reins and turning the horse’s head around to the one side that the bandits didn’t seem to be yet. The second pair of hooves thundered beside him, echoed by the occasional splash as they hit the wetter dirt of the marsh.

“Guess Adam and Ian were right about the trap,” Jerome panted breathlessly.

“Not the time,” Mitch snapped shortly, glancing over to his friend. The axeman was leaning low over his mount’s neck, breathing heavily as they cantered, an arrow embedded in his side but his axe was still in hand and he gave Mitch a panting grin through the blood that was flecked on his face.

Mitch returned the grin and faced forward again, urging Adam’s horse to faster speeds and the beast complied, inching away from Jerome’s horse as they thundered across the ground, but the bandits still had them in range and arrows started to fly in the air around them again. Mitch’s horse swerved to the side, almost throwing Mitch from the saddle as a series of arrows thudded where they had just been, nearly impaling the warrior if not for the sudden movement.

Jerome grunted behind Mitch and Mitch turned around in time to see the double-bladed axe fall from Jerome’s hand as he drunkenly hung from the saddle, but his grip slipped a moment later and he fell to the ground, screaming as the arrows in his back pierced deeper.

“Jerome!”

Mitch instantly hauled his horse around and galloped over to his friend, ducking away from the arrows. He leapt to the ground before the horse had even come to a stop, dropping his sword to pull the gasping Jerome up.

“Come on Bacca, we’re not giving up here,” he grunted as he heaved Jerome up. Adam’s horse was completely still, even bending down a little to allow Mitch to get Jerome over the saddle as the fallen man’s horse paced nervously between them and the quickly approaching bandits, the thundering of many hooves and the swishing of arrows filling Mitch’s ears.

He made sure Jerome was secure then swung himself into the saddle as Jerome’s horse gave a horrifying shriek and stumbled, falling into the ground as Adam’s horse turned and practically flew in the opposite direction, his hooves galloping over the mulch and never stumbling as the marshy ground splashed up around them. Mitch leant low over its neck, hissing as arrows thudded into his shoulder and leg, but his hand was holding tight to Jerome’s shirt, protecting him from further attacks as Adam’s horse pulled away from the bandits, going faster and faster and faster until the sounds of them had faded into the distance. Or maybe it was just Mitch. He was feeling fuzzy, it was getting harder to breathe and his limbs felt like they were melting and burning at the same time.

“Take us home,” he coughed to the horse, tasting metal in his mouth and liquid on his lips.

The horse nickered in fear, but turned slightly and galloped even faster, faster than Mitch would have thought possible but the wind was spitting into his eyes so he closed them, resting his head on the horse’s hot mane as he clung tight to Jerome’s shirt. Only he could no longer feel the fabric, and the world was growing dark and dim and faint and he could barely taste the metal in his mouth, but he could feel slick blood sliding over his back and his neck and his arms.

His body felt weightless, he couldn’t feel or see what he was holding, if he was holding anything at all, and he didn’t realise that he was sliding to the side, his grip on Jerome loosening as he fell out of the saddle and crashed to the ground, too far gone to even register the pain of the arrows digging deeper. Faintly, as if coming from another life, he heard the horse whinnying in terror, like it was calling someone, and then the world went dark and the pain was gone.

Chapter Text

Mitch drifted in and out of consciousness, never quite in it enough to know where he was or to really know that he was awake, but he was vaguely aware of there being someone who was sometimes there with him, and other times absent. He was so out of it that he was staring at the open wooden ceiling for several minutes before he realised that he was a) conscious and b) awake enough to be aware.

He tried to sit up instantly, which quickly drew his attention to a few other key points to note; one, that his chest flared with pain when he tried to sit up (so he dropped back down); two, that burning continued to a much lesser degree each time he breathed; three, that his head felt hot and dizzy and stuffed with cotton wool; and four, that he was horribly thirsty.

While he focused on breathing and tried to ignore the dryness of his mouth, he turned his slightly stiff neck to look around the room. He was in a single bed, tucked in a coarse but warm blanket while a thicker duvet lay down at the end of the bed, only covering up to his shins. Beside his head was a low table that had an empty bowl, a few cloths and what looked like bandages.

The rest of the room was rather plain, with walls painted cream and warm brown wooden floorboards. There was no ceiling, which allowed Mitch to look right up into the sturdy wooden rafters that held up the roof. The bed that Mitch was lying in was positioned with the foot near a window that was open just enough to allow in a breeze that gently brushed the drawn-back curtains. Opposite Mitch, a wardrobe sat against the wall that had a little alcove for the door, which Mitch could see was propped open.

The more Mitch observed, the more curious things he found. Unless he was imagining it, some of the roofbeams seemed to be strategically placed for someone to crouch behind one and hide, assuming someone could get up there. The door was also weirdly placed, though when Mitch tilted his head, he noticed how its placement meant that someone standing inside the room would only need to expose their right hand and side to defend from someone attacking from the outside.

Low voices and a shadow from outside the door distracted Mitch from his contemplation of how he would defend the room he was in and he blinked the blur out of his eyes in time to see a young woman turn the doorway, looking over her shoulder to grin at someone Mitch couldn’t see, then turning to face him and starting a little to see him watching her.

“Oh! Hello, have you been awake for long?” she asked, coming closer and setting down the few things she was carrying on the small table. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, I had to take care of the soup so that it didn’t burn. Here, drink this before you start speaking.”

She offered him a tall glass of water and Mitch gratefully drank it, a little alarmed at the weakness of his shaking hand but the women held the glass for him until he signified that he was finished. She then helped him sit up, her curling chocolate-brown hair secured in a plait that ran down her back as she checked on the bandages that were under his shirt, around his arm and stretched across his back. 

He was feeling much better when he was sitting up, and the feeling only increased when he had the small helping of soup that the woman had brought for him. It was good that the helping was small; if it was any bigger, he probably would have thrown it back up. He watched the woman as she tended to a flowerbox that sat outside the window, noting her stances, how she worked, the alertness in her eyes. She looked to be in her mid to late twenties, only a handful of years older than Mitch, but there was a sort of air of confidence around her that made Mitch think that she knew her place in the world and to a point, was fiercely protective of it. He averted his gaze from her so that he wouldn’t be caught staring, and ate in near silence.

“How long was I unconscious for?” he asked when he was nearly finished his bowl, looking up at the woman.

“A few days,” she said, turning her attention a little from the flowers. “You’ve drifted to consciousness a few times, but never enough to be properly lucid.” She nodded to the door. “Your friend has been much the same, though to a lesser degree.”

“Jerome? He’s here too?” Mitch made a move to get out of the bed but pain flared again in his chest and he quickly sat back down.

The woman watched him but relaxed a little when he settled back into the bed. “He’s in the room beside yours,” she continues. “He hasn’t woken yet but if you’ve woken up today, then he should too fairly soon.” She finished her tending to the flowers and brushed off her hands. “My name’s Anne, by the way.”

“Mitch,” the injured man introduced. He finished off his soup and Anne gently took the bowl from him. “You found us, I assume?”

“Your horse brought you here,” Anne said. “You and your friend must have fallen unconscious only a little into the forest, we saw you fall from your saddle and my son and husband carried you both inside. My husband is the one looking after your friend right now.”

Mitch nodded, then gave her a slightly shy smile. “Thanks. You probably saved our lives.”

She gave him a small, slightly knowing smile. “Probably,” she agreed. “Now, would you like to get some more sleep, or would you rather something to read or do?”

“If I could walk around a bit, I’d prefer that,” Mitch admitted. “I’m feeling pretty stiff all over.”

“I’d imagine that’d be the case.” She turned to call out the door. “Levi!”

A moment later, a man a year or so younger than Mitch appeared around the door, poking his head around with hair that was a tad lighter than Anne’s. “Yeah Mum?”

Ah, so Anne must have been decently older than she looked. Mitch filed the information away as she gestured Levi over, who helped Mitch stand and with Mitch’s better arm looped over his neck, helped him hobble out of the bedroom and into the wider house. 

The house Mitch entered was designed in a very open plan way, with the furniture spread out across the room and the wooden rafters that held up the ceiling still easily visible. A fireplace sat in the opposite wall from the bedroom that Mitch was exiting, the flames within flickering and casting warm, orange light over the modest collection of chairs and couches scattered in front of it.

Levi helped Mitch over to one of these and sat him down in it, leaving to assist his mother with something else as she called him over, and Mitch took the moment to look around. To one side of him was the sturdy wooden front door, with two windows on either side of it that offered an excellent view of the clearing before the door and the forest beyond, lit up by the late evening sun. 

To the other side of Mitch, a kitchen had been set up along the walls, with more windows and an island table in the middle with a few chairs set up around it. Behind Mitch, which he could see with minimal pain when he turned his whole body around in the chair, the wall had several strange alcoves in it that most likely led to more rooms, one of which Anne disappeared into as he watched.

While it may not have been noticeable to most people, Mitch was constantly aware of how defensible a room was and any potential entryways or exits, and he was even more aware after what he had noticed in the bedroom. It didn’t take long for him to realise that with the position of the furniture, the design of the table with the tablecloth barely reaching the legs, the layout of the rooms and kitchen and the windows, it would be extremely difficult for someone to hide without being exposed to several other parts of the house and by extension, to be seen by several other people.

Mitch was interrupted from his musing as a man walked out of the room Anne had entered, yawning and stretching his hands behind his head. He approached the fireplace where Mitch sat and dropped into a neighbouring rocking chair with a sigh, closing his eyes briefly before opening them and glancing over at the guest.

“Hey,” he said, offering his hand. “My name’s Stephan. Nice to finally meet you.” 

“Mitch,” the injured man introduced, shaking the hand, sizing up the man as he did so. He would probably be a touch taller than Mitch when he stood up, and his hair was more of a chestnut shade of brown to Anne’s chocolate. While Anne’s eyes shone green, his shone a clouded blue and though he was exhausted, a slight smile shone on his face. His hand was rough, like Mitch’s, the sign of a man who worked his whole life with his hands. “I’m guessing you’re Anne’s husband?”

“That’s me,” Stephan said with a slight laugh, leaning back in his chair which sent it rocking and nearly had him jumping up in surprise. Mitch tried not to laugh but he could only do so by screwing up his face, which was definitely noticed, though the older didn’t seem to be offended. “I usually don’t go in this chair,” Stephan explained as the rocking steadied. “I fall asleep whenever I use it and it’s the most uncomfortable thing to wake up to.”

Mitch nodded a bit in understanding, shifting in his own cushioned armchair and hissing a bit as his side twinged. Stephan noticed and (with a bit of difficulty) stood up from the rocking chair and approached him. “Your side doing okay there? The arrow was pretty deeply lodged when we tried to take it out, I was worried if it had done some lasting damage.”

“I probably just stretched too far,” Mitch explained, watching the fire as he let Stephan lift up his shirt to see the bandage, which was slowly being stained with red. “It felt pretty fine when I woke up but I had turned around a bit.”

“Here.” Stephan gently laid both of his hands on it and the contact made Mitch hiss a little. A moment later, however, a warmth spread through him from his side that made him think of warm tea and days spent lying in the sun. He imagined he could feel his skin stitching and knitting together, which surely he was imagining. The feeling stopped when Stephan took his hands away, letting Mitch’s shirt drop down, and Mitch looked over just in time to see a green glow fading from his hands.

“You’re a sorcerer?” he asked in confusion, a hand touching his side. It still stung a little, but only a mild buzz compared to the jabbing from earlier.

Stephan nodded. “Not a very good one,” he admitted, “and I don’t know a lot, but I know enough to heal most wounds, which was lucky for everyone involved when you and your friend showed up.”

“Thank you.” Mitch meant it. He didn’t know a lot about magic but he knew how draining certain forms of magic could be. Stephan gave him a tired grin as he dropped into a chair different to the rocking one.

“Your friend will be waking up soon,” he told Mitch, stifling a yawn. “He was worse than you were, but I’ve paid a bit more attention to him than I did to you, hope you don’t mind.”

“No, by all means,” Mitch said. “He’s my best friend.”

Stephan gave him a grin, then a nod. “You both can stay until you’re healed enough to not be in danger of reopening any of your wounds, but there’ll be no pressure from us for you two to move on, so feel free to stay as long as you wish.”

Mitch gave a nod of thanks, settling into the armchair and staring into the low burning fire.

Chapter Text

True to their word, Jerome woke up the morning after Mitch did, and the family of three let the two have a few hours to themselves in moderate privacy, during which they joked about their close brush with death and laughed until it hurt (which didn’t take much; Jerome was more injured than Mitch was and Mitch’s chest still felt quite tight at times). It was a day or two later, and with some joint insistence from Mitch, Jerome and Stephan that Anne finally allowed them to help the family with their daily chores around the house.

Even though Jerome could help less than Mitch could, and he walked with a slight limp in his step from where the arrow had gone through his calf, it was still nice to just be outside in the air and under the sun instead of sitting next to the fire and lying in a bed. While Levi chopped firewood and Anne tended to the garden with Jerome’s help, Mitch was teamed up with Stephan who led him around the side of the house to a fence that took up the majority of the clearing with a stand-alone stable standing against one side.

Stephan gave a whistle that was nearly instantly met with several whinnys, one louder than the others. A few horses cantered out of the stable, one galloping faster than the rest to reach the fence Stephan leaned on, lowering its midnight black head and butting against him until he patted the long white stripe down the stallion’s nose. The other horses, four in total, milled about an appropriate distance away, whinnying and flicking their manes, save for one who trotted up to Mitch, nickering in greeting.

“Hey buddy,” Mitch mumbled, stroking the horse's neck. “Boy am I glad you’re safe, Adam would have had my head if I got you hurt.”

Stephan chuckled, still fussing over the stallion who was forcefully nudging into his pats. “You borrowed him from a friend?”

“Yeah, I did.” Mitch ducked under the fence and into the paddock with minimal chest pain and ran his hands over the horse’s chest and legs, checking for any cuts or bruises. “And I’m only partly kidding when I say that he’ll have my head. He loves this horse.”

Stephan chuckled again, following Mitch’s lead and ducking under the fence, pushing off the insistent nudging of the stallion with fond insults and fussed over some of the other horses, who tossed their manes and trotted in circles and nickered to each other. Mitch spotted a young foal stumbling between the legs of the larger beasts, snuggling up to Stephan’s leg and shrilling happily when the human man stroked its mane. The stallion, who constantly stayed by Stephan’s side, nickered and the foal left the man, sliding up the stallion instead and allowed him to nuzzle its head.

Adam’s horse obediently trotted after Mitch as he followed Stephan to the stable, waiting outside as the two closed the doors to keep the horses out (the stallion stared after them the entire time). They mixed together oats for all five animals and split the feed between the stables, then mucked out and cleaned the straw (Stephan mostly did that while Mitch refreshed the water buckets with the internal pump) before opening the doors and letting the horses in. While the beasts munched happily on freshly mixed, Stephan got brushes and combs and sponges and they cleaned their respective mounts.

“I’ve never seen a stallion be so affectionate,” Mitch remarked as Stephan was yet again subjected to nuzzling by his horse. “Usually they tend to be quite territorial.”

“Yeah, he’s a big softie,” Stephan grunted, gently pushing away the horse’s head. “Looks intimidating, but you saw how he acts with the foal, he’s a pushover.”

Said baby horse was happily shoving its whole muzzle into the bucket of specialised oats it had and munching along. The sight made Mitch chuckle a little as he continued to brush the knots from the horse’s coat. As he did, he cast an eye over to Stephan’s stallion, noting the broad shoulders, the strong neckline, the steady legs and the body that easily spoke of power.

“Is your horse a warhorse?” 

Stephan looked up from where he was cleaning the stallion’s hooves and gently let it drop, patting the mane. “He was bred as one, and I initially trained him to be a warhorse, but he’s not one anymore. Hasn’t been for a long time.”

“What changed?”

Stephan grinned. “Well I kept him, didn’t I? And anyway, he’s a big softie like I said, he’d never want to do any damage to another being, and that’s not exactly a quality you want in a warhorse.”

Mitch shrugged, returning his attention to the knots. He hadn’t heard of a warhorse having that problem before, but that didn’t mean that it was impossible, he supposed. “So you’re a horse trainer, then?”

“Yup. I’ve been training horses for over half my life, raising them from foals and breaking them in, then training them in whatever they need to be trained in. I don’t like selling them but, well, you do what you’ve got to do to get by.”

“Yeah, guess you do.”

After they had brushed all the horses and left the stable doors open to allow the horses to graze in the meadow, the two men headed back around the front of the house. Levi was just about finished chopping up the firewood and Stephan started to carry it inside the house to the fireplace while Mitch cleared up a few of the scraps of bark and gathered up a few of the smaller shards for kindling, dumping them in a metal bucket that was permanently set beside the fireplace.

Jerome was helping Anne prepare some of the vegetables they had gathered for lunch and probably dinner, assuming that the huge pot Anne had put on the stove was for a stew and not simply for dominance over the kitchen. Stephan looked up, stretching from carrying firewood, and called a few words to Anne in a language that neither Jerome nor Mitch could begin to grasp, finishing it with “Be careful what you touch Jerome, she’s very protective of her kitchen.”

Anne gasped and shouted some words back in jest, adding “Just because you use every kitchen utensil in the absolute wrong way doesn’t mean that everyone else does the same!”

“Are we talking about Dad’s cooking again?” Levi’s voice shouted from outside.

“Don’t worry, I’m not cooking,” Stephan called as he walked out the door again. “No one’s going to die tonight.”

Levi rapidly shot back a stream of words in that foreign language which made Stephan laugh. Mitch and Jerome both smothered giggles as they looked to Anne for an explanation. The wavy-haired woman simply shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

“Do you want a hand?” Mitch asked, finished with his self-assigned kindling job.

“Hmmm not right now, I don’t think,” Anne said, glancing over the kitchen bench and at the variety of vegetables Jerome was cleaning. “Maybe check back in ten minutes.”

“Sounds good.” Mitch stepped across the room and into the spare room that he and Jeome had been temporarily given to sleep in. He wanted to check something anyway.

Because either this house had unusually thick walls for insulation, or there were secret panels hidden between the wallboards.

In fact, several things about this house had been tickling Mitch’s warrior senses. It had started with the easily defensible layout and the open roof beams, and it had only grown when he had stepped outside and seen the huge clearing the house sat in the middle of. It would be nearly impossible for an intruder to sneak up on the house without someone noticing, which would be easily from the large windows that the house had, each covered with a sort of lace that couldn’t be seen in from the outside, from what Mitch had been able to tell. 

Add the strangely thick walls to that, and now the warhorse, and Mitch had enough reason to be suspicious of Stephan and his family, and he whispered as much to Jerome that night after everyone had gone to bed. 

“I mean, it could just all be coincidence, right?” Jerome suggested at Mitch’s proposal. “Maybe it’s just bad design, or lucky design.”

“There’s too many things adding up, Jerome,” Mitch whispered back, peering at the silhouette of his friend in the dark. “I mean, they themselves haven’t given us any reason to distrust them but we haven’t asked any questions, you know?”

“Then ask questions,” Jerome yawned, turning in his bed. “The worst that could happen is that they refuse to answer, right?”

“I’m just saying that we shouldn’t tell them where we come from, okay? We don’t know what they might think about the army, and we sure as hell don’t want to get into more trouble after those bandits.”

“I already agreed to that Mitch, we agreed on the first day here. Just relax, if they wanted us dead then they would have let us die when they found us.”

Mitch huffed and flopped back onto his own bed. “I wish we hadn’t lost our weapons when we were running from those bandits,” he mused aloud.

Jerome sighed likewise. “Yeah. I miss Betty.”

“Can’t believe you named your axe after a cow.”

Jerome’s sheets suddenly rustled like he bolted upright. “Betty is not a cow name! I did not name my axe after a cow! I didn’t!”

Mitch muffled a snort, chuckling. “Go to sleep Jerome, I’m joking.”

Jerome grumbled and huffed, but rolled over and put his back to Mitch, who lay staring up at the rafters for a while longer, thinking and waiting. He hadn’t been able to train for a few days, since he didn’t have a weapon and also Anne insisted that he shouldn’t be straining himself just to be sure. Not that he had asked; he didn’t want to draw attention. Mitch’s wounds seemed predominately healed while Jerome’s were still tender, but Mitch could still feel the occasional tightness in his chest when he took a deep breath.

Even so, it wouldn’t take very long at all for his skills to start to waver, and he abhorred the idea of that happening. Maybe he would make an effort to talk to Stephan tomorrow.

If there’s one thing that Mitch was pretty sure about with this family, it was that Stephan had been, at least at some point in his life, a very very good warrior.

Chapter Text

Stephan, Anne and Levi were a happy family, but that wasn’t to say that they were perfect. They predominantly spoke in the common tongue, and Mitch and Jerome heard jests and jokes and insults thrown between them that were quite similar to the ones that the Generals of the Sky Army threw about. Other times, they were quite serious when they spoke, some of the more serious parts being spoken in their own tongue which left Mitch and Jerome trying to follow the conversation without many of the context clues. Even so, it was often Stephan who broke the serious mood with a smart remark and a grin, and then they’d break up to continue on with their day.

Occasionally though, during the lighthearted jokes conversations, the family would throw around a few words in their own tongue in the middle of a sentence for no apparent reason, and more than once this ended in Levi throwing a pillow at his father or with one of the men running laughing from the room as Anne marched after them in mock fury or yelled smart retorts at their backs.

Mitch nearly didn’t want to break up the antics, but Stephan did it for him, after ducking yet another pillow thrown by Levi. “And on that note, I’m gonna go check on the snares to see if we caught something, I’ll be back.”

“Can I come for the walk?” Mitch asked instantly, standing from the chair by the window that he had claimed, not wanting to miss out on an opportunity like this.

Stephan shrugged and grinned. “Sure. A little company would be nice, as long as you don’t mind my whistling.”

“No one’s whistling can be worse than Jerome’s,” Mitch said without thinking.

Jerome’s voice piped up a half-second later. “Hey Levi, got a spare pillow?”

Stephan and Mitch quickly left the house before they could be attacked.

The older man grabbed a canvas sack and a stubby but well-crafted sword from a small lockbox beside the house, offering Mitch a dagger which he gratefully took and Stephan led the way into the forest. He pointed out a few of the subtle crosses he had carved into the trees to mark the invisible path they made in the woods, remarking on the different paths they took depending on the time of year and the game available, as well as the habits of the different animals they often caught.

“You know a lot about hunting then,” Mitch said casually, ducking under a tree branch.

“Well I’ve got to be. We’re likely to starve if I don’t.”

“Why live all the way out here though?” Mitch watched Stephan, gauging his reaction as he spoke. “If you breed and train horses, then there’s not much in the way of customers out here, is there?”

“There’s not,” Stephan admitted, seeming to think through his answer. “But Anne and I are at a point where we don’t really need the money right now. We’ve both always preferred the solitude of the deep forest to a quiet village or busy city. It’s a different lifestyle, yes, but one that neither of us regret. We get by happily.”

“So you designed and built the house yourself then?”

“With Levi’s help, as well as one of my other sons.”

That brought Mitch up short. “You’ve got more kids?”

Stephan nodded. “A few more. They all moved out before we moved out here though, Levi’s the youngest- Aha!”

The exclamation came as they reached the first snare and found it to hold a plump rabbit. Mitch let Stephan, who was by far the more qualified person in this field, empty and reset the trap, putting the carcass into the sack before continuing along, heading for the next trap. 

“So… You’ve been out here a while,” Mitch started again, but Stephan quickly cut him off.

“I feel like you have something to say but you’re skirting around it because you can’t be sure of my reaction,” Stephan said lightly. “I’ll tell you now, I very rarely get offended or angered by something and even more rarely act on it. So what do you want to talk to me about what’s bugging you bad enough to accompany me all the way out here to do it?"

Mitch paused for a moment. “What’s your occupation? Besides training horses? What’s your specialty?”

Stephan gave a small shrug. “I guess I’m a bit of a handyman. I dabble in a lot of things but the only thing I could properly consider myself as an expert in is horse training.”

“And your house layout?”

“What about it?”

“You just designed it the way it is just because?”

Stephan shrugged again, giving Mitch a strange look. “Anne and I like open-plan houses. The only trouble with them is that they can be a bit boring, so we tried to add a bit of character to it.”

Mitch didn’t believe that for a moment, but Stephan seemed to be expertly maneuvering around his questions, and he had a better idea to test his theory. Actually, maybe ‘better’ was too strong of a word, but it would work. Probably. Before he could change his mind, he drew the dagger he had been given and slashed it across Stephan, slicing across his chest from shoulder to hip, drawing blood.

At least, that’s what he tried to do. Somehow, Stephan moved faster than he did, stepping back and pushing the dagger away with one hand while the other drew the sword, the forgotten sack dropping to the ground as his legs kicked Mitch’s out from underneath him, sending him crashing to the ground with the dagger spinning away. Stephan was on top of him in an instant, sword point pressing lightly on Mitch’s neck, his free hand pinning down Mitch’s right arm, his knee resting on the man’s chest enough to hold him down but not enough to hurt him. Yet.

“You’re a warrior,” Mitch panted, adrenaline coursing through him in response to the last few seconds, knowing the sudden danger of his situation. “And you’re a damn good one, I’m willing to bet.”

Stephan’s expression was completely different from how Mitch had ever seen it. It was stern and level and distant, completely emotionless as he analysed Mitch. “What’s your reasoning?” he asked in a low voice.

Mitch gestured to his position as best as he could with one hand. “What you just did there, for starters. Your house, which you designed, is also easily defensible from any room and from any attack, has walls thick enough to hide weapons or people but not thick enough to hold secret passages, which would give it away. The clearing you put it in has enough space to see anyone before they even get close to the house and has enough space to train several people in sword fighting. And your warhorse, which you claim has never seen battle but he has scars on his legs and shoulders that you can only get from charging through a battlefield. So at some point in your life, you’ve been a skilled warrior.”

Stephan watched him, his expression unchanging. “It would take a warrior to recognise one,” he said slowly. “So what kind of warrior would that make you, Mitch?” He watched him for a moment. “Or should I call you General Mitch of the Sky Army?”

Mitch tried to keep his expression neutral even as he knew his eyes had widened for a second, a second that Stephan noticed. Adrenaline shot through his system again, faster than before and he subtly tried to find the dagger in the undergrowth of the forest with his free hand. Stephan, however, cracked a smile and let go of Mitch, offering a hand to help him up which was accepted.

“I should’ve guessed when you guys introduced yourselves,” he admitted. “I suspected a few times just based on how you held yourself and how you talked but, you know. We try not to jump to conclusions.”

“But we keep all options open,” Mitch finished, taking deep breaths to try and calm his racing pulse. “So was I right?”

Stephan turned away to pick up the sack. “Yeah, you were right. It was a long time ago though, I haven’t been part of an active group for years. Still, I guess there’s some skills you never lose. Like how to make a place defensible from attacks.”

“Do you reckon you could teach me a few things?”

The ex-warrior ran an appraising eye over him. “Well, if even half of what I’ve heard about you is true, then I’m willing to bet that you already know a lot, General Mitch, possibly more than I do. Even so,” and here a smile tugged at Stephan’s face, “I could probably teach you a thing or two. But not before we check all the other snares.”

They continued to walk, following the invisible path marked by well-concealed crosses on the trunks of the branches. Stephan let Mitch spend a few minutes in silence before asking “So since you’re General Mitch of the Sky Amy, does that make your friend General Jerome?”

“Yeah,” Mitch admitted.

“So what are the two of you doing wandering half-dead in the forest? Needed to stretch your legs? Got bored of running an army?” Stephan’s raised eyebrow suggested that he was jesting, though there was an undercurrent in his tone that said he was serious. Mitch however shook his head.

“I was chasing a lead on my father,” he admitted, turning away his head to watch the trees they trod past. “He’s been missing for several years and I thought I might have finally gotten a trustworthy hint about where he was, but…” He shrugged. “It was just a trap by the local bandit group.”

“Bandit group? They’ve got something against the Sky Army?”

Mitch waved the comment aside. “Nah, they’re just annoyed at us because we broke their hold over some of the northern settlements and effectively disbanded them a couple years ago. They’re not much of a threat, more of a nuisance.”

“Glad to hear it.” Stephan shuddered. “I had to handle a few bandit groups back in my day, not fun.” He shook away the thoughts and returned his attention to the General. “I do wish you luck finding your father, though. It sounds like he means a lot to you.”

The General kicked at the ground. “Yeah, he does. Thanks.”

True to his word, after they had checked all the snares and returned to the cottage in the clearing, Stephan brought out two swords that were of better quality than the sword he had taken hunting and he did a few sparring matches over the hours with Mitch and then again with Jerome. None of the three men were trying their hardest as Mitch and Jerome were still recovering, but Stephan seemed to fill in the blanks in their techniques and he offered Jerome, who was less at ease with a sword, a few pointers to assist him and taught Mitch a new stance to start his attacks in.

“Might help with some of the more complicated attacks you’re so fond of,” Stephan explained as he was showing Mitch. “It’s a bit hard to get used to at first, but it’ll give you a few more options. Have a play around with it, see what works for you.”

Mitch felt like Stephan was holding back (or at least attempting to hide how much he actually knew), but honestly, Mitch was just glad to have someone to spar with and who understood his way of training. Besides, he was still basically a stranger to the family. It’d make sense for Stephan to want to keep some things close to the chest.

Stephan gave them a few more pointers and tips over the next few days as their wounds scabbed over and grew tender as they healed. Jerome stopped walking around with as much of a limp and Mitch found that he could swing his arms any which way without the pain in his chest spiking. Ideally, they would have stayed a few more days before heading back to the Sky Army.

Of course, that’s not how it turned out.

Chapter Text

It was barely midmorning but Mitch and Jerome had already jogged around the whole clearing twice, brushed and fed all the horses (Adam’s horse was fitting in quite well in the small herd, it made Mitch curious and a little suspicious) and had done some light sparring against each other with Stephan watching out the window, sometimes throwing out hints but mostly egging them on.

Levi had left before dawn that morning to do some scouting, according to Anne and Stephan, which meant that the house felt surprisingly empty as Mitch and Jerome were sitting at the kitchen table, relaxing from their sparring while the married couple chatted away, sometimes speaking so that Mitch and Jerome could understand and sometimes throwing in a few of those foreign words.

Mitch, sitting in a chair that faced the window, thought he saw a flash of green outside from the corner of his eye, but whatever it was was gone when he flicked his head around to see it. A moment later, Levi burst through the door, with slightly sweaty and windblown hair and a sword strapped to his side, rapidly speaking in the family’s foreign language with an urgency that made Mitch and Jerome instantly alert.

Stephan quickly stopped his son’s flow of words, holding up his hand. “Speak in the common tongue,” he said, gesturing to the two guests.

Levi nodded, taking a few deep gulps. “Shadow hounds,” he said at a much more reasonable pace. “Out in the eastern foothills before the plains, there’s a dozen or more of them, they’re all heading this way.”

Stephan let out a heated swear in the foreign language. “Did they sense you?” he asked Levi, who shook his head quickly.

“I doubt it would have mattered either way though, they seemed to be hunting something but they were definitely travelling towards us.”

“We’ve got to move then, can’t risk it,” Stephan muttered, glancing at Anne and getting up from his armchair.

“Um, I know my geography isn’t great,” Jerome started to say as Levi properly entered the door and let it shut behind him, “but aren’t the foothills several days travel from here?”

“Yup,” Stephan said without any further explanation. “Come on, you two will need to leave with us, this place won’t be safe for you either if the shadow hounds get here.”

Mitch and Jerome exchanged a glance but stood from the table as Anne disappeared into one of the bedrooms and Stephan went to one of the bare walls. He pushed down on the panels, giving a shove, and a section of the wall that was half as tall as Mitch and just as wide sank into the rest of the wall then slid to the side, revealing the alcove that was hidden beneath.

“I knew it!” Mitch cried as he saw the neatly arrayed set of weapons hidden in the alcove. “I knew the walls hid something!”

Stephan looked over his shoulder to give Mitch a wink before drawing a dagger from the spot. “Levi, catch,” he warned as he flicked the dagger over the son, sending it flying and spinning faster than Mitch could see and perfectly on point-

And Levi caught it, like it was nothing, as he stepped to a different part of the wall and opened it up, revealing even more weapons.

That’s not possible , Mitch thought to himself as he stared at the dagger in Levi’s hand, which was long and part of the blade was tinted green. There’s no way he could have caught that-

“Mitch, catch!”

Mitch spun around, terrified that another dagger was flying towards him, but the sword that was in the air was still sheathed and only had enough power to close the small gap between him and Stephan. He caught it with ease, feeling the sturdy and reliable weight of the weapon, and slowly drew it out of its sheath, testing the weight in his hand.

“Here’s one for you too Jerome,” Stephan said, handing another blade over. “I know you prefer axes but you’re not up to your usual strength so this’ll do for now. A little something to replace the weapons you lost.”

Mitch barely heard this as he ran his eyes over the sword he had been given. It was expertly crafted and perfectly balanced, the grip stained and shaped in a way that could only be done after years of use, but the leather wasn’t damaged at all. The guard was strong and broad and slightly curved for better protection but just below it, and what instantly drew Mitch’s eyes, were several strange markings etched into the blade, forming four lines of uneven length that ran along the blade for a hand’s breadth.

Maybe it was the fact that the green flash from earlier was still on his mind. Maybe it was the too-fast movement he had just seen. But suddenly, Mitch understood the flash of white that he had seen all those years ago with the bear attack, and the sword from that day, and how the two were linked, and what it all meant.

“This is Herobrine’s sword!”

Stephan’s head instantly flicked around to him, and Anne stepped out of the bedroom with a backpack in hand and Levi paused ransacking the hidden alcove, watching him warily.

“What do you mean?” Stephan asked in confusion.

Mitch held the sword out like it could explode at any moment. “This is Herobrine’s sword! I know these markings, I recognise them, I-I can’t have this!”

“What do you mean?” Stephan repeated.

“Look, I-” Mitch stuttered, then shook his head to clear it. “I know these markings, I only saw them once, yeah, a-and not very clearly and it was a long time ago but I’ve never seen them since, and I know Herobrine was holding it. This is his sword. I saw it.”

“When would you have met Herobrine?” Levi asked, stepping closer. “How could you possibly know it’s his?”

“Because I stood over him and protected him from a bear when he was young,” Stephan said suddenly, watching Mitch with appraising eyes, noting everything about him. He nodded a little. “I wondered what had happened to you after I led the scout group to you,” he said, then he nodded to the sword. “Keep it, I’ve got others.”

Mitch’s mouth had dropped open as Stephan turned back to the alcove, getting out another sword that bore a slightly different hilt design to the one Mitch held, slinging it over his shoulder before taking out a quiver of arrows and offering it to Anne with a “M’lady”. Anne took it with an eye roll and a smile, slipping it over her back while her left hand held an intricately crafted bow.

“W-Wait, you’re-”

Stephan said nothing, but the mere act of him turning around cut off Mitch’s words. His eyes were no longer a cloudy blue; rather, they were a shining, clear white that took up his whole eye, and a shiver ran down Mitch’s back as he recognised them, both from stories and from that day long ago.

“D-Didn’t you have green magic?” he stuttered instead.

Stephan slid the panel behind him back into place. “Illusions aren’t hard Mitch, and if you know what you’re doing, it’s only a touch more difficult to disguise the colour of magic.” He nodded at the two of them. “Do you guys want any other weapons?”

“A dagger would be nice,” Mitch said numbly.

“Levi!”

The son turned and tossed a dagger over, thankfully sheathed so that Mitch didn’t cut his hand when he fumbled while trying to catch it. The son then leapt up with impossible strength and grace to the rafters that held up the roof, leaping between them until he paused and reached behind one, pulling out another sword.

“Are we bringing Svello’s sword or leaving it here?” he asked, holding up the dark purple blade for the others to see. His eyes had changed too; the iris of each eye had become a forest green that looked surprisingly normal, save for the inhuman clarity of the colour and slight glow that came from them.

Stephan waved his hand. “Nah, leave it here, she knows where it is.”

Levi put the sword back with a nod and dropped down from the rafters, landing with the ease of a cat despite the several daggers strapped to both his legs and the long sword at his back. Mitch couldn’t help but feel a little proud of himself for guessing right about the rafters too.

Stephan- well, Herobrine in reality, strapped his sword to his back and jerked his head to the side. “Let’s go. You don’t want to be around when the shadow hounds show up.”

Chapter Text

Herobrine didn’t run, but his walk was swift and urgent as he led them around the side of the house, Levi locking the door behind them and securing it with a flash of green. Mitch and Jerome followed Herobine’s lead as he ducked under the fence, giving a series of crisp whistles to the horses grazing in the paddock: one long whistle followed by two sharp, short ones. 

The stallion tossed his head and whinnied, rearing up onto its hind legs to kick at the air as the other horses - and Mitch was very curious to note that Adam’s was included - tossed their manes and cantered towards the open stable doors, followed by the stallion, reaching it long before the humans did. 

When Mitch’s eyes adjusted to the comparative dimness in the stable, he was surprised to see each horse waiting patiently in its stall, snuffling and snorting but standing still as Herobrine and Anne started saddling up the stallion and another mare, Levi doing the same to another mount.

“Jerome, you can have the gelding down the end,” Herobrine said, gesturing down to the end with his head as he fitted the bridle onto his stallion and the saddle mat floated in the air on white shifting magic to be draped along the back of the horse.

Jerome gave a nod and entered the gelding’s stall as Mitch went to Adam’s horse. It snuffled as it saw him, nudging him towards the saddle and bridle hung up on the wall as if urging him to get a move on. He gave it a suspicious side-eye, but the horse only watched him with an intelligent gaze as he threw on the saddle mat and saddle, and it waited patiently as he fit its bit and didn’t try to puff out its belly as it put on the saddle. It was very well behaved. Too well behaved.

The stallion snorted and snuffled and Adam’s horse gave an answering whinny as Mitch led it out of the stable and back into the field, the weight of Herobrine’s sword strapped to his side bearing some familiarity. 

“So you trained all these horses, right?” Mitch asked Herobrine as he mounted.

“Yup,” Herobrine responded, already seated atop his stallion and looking back as Anne rode up beside him and Levi held the lead to the young foal as he swung into the saddle. “Raised all of them from the moment they were born.”

“So you’re familiar with all of them, and they’re familiar with you?”

“Yup.”

Mitch nodded a little. “They all have a unique training, and one that Adam’s horse,” he gave his mount a rub on the neck, “seems to respond to quite eagerly.”

Herobrine gave him a raised eyebrow. “A lot of trainers use whistles to communicate commands, General Mitch. It’s a tool of the trade.” 

Mitch’s suspicions were far from allayed but he let the matter slide for now as Jerome rode up beside him. “So, shadow hounds? What’s that all about?”

“They’re not good news, I’ll tell you that much,” Herobrine said. “They’re the work of a sorcerer, and a decently powerful one at that. He sends these shadows of his to do all sorts of his bidding, but when they’re in the form of hounds, it’s usually to track someone down. I’m not sure of the full extent of their senses, but it’s better to be overly cautious than to be caught out.”

“Do you think they’re tracking you?” Mitch asked.

“It’s possible.” Herobrine glanced over his shoulder again. “I doubt it though. I would have thought that he’d go after someone else first before he came after me, but I’ve been wrong before.” He paused for a moment. “In fact, he might not be after someone. He might be after some thing instead.” A frown crossed his face but he seemed to shake the thought away and gathered up the reins of his stallion without another word, giving a short whistle and clapping his heels to the beast’s sides, sending him cantering.

Mitch urged Adam’s horse onwards, Jerome’s gelding riding only a pace behind him as the other horses also gave chase, following the stallion as they rode towards the fence of the enclosed paddock. One of the logs that made up the fence fell away at a flick of Herobrine’s hand and the horses leapt over it, gathering speed as they raced towards the edge of the clearing and dove into the forest beyond.

All the riders bent low to the horses’ necks as they rode, ducking under branches and swerving around trees and leaping over raised roots, the horses never losing their footing as branches and leafs snapped and cracked around them. The late morning sun was high in the air, the bright rays flickering and shining into their eyes as they cantered under the thick cover of leaves. 

They were riding for a decent length of time at this fast pace when Herobrine pulled a little on the reins of his stallion, slowing them down until they were walking. His horse pulled at the reins, chafing to go faster, and Mitch could feel Adam’s horse straining underneath him as well, but Herobrine soothed the stallion with a gentle pat.

“We’ve got to go slow for the foal,” he murmured quietly. “I’ll let you stretch your legs later and give you a real run.”

“So this sorcerer you mentioned,” Jerome puffed, bringing his horse to a walk a little behind Herobrine’s. “What does he do ?”

“Besides the shadow hounds?” Herobrine asked with a raised eyebrow. “Lots of things. Aside from the usual magic things, he specialises in dark magic. And I mean that literally. Literal dark magic.”

“You mean the whole curses and possession and mind control and stuff?” Mitch asked. He realised that his hand had unconsciously drifted to the sword at his side, finding comfort in the presence of the solid steel.

Anne gave a little chuckle as her horse walked beside Herobrine’s. “No, not quite, although that is the traditional view so you can’t be faulted for thinking that. Dark magic, when used in a literal sense at least, is the magic to manipulate shadows, nightmares; the things in between day and night.”

“All the spooky stuff,” Levi muttered with a shudder.

Anne gave a smile to her son before returning to gaze to Mitch and Jerome. “Hounds are the most common form that his creatures take, but theoretically, he can shape them into any form he wants.”

“And does this sorcerer have a name?” Mitch questioned. “Or is he just ‘The Sorcerer’?”

“Israphel,” Herobrine answered instantly, his tone of voice strangely light for talking about a man whose creations they were running from. “Whether that’s his given name or a name he chose for himself, I don’t know and I honestly don’t really care. It’s a bit of a silly name anyway. I mean, is it spelt with an f or a ph? Do you say ‘Ish-raf-el’ or ‘Iz-raff-el’ or ‘Ish-raff-ay-el’, it’s very ambiguous. See, my name’s easy; Herobrine. Done, one way to pronounce it, spell it how you say it.”

“Usually we just call him the Boogeyman,” Levi added. “Much easier to say and remember.”

“Woah wait,” Jerome said, an edge of laughter in his voice. “The Boogeyman? As in the guy who hides under the beds?”

Levi nodded. “Suitable, huh? The guy manipulates shadows for goodness sake.”

Mitch glanced at Herobrine, a smile playing on his face. “You say that as if you have experience with choosing names for yourself.”

Herobrine shrugged a little, rolling his eyes. “Alright, well, if you want to get technical about it, Brine is a last name and yes, that does mean that Steve and Notch also have Brine as a last name, but we never have the need to use it and it just became part of my accepted name over the years.”

“But is Hero your real name?”

Hero turned in his saddle to properly look at Mitch, and although his expression was serious, a touch of mischief shone in his white eyes. “Call me Heronas and you’ll never speak again.”

Mitch couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He was probably joking. Maybe. Surely. He quickly changed the topic, just in case Hero was being serious. “Do we have to worry about the shadow hounds tracking our trail from the clearing?”

“Probably not, I don’t think they’ll find the house but they definitely would have if we had stayed.” Hero glanced at his wife and son. “We’ll probably be able to go back in a few weeks, once the hounds have cleared out at least.”

He clapped his heels to the side of the stallion again and they cantered off, picking up the pace to cover more ground, still heading east. Over the next few hours, they alternated between cantering for a while and then walking for a few minutes to rest the horses. 

It was late in the afternoon and the shadows were slowly lengthening when Herobrine pulled the horses to a stop, his stallion pacing around in a small circle before finally halting. 

“This is where we part ways,” he said, pointing to the south. “The Sky Army base is that way, it should only take you half a day to get there if you ride until nightfall. I’m willing to wager that your friends are worried about you, given that you’ve been away for at least a week or so.”

Jerome winced. “Didn’t Ian say he’d send people after us if we were longer than three days?”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “Then we’d better get back.” He held a hand out for Herobrine to shake. “Thanks for helping us. And for the weapons.”

Hero grinned and shook it. “No problem. It was a pleasure to meet you guys, especially after I’ve heard so much about you. Take care of yourselves.”

“You too. All of you.” Mitch glanced at Anne and Levi. 

Jerome dismounted and handed the reins of his gelding to Anne before mounting behind Mitch, who turned the head of Adam’s horse to the south and with a final wave behind them, they said goodbye to the Brine family and cantered off into the forest.

Chapter Text

Night fell before Mitch and Jerome had gotten too far, and they found a nice little space between three trees to stop for the night. They unsaddled Adam’s horse and loosened the bridle and tied him to one of the tree branches, then started up a small campfire and settled down for the night. The air was warm, warm enough for neither of them to want a blanket, and they were both too exhausted from the day of travelling to bother having one of them as a night guard.

Something hit Mitch’s face, jolting him with a jerk from his sleep. His eyes flashed open and squinted at the dim deep blue sky above, the faint pinpricks of the stars still visible. It must have been early morning, less than an hour before the sun was due to rise. The trees created a canopy above him, and he was just about to believe that a stray leaf had brushed his cheek when something hit him again, this time catching him in the cheek.

His hand flew up at the sting and he sat up, twisting around, his head flicking in the direction the thing had come from. He saw nothing, but beside his hand was a small stone with rough edges. No wonder it had stung. 

Nervous snuffling drew his attention and he turned to see that Adam’s horse was pawing his hoof where he stood, tossing his head nervously. His reins had become untied at some point, and he had been resaddled and his bridle tightened. He watched Mitch as if he was eager to go, nearly prancing where he stood while his nostrils flared to smell the air. 

Mitch sleepily but curiously stood up, shuffling over to calm the horse. He was certain that they had unsaddled him before sleeping, but just as he was about to undo the saddle again, Jerome gave an annoyed mumble. The swordsman turned around to see his friend sitting up, rubbing his eyes and peering into the same direction Mitch was looking into.

“Is someone throwing something at us?” he muttered, suppressing a yawn.

“I don’t know,” Mitch whispered back, a hand reaching over to Herobrine’s sword while the other held the horse’s reins.

Both of them were squinting into the forest in the darkness of early morning, straining to see the source of the rocks. After a moment, they both saw a figure as it seemed to drop from tree branches. They didn’t seem to be standing far away, but it was difficult to see anything but their outline as they pointed into the forest to Mitch and Jerome’s left, seeming to be trying to indicate something.

Mitch flicked his head over, but he saw nothing there, and he was just about to suggest that they go find out what’s up with this stone-thrower when the figure raised their arm, and the two saw an outline of a bow as the figure drew back the arrow that was on the string and let it fire before they could react. 

Only it wasn’t aimed at them. Instead, the arrow flew into the forest to their left and Mitch and Jerome listened as it hissed through the air. Then it was silent. Then someone gave a cry as it hit them with a wet smack. Familiar shouts and cries rang out instantly.

“Freaking bandits!” Jerome half-shouted, scrambling up and grabbing his sword.

Mitch had already swung himself into the saddle and held out an arm to help Jerome up as the figure’s bowstring sang again and again, sending more arrows flying into the forest, each one answered with a pained cry. The moment Jerome was in the saddle, Adam’s horse sprinted off into the forest, angling away from the bandits that tried to give chase to them.

“Who the heck was that shadow dude?” Jerome asked, raising his voice over the wind as they rode, ducking low to avoid branches swiping their faces.

“I don’t know!” Mitch told him. “Israphel maybe?”

“I thought he was the bad dude?”

“Well whoever he is, he’s somehow keeping pace with us.”

Mitch was right. Although Adam’s horse was practically flying over roots and dead branches and rolls in the dirt (was it faster than it should be?), the branches of the trees around them shivered like dozens of birds were landing on them at once, and the sounds of the bowstring as it spat arrows hadn’t faded in the slightest. Behind them, the sounds of the bandits running after them decreased dramatically over the minutes as the bowman’s constant cover made them give up their chase of the two Generals.

As the first signs of the dawn broke through, the shivering of the trees stopped and the figure of the bowman left them to travel on their own. It was only when the clouds in the sky were highlighted with a soft peach colour that Mitch gently pulled Adam’s horse to a walk. The horse snorted and pulled at the reins, straining to go faster but Mitch gently stroked his neck to calm him, vividly reminded of Herobrine’s stallion.

“So that was a wild start to the day,” Jerome remarked lightly, groaning a little as he stretched his legs.

“No kidding.” Mitch glanced around, trying to see through the leaves of the tops of the trees. “In good news though, we’re only about two hours out from the base, I reckon.”

Mitch was a little off with his estimate. It was exactly an hour and twelve minutes later when the two rode under the gates of the Sky Army base, much to the delight of the recruits who saw them, several of which dashed off into many different directions. One of the stablehands took Adam’s horse while the two Generals strolled up the main street, stretching their legs.

“You guys aren’t dead!”

Mitch turned to give a grin and a raised eyebrow, now walking backwards to better see Jason as he jogged up to them, disbelief mixed with relief in his expression.

“I nearly died,” Jerome told him, half raising his hand. “Don’t know about him, but I nearly died.”

Mitch slapped his arm, rolling his eyes, and then to Jason said: “Where’s your faith in us, Jason?”

“Uh, it died when your sword and your axe showed up at the front gate covered in blood and you two completely disappeared for a week! Ian went out with the scouts to look for you guys, he said that it looked like a fight took place at that clearing.”

“Yeah, well, turns out Ian was right and it actually was a trap-”

“ I told you!”

Speaking of the devil himself, Ian strolled right in at that exact moment, clearly overhearing Mitch’s last comment and coming to a stop with his arms crossed over his chest. “I told you it was a trap, Mitch! I went to the clearing and-”

“We know, Jason was just telling us,” Jerome piped up before Ian could go further.

“Okay, but-”

“See! I told you guys they weren’t dead!” Adam’s voice suddenly called.

Mitch threw his hands in the air. “Can’t anyone let it rest for one minute? We’ve been riding all yesterday and most of this morning, can we at least get a couple of minutes to rest?”

Adam grinned, Seto beside him. “After the fright you gave all of us? Not likely, but you can try. Half the army thought you were dead, the other half were expecting you to show up and announce that you had conquered an entire empire while you were out.”

“We tried, but we didn’t have any free time after lunch,” Jerome said with a straight face. 

Adam waved for the two to walk beside him and the sorcerer as they walked down the path. “So what kept you guys? What happened?”

“Well the bandit group set up the trap, so you were right about that.” Mitch glanced over at Jerome. “We got lucky, a family found us and took us in until we got back on our feet. They pointed us the way here.” Jerome, while not being the brightest bulb in the box, picked up on Mitch’s omittance and gave him a covert wink.

“Anyway,” Mitch said, turning away, “they were a nice bunch of people. So what’d we miss? And Seto, you’d better not have used up the entire tea stock, I want some.”

Chapter Text

Mitch kicked back his feet, leaning back in the chair, closing his eyes with a content sigh as he felt the warmth of the tea in his hands. It’d been a hectic day, catching up on everything he and Jerome had missed over the week and a bit they’d been out for, and he’d had to repeat his story about where they’d been a dozen times before people started calming down. In fact, it’d been nearly sunset before either of them had gotten a proper chance to be alone.

Even so, it was nice to be back in familiar territory, and it was even nicer when he got back his old sword, although he kept Herobrine’s one with him. He didn’t take it out, however. That’d raise questions he didn’t want asked just yet.

“I would have thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Mitch opened up one bleary eye to see Adam entering the common room, the man quickly disappearing into the kitchen area. “I’m getting there,” he grumbled, closing his eyes again.

“If you keep swinging on the chair like that, you’re gonna fall over,” Adam’s voice called across the rooms as a tap turned on. Mitch ignored him but put his half-empty cup safely down on the table, watching the door with open eyes as the tap turned off and Adam appeared back in the doorway, taking a long drink from a glass of water, then leaning on the doorframe to regard the warrior. His sunglasses were perched on the top of his head, and his amulet was hanging around his neck like normal. He was just as possessive of it as Mitch was about his sword.

“You’re seriously going to go to sleep there?” Adam asked.

“Yup.”

The other shrugged, taking a sip of his water. “Suit yourself.”

Mitch raised his eyebrow. “So you’re the only one who didn’t think we were dead,” he said after a moment.

“Pretty much, I know you too well. No one was fussed when you guys were out for over three days but everyone went out of their freaking minds when your weapons showed up bloody. It’s not exactly a secret that you take your sword with you everywhere you go.”

“I dropped it when I was picking up Jerome,” Mitch told him. “He dropped his axe when he fell out of the saddle.”

“He what?” Adam lowered his drink. “He dropped his axe? How badly hurt were you guys? I know Jerome said that he almost died but I thought he was just exaggerating. And what happened to his horse? You were both riding mine when you showed up this morning.”

The other waved off his concern. “It wasn’t that bad. His horse was shot though, it was protecting us while I got Jerome into your saddle.”

Adam raised his eyebrow, clearly disbelieving that it ‘wasn’t that bad’, and his eyes never left Mitch as he took another drink. “So let me just double check; you two reached the clearing where the retired soldier supposedly was, realised it was a trap, ran, Jerome’s horse got shot, you were both found by a family and stayed with them for a while until they pointed you back here. Did I get that right?”

“Perfectly.” Mitch tilted his head a little as he took a sip of his tea. “In fact, and I may have been imagining it, I was a little woozy, but I’m pretty sure that your horse took us straight to that family’s house.”

“Told you it was a good idea for you to take my horse.” He looked at his now-empty glass and with a huff, turned back into the kitchen. “You feeling ready to get back into it tomorrow or do you want another day off?” he called as the tap turned on again.

Mitch stretched, his chair squeaking a little as he leaned back. “I’ll be good to get back into it, it’d be nice to have a busy day again.”

“Oh, you’ll regret that tomorrow.” Adam reappeared in the doorway with his glass full once again. “You do know you’re going to fall over if you keep swinging like that.”

“No I won’t.”

Adam shrugged, passing him and heading out the door of the common room. “If you say so. I’m going to bed, night.”

“Hey Adam,” Mitch called suddenly, twisting around in his chair. Adam paused, halfway out the door, glancing over to give Mitch his attention. “Just out of curiosity, where’d you get your horse from?”

“My dad gave it to me,” came Adam’s reply. “Kind of like a… coming of age gift, I guess. He helped me train him up.”

“Huh,” Mitch hummed, nodding a little as he filed the information away. “He’s a good horse.”

“Thanks, I put a lot of effort into raising him.” Adam turned away again. “Goodnight.”

“Night Adam,” Mitch said as the door closed behind him.

Adam treaded softly down the hallways, his glass of cold water in his hand as he headed back to his room to settle down for the night. His room was one down the far end of the landing, a bit more of a walk than the rest and a little further away from the other rooms, but Adam never complained. He liked the extra privacy.

He pushed open the door of his bedroom with his shoulder, giving a sigh as he entered and knocking the door shut with his foot. With his free hand, he took his sunglasses off from the top of his head and tossed them onto the duvet, then put down his glass on his bedside table, lighting a small hand-held lantern in an instant. He only had one window in this room, and as he drew the curtains closed, he allowed himself a moment to look down on the dozens of tiny lights that filled the base.

“Hey, are you busy?”

The familiar voice spoke suddenly in his mind, the base of his skull humming slightly as the mental communication was established. Adam didn’t panic, however, sending back a quick “Nope, what’s up?” as he headed back over to his bed.

“Just thought I’d let you know,” Herobrine’s voice responded instantly. “Mitch was pretty interested in your horse when he was staying with us, he was asking a few pointed questions. I’m pretty sure he noticed that it was trained the same way as mine, he’s smart like that. You might want to make up a story about how you got it to throw him off otherwise I think he’ll start putting two and two together.”

Adam froze midstep, his expression caught somewhere between blank and annoyed, silent for several seconds. “Would it have killed you to tell me that ten minutes ago?”

He could nearly feel the wince of the other. “He’s already asked?”

“Literally just then, yes.”

“Well, he was bound to figure it out anyway, he’s pretty smart. At least you’ll know it’s coming.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks.”

He could hear faint laughter as Herobrine chuckled. “Sleep well Sky.”

“Night Dad. Oh, and thanks for the heads up that you were looking after them.”

“Anytime.”

In the common room, Mitch hadn’t moved from his position, his chair still balancing on two legs beneath him as his blank eyes stared off into space, thinking, processing, planning. He had been fairly sure, just based on how he had seen Adam’s horse interact with Herobrine’s stallion’s herd, that Adam’s horse was familiar with the older stallion. He had also suspected that Herobrine had trained it, given just how responsive it was to his commands.

There were other weird things about Adam’s horse too, like how it ran at unnatural speeds and how it just seemed to know where the family was. And Herobrine had told his horse that he’d let him have a ‘real run’, as if the fast pace they had been doing was nothing compared to what the stallion could really do.

Now he learns that Adam got his horse from his father, who helped him train it. 

And to add to that, Adam was the only one who didn’t suspect that he and Jerome were dead. And despite his questions, Mitch suspected that he wasn’t surprised to hear that a family in the forest had found them. 

He glanced at Herobrine’s sword, propped up against the wall beside him, partially hidden from view. Even sheathed, he felt like he could see the strange runes carved into it. He looked over his shoulder to give the door a suspicious look, the pieces coming together in his mind, but the chair shifted underneath him and with a grunt of surprise, Mitch spilled into the floor, the chair flipping and falling onto him.

Mitch let out a groan and a huff as his back ached momentarily at the contact with the hard chair leg as he shoved it off him and stood up, picking up the furniture piece and standing it upright in its spot. Luckily for him, he was alone in the common room and no one else had to see that little incident.

He slung the sash of the sword sheath over his shoulder, downed the rest of his tea, and stepped out of the doors of the common room. Pausing just outside it, allowing the door to quietly close behind him, he stared down the hallway in the direction of Adam’s room, his eyes slightly narrowed again.

Mitch didn’t like to be suspicious of his friends, especially not those he had known for a while. Even so, he’d been right about Stephan. Maybe not completely , but he’d been right about enough.

He’d have to have a little talk with Adam soon.

Chapter Text

In all of the Sky Army, Mitch’s familiar haunting grounds were the training grounds, the guard towers, the quarters of the on-duty recruits, and the Generals’ section of the castle. The library was not a familiar place for him to be but it was where he found himself now, staring up blankly at the huge bookshelves that filled the room in an intricate and mysterious maze. At least, it was a maze if you went hunting in the back corners found deep in the library or on the crowded second level, and that was exactly where Mitch’s search had led him.

The history section had been his first stop, naturally, but after lightly flicking through a few of the volumes and finding no helpful information, he had ventured deeper, landing him in this dark corner, hemmed in on two sides by bookshelves, on one side with a wall and the way behind him where he had come, and he did not trust his sense of direction to lead him out of here.

He lightly touched the dagger at his hip to calm his nerves as he examined the corner. It was difficult to not feel slightly spooked in a place such as this, but with the metal under his fingertips, he turned his head to study the titles written on the spines of the rows upon rows of books. Some books were ancient, with cracking, handcrafted leather bound together by bleached cords; others were much more recent, simple and functional; some were elaborate and elegant, with curving letters and purple and red and gold etched into the covers. 

He thought that several titles were partially scratched off until he realised that they were written in their own complete language, and he imagined that he could hear whispers. He paused with his hand on the books, straining to hear the words but he heard nothing. It was all in his head, which he shook and kept looking. Many of the titles had long words that he had never seen before and ones that he couldn’t even begin to pronounce, and a good majority had some form of the word ‘magic’ along their spines, but none (at least from what he could understand) had anything to do with the history of the kings or of magic or even of a certain sorcerer-

“What are you doing here?”

The sudden voice made Mitch jump and spin around, his dagger flicking out of its sheath before he quickly rose out of his fighter’s crouch and hid the weapon behind his back. “Just looking,” he said quickly to the newcomer.

The sorcerer raised his eyebrow, his dark brown eyes seeming even darker in the dim light and the unearthly flickers that the purple fire in his hand gave off. “Uh huh.” He ran his eyes over the warrior. “No sword?”

“Close quarters, not enough space to properly swing a sword,” Mitch explained. He brought out the dagger and flipped it before sheathing it in one swift move. “Daggers are much more efficient.”

“Well that would make sense.” The sorcerer stepped closer, his eyes running over the titles Mitch was surrounded by. He came to a stop only an arm’s reach away from the other. “Bit of a strange topic for you to be researching Mitch, even if you were a sorcerer.”

Mitch shoved his hands into his pockets. “Honestly, I think I’m lost, this is definitely not where I was hoping to end up. You know I don’t come to the library much. And do you think you could put out the fire Seto? It’s a little freaky.”

General Seto chuckled, nodding his head for Mitch to follow him. “Once we get to where there’s actual light, sure. What are you looking for? I only came over because you triggered a few of my sensors so while I’m here, I might as well give you a hand.”

Wait, sensors? Not out of the question, Mitch reasoned, Seto knew the library better than anyone else and he didn’t want to know what kind of books might have been buried and forgotten over the years. “Bit of history,” he told him after a moment’s hesitation. “I’m… looking for some information on Herobrine.”

The sorcerer turned, his surprise showing in two raised eyebrows. “Bit of a weird topic. There’s things on him in the history books on the lower level, didn’t you look there?”

“I did, but I’m looking for something a little more… recent. Some time in the last, say, three hundred years or something, I don’t know. Those books down there are ancient.”

Seto looked like he was about to ask a whole lot of questions, but he simply shrugged, extinguishing the flames in his hand as the first of the lanterns appeared among the rows. “I don’t know if there’ll be much on that, he pretty much disappeared after the whole argument with Lords Notch and Steve and then that one random appearance two hundred years ago where he met his brothers. No one’s really seen or heard of him since.”

“There’s gotta be something Seto, you know this library back to back and inside out, there’s got to be something here.”

“Yeah, well luckily for you and your sudden curiosity, I do remember one or two books having a few notes on him.”

The area Seto took him to had much better lighting than the corner Mitch had stumbled upon, and Seto’s purple magic drifted in the air at his wave, solidifying around a few books and pulling them down to the table that Mitch dragged closer to their spot. Seto flicked through the volumes, opening up to a few pages and handing them to Mitch before rifling through the next book.

What information they came across was as vague and uninformative as Mitch was expecting, but it was aggravating anyway. He’d been hoping , although he’d never say it aloud, for more clues about how Herobrine ended up in a clearing in the forest, and about who he was and about his family and things beyond the usual evil-murderer-rampage-disappearance story. That aside, there were a few interesting points to note, one of which was;

“Are you telling me that Herobrine has an entire army at his command and Lord Notch isn’t worried about it?” Mitch asked, turning his head to see the sorcerer who was standing beside him, reading through another book.

Seto threw his arms into the air a little. “I know! Adam’s mentioned it to him once or twice but he and Lord Steve both insist there’s nothing to worry about. I’m telling you, whatever that one random appearance of his was two hundred years ago, it must have changed a lot .”

“And there haven’t been any mentions of huge mass killings for ages,” Mitch added, flicking through more pages of the book.

“Oh, there have been mass killings, but none done by Herobrine.” Seto shrugged. “He’s literally just disappeared off the face of the planet. Which personally I’m a little bummed about because he might be evil and a killer and super dangerous and unpredictable such, but there’s been so much magical knowledge lost over the centuries, that guy’s gotta know at least some of it.”

Mitch hummed. He gave Seto a bit of a side-eye. “You wouldn’t happen to know any books about Herobrine having a family, right?”

He had never seen Seto look more bamboozled than he did right then. “No, why?” he asked a little incredulously. “If there were kids of Herobrine’s flying about, then we’d all be in trouble. That’s a very powerful source of magic Mitch. Nearly all magic has been watered down over the centuries, but not Herobrine’s. His magic is raw .”

“Got it, stupid question.” He sighed, letting the book close. “Right, that’s enough reading for me for one day, otherwise my eyes are going to self-combust.”

Seto scoffed, rolling his eyes as he flicked his hand and the books whisked back up, slotting neatly into the places on the shelves. “See you on the training field then.”

Mitch gave him a grin before quickly leaving the library. However, instead of turning out towards the castle’s double doors, he turned towards the Generals’ quarters. He was uninterrupted on his way as he entered his room, shutting the door behind him. Herobrine’s sword was tucked behind the coat rack near the door, hidden from sight, and he fished it out and drew it a little, eyeing the runes along the base of the blade. Satisfied that it hadn’t been tampered with (and that this was still a good idea), he sheathed it and went to his window, ducking his head to see the position of the sun.

It was still morning. Adam usually did his paperwork until lunch and then hung around outside for the afternoon. That meant he’d still be in his office.

Sword in hand, Mitch headed back out, going down a flight and then across towards the other side of the castle before heading up a level or two and across a hallway to reach Adam’s office. They all had an office technically, though Mitch hardly ever stepped into his as he kept most of his notes and such in his room.

He knocked on the closed door of Adam’s office and entered as Adam’s voice answered his knock. The General was naturally sitting behind his desk, a pen in hand and several sheets spread out before him. His sunglasses were resting on the corner of his desk and he grinned at Mitch as he stepped in and shut the door behind him.

“You’re not usually the one who visits, I was expecting Ty to come barging in about something.” A frown flickered across Adam’s face. “Then again, he doesn’t usually knock before he barges. Anyway, what’s up?” he asked with a grin, taking in the sword in Mitch’s hand.

“I’ve got a few questions for you,” Mitch told him.

Had he not been watching, or if he hadn’t been as suspicious as he was, he would have missed it. But Mitch was on high alert, picking up everything, and so he caught the tiny, brief flicker in Adam’s eyes at the words and knew for certain that Adam knew what he was here for. His expression, however, gave nothing away as he shrugged, still grinning, and gestured for Mitch to fire away.

Mitch placed the sword horizontally across the desk and unsheathed it enough for the runes to be seen. “When Jerome and I were saved by a family in the forest last week, it wasn’t just any old family. It was Herobrine’s family.” Mitch had expected the flash of surprise that went across Adam’s face but he thought it was faked as he forged on. “We had to leave rather quickly but he gave me his sword to keep, this one here. I want to know what this writing here means.” He tapped the runes on the base of the blade.

Adam leaned forward enough to look at the carvings. “Have you asked Seto? He’s probably your best bet. These look magicy.”

“I don’t think he’ll be able to decipher it,” Mitch told him. “But I think you can.”

His friend’s brown eyes flicked up to his with a slightly confused raised eyebrow. “Why?”

The warrior stood up a little. “Herobrine had a son, Levi. He looks a little similar to you, in terms of body build and height, and his hair was lighter than yours but curled at the edges like yours does. He spoke a bit like you do and the way he commented on things reminded me of you.”

Adam blinked at him. “You think I can read this sword because I reminded you of Herobrine’s son,” he said flatly.

“It’s not just that,” Mitch said, exasperated at how Adam looked at him like he was insane. “Look, your horse took us to Herobrine’s home when we were in danger, I know that and you didn’t try to deny it. I was ready to ignore it, but it knew Herobrine’s stallion and his herd, and it responded to all of Herobrine’s commands, like he had trained it. Then, I learn that you got your horse from your father and he helped you train it.

“And when I started thinking about it, I noticed that you act similar to Herobrine in terms of how you speak and he taught me a new stance and it’s the same stance that you often use when you spar. And you look similar to Levi but you look more similar to Herobine, and your voice sounds similar to his. Herobrine also said that he has lots of sons that didn’t live with him, so it would make sense if they scattered about and blended in with ordinary people and hid their lineage-”

“Get to the point Mitch,” Adam interrupted, his voice flat and low. There was no humour in his eyes or his face. 

Mitch took a breath, hoping that he was right and wasn’t just about to offend his friend or make one of the worst mistakes of his life. “I think you know Herobrine. More correctly, I think that you’re related to him, probably his son.”

The two stared at each other blankly as the accusation hung heavy in the air between them, hovering over the half-sheathed sword of Herobrine. Adam didn’t blink as he watched Mitch, who stared right back, refusing to back down and trying to ignore the shivers running down his spine. It was a stalemate for several long moments. 

“It means Protection,” Adam said finally, his finger tapping the carvings on the bare blade as he stood. 

Mitch watched with his mouth half open as Adam stepped out from behind his desk and walked around, brushing past the warrior who turned to watch him. He paused at the door as he opened it, looking back. “Well? Are you coming?”

The statement jolted Mitch into action and he quickly sheathed the sword and picked it up, catching up to Adam who walked at a fast pace through the corridors, tracing a path back to the General’s common rooms. 

“Wait, so I was right?” Mitch asked as they entered Adam’s room.

“Yeah,” Adam said with a sigh as he locked the door behind them. “You were right.”

The sound of the lock engaging made Mitch nervous but he understood the action when Adam went over to one of the walls, flicking away a tapestry that covered it and pushing the section backwards, which made the panel slip back and slide behind the wall much like the secret panels had done in Steph- Herobrine’s house. Inside, Mitch caught a glimpse of a few arrow quivers, daggers hung up on the sides, strangely shaped arm and leg guards and a bow with curiously bent limbs that didn’t seem like it should be able to fire an arrow at all, but Adam reached inside and pulled out a sword from the back, letting the tapestry drop over and hiding the alcove from Mitch’s sight.

“These are specially made by us,” Adam said, hefting up the sheathed sword for Mitch to see. “Each of us made our own weapon.” The handle and hilt of the sword was a very similar style to the one Mitch held, except it was made with gold and quartz instead of blued steel, but he also recognised it. Adam had used it in the past, but only in two dire battles where the odds had been stacked against them, battles that had nearly determined the eternal fate of the Sky Army.

“Specially made how?” Mitch asked.

“Magical fire,” Adam explained. “We use it when we melt the metal to fuse it with… a few other metals, bit of this, bit of that, and then we forge it into our weapon. Each of Herobrine’s children have one, and we carve our language into the base of the blade to show what we stand for, our core value, if you will.” He unsheathed the top of the sword a little, allowing Mitch to see the three lines of runes than were etched there. “Mine means Unity.”

“Oh, obviously, because you lead the army. Gotta keep us together.”

“Among other things, but yeah.” Adam lifted the tapestry to put the sword back and closed it the panel, giving Mitch a slightly raised eyebrow. “This isn’t exactly the first time I’ve helped run an army, you know.”

The statement brought Mitch up short and he stared for a moment. “I mean…” He paused again. “Herobrine has an army, so it would make sense if you helped run it at some point… How old did you say you were again?”

“That’s not the point,” Adam said, dismissing the question which made Mitch certain that he was much older than he let on. “The point is, that blade is more powerful than your usual sword, so look after it and whatever you do, don’t lose it.”

As if Mitch was planning on misplacing Herobrine’s sword. He held up a hand to stop Adam in his path to the door, holding him back for another few moments. “Wait, so these words written in the sword represent what the wielder stands for? Their core belief?” At Adam’s nod, he asked “How could Herobrine stand for protection when he was a mass murderer?”

Adam’s eyes held steady, but there was a flicker of sadness in them that made Mitch think that Adam saw the days when Herobrine killed. “He’s always stood for protection,” he said quietly. “All that changed was who he was protecting.”

Mitch nodded a little, dropping his hand. “Okay.” There was a moment of awkwardness. “So… you have magic?”

The son of Herobrine gave a slight sigh. “Yes, and don’t ask for a demonstration, this place is crawling with sorcerers and I really don’t want any of them picking up my aura.”

Chapter Text

The recruits went about their duty around the huge Sky Army base, all trying and failing to hide their constant glances at the central square of the base that sat at the bottom of the fleet of stairs that rose to the huge double doors of the castle. The square was patterned with tiles of a dozen colours and sizes to form several large circles, each with a different picture and colour scheme. There was one of a golden lion rearing up on its hind legs in a rocky expanse, another of a silver dolphin jumping out of deep blue waves, a third of a blue-green sea serpent eating its own tail in a yin-yang, and so on.

The day ticked on slowly, or so it seemed for the recruits who were waiting with excitement tinged with nervousness, and for the guards of the castle who were on high alert; they didn’t want to be caught out and standing at full attention like this was exhausting.  But the real murmur of anticipation went around when Seto entered the castle and stepped out several minutes later with Adam by his side,  and the two stood at the base of the steps up to the castle, talking quietly as they faced the square. Recruits quickly emptied the tiled area, most milling around the edges talking in excited whispers.

A few minutes passed with nothing exciting happening. Then one of the tiled circles - with a multi-toned grey falcon with open wings rising above a rising sun - had a skitter of peach sparkles flash along it, gathering on the ring around the falcon. The sparks flashed and then multiplied and rose and the murmuring grew and then in a burst of peach particles, four figures appeared within the circle, blinking at the sudden change of surroundings and the cheers that went up around them. 

Two were warriors; highly trained, wearing flexible but strong armour, with their hands already on their weapons, ready to draw as they quickly scan the surroundings for threats as the daggers at their waists and legs flashed in the sun. The third was a tall sorceress, dressed in long robes that started as midnight blue near her shoulders and faded to peach at the bottom hem, her long peach-coloured hair intricately braided all the way down her back. She dusted peach sparks from her light brown hands after the teleportation spell as the glow around the circle faded into the air.

The fourth man was positively boring in comparison. He was not tall nor short, with brown hair that seemed slightly on the untidy side and blue eyes that quite nearly verged on purple. He wore leather boots, a simple sword at his side and a short cloak that started at one shoulder and finished at his waist, partially hiding the black string necklace he wore. However, the two warriors stood on either side of him, shielding him, and the thin gold crown on his head marked him as royalty. The permanent slight smile on his face as he looked around the cheering recruits instantly told which royal he was.

Lord Steve, younger brother of Lord Notch, heir to the throne.

General Adam and General Seto stepped forward from the edge of the square and Lord Steve broke away from his escort to greet them, the three men shaking hands with each other (but not all at once, because that’s weird) and the two Generals bowing a little. Lord Steve then turned to give the gathered recruits a wave, which led to a redoubling of the cheering.

“Sorry, you’re pretty popular here,” General Adam apologised as the royal escort joined them.

Lord Steve shrugged off his apologies. “I’ll take this over being glared at any day. Besides, it’s my own fault for visiting so much. But it’s your fault for making your base and army so nice.”

“That’s a criticism we’ll happily take,” General Seto said. He then inclined his head to the sorceress. “Master Veraela.”

“Master Seto,” the peach-haired sorceress said in kind. “I had to bend a few ears and reel in a favour or two to teleport Lord Steve here, so I hope you’ll let me borrow a thing or two.”

“You can take as many books as you want as long as you promise to bring them back.”

“So Lord Steve, how long will you be staying this time?” Adam asked, turning to lead the way up the stairs. 

“Please, just call me Steve,” the man said. “I still feel wrong being called ‘lord’. I’m only allowed about a day here, Notch- ahem, Lord Notch I mean, my bad, has me on a routine check around all of our allies, just to make sure no one’s breaking the treaty and nothing horrible’s happening.” He shrugged. “So basically, I’m here on a show of goodwill, which is always my favourite job.”

Adam tried not to snort at Steve’s hurried correction of his brother’s title, but he did anyway and pretended it didn’t happen. “Overnight stay then. We’ve prepared your usual room, and we’ve organised a generic meeting with the Commanders in the usual room in a few hours but as always, the base is yours.”

“Brilliant, I like that plan.”

Steve’s sudden appearance around the training grounds and along the main streets, always flanked by his two ever-vigilant guards, was surprising but not unexpected to the Generals and Commanders, and as the early afternoon rolled around, Mitch and Jason left the training ground to get ready for the meeting, which involved getting changed out of their sweaty clothes.

“Are you going to spar with him?” Jason asked Mitch quietly as they walked, jerking his chin to where Steve was chatting with a few of the captains.

“I’ll try not to,” Mitch muttered back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I feel bad for always beating him but I’m certainly not going to throw a match. Besides, those guards of his are new this time, I don’t think they’d take kindly to me politely destroying their lord in a sparring match.”

“Do you reckon you could take them on?” Jason said even quieter as they passed the group. “They look like a handful.”

Mitch glanced over his shoulder at the two guards, noting their stance and eyes and armoury of weapons. “They’re both young so not a whole lot of experience but from the way they’re standing, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been training since birth. They both seem to move together without speaking as well, so they’ve probably been fighting together for years at least. It’d be close. I bet I could though. But let’s not test that theory.”

There was one thing Mitch wanted to do before the meeting, and he quickly hunted Adam down and pulled him into an empty hallway a few down from the meeting room. Adam’s slightly raised eyebrow and the very faint smile on his face said that he knew what Mitch was going to ask before the other even opened his mouth. 

“So,” Mitch started, “your dad is... Your dad. And Steve is his brother, sooo…. Does that make him your uncle? And also, does he know about… you?”

Adam blinked at him slowly, then huffed out a sigh, a smile still playing on his face. “Yes, and yes, he is my uncle and he does know that I exist and such, but he does know that I’m me, you know? And that’s not something we’re looking to change, got it?”

Mitch gave a nod. “Got it, no telling. Is it weird though? Having to be all formal and stuff to your uncle?”

“No weirder than having to play dumb about magic when I know all about it,” Adam muttered back, turning back to the meeting room to signify that the little talk was over.

The meeting was rather large, involving Steve and his escort of three, all eight Generals, and their dozen or so Commanders, all sitting around a large rectangular table with sunlight flooding the room through the three large windows that had the curtains flung open wide. Nothing much of importance happened, other than introductions and a brief discussion of the going-ons in the area, none of which had drastically changed since Steve’s last visit.

“Okay,” the royal man said towards the end, flicking rapidly through a notebook that had dozens of notes, only a fraction of which had been taken during the meeting. “I think that’s it, no big threats going on, you guys aren’t breaking the treaty or hiding a body in your basement and if you are, I don’t want to know… Uh, no strange sightings or weird magical stuff?” He glanced up at the table. “I’m assuming that probably would have already come up.”

“Nothing that I’m aware of,” Seto said as the resident knowledge bank of all things magical. “Everything’s been pretty ordinary I think.”

“Oh, there were those shadow hounds,” Mitch said without thinking, suddenly remembering that little occurrence.

“What shadow hounds?” Steve asked, suddenly very still. His voice was low, the smile on his face dropping completely to something much much more serious, watching Mitch with hawk-like intensity.

Uh oh , Mitch thought. Maybe this wasn’t something that he was supposed to know, and telling the truth about Herobrine’s family in the forest would ask way too many questions, especially from Steve, but his bare moment of hesitation showed as surprise as he quickly said “I mean, that’s just my name for them, Jerome and I saw them when we were coming back from our little trip.” He looked to Jerome as he spoke, hoping Jerome got the point and didn’t blow Mitch’s hasty cover-up.

Luckily, he did seem to pick it up as he nodded along with Mitch. “Big black dogs,” he added, and Mitch internally winced and hoped that no one here had ever seen an actual shadow hound. “They literally looked like shadows.”

“We only saw them for a moment,” Mitch cut in again, glancing back at Steve. “They didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.”

Steve’s eyes flicked between the two for several moments, his hand fiddling with his black string necklace - must have been handmade, considering the string wrapping around the small, spaced out triangle-shaped teeth along it - and Mitch was worried that the lord wouldn’t fall for it, but thankfully he did as he finally dropped Mitch’s gaze, flicking to a page in his book and writing some things down. “Well glad that came up. Where did you see them?”

“Uh… I think they were in the direction of the eastern foothills, near the plains,” Mitch quickly said. “Not sure where they were coming from though.”

“What are shadow hounds?” Ian asked. 

Steve sighed as he finished writing his notes with a flourish. “Not good news,” he said. “Not good news at all. They’re a dark magic thing, literally formed from shadows into a shape that the caster decides.”

“You mean Umbrakinesis?” Veraela asked, her long slender fingers tapping on the table. “I thought that was an extremely difficult field of magic to master.”

“It is,” Steve said. “Most sorcerers who practice it - and they’re not common - can only summon one or two shadow creatures and they can’t travel far from the caster. There’s only ever been one sorcerer that I’ve known of who can summon and control multiple shadow creatures at once, and make them into a shape big enough to be called a ‘hound’.”

Israphel , Mitch thought.

“He goes by Israphel,” Steve said a moment later. “And I’ll tell you that he’s bad news.”

“So do we need to prepare defences against him?” Seto asked, beating Jason who had just opened his mouth to ask the same thing.

Thankfully, the visitor shook his head. “Attacking an entire army head-on isn’t his style. Usually he goes for a single person at a time, meaning that a full-scale attack isn’t something you need to be worried about, especially if the hounds were in the eastern foothills. Leave it to Notch and I,” he added, making another note in his book before shutting it. “He hasn’t shown his head for a while, he might just be testing the waters a bit before he’ll disappear again.”

“You mean he’s done this before?” Adam asked.

“A couple of times,” Steve said with a shrug. “All powerful sorcerers like to flex their strength a bit when they first get a big head, Israphel is just a bit tricker to handle than most because of his specialisation. It’s much harder to fight nightmares than it is to fight people.”

A chill went down Mitch’s back and a silence fell on the table, but Steve waved it off. “Relax guys, I’ll keep you updated on that and I’ll get some sorcerers back home on the case, we’ll figure out what his deal is.”

“Well that’s a nice note to end the meeting on,” Ty said, leaning back in his chair. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

Most of the other Generals just rolled their eyes and stood, ending the meeting in doing so, many of the Commanders filing out of the room first. Mitch cast a glance to Lord Steve as he left, noting how the older man was still fiddling with the claws on his necklace, seeming to be thinking before suddenly looking up, only catching the back of Mitch’s head as the warrior had quickly looked away, leaving the room.

But unknown to Mitch, Steve hadn’t bought his story about the shadow hounds for a second .

Chapter Text

The night was dark, probably too dark for it to be safe to train, but the light from the half-crescent moon and the dozens of stars were enough to give light where the low-burning lamps on the streets of the base couldn’t. And anyway, Mitch didn’t often get the chance to train in such low levels of light, and you couldn’t always have optimal conditions in every fight that jumped out at you. If anything, the dark conditions favoured him, because anyone who would happen to see him training would assume that he was out for a quick late night burst, and wouldn’t see the strange sword he trained with. 

Herobrine’s sword felt a little wrong in his hand, both too light and too heavy at the same time. Its balance threw him off a little but only when he concentrated too much on it. If he focused on his moves and his stance and how his wrist flicked when he attacked, the sword was perfect and swift and obedient to his every movement. But the moment he thought about how it was balanced and how to twist the hilt in his grasp, he completely lost his momentum. It was a problem for another night so for now, he just let the movements flow, his feet shuffling in and out of the stance Herobrine taught him, keeping in mind the minute movements the older warrior had told him to work on, the advice echoing alongside the words of the dozens of other warriors Mitch had learned from.

Focused as he was, he didn’t notice the shadow who watched him from the cover of a building, nearly fully invisible in the deep darkness so that even if Mitch looked over in its direction, the shadow would remain undetected. The shadow watched carefully as Mitch trained, their eyes analysing and dark, inspecting the movements of his feet and the way he ducked and darted amidst the training poles, noting how his wrist flicked in a very telltale way.

The figure watched in silence as Mitch finally paused, taking deep breaths and wiping the sweat from his forehead, taking a few moments to note the damage to the training poles, miming a few movements and correcting them to get a higher or more fluid strike. After a few minutes, the General finally turned away, his sword giving the slightest of rings as he sheathed it, and the torchlight glinted off the intricate patterns in the guard of the sword, confirming what the shadow had thought from the moment it saw Mitch walk out of the castle and without a single sound, it slipped after the General.

Mitch had no idea of his follower as he walked up the streets, his heavy breathing calming down to normal when he reached the doors of the castle, opening them and slipping inside. The hallways were empty and the torches burned only bright enough to give some meagre light as the world outside was dark. It was only when he reached the more quiet and out of the way corridors that Mitch felt eyes crawling on his back, though he heard nothing. Adrenaline started quietly shivering through his bloodstream.

He kept his pace light and casual, his ears listening for a sound while his eyes probed the hallway in front of him. He saw nothing except for long, dim shadows that made him constantly flick his eyes back to be sure he saw no movement, but he thought he heard someone’s soft breathing a distance behind him, and the tiny shing of a weapon being unsheathed. It was nearly painful to keep his steps calm, but there was a corner up ahead and he turned it, waiting until he was a few steps beyond it before he flicked his head around, eyes seeking the darkness, his hand hovering over the hilt of Herobrine’s sword. A moment passed, he kept walking, head twisting over his shoulder to make his follower think that they hadn’t been noticed. He saw the shadow of a person as they went to follow him around the corner.

In a flurry of movement, Mitch spun around, leaping towards the corner just as the shadow carefully looked around, their eyes widening and their head pulling back, and Herobrirne’s sword sang as it was pulled from the sheath and it swung around in Mitch’s grasp, the clang of metal on metal filling the once-silent hallway. The shadow was quick to react, quickly defending in a blinding spin of movements against Mitch’s three quick strikes before their sword spat forward in their own, narrowly going above Mitch’s shoulder which made him twist away, his sword coming up to strike but the shadow’s sword intercepted it, their hand moving as their sword twisted and Mitch felt a sharp pain in his wrist as the shadow grabbed it which made him hiss and the sword was twisted from his grip, clattering to the floor with a loud metallic ring.

A foot kicked at his knee, momentarily disrupting his balance as the free hand let go of his wrist and instead shoved him, his back hitting the wall a moment before his head did, and after the brief moment of pain, Mitch found the razor sharp edge of a sword pressed to his throat, a hand wrapping around his shirt collar to push him further to the wall, and Mitch found himself looking into the cold, dark, and blue-purple eyes of Lord Steve.

“What the hell?” he said in a slightly strained voice. The sword was uncomfortably tight against his throat, his head angled away to try and get some space from the blade.

“Who else knows?” the lord asked, his voice angry and low, not unlike the voice Herobrine had used when Mitch had called him out about being a warrior, and it sent a shiver down his spine. One of Steve’s feet was resting on the blade of Herobrine’s sword, keeping it out of Mitch’s shrinking list of options.

“Knows what?” The question wasn’t really necessary; he knew what Steve was asking. He could feel his concealed dagger in his boot, but by the time he reached down and grabbed it, Steve would have already sliced his throat.

“I know you lied about the shadow hounds, General Mitch.” The complete lack of humour in Steve’s voice or a smile on his face scared Mitch more than the sword edge. “You met Herobrine. How?”

Mitch felt himself swallow, and the sword pressed tighter into his skin. Asking how Steve knew that wasn’t a question for now; the point was that he had seen through Mitch’s hasty cover-up. “Why do you want to know?”

“For your own safety, you’ll want to tell me.”

“And what if I refuse?”

The sword pressed tighter, and Mitch could feel his heartbeat pulsing against the cold metal. “I don’t want to kill you, General Mitch,” Steve said, and his eyes said that he meant it, “but I will do it if it means protecting my brother’s location and family.”

Mitch couldn’t help but give a breathy chuckle, his skin crawling where the sword was touching him. “You’re willing to kill me to protect his location and I’m willing to die so that no one knows about his family, this is fun.”

The sword moved away a little, pushing not so roughly against his skin and Mitch let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I don’t know where he is, okay? I know where he was , but he’s not there now.”

“You have no idea where he is?”

“No.”

“You still haven’t answered my first question,” Steve said patiently, an edge to his tone. “How did you meet Herobrine?”

“It was an accident,” Mitch said, his head tilted awkwardly as he tried to angle away from the sword while still meeting Steve’s steady, dark eyes. “Jerome and I were hurt when we were coming back from an outpost, we fell unconscious near his house and he and his family took us in and got us back on our feet.”

“How much of his family did you meet?”

“Only his wife and son,” Mitch said, quickly cutting himself off before he could say Levi’s name. He wasn’t sure how much Steve knew, or how much Herobrine wanted him to know, if at all.

The sword still wasn’t moving away from his neck, but it wasn’t pressing tighter either. “Have you told anyone about meeting them?”

“No one,” Mitch promised. Well, that was an outright lie. He had told Adam, but then again, he was pretty sure that Adam already knew, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. And anyway, the only reason he told Adam was because he had been fairly certain that Adam was-

Mitch quickly cut off that train of thought before it could begin, focusing on Steve’s eyes that pierced him, analysing him, trying to pick apart his lies, almost seeming to look through him. He thought he saw something flicker in there, but it was gone before he could properly catch it and Steve let go of a deep sigh, his sword moving from Mitch’s neck as he took a step back. “Alright.”

Mitch stayed where he was, one hand rubbing the stinging in his neck while the other pressed against the wall to resist the urge to grab his dagger from his boot. He gave Steve a slightly scathing look. “So you really were willing to kill me if you thought I knew where he was.”

“I was willing to kill you if you were going to blab to everyone about him and his family,” Steve corrected. “I wasn’t sure how your experience of him had gone, but if you haven’t told anyone about it yet then I assume it went well.” He still had his sword in his hand, the point lowered, but he stepped off the blade of Herobrine’s and took a few steps back to allow Mitch to reclaim it. “How’d you get his sword?”

“He gave it to me,” Mitch said, never taking his eyes off Steve as he crouched down to pick up the weapon, also keeping it unsheathed as he stood up. “Said he had more. He didn’t need this one.”

Steve snorted a little. “Likely story. Hero would have given it to you because he thought you deserved it, not because he didn’t care for it or wanted to give it away. Don’t lose it, whatever you do.”

“I don’t plan to.” Mitch narrowed his eyes ever so slightly at Steve. “So you help to hide the fact that Herobrine has a family?”

“He asked us to,” the royal man said simply. His expression turned to a puzzled frown as he appraised Mitch in a fashion that was extremely reminiscent of Herobrine. Mitch realised that he had unconsciously taken up a casual fighting stance, ready to leap into action in a moment as Herobrine’s sword was held loosely in his hand, resting on his forward leg. “You remind me of someone else,” Steve said curiously. “It’s struck me a few times before but that pose is very familiar and I can’t quite figure out why.”

Mitch sighed a little, relaxing his stance. “My father taught me the stance,” he explained, the sword ringing as he sheathed it. “You used to know him. His name’s Nathan Hughes.”

“Notch’s old Captain of the guard,” Steve said instantly, snapping his fingers. “That’s it. He’s your father?” Mitch nodded, and the lord hummed. “I guess I should have recognised you but in my defence, you’ve grown a lot since you were a kid running around the castle.”

A snort of laughter escaped Mitch but it was an effort to keep the smile on his face. “Yeah, well.. I haven’t seen him for a while.”

“I heard about his death,” Lord Steve said quietly. “Notch and I both did. I’m sorry.”

“He’s not dead,” Mitch told him, his eyes hard and determined. “I saw him, I know I did. He’s alive, I just don’t know where he is.”

Steve seemed to consider it, frowning a little. “I wouldn’t be surprised,” he admitted. “Nathan was never one to just lie down and die, especially not if he had something he wanted to do.” He paused for a moment, his expression suggesting that he thought Mitch had inherited the trait, but he sheathed his sword silently. “I haven’t heard anything about him for years, but I’ll keep an ear out. If anything comes by Notch’s city, I’ll let you know.”

Mitch nodded and Steve gave him a wink and a smile, starting to walk away. “Goodnight General Mitch,” he said, as if he hadn’t just pinned Mitch to a wall and held a sword against his throat.

“Night,” the warrior called back, watching him for a while until he was sure that he wasn’t about to be followed again before he turned and continued walking down the hallway. He couldn’t quite ignore the vague feeling that he was slowly becoming wrapped up in something much, much bigger than himself.

Chapter Text

Day dawned over the Sky Army, and if Mitch expected Lord Steve to give him another talking to about that little encounter the night before, he was thoroughly disappointed. Steve hardly spared him a glance more than what was normal, instead spending the morning talking to the guards at the castle doors or to answer a few of General Seto’s burning questions about Israphel. But midmorning marked the time for them to leave, and all eight Generals gathered in the central square to see them off.

“Now remember, you guys gotta come to Not- Lord Notch, I mean, that’s what I said,” Steve paused for a moment to huff to himself and roll his eyes before continuing, “ Lord Notch’s castle next week to resign that treaty you have with us, unless you were planning on not being allied with us anymore, in which case that really should have come up in that meeting we had yesterday.”

Adam gave a small chuckle. “Nah, we’ll be there. Probably. Maybe, I dunno. Is anyone planning on conquering any empires or breaking a few treaties?”

“Not until mid next year,” Jason said, checking an invisible watch on his wrist. “Or maybe late next year if I’m feeling lazy.”

“The day you feel lazy is the day the world ends,” Ty muttered, giving a sidelong glance to the warrior.

Jason scoffed, raising his eyebrows at Ty. “Please, the day the world ends is the one day I’d be fighting my butt off.”

“I wonder what the end of the world will be like,” Mitch mused. “Cause if it’s zombies then I’ll have a field day, but I can’t exactly fight a global earthquake with a sword.”

“Now that’s a question I don’t want to know the answer to,” Steve said. “But whether the world ends or not, I’ll tell Notch to expect you all there next week.”

“ Lord Notch,” Ian corrected with a smile.

Steve huffed a second time. “Seriously, I’m considering ditching the ‘Lord’ title all together, I just call him Notch, everyone knows who I’m talking about. Anyway, all of our other allies will be coming at the same time to sign their treaties as well, so just remember; it’s a neutral space, no fighting or starting wars.” He gave an extra warning glance to Mitch and Jerome, which both of them thought was completely unjustified and uncalled for. They had only ever fought one leader and he had insulted them first, and it wasn’t even much more than a small punch-up. No broken bones either!

“Will we be using the teleportation circles?” Seto asked, cutting off any additional discussion on that little point.

Steve nodded. “Naturally, the usual ones. I think Master Rufio’s making sure they’re all set up?” He glanced at the sorceress Veraela who was in the middle of winding up her sleeves to prepare for the transport, missing his glance for several moments.

“Hm? Oh, the circles! Uh yes, I believe Master Rufio has that all under control,” she said quickly, her cheeks reddening. “He’ll have them done before the end of the week to give everyone plenty of time to teleport in.”

Lord Steve glanced back at the generals. “Now usually, this is the point where I would offer for one of our sorcerers to teleport you there, but you’ve got it all handled, right Seto?”

Seto gave a nod. “I’ll get us there safe and sound. Master Veraela, you’ve got the books? And you will return them when I come to Lord Notch’s castle for the treaty, correct?”

“Of course, I will have finished reading them by then and I will return them in perfect condition.”

Steve clapped his hands together, the black string-and-tooth necklace catching the sunlight. “Right, I believe that just about settles everything, unless there’s any protests?” When none were made, Steve mumbled “Well I protest cause next is that desert kingdom, why does Notch make me do this, I hate the heat.”

The Generals chuckled. “Take care Lord Steve,” Adam said. “We’ll see you in a week.”

“Don’t be late,” Steve warned with a wink.

Lord Steve and his two escort warriors took up a position inside the grey falcon circle inlaid into the square and Master Veraela ran her hand along the edge of the circle, peach sparks flicking up behind her palm as she stepped inside, tracing a line in the air that quickly spun around the edge of the circle and then up in the air, encircling the four and then in a burst of peach particles, they were gone as quickly as they arrived.

“Alright, so one week until we set off for Lord Notch’s castle then,” Quentin said, turning to face the others.

“Brilliant.” Mitch stretched. “That gives us time to organise the guards and training for the few days we’ll be gone. Thank the gods for teleportation, I hate the idea of having to walk that far, camping during rain is not fun.”

“I am not drawing up the guard roster for the week,” Jerome said with a deadpan expression, looking at Ian who shook his head with a grin.

“I’ll handle it, don’t worry.”

“Will you need a hand Ian?”

“Nah Adam, sorry.”

Adam sighed, hanging his head. “Dang it. I’ve got so much paperwork waiting on my desk, and if we’re going to be leaving next week then I’ve gotta get through it all before we go.”

“Better get started then,” Ty said flatly, turning and leaving.

“Yeah, thanks Ty!” Adam called out sarcastically, shaking his head. “Is it just me, or is he grumpier in the mornings?”

“Definitely grumpier in the mornings,” Mitch said, walking backwards beside Jason as the two left for the training grounds.

The Generals quickly disbanded after that, each going their own way to get on with the unending task of managing an entire army. Adam left for his office, walking alongside Seto for a little as the sorcerer went to the library, probably to have an intense and complicated discussion with some of his likewise magic-gifted companions. Although Adam was curious to know what their discussions were about, he wasn’t as invested in the intricacies of magic as his father or some of his siblings were, and feigning an overwhelming lack of knowledge in the area was all part of his cover, even if it irked him at times.

It had been weird to be around Mitch since he had figured out Adam’s real identity, and the looks that held secret knowledge had been more than a little strange for the (much) older man, but he trusted Mitch to keep his mouth shut. And since he’d been near Seto and the dozens of other sorcerers in the Sky Army for years, he no longer feared his magic being sensed as long as he didn’t use it, although he was constantly wary.

Adam heaved a sigh as he sat down at his desk, leaning back in the chair and closing his eyes for a moment before he leant back forward and shuffled a few of his papers, trying to find a place to start. He sometimes hated having to lean over his desk to write on endless paper when his habit was to run and jump and leap and watch and train constantly, but some sacrifices had to be made. His amulet constantly got in his way too, forcing him to tuck it into his shirt where it felt cold and hot at the same time. He never took it off though, not even when he showered or slept.

Some things were just too dangerous to be left alone.

Chapter Text

It was the day that the eight Generals were due to teleport for Lord Notch’s castle, though they would only be gone for a maximum of a week and would easily be able to teleport back in an instant if required. The dozen or so captains who helped to run the army had been briefed on their tasks, but no one in the army had any desire to cause trouble in the generals’ absence. They were much too well trained for that, and much too loyal. 

The eight Generals gathered in the central square, finishing up the final few things before they had to leave, but Adam was restless, constantly tapping his hand on his twitching leg, looking out at the front gate of the base with a frown behind his sunglasses.

“Let’s just go on one more quick scout,” he suddenly blurted out, his hand already tapping the hilt of his sword at his side.

Ty groaned. “Adam, chill! It’s fine, we’ll only be gone for a few days, the guys can handle it.”

“Come on, just one! Ten minutes max! That bandit group has been inching closer, I just wanna make sure that they’re not going to try anything while we’re gone! Just to be safe!”

“Adam,” Jason said reasonably, “even if they are stupid enough to attack the entire base, the army can handle it, and they can tell us instantly if there’s something wrong and they need help, and then we can get the entire army of Lord Notch as backup if we need it, okay? Relax.”

“Just one quick scout! Just to make sure!” Adam was already inching towards the front gate.

Mitch sighed, glancing at the other six. “We’re not going to be able to get him to calm down, he’s got himself worked up now. Let’s just go on a quick scout, ten minutes, and then we can teleport to Lord Notch.”

Seto rolled his eyes, but a hint of a smile was on his face. “Alright then. Come on Ty.”

“Why me?”

“Because I want company.”

Ty gave an exaggerated groan, but he plodded along behind Seto and Mitch as they followed Adam who was striding at a quick pace out of the army, quickly leaving for the forest. He did slow down a little to allow them the time to catch up so they were all walking side by side in a line.

“Ten minutes only, Adam,” Mitch reminded quietly, a hand on his sword and his eyes constantly scanning the trees, regardless of the chance of finding any actual threats. The bandit group hadn’t been this close to the base for a few years. He had packed away Herobrine’s sword in the small collection of items they were bringing with them for their stay at Lord Notch’s castle.

“Yeah yeah I know,” Adam said shortly, his steps light as he trod through the forest, his hand not on his sword but knowing who he really was, Mitch had no doubt that he could draw it in an instant if he wanted to.

The forest was silent around them as they walked for several minutes, the gaps between the trees absent of large animals or bandits, and Ty had opened his mouth to say that they should go back when Seto suddenly gestured for them to stop. He was looking attentively diagonally ahead of them, his eyes narrowed slightly and a little unfocused as if he was concentrating on something other than sight.

“What is it?” Adam asked with his voice barely above a whisper.

“Magic,” Seto whispered back. “Strong magic, a sorcerer. At least one, maybe several, I’m not sure.”

“There's someone running,” Mitch added, his head titling a little to better hear the soft sound of crunching leaves and breaking twigs. “They’re running fast.”

Without another word, Adam started stepping cautiously in the direction Seto was looking, the other three having no choice but to follow him. The faint sounds of someone’s heavy footsteps on branches and dead leaves rapidly grew louder, the shadows around them elongating as the canopy of trees grew thicker, and the four crouched behind a thick clump of bushes, taking cover just as the runner burst into view, moving quickly and his hair flicking around his face as he glanced over his shoulder, the hint of fear in his eyes, his steps limping slightly as he ran, and Mitch nearly shouted out his name.

It was Herobrine.

A bare moment after they had seen him, others had too, and from the shadows that were thick among the trees stepped out people in long, dark cloaks with hoods hiding their faces, surrounding him in an instant. Herobrine slid to a stop, white magic swirling around him but all of the shadow sorcerers acted as one, leaping forward with magic flashing and the scene dissolved in chaos for several moments in which none of the four could fully decipher until a few of the sorcerers were thrown back. Herobrine gained some space, a deep black cuff locked onto one of his wrists and his white magic completely dispersing and though he limped, he bared his teeth in a challenge, spinning to face the sorcerers that encircled him.

The sorcerers stepped forward again, whips of black flashing in their hands as they tried to entangle him, grabbing onto his wrists and wrapping their ropes around him even as he struggled and fought a few off, those few often falling to the ground and lying unconscious for a second. In his peripheral vision, Mitch saw Adam shifted a little, his black sunglasses sliding down his nose a little and Mitch caught a glimpse of his golden irides that glowed ever so slightly.

In the chaos, Mitch saw Herobrine cast a glance in their direction, and his white eyes widened for a moment before the split second was gone and Herobrine’s shouts filled the woods, cursing at his captors in what Mitch recognised to be Herobrine’s native language, easily shouting loud enough for the four Generals to hear him, though three of them didn’t understand. On the other side of Adam, Seto made a move like he was about to stand up but Adam pulled on his arm and forced him back down, his eyes never leaving Herobrine and his expression deadly serious.

The shadow sorcerers nearly had full control of Herobrine now, his hands secured behind his back and his shoulders pushed down until he was on his knees, still shouting in that language. One of the sorcerers slapped across his mouth with the back of their hand, and Herobrine yelled one final curse at them that was cut off as another one slammed a fist into his temple and the man went limp for a moment in which they gagged him, pinning him down as another flicked their hands and the shadows gathered around them, surrounding them in darkness as Herobrine’s white eyes flicked open just as they disappeared.

For a moment, none of the Generals moved, caught spellbound by what they had just witnessed. Seto was the first to react, jumping back and onto his feet.

“What the hell was that!” he asked, then instantly answered his own question. “That was Herobrine , who hasn’t been seen for decades , and those were shadow sorcerers, and who did we learn about-”

“They were Israphel’s men,” Adam said shortly, getting up and setting off at a brisk pace towards the army base.

“Woah woah, hold on,” Ty said, running to catch up with him with Mitch and Seto only a step behind. “We just saw Herobrine getting captured Adam, you don’t understand-”

“I understand a whole lot better than you realise Ty,” Adam snapped, whirling around to face them, and it alarmed Mitch to see the worry and near terror in his expression. He, of course, hadn’t understood a word Herobrine had said but for Adam, the past few minutes had been very very different.

Some sixth sense was niggling at Adam, had been since he woke up. It constantly bugged him, making his skin crawl and his ears attentive to every sound, so much so that in the end he just had to insist on going on a scout just to see what, if anything, was making him so twitchy. At the same time that Seto had stopped, Adam had sensed his father’s magic, and he heard the running steps before Mitch mentioned them, and he was already heading in the direction, that sixth sense screaming at him all the while but he tried to keep his steps silent.

He crouched behind the bush and saw his father a moment later, but the sixth sense told him to stay hidden and he knew why when the sorcerers materialised out of the shadows. Forcing himself to stay still as the chaos ensured with his dad fighting alone against all those sorcerers at once was one of the hardest things he’d had to do, but he recognised the magic-repressing cuff that had been locked around his father’s wrist, and he knew that it was over. 

He could tell that Herobrine knew it too in how he bared his teeth, an expression that Adam had seen a thousand times, but the fear in his father’s eyes scared him. As the sorcerers attacked again, Adam shifted in his spot, letting his sunglasses slip down his face a little and exposing his golden eyes as he quietly prepared to run out there and kill these sorcerers who had dared to attack his dad. 

Herobrine glanced in their direction and through the gap in the bushes, the two of them made eye contact, and his father’s eyes widened as he realised who those eyes belonged to. A sorcerer pulled down on his hair and Adam rose up a little more to run out and attack-

“Don’t attack them, they’re Israphel’s men!” Herobrine shouted in their ancient language, his tone angry and harsh like he was pretending to be cursing at the sorcerers but Adam knew the truth. “We won’t win, they came prepared for this!”

He saw Seto start to rise out of the corner of his eye and although he wanted nothing more than to run out there himself, he pulled Seto’s arm down as a sorcerer kicked at Herobrine’s leg where Adam could see the blood on his pants, and Herobrine gave a shout as he hit the ground, the sorcerers surrounding him and pinning his arms as he continued to yell.

“Israphel’s after Steve, you’ve got to protect him!” he shouted, his voice easily loud enough to be heard by them, but the language meant that no one could understand him but Adam as the sorcerers forced him down to his knees, and Adam could tell that to a point, he was letting them do this. “Anne and Levi are at home, they’re safe, but the others don’t know to protect Steve-”

One of the sorcerers backhanded him across the mouth and Adam nearly surged forward to attack them but he held himself in check as Herobrine yelled out one last time “Don’t save me! Protect Ste-”

Another sorcerer hit him so hard on the temple that Adam winced as his father dropped unconscious for a second, but a second was all it took for them to get him completely secure, pulling the shadows around them and his white eyes flashing once as they disappeared, and Adam knew they were completely gone when he could no longer sense his father’s magic.

That was why now, having spun around and snapped at Ty, with Seto watching him with a confused frown and Mitch’s expression containing a hint of understanding, Adam took one of the biggest risks of his whole life.

“Herobrine wasn’t cursing at those sorcerers, he was yelling warnings,” he said rapidly, his voice quiet as if worried that someone would overhear him. “He told me that those sorcerers were Israphel’s men and he told what Isaphel is after but I don’t know why they captured him. We have to get to Lord Notch’s castle now .”

“Wait wait, Adam,” Seto said, pulling on Adam’s arm as he went to turn around. “How could you understand Herobrine, that language-”

“Because he is my father Seto!” Adam snapped. “And because that language is the first language I ever knew. That’s my native language, not this modern one. It’s only been around for three hundred years.”

His three friends looked at him with surprise - Ty and Seto with what he had said, Mitch at how he had told the truth so plainly. He scanned their eyes, then gave a sigh. “Look, I know, okay? It’s nuts, but you’ll need to trust me for now. And for goodness sake, don’t tell anyone . I’ve been through a lot of effort to keep my identity a secret and with Israphel walking around and especially now that my father’s been captured, I can’t afford to have people knowing who I am. So don’t. Tell. Anyone .”

His last few words contained the hint of a threat that he was fairly sure wasn’t needed, but he needed them to know just how important this was. To his relief, all three nodded in agreement.

“Why wouldn’t we trust you?” Ty scoffed. “We’ve been friends for years, as if we’d doubt you now.”

Adam sighed. “There’s lots of reasons why you wouldn’t trust me, but we need to go now .” He said this as he looked pointedly at Seto, who was about to burst with a torrent of questions. “We need to get to Lord Notch’s castle right now. Questions can wait.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun around and started running, a hand holding the sword at his side, hearing the footsteps of the others as they ran after him and Mitch yelling “So I had to basically force the answer from you and you just told them?! Just like that?! Why didn’t you just tell me instead of making me fight for it!?”

Adam chuckled, but he didn’t stop running.

Chapter Text

The recruits waved goodbye as Seto swiped his hand along the edge of the encircled grey falcon, purple mist rising up to envelop the eight Generals standing inside, spinning around until the world outside was completely obscured. Mitch quickly screwed his eyes shut, feeling the strange rush of a sort of intangible wind yanking at his hair and clothes and the ground tip and waver under his feet though he could feel himself standing on something solid, and only when he felt the wind suddenly stop and the warmth of the sun on his head did he open his eyes, blinking as he looked around, a hand automatically hovering over his sword. 

The central street he looked down was huge and broad and lined with shops of a thousand colours and shapes and designs, with banners displaying the multi-toned grey falcon and a hundred other designs all flying from posts or hanging down the side of buildings, turning the path into a riot of activity. And that wasn’t even including the huge number of people who walked down it; civilians of all ages and couples walking hand in hand or being tugged along by young children walked beside smiling patrolling guards with shining iron chest plates and helmets, the spears held at rest against their shoulders.

Quite a few of the passersby had stopped to watch the central square and its dozens of unique circles with interest, waiting for the leaders to teleport in from their far-flung territories and lands, each trying to guess which would come next and guessing each army from which circle they stood in. A good number were pointing at the eight Generals, excitedly whispering at the golden crest on each of their left shoulders that easily identified them, as well as the sheer number of them who had teleported.

Mitch glanced down, noting the circle that the eight Generals were left standing in. It was huge, easily big enough for all of them to fit in comfortably, even as Adam, Seto and Ian were stepping out. The edge was rimmed in purple and it encased three golden swords, all pointed down with two diagonally facing the middle one, a banner wrapping them all together with some old inscription on it that Mitch could never read or understand, much less remember. The Generals had no escort with them; that alone spoke volumes.

His friends were already heading towards the centrepiece of the city; a huge castle with dozens of spires, all seeming to be made of liquid golden glass as the sun shone off it at a thousand different angles. The huge double doors were open, each taller than four men standing on each other’s shoulders, allowing for a flood of people to go in and out at will. Mitch only recognised a few of the Generals and allied Kings and Lords who blended in with the crowd, and even then only by their clothes and the way they walked, and his friends quickly joining the throng, Jerome glancing back with a raised eyebrow to see why he was waiting.

Quickly, Mitch hopped over to join them, his hand holding tight onto his sword strapped to his side, his other hand steady the small bag on his back that held his few things for the stay (and Herobrine’s sword wrapped securely and partially hidden). He made sure he kept a close eye on Jerome’s back so he didn’t lose them in the crowd, but he kept getting distracted along the way, tiny things jumping out at him. 

He knew that he had been only five or six when he had left Lord Notch’s city with his father but he still remembered the design of the stairs, sliding down the railings with glee while his father walked beside Lord Notch as they descended, his father’s side smile at his antics. He remembered staring up with wonder at the huge double doors, which seemed a lot smaller now as he walked through them, but they were no less grand. The hallways were familiar too, having barely changed at all since he had lived in the city, although today they were full of crowds of people.

Mitch had long since lost sight of the others, but he knew their destination and there was no real need to rush. He took his time walking down the halls, lost in a sort of sense of melancholy until he saw the huge open and intricately decorated archway that marked the entrance to the throne room. Stepping inside was like a blast to the past; huge doors only a shade smaller than the front doors flung open into the room that was long and wide, with a raised set of stairs leading up to a single throne and rich tapestries and banners hanging down the walls in between the huge windows that allowed golden sunlight to filter into the room, reflected off the dozens of spires and walls of the castle.

The room was quite crowded too but less so than the hallways, meaning that Mitch had little trouble catching a glimpse of his friends and quickly moving up to them, dodging the others in the room and trying to make his eyes take in the whole area and assess all the potential threats rather than staring at the right hand side of the throne. His father would have stood there, easily able to see the whole room and defend against any threat that could be posed to Lord Notch.

“-the hell is he! We literally just got here, you can’t tell me he’s gotten lost already!”

“Told you we should have put a collar on him.”

The sound of Jason and then Ty’s voice quickly snapped back Mitch’s attention and he hurriedly slipped out of the crowd, landing right at the end of the half clump the other seven had formed in front of a warrior with a longsword at his side. “I’ve been here the whole time, what are you guys talking about?” he said casually.

Jerome, only a half step beside Mitch, jumped with a shout at his sudden voice. “No you weren’t! I would have known if you were.”

The warrior they were facing made a sound like he was trying to muffle a laugh but he covered it by holding out a hand in Mitch’s direction. “Better late than never General Mitch, welcome to Lord Notch’s castle.”

“Thanks,” Mitch said as he shook the hand, quickly taking in the man’s appearance; young but not youthful, strong arms, sandy brown hair, calm blue eyes, Lord Notch’s symbol decorating the jerkin he wore over shirt and pants, the long sword at his side clearly often used and well loved. “Captain Michael, if I remember correctly?”

“That you do,” Captain Michael said. He had been Lord Notch’s Captain of the Guard the past few times they had visited, which was only once or twice a year at most. “I hope the treaty signing doesn’t take up all your time, General Mitch. I’d be disappointed if I didn’t get the chance to spar against you again.”

“I would say that I’ll try to go easy on you this time, but I know I won’t,” Mitch said, unable to keep a grin off his face.

“Well when you put it like that, I’d almost rather you’d break the alliance just so I can see how you fight in a real battle.”

“Oh don’t jinx it,” Quentin groaned, putting his head in his hands. The other Generals tried to muffle their laughs with varying degrees of success, Jerome failing altogether and just letting out a loud snort.

“As I was saying before you came, General Mitch,” Captain Michael said once they’d all gotten a bit more of a handle on themselves, “Lord Notch isn’t here right now as he often goes on a walk around the city about this time, but this afternoon he’ll be holding a gathering here in the hall for all the leaders who have arrived so far. Nothing too formal or official, just a chance to get to know each other or to catch up.”

“Brilliant, we’ll be here then,” Adam said with a nod. “Anywhere for us to dump our stuff so we don’t have to carry it around everywhere?”

“Ah, of course, of course,” Captain Michael said, stepping around them and waving for them to follow him. “I’m so sorry, I should have done that first, although you hopefully won’t need much rest from your travels if you teleported.”

“The circles make it much easier,” Seto chimed in. “Much less exhausting when you have that to aid your direction.”

The rooms Captain Michael showed them to were fairly generic as most castle guest rooms were, though Mitch wasn’t sure whether it was the exact same set of rooms that they had stayed in last time or just an identical copy. The Captain bid them goodbye and left to allow them to settle down a little, which inevitably led to several thrown pillows and Ty taking shelter in the bathroom to avoid being pegged by quite literally half the team. If anyone noticed that Adam seemed partially distracted the whole time, no one brought it up, and he pointedly avoided Ty and Seto’s covert attempts to talk to him privately about what had happened in the forest only an hour ago. The others, of course, didn’t know.

The afternoon came all too quickly and the eight Generals walked together into the throne room, nodding to the guards who stood along either side of the doors, allowing them to pass after double-checking that they had no weapons. Mitch felt a little guilty about keeping a dagger hidden in his boot, but he wasn’t about to risk being caught out without some sort of a weapon on hand. Seto split off  almost immediately, saying something about finding Veraela and getting his books back and catching up with them later on.

While the little gathering wasn’t official, a wise leader never missed out on an opportunity to make connections and get to know more about other armies; sometimes to form another alliance or keep notes on a potential enemy, or even just to share ideas or information. Adam, for all of his hate of paperwork, was a natural at this, nearly instantly striking up a conversation with several leaders gathered in a circle with Jason hanging close by his side. Jerome paired up with Mitch, the latter doing most of the talking, but he wasn’t super interested in forming connections as he was about learning other information.

Everyone he talked to, he asked if they had heard or knew about a skilled warrior who showed up, someone who matched the description Mitch could best remember of his father, even going so far as to name him when someone seemed like they were remembering someone, but he was constantly met with shaken heads and shrugs, with blank expressions and a few concerned ones. He had expected some of the responses, but the sheer number of them was dragging him down, so much so that by the time night came, he was sitting out on the stairs that led up to the castle, the flood of people dying down to a trickle, his elbows resting on his knees and holding his chin in his hands as he stared down the lantern-lit street.

He heard Jerome’s footsteps but he didn’t look as the man sat down beside him with a heavy sigh, a hand clapping Mitch lightly on the back. “It’s okay Mitch,” he said quietly. “We’ll find something on him eventually.”

Mitch sighed, hanging his head and letting his hair fall into his eyes. “I don’t know Jerome. I mean, Seto was right. It has been a few years since I’ve found any actual lead on him, and it’s been even longer since any of them gave me any good information.” He gave a dark chuckle. “None of them have ever given me any good information, who am I kidding.” He sighed through his nose. “I don’t know. Maybe he is dead.”

“Then we’ll find his body and figure out what happened to him,” Jerome said stubbornly.

The other sighed. “Thanks man, but… Maybe I should just leave it. Give it up.”

“I’m sorry, did you hit your head when I wasn’t looking? Are you Mitch Hughes? Stubborn as rock and determined as a flood?”

Mitch snorted a little. “You need to work on your metaphors, Jerome.”

“Whatever! You get my point. You haven’t given up this far, so don’t give up now. Yeah, so there’s a low chance of you finding anything on him, but there’s still a chance , Mitch. Don’t give up here because if you give up then you’ll never find him. As long as you’re still looking, there’s still a chance. You know you wouldn’t be able to let this lie forever. That’s not like you.”

Mitch took a deep breath and slowly let it out, looking up and fixing his eyes on a point in the far distance, taking in the silence for several long moments. “Maybe Adam found something,” he said finally, not in a hopeful way, but with a voice edging on determined. “Lord Steve said that he was going to keep an ear out as well, maybe he knows something too.”

Jerome clapped him on the back. “There's the Mitch I know. Now go find Adam before I have to kick your butt over to him.”

Grinning a little, Mitch got up and headed back into the castle to hunt down the son of Herobrine. Not that Jerome knew that, of course.

Chapter Text

Given the late hour, most of the army leaders had already left the throne room but several were still milling around when Mitch poked his head back in. He recognised only a few of the faces and could name even less, but he recognised Adam talking to Lord Notch with some other leaders and he quietly joined them, standing close to Adam but a little behind him. Having come into the tail end of the conversation, Mitch didn’t understand much of what they were talking about, but he assumed that it was going well. He waited as patiently as he could until one of the lords bid the others goodnight and Adam turned to Lord Notch.

“You don’t happen to know where Lord Steve is, do you?” he asked with a note of curiosity.

Lord Notch shook his head but one of the other captains mentioned “I saw him leave the hall about half an hour ago, no idea where he went though.”

“I can let him know you’re looking for him?” Lord Notch offered, but Adam shook his head.

“It can wait until tomorrow, it’s not urgent,” he said, then glanced at Mitch and gestured with his head towards the large double doors. “We should be going too, otherwise we’ll be here all night.”

“ You’ll be here all night, I’d crash before you're done talking to everyone,” Mitch said with a raised eyebrow and a smile, earning a chuckle from the others as the two of them walked out of the room, turning into the corridors leading to the guest rooms.

“Did you want to ask me something?” Adam asked. “You had that look about you when you stood next to me.”

“It… wasn’t important,” Mitch muttered quietly, his hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. “I was just going to ask if you’d heard anything about my father.”

Adam’s quiet sigh told Mitch everything he needed to know. “Sorry Mitch. I asked around but no one seemed to know anything. But I did talk to some people who sounded like they’d be interested in forming an alliance with us, so we can easily ask them to keep watch for him. A different area that might have clues about where he went.”

Mitch wasn’t convinced but he gave Adam a slight smile. “Thanks.”

Adam bumped the warrior’s arm with his elbow, returning the hesitant smile, but it instantly dropped when he returned his gaze to the corridor ahead. Mitch flicked his head up and saw Steve strolling down the intersection ahead of them, completely oblivious to their presence. “Come on,” Adam muttered, picking up his pace until he was jogging with Mitch easily keeping up beside him. 

“Lord Steve!” Adam called out as Steve was about to disappear into the next hallway.

The lord stopped and spun around on his heels, a grin already on his face as he saw the two Generals jogging up to him. “Hey, what’s up?” he said happily, but his grin faded to a grimace as he saw their expressions. “Oh, this isn’t going to be a good conversation, is it?”

“You’re in danger,” Adam said the instant they’d reached him, his voice quiet to avoid being overheard by any potential listeners.

“What? What do you mean?” Steve asked quietly, his voice instantly switching to that deadly-serious tone that made Mitch remember the sword to his throat.

Mitch nudged Adam’s side. “You can’t just say that out of the blue, you’ve got to explain what happened,” he muttered. Steve gave the two an inquiring look as Adam sighed and relented.

“This morning, before teleporting to the city, we went for a quick walk in the forest,” Adam said quickly, keeping his voice low. “We saw Herobrine getting captured by some of Israphel’s men and they shadow teleported somewhere, we’re not sure where. He told us that Israphel’s after you but he didn’t say why.”

“He told you ,” Mitch corrected quietly. Adam gave him a look to be quiet.

Steve didn’t seem to hear the quiet correction. “And Hero didn’t give you any reason why? No clues?”

“There was no time, they had him captured pretty quickly.”

“He didn’t try to fight them?”

The General gave a little sigh. “Magic-repressing cuff, they had it on him pretty quick. They were prepared for him, they must have been.. tracking him or something.”

Steve hummed, seeming to think about that as he eyed the floor tiles, then he shifted his gaze back to Adam, curiosity with a hint of suspicion inside his eyes. “If Herobrine told you this, does that mean that Israphel’s men know that you know he’s after me?”

Adam was already shaking his head. “He was speaking in our language, those sorcerers would have thought that he was cursing them.”

The lord tilted his head, fixing his analysing stare on Adam that had a hint of knowledge, of a grin, and of… something else Mitch couldn’t place. “Your language?” he asked before adding on something that Mitch couldn’t understand but he recognised it as the language that Herobrine, Adam, and now apparently Steve could speak in.

Adam’s shoulders rose in a slight wince, his head dropping as he rubbed the back of his neck, but Steve gave a smile that was somewhere between a grin and a smirk. “Don’t worry, I understand why you hid it. I wouldn’t have picked it though so good job, you must have done something right.” He cast a glance in Mitch’s direction. “I’m assuming you knew about this?”

“Are we talking about the Herobrine thing or the other thing that I think we’re talking about?” Mitch asked, flicking his finger between the lord and his friend. “Because if it’s the latter then yes, I figured it out myself.” He couldn’t help but give a bit of a satisfied grin.

“Yup I’ll believe that,” Steve said sincerely, his gaze returning to Adam. “I’m assuming there are more of you, specifically more of you who are in close proximity to Notch and I?”

Adam nodded a little. “Of course. Don’t ask me who it is though, because he’ll kill me if I told you, he’s quite proud of himself for getting where he is even though he absolutely got help from the rest of us.”

“I’ve got a few good guesses on who it could be,” Steve said with a grin. Clearly, he found the idea of trying to identify Herobrine’s children a thrilling one. “So, how have you been, nephew?”

“Now’s probably not the best time to catch up on two centuries worth of news,” Adam said vaguely.

“Do you know why Israphel might be targeting you?” Mitch asked, bringing the conversation back to the point. “If we know the reason why, then we can take steps to minimise it or shift that risk from you.”

“Oh, I have a few theories why,” Steve said instantly, with such perfect calmness that it brought both Mitch and Adam up short, “each more unlikely than the next but now that I know he’s got something on me, I’ll be keeping a close eye on things. And I’m assuming that you’ve told the rest of your siblings about this?”

“First thing I did when we got to our rooms.”

Steve shrugged. “Not much we can do then other than wait for Israphel to make a move. You have no idea where Herobrine could be, do you?”

Adam shook his head, a hint of anger on his expression. “He told me that we shouldn’t save him,” he said bitterly. “I don’t know why . We’re at a huge disadvantage if Israphel has him, that’s a lot of leverage to use against us.”

“Maybe Hero’s after something,” Steve suggested. “Maybe he’s playing a different game to the one we are. I wouldn’t put it past him.” He turned suddenly to Mitch as if he had remembered something. “Before I forget, I should tell you something about your father.” 

Instantly, Mitch was attentive and Steve continued. “A year or two are the two of you left the city, Notch and I called Nathan back. We asked him to take back up his position as Captain of the Guard but he politely refused. He did give us a few tips and tricks but then he left to go back home to you. That was the last time either of us saw or heard from him. If he never made it back home, then he’d most likely have disappeared somewhere between here and your village.”

“That gives me somewhere to start!” Mitch said, his hand automatically grabbing Adam’s arm. “I know the landscape would have changed between now and then, but maybe I’ll find a clue or something! Maybe someone saw him, maybe he made it back to the village after I got lost, do you know the name of the village, Steve?”

Steve blinked in surprise and thought for a moment. “Uh…. no, no I don’t, but Notch will. He’s good at stuff like that, I’ll pick at his mind about it tonight, as well as anything else he might remember.”

“Wait, why did the two of you leave the city?” Adam asked as Mitch still held onto his arm. 

“Dad wanted to raise me away from the chaos of the city, I don’t know!” Mitch felt like he was about to start dancing on his feet. “I’ve got to go find him, this is my first actual lead!” He made to run off but Adam quickly grabbed his arm, pulling him back with a laugh.

“Hey, slow down now! You don’t know the name of the village yet, Mitch, or what direction! You won’t find anything out there in the dark now! First thing tomorrow, okay? I’ll come with you.”

“First thing tomorrow, I’ll even skip breakfast for this.”

Chapter Text

True to his word, Mitch was awake and ready the moment dawn broke. He’d talked it out with the team the night before and they’d decided that the trip would take a few days which led Mitch to have already packed everything he’d need in a backpack. Adam, despite his best protests, was finally convinced to stay in the city to keep forming good relations but as he told Mitch privately later on, he only gave in so easily because Herobrine had also told him to protect Steve.

In the end, Jason and Quentin agreed to go with Mitch. The three borrowed some horses from Lord Notch’s stable, and the mounts were huffing and puffing in the cold dawn air as the other three warriors Lord Notch had given to accompany them waited patiently.

“Now we can only give you three days, round trip,” Steve said to the three Generals as he came to see them off. “But Mitch, you’re always welcome to keep looking after the treaties are signed. We’ve just to get that done as soon as we can.”

“Three days will be more than enough,” Mitch said, gathering up the reins, feeling the weight of his sword at his side. It had been a tough decision to leave behind Herobrine’s sword and take his own, but he knew that it would be safe in Adam’s care and he still didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to it.

“See you then, if not before,” Steve said with a grin and a nod. He waved and watched as they rode down the streets and out of the city gates, quickly building up speed until they were moving fast over the rolling plain, the rising sun casting huge, warm beams of light across the grass on either side of them, the light brown dirt of the path flicking up into the air under the pounding hooves of the horses. 

The trip to Mitch’s apparent old village was a little over three days away, but somehow, Mitch was confident that they’d find something on this shorter trip, even if it was just a hint of what might have happened to his father or a path that might have been taken by him. He tried to ignore the fact that the chance of any trace of the path his father took would be virtually non-existent thanks to the years that had passed.

On the way there, when they had reached the forest, they left the main path and started leading the horses down the less frequented paths of the underbrush, often having to stop and hack their way past thick vines and ducking under low-hanging branches. One of the three warriors who had accompanied them was also skilled in tracking, although he was rather skeptical when Mitch told him what they were looking for.

“He must have left a hell of a track for it to have lasted this long,” he said while shaking his head. “But I’ll do me best, I promise you that General.”

Other than a brief encounter with a startled deer herd that made Mitch appreciate the potential danger of a buck’s antlers, the first day passed with nothing eventful occurring or being found, and the second day only yielded the promise of a clear sky and a full moon that night.

“It’s only a short trip, Mitch,” Jason told him at the end of the day, sitting beside the General as he lay stretched out on his bedroll. “We don’t really have enough time to find a proper lead.”

The night was warm and the sky was clear of clouds, providing a spectacular view of the stars and a faint glimpse of space dust. The fire they used to cook their rations was still burning, the logs built up to ensure it would burn for a reasonable time into the night. Their horses had been rubbed down, fed and watered, and were now secured to one of the trees for the night. One of the warriors had taken up the first watch guard, with the other two quietly talking to Ian a little distance away. Jason had chosen to sit beside Mitch as he lay quietly on his bedroll, looking up at the stars.

“I knew that,” Mitch sighed. “And I told myself that it was highly unlikely that I’d find anything and I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but… I’m still disappointed.”

Jason gave a half-shrug. “I guess that’s just part of life.”

The younger sighed, closing his eyes briefly before opening them and once again watching the glinting pinpricks above. “We’ll head back on the main road tomorrow, get a fast route to the city, so we don’t risk being late.”

“Sounds good.”

The two were in silence for a little, both watching the stars and musing on wildly different thoughts. The low murmurs of the warriors and Ian drifted over yet barely disturbed their trains of thought. Several minutes of staring up at the sky made Mitch’s neck ache and he twisted it to either side to stretch it, then the moonlight caught his eye.

“Hey Jason,” he said quietly, pushing himself up to a seating position with his face turned to the forest around them. “Is there something in the forest over there?”

Jason turned, a hand subtly dropping to his sword that rested beside him, peering into the same direction as Mitch. “Looks like an old building,” he muttered quietly, his eyes narrowed. “Potentially unfinished.”

“That’s my thoughts too.” Mitch stood, picking up his weapon and Jason copied him. He called over to Ian “We’ll be right back, just going to check something out over here” and the two warriors stepped out of the circle cast by the fire’s light, heading into the thick trees.

Without the burden of the horses making their life difficult, it was an easy thing for the two to reach the structure they had spotted. True to Jason’s assessment, it was a building in a state of disrepair, although seemingly by accidental or purposeful destruction rather than time. The house appeared to have been a large single-story dwelling with multiple large rooms. Most of the walls had been knocked down completely, the bricks that had made them scattered in large clumps across the tangle of weeds that covered the cracked stone floor. The roof had long-since collapsed and only a few skeletons of the windows had remained, the glass inside smashed.

“This isn’t spooky at all,” Jason muttered, turning around in a slow circle as he covered Mitch’s back.

Mitch grinned at the statement, but it was hard to disagree. Their only source of light was the moon that hovered at an odd angle in the sky, throwing confusing shadows across the weeds, grass, and stones. The walls seemed to have a sort of irregular pattern or stain, but even when Mitch went up close to one and squinted at it, he couldn’t figure out which one it was.

“House in the middle of nowhere, looking like it was purposefully destroyed,” Mitch mused out loud. “Nothing bad could have happened here, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Jason hopped up and stood on one of the brick clumps. “It’s been forgotten for decades at least, look how much it’s been overtaken by the forest.”

Mitch hummed. “What do you reckon-”

He instantly cut himself off, his eyes wide. Jason gave him a questioning look, to which Mitch tilted his head and pointed his finger to his ear, then out to the forest around them. Jason listened, and it was only a second before the rustle of leaves came again, and the two of them turned, facing one of the many decrepit walls. In unison, their swords slowly and quietly hissed out of their scabbards, facing the trees.

At the movement or the sound, neither were sure, there came the squeal of a beast and something huge and furry and very angry charged out at them, the two only getting a split second to take in the huge tusks that shone yellow under the moonlight and the beady black eyes before they dove out of the way in opposite directions, rolling and coming up standing. The beast squealed as it missed them, charging on for several steps before it turned in a circle, its tusks ripping at the weeds and scraping against the stone.

“What the heck is that ?” Mitch asked loudly, seeing the tangled mess of short, coarse brown fuzz that covered the body of the beast and the huge cloven hooves that stamped against the floor.

“Wild boar,” Jason replied in kind, adopting the same crouch that Mitch had fallen into. “A huge wild boar, those tusks look nasty.”

The boar grunted and squealed and spun towards Jason, charging at him with a speed that made Mitch shout a warning, but Jason had it covered and he rolled to the side, running to join Mitch as the boar travelled another few steps, practically screeching in fury.

“This thing doesn’t seem to have brakes,” Mitch said, watching the beast with narrowed eyes. “We might be able to run it into a wall.”

“That won’t hold it long, if at all,” Jason replied quickly as the boar rounded to face them. “We’ll need to find a sturdy wall and we’ll only have a moment to strike while it’s dazed.”

“Find a wall, I’ll keep it distracted.”

Jason split off to run deeper into the crumpled building as Mitch ran around the boar, shouting random nonsense about how the boar smells like freshly cut flowers and its mother was an accountant, but it did the job and the beast spun around with a squealing roar, chasing after Mitch who was tensed, waiting until the last moment before dodging to the side, his mouth going dry as he felt the huge tusks fly past inches away from his shirt. 

He instantly jerked away, sprinting a good distance before spinning to face the boar again, once more yelling insults. It was a dangerous game of tag and the uneven surface of the ground meant that Mitch had trouble keeping his footing, needing to find the line between speed and balance as he risked getting closer and closer to those tusks. The boar grew wise of his tactic and it started charging slower and more deliberately, giving Mitch less time to make a quick escape.

“Mitch, over here!”

Jason’s voice gave him a direction and Mitch jumped straight up as the boar lumbered towards him, using the stubby snout to boost himself over the pig and instantly sprinting over towards the waving man. The pig gave a screaming roar and recklessly charged towards them, its hooves clicking on the paving stones that were splintered and cracked, giving way to soft dirt underneath that made Mitch stumble in the uneven shadows cast by the moon. 

Ahead of him, Jason wordlessly pointed to a thick wall that was at the very edge of the house ruins, his sword in his other hand. Mitch sprinted towards it, spinning around with it at his back, watching with bent knees as the boar lumbered closer and closer, its tusks ready to pin him to the stone. He waited until he could see his reflection in the boar’s eyes before he dove to the side, letting himself roll as he hit the ground to absorb the impact.

The boar squealed as it slammed into the wall, one of its tusks cracking as its fury increased but Jason swooped in and his sword pierced the side of the beast, striking straight and true through its heart. The beast grunted, slashing wildly with its tusks yet Jason easily avoided them and used his momentum and the boar’s weight to push it over and drive his sword into the soft earth as the boar gave one final screaming roar and lay still.

Mitch leant over his knees as he puffed out breaths, returning the adrenaline-fueled grin Jason gave him as he stood up, his hand still wrapped around the hilt of his sword. Firelight and voices drifted from the other side of the house, coming towards them and calling out their names.

“Little late Ian!” Mitch called, standing up.

Ian and one of the warriors - the tracker - dashed into the section of house the two were in, torches in their left hands while their swords were in their right, stopping to take in the boar as Jason withdrew his weapon. “Oh, so that’s what was doing the weird screaming,” Ian said lightly. “I thought you might have been summoning demons.”

“Only on Tuesdays.”

The warrior raised a confused (and slightly concerned eyebrow) but Ian took it in stride and instead jerked his chin towards the boar. “What should we do with that?”

“Leave it,” Mitch said with a shrug. “The scavengers will enjoy it.”

The four left the carcass and walked back through the ruins, the light of the torches casting dancing shadows across the broken and collapsed walls. Their light, despite the flickering, was enough to identify the pattern of stains Jason and Mitch had spotted before.

“It’s blood,” Mitch breathed at the same time as Jason said “Ian, Jericho, wait.” Mitch darted up to one of the walls, his hand hovering over the stains of blood that were splattered unevenly across a few of the standing walls and the rubble of stones. It seemed to be contained only to this section of the house.

The tracker, Jericho, stepped up next to a different section of the room where another blood pattern was scattered across the lower section of a wall, crouching beside it and tracing the outline with his finger, frowning.

“Hey Jericho,” Mitch asked, turning a little, “how long do bloodstains last?”

Jericho puffed out his cheeks. “Pretty long time, as far as I know. A decade, possibly? Especially on a porous surface like these here stones.”

“That doesn’t mean that it’s his, Mitch,” Jason said quietly. “We barely found this place and we were camping right next to it.”

“But that doesn’t mean that it’s not, either.” Mitch crossed his arms over his chest, frowning a little as he tapped his foot on the ground. “How long does it take for a body to decompose?”

“You’re really testing me knowledge here, General Mitch,” Jericho said, tilting his head back to look at the moon with a sigh. “For the bones to completely decompose, 80 years? To become unrecognisable as a body… maybe ten, twenty years? Possibly thirty? Depends on the climate really, but in a forest like this with scavengers…” He shrugged. “About ten or twenty years, I reckon.”

“I haven’t seen any bodies here,” Ian mentioned.

Mitch let out a quiet breath. “Yeah,” he muttered. “We’ll have to come back here later. Just to be sure.”

The four left the ruins behind, returning to their camp and the two other warriors left guarding it. With the appearance of the wild boar, they decided to have a watch of two people during the night but with the knowledge that his father might have been to that ruined house and might have been attacked there, Mitch found it very hard to get to sleep.

Chapter Text

With the warm sun tracing its path and small fluffy clouds being pushed about the sky by a warm, sweet breeze, it was hard to be indoors sitting at a table and involved in treaty discussions, even if the curtains and windows were thrown wide open to let in the sky. The long rectangular table was crowded with generals and lords and minor kings and captains and rulers of all nationalities and cultures and backgrounds, all with many varying views but every signature went onto the large parchment agreeing to be allied with the kingdom of Lords Notch and Steve for another year, and several of them even made or renewed treaties between themselves.

The formalities were finished by midday and most of those who had gathered rushed outside to enjoy the sun in their own ways. Late afternoon found Adam and Mitch sparring in a ring in the training ground, both of them using carefully balanced wooden swords so that they could smack each other as hard as they wanted without causing serious damage. That said, their real swords lay only metres away.

“So remind me how old you are again,” Mitch grunted, blocking another one of Adam’s strikes. He had guessed that Adam had been holding back before, but he had still not expected the strength of the other when he’d proposed this duel. That said, he wasn’t yet regretting it.

Adam laughed, easily avoiding Mitch’s counter strike. “I don’t know why you keep asking, I’m not going to tell you.”

“But you will, one day.” Mitch stepped back, letting his sword drop to the side to signify a pause. Adam did the same and although they were both sweaty, he wasn’t breathing as heavily as Mitch and he was still grinning as Mitch wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “Have Seto and Ty pinned you down for questioning yet?”

“The day you left, actually,” Adam said, adjusting the sunglasses that were on top of his head, his golden irises appearing their usual brown. “And the day after that. And yesterday too. You may have noticed that I’m avoiding them now.”

“That bad, huh?”

Adam shrugged. “Not really. But Seto keeps asking me if I know all this obscure arcane knowledge even though I’ve told him that I never really studied that stuff, and Ty keeps being offended about how I never told him who I was.”

“As he should be.” Mitch picked up his sword again. “You do know that you’ve got to tell the others at some point.”

The son of Herobrine grinned. “Maybe. Probably. Eventually. If I feel like it.”

Over in the main street of the base near the front steps of the castle, Lords Notch and Steve were happily chatting away with a few of the other lords, enjoying the last few hours of the sunlight, Captain Michael by their side as always. The crowds were filling the central square, crowding over the currently unused teleportation circles as the air filled with a familiar and comforting hubbub. But several gave loud gasps at once and the crowds rapidly parted and fled the square, drawing the attention of the talkers. Notch and Steve gave matching frowns of worry as they saw what was happening to the pavers.

Dozens of the circles were shifting and changing, their edges twisting to be facing inwards and their colours molting to purples and blacks and greys as they melded together, forming a huge teleportation circle that took up half of the square, whose colours were so dark and similar that the design couldn’t be made out. 

In the training ground, Adam suddenly froze, his wooden sword interlocked with Mitch’s and his eyes widening as if he has just realised something that Mitch hadn’t, then he flicked out of the stalemate, spinning around and racing away as he dropped the wooden sword and snatched up his own, sprinting for the central square. After a moment of surprise, Mich leapt after him, only steps behind. He caught up as Adam pushed his way through the suddenly thick and murmuring crowd around the square both of them reaching the front few rows and taking in the scene at the same time.

Dark purple mist was rising from the edges of the huge teleportation circle that had been formed, twisting and curling in the air like huge fingers and solidifying to hide what was within before it dropped away completely, revealing the group who had teleported inside it, though there wasn’t much to see. There were about a dozen of them, each wearing the long, embroidered cloaks of sorcerers, all of the fabric pitch back and the raised hoods were deep enough to hide their faces. Each of them were standing in a circle, chains secured to their wrists and waists with the other end fastened securely to the only figure who wasn’t wearing a cloak, kneeling and hidden in their midst. Magic swirled around each of the sorcerer’s hands; a spell ready to fire, either into the crowd to protect themselves, or at their prisoner who kept their head lowered. One of them had a sword pressed against the prisoner’s neck, just in case they tried to get free.

Only one sorcerer was different from the rest; his cloak was embroidered with purple and gold thread and the fabric was more a deep grey than black, and he lifted partially gloved hands with thin fingers to push back his hood, revealing a head that was completely bald and a pale face with dark eyes that were bold against his skin. Standing near the steps to the castle, Notch and Steve could see that his pupils seemed to contain a glint of deep red as he looked around, taking in the crowds that peered at his entourage, trying to catch a glimpse of the man in the middle. 

“And who might you be?” Lord Notch asked. The lords around him stepped back and away, save for Lord Steve and Captain Michael, the latter of whom took a step forward so that he was a little in front of the two lords, ready to protect with warm wood-brown magic swirling from his hand into a partially transparent shield in front of him.

The cloaked man gave a thin smile, though it never reached his eyes. “Now, do not tell me that you have forgotten me. I have only been gone for a century.” His voice wasn’t loud, nor was it soft. It seemed… rather ordinary, except it carried a calculated smoothness that sent light shivers down the backs of those who heard it. Everyone knew instantly underestimating this sorcerer would be a grave mistake.

“What do you want, Israphel?” Lord Steve asked, no humour in his tone.

“So quick to the point, Lord Steve,” Israphel said, tutting a little. “Are you not happy to see me?”

Steve’s flat gaze was enough of an answer, as was Notch’s slightly raised eyebrow and the hand that Michael had on the hilt of his sword. One of Israphel’s shoulders moved up in a slight shrug, his eyes never closing as they flicked once more around the crowd before returning to the two brothers.

“As you wish, then,” he said smoothly. “My request is simple, Lord Steve. I want you.”

Steve, having known this, didn’t react but Notch’s head flicked a little in surprise. “Why? Explain.”

Israphel spread his hands. “Must I? Must I have a reason for what I want?” He seemed to stop and consider. “No, you are right. I should have a reason, and I do.” He fixed his eyes on the two. “I am searching for a few things, you see; a touch of this, a few things of little importance, a stone or two. I believe that Lord Steve will assist me to my end.”

“What ‘things’, Israphel?” Notch asked.

Israphel’s thin smile never reached his eyes. “Now that, I do not have to tell you. But I would greatly like to have these objects, and my task would be made much easier in many ways if Lord Steve were to... accompany me, let us say.”

“So you just expect me to hand myself over to help you in your schemes which have never been for the help or benefit of the wider society?” Steve asked, waving a hand a little to encompass the crowd around them, watched by the entourage of sorcerers.

“Oh, of course not,” Isaphel said, the hint of a laugh reaching his voice. “Please, I would never be so rude as to assume that you would do such a thing. I have brought you something to trade. A life for a life, as it were.” He took a step to the side, his hand gesturing to the figure chained by his followers. The crowd still couldn’t see who it was but as the sorcerers shifted to the side a little, Steve and Notch seemed to recognise him. Captain Michael’s eyes widened, as did Notch’s and he sucked in a breath while Steve narrowed his eyes, then fixed them on Israphel.

“This is your bargaining chip?” he asked, his voice furious. “This is what you’ve brought to exchange?”

“You do not want him back?” Israphel asked, seeming offended. “Well I had expected as much, but I assumed-”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Notch snapped, taking a step closer but never in front of Michael. “What makes you think you have the right to step into my city unannounced and demand an exchange like this, bartering his life?”

Israphel wasn’t disturbed by Notch’s anger. “I did not see any signs saying that I had to announce myself before entering the city. Besides.” He waved to the altered teleportation circle. “I did put on a display.”

“What makes you think that Steve can or would help you? What game are you playing at, Israphel?”

“I think that information belongs between Lord Steve and I.” The shadow sorcerer looked beyond Notch to the stony-faced Steve. “I believe you have been hiding something, Lord Steve. Perhaps several somethings. And I think you can imagine how the stones would help me.” He gave a small wave of his gloved hand; a curious design that had holes around the fingers and the cuff was decorated with a bracelet of sorts; a design none of those present had ever seen before.

The gaze Steve fixed Israphel with was downright murderous but the sorcerer simply gave another half shrug. “I see you need some incentive.”

He gave a tiny jerk of his head and the sorcerer circle shifted a little, one of the sorcerers wrapped a hand around the hair of the prisoner, yanking his head back so that he was forced to look at the two lords ahead while the sword was pressed tighter to his throat, nearly splitting the skin underneath it. The shift meant that the crowd could now identify the prisoner and Mitch, already suspecting who it was, was able to hold Adam back as he surged forward, his eyes nearly as murderous as Steve’s.

“Not here,” he hissed as quietly as he could in his friend’s ear, pulling him back a step. “Too many casualties, they’re prepared for an attack. Israphel’s goading us into fighting him.”

Adam’s arm was tense under his hand, his eyes fixed on his father as the brown irides flicked to liquid gold and back again. A terse moment passed before he relaxed a little, his body still tense but Mitch knew he wasn’t going to charge out and attack, though he kept his hold on Adam’s arm as the latter put on his sunglasses to hide his shifting eyes.

Herobrine was chained from head to toe, the cuffs that were locked around his wrists secured tightly to the chains around his ankles and although they themselves weren’t stained, the skin around them had dried and fresh blood decorating it. Cuffs were around his arms, his legs, chains extending from around his neck, and that deep black cuff was still locked tightly around his forearm. His shirt and pants were ripped and stained and cuts were along his arms and several were across his back, the skin around them bruised a deep purple.

With his hair pulling his head back, Herobrine was forced to look at the face of his brothers, and both of them saw the new cut that ran perilously close to his eye, which was half closed to keep out the blood. He wasn’t gagged, but there was a red mark across his cheek in the shape of a hand and he didn’t seem inclined to say anything. Notch turned his furious gaze to Israphel but Steve kept his eyes on Hero’s face and the sorcerer holding Hero’s hair didn’t allow him to look away.

“He would be useful,” Israphel said, apparently blind to Notch’s glare, his voice cooly calculating as he examined his prisoner. “Not as useful as you, Lord Steve, but I could get a few things from him, if I tried hard enough.” He narrowed his eyes a little, but Herobrine refused to look at him, still holding Steve’s gaze. “Of course, he would not be any good to anyone when I am done, but you can only do what you can do.” 

Notch’s silence made the crowd realise that he knew Israphel could follow up on his claim. Israphel turned his gaze back to the two brothers, calmly waiting for their response with his hands clasped behind his back under his cloak. Notch retreated a step and turned his face away from Israphel.

“It’s your call, Steve,” he murmured quietly.

“He’s a snake,” Captain Michael hissed, and while he still didn’t move nor draw his sword, his brown shield of magic flashed a little brighter.

“Stand down Captain Michael,” Lord Notch said warningly. Perhaps a little begrudgingly, Captain Michael’s shield settled.

Steve’s eyes flicked from Hero to the sorcerers around him, to the cloaked man holding the sword to his throat, once to the crowd where Mitch and Adam were standing, back to Hero and the chains that held him fast, and finally, to Israphel. “No,” he said, clearly and firmly with a small shake of his head. “No Israphel. Never a million years.”

Israphel gave a small hum. “Well, I cannot say I am surprised, but I am disappointed. I could only give you one chance to save him and I was hoping that you would agree, but, alas…” He paused, pulled on his hood with a smooth movement and from the darkness of the hood, his voice said “We cannot all get what we want.”

The sorcerer holding Hero’s hair shoved his head down, nearly cutting him on the sword as the purple mist swirled around them again, enveloping them in a thick blanket until they were invisible and then they were gone, leaving behind the vague remains of a black and grey circle that was already dissolving and shifting back to its original form.

Chapter Text

Unlike that morning, when the shutters had been thrown open to let in the breeze, the windows were closed and the curtains were shielding the room from the last of the setting sun’s beams, the gathering only illuminated by the lamps scattered about and the huge fireplace in one of the walls, burning quietly. Like that morning, all of the captains, lords, kings, generals, and rulers were there, crowding around a table but unlike that morning, the tone was one of confusion and worry, and most of the leaders stayed silent while a key few talked.

Lord Notch calmed the hubbub with a raised hand, waiting until all were silent and giving him their full attention before he began. “Now, I understand that only some of you were present this afternoon and that those of you who weren’t would have heard garbled and potentially misleading information, so I will explain fully what happened and why we’re here.

“There is a shadow sorcerer named Israphel who was active a number of decades ago and recently has started being active once again. He visited this afternoon with several of his sorcerer followers, manipulating the teleporting circles to enter. They had Herobrine prisoner and offered an exchange; they’d release him if Steve turned himself over. As you can obviously tell, that deal was refused and they teleported away.”

“What did they want?” Captain Sparklez asked.

“Apart from Steve, Israphel wasn’t specific,” Lord Notch said.

“He did mention something about stones a few times,” Lord Steve mentioned, his gaze a little unfocused, but he cast his eyes down the table. “I don’t suppose any of you more magic-inclined folk can shed some light on that?”

A man down the end wearing a midnight blue cloak spread his hands apologetically. “A lot of writings talk about stones of legend or power. Most of them are vague enough so that he could really have been talking about anything.”

“I don’t think he’d have much use of those kinds of stones,” General Seto said, frowning a little then glancing down at the speaker. “Forgive me, Master Aramis, and I know we don’t know much about this Israphel sorcerer, but could he have been referring to the Shifting Stones?”

“I thought those were only stories,” one of the minor kings mentioned.

Master Aramis paused before responding. “That could be an explanation,” he said slowly, “but they’ve been impossible to find for centuries, if they ever existed at all.”

“Sorry, Shifting Stones?” King Nick asked. “Care to explain?”

Seto gave a little shrug. “There's not much to say, really. What remains of the stories - and there are only a few of them - seem to refer to a single object but they all have wildly different descriptions of it, hence the name of Shifting. Nothing matching the description has ever been found.”

“If that’s the case, then the chances of us finding it before Israphel does is virtually impossible,” General Mitch said. “So we’ve got to try a different tactic.”

“Are we going to do something about him having Herobrine as his prisoner?” General Adam asked. “Israphel mentioned something about ‘getting things’ from him, and him having Herobrine captive can give him a lot of leverage against us.”

Lord Notch nodded a little. “We may not be able to stop Israphel from getting what he wants, but we can take away what he already has, and the easiest way to do that is to rescue Herobrine. The only problems are that we don’t know where he is or how heavily he’s being guarded.”

“If we’re going to save him, then first we need to figure out who’s going to do it,” Lord Steve said shortly. “The details of where and how can be figured out by that group. And I’m going with that group to save Hero.”

A splutter of protest went up, most vocally from Captain Michael who finally spoke loud enough to quell the others. “You’re the one Israphel wants, you’re the last person who should go, you’ll just be handing yourself over to him! If the mission fails then Israphel will have both you and Herobrine and then we’d be really screwed.”

“Then we’d better put together a good team so that we don’t fail,” Lord Steve said plainly. 

“If you’re going then I want to go too,” Adam said instantly and Mitch was quick to back him up with “I know you can’t fight magic with swords, but most sorcerers can’t fight against swords with magic, either. I’m going as well.”

Lord Notch raised his hand to quiet the sudden eruption that went up. “Not everyone can go!” he half-yelled, quieting the room yet again. “The group has to be small enough to enter undetected and big enough to protect Herobrine and themselves should they be spotted.”

“And none of you can convince me not to go, so don’t waste your breath,” Lord Steve said, grinning and leaning back in his seat, nearly about to kick his feet up onto the table before he remembered that that wasn’t appropriate with current company.

Notch gave a sigh that said he knew that battle was lost. “Fine. General Adam, General Mitch, are you sure you’re willing to risk this?”

Both of the Generals instantly nodded, Adam jerking a thumb to his team of friends and saying “This lot can handle the army while we’re gone, that’s why there’s eight of us.”

“Sending our leaders is folly!” Captain Grian said, crossing his arms on the table and frowning. “We should be sending our best warriors, they're the ones who have trained their whole lives for this. Our leaders-”

“Are also our best warriors,” General Mitch cut in. “The best leaders are the ones who have been in an army their whole lives, they’re the ones who know what it’s like to fight for your life and to fight until you’re beyond exhausted. They know how to rally the troops and how to strategise victory. I agree with you Captain, we should send only our best warriors and while we can’t send all of our leaders, some of our leaders are our best warriors.”

Master Aramis leant forward. “If it’s a case of sending the best, then you should bring some sorcerers with you. I know several who will be willing to volunteer...”

But Lord Steve was already shaking his head. “We can’t bring any sorcerers with us,” he explained. “Wherever Hero’s being held, you can bet that it’ll be crawling with magic users, and they’ll be able to sense the magic of any sorcerer we bring with us. The risk of us being found is too great as it is. We’ll have to risk being without magical assistance.”

Notch muttered something to Steve in that ancient language which everyone around the table figured was something private between them but Adam, able to understand the words, had a momentary flicker of confusion flit across his face as he heard: “It’s a good thing for us then that you’ve only got a touch of magic.”

Steve nodded a little in agreement to Notch and Adam dismissed the comment for now. Captain Michael, sitting on the other side of Lord Notch, tapped his fingers nervously on the table. “I’d feel much better if you took with you a few of the royal guard, they are trained for this sort of thing.”

“Of course Michael, naturally,” Lord Notch said. “Anyone else?”

A few others around the table suggested some names or volunteered themselves, then the meeting was dismissed and those assigned to the rescue team gathered in the same room. Everyone who had been volunteered agreed to go on the mission, and the doors were closed and locked as they prepared for the task, trying to figure out how they’ll enter and what they’ll do if Herobrine is unable to walk or badly injured or if he’s well enough to run and what their plan is if they get spotted.

“So the million dollar question; how will we get there?” one of the warriors asked, tapping the hilt of the curiously decorated sword at his side, the guard engraved with the name ‘Mumbo’.

“We’ll have to teleport,” Steve said, fishing around the drawers that were built under the table and digging out a huge map, rolling it out across the table. “If we teleport a little away from where Hero is and get the sorcerer to wait there for us to teleport us back, then we shouldn’t be sensed or followed.”

“That’s great, but where is Herobrine?” Captain Noah asked. “We don’t even know where we went, and we have no way of finding out where Israphel took him without the teleporting circles-”

“The Western Lowlands,” Steve interrupted, tapping a place on the map. “If I remember correctly, there’s a thick forest there that’s claimed to be impenetrable. That’s where he is.”

Everyone around the table - about a dozen in total - blinked at him in silence for several long moments. “And… you know this how?” a female warrior said with a quizzical look.

“It’s the one trick I’ve got,” Steve said as if that explained it. “Trust me, he’s there.”

Not everything could be planned that night, so the meeting was adjourned and Mitch and Adam hunted down their friends, finding them waiting in the rooms the eight had been assigned. Most of them were kicking back in the classical way the team had of being completely relaxed in the face of a terrifying and dangerous development.

“Oh good, you guys are finally back,” Ian said, waving a hand to the room to indicate the two missing people. “Seto and Jason have just popped back to the base to let everyone know what’s happening and that we’ll be staying here a few days longer.”

“Wait, you guys are staying?” Mitch asked. “Why?”

Ty raised his eyebrows like he thought it was obvious. “To make sure you guys get back okay, duh. What do you think we’re going to do, relax at home while you guys are breaking a powerful sorcerer out of the hands of several other powerful sorcerers?” Jerome was nodding in agreement.

“Most leaders have already gone home,” Quentin explained. “The others who aren’t going with the rescue team will probably be leaving tomorrow. They all reckon that Israphel means serious business and because we don’t really know what he’s capable of, everyone’s decided that they’d rather be at home just in case anything happens.”

Adam sighed a little. “Okay, fine, I guess that makes sense. I need to go out for a walk, I’ll be back later.”

“Want some company?” Ty called out after him as he exited the rooms, Adam’s voice vaguely calling that no thanks, he was fine. Ty shrugged and flopped back even further into his pile of cushions. “Wake me up in the morning.”

“You’re seriously going to sleep on the couch?”

“Yup.”

Everyone rolled their eyes.

Chapter Text

The city was quiet at night, barely a hum of what it was during the day as Adam walked down the streets alone, enjoying the stillness of the night and the sense of being completely invisible in the world, able to go where he wanted and do what he pleased. There was a sense of power in it, a sense of secretiveness that was unlike anything else, and it was a feeling that Adam quite enjoyed even though he’d ended up having less and less time to enjoy it as time went on. 

The streets he took were deserted and the lanterns burnt low, casting dim shadows of his figure in his wake, the silhouette dancing behind and occasionally fading or darting in front of him as he passed a new source of faint light. 

This flickering meant that he saw the shadow of the person behind him before they quietly called for his attention in the night. “General Adam!”

Adam stopped, turning with a slight grin to see Captain Michael walking up quickly to join him, his hand resting on his sheathed sword as it often did. “Captain Michael,” he greeted, appraising the street behind the man, ensuring that it was empty. The Captain was doing the same behind him, and casually looked down the few alleyways along the street, using more than just his eyes to search but they were alone, with not a soul alive to see them talking. 

“You’d better protect Steve and you’d better protect him damn well, Sky,” Michael said, his voice quiet and low. “I don’t like the idea of him walking into Israphel’s base like this, there’s way too many unknowns, we have no idea what kind of set up Israphel has.”

“I don’t like it either, that’s a big reason why I volunteered to go with them,” Sky replied, his voice similar in tone. “We can’t protect him if we’re not with him. But you saw how he looked, there was no way we could change his mind, even if we told him the whole truth. Besides, he keeps insisting that we don’t need to worry about Israphel’s defences, it’s like he knows something we don’t.”

Michael hummed uncertainly, his hand resting on the sheathed sword at his side. “Well you’re the only one who’s going to be able to protect him in there. Both of them, actually. And who knows what kind of state Dad might be in.”

“I know Mishiael, I figured that out pretty easily. Honestly, I’d feel better if you came too, but you’ve-”

“Gotta be here to protect Notch, I know, Sky. That’s why I offered to take this role. Besides, I like it here,” he said, taking a moment to look around the darkened street. “It’s nice. And it’s fun to be so close to them and yet have them be so clueless about me. They even know I have magic. They just don’t know how strong that magic is.”

Sky matched Mishiael’s slight smirk but his faded quickly. “Just make sure you keep your eyes open, okay? I doubt Israphel would do it, but he might go after Notch if he thinks it’ll give him an advantage, especially after we get Dad away from him.”

Mishiael scoffed. “As if I’d ever let down my guard, but I’ll be keeping an extra eye out. Just make sure that Steve doesn’t get hurt, okay? And for goodness sake, don’t leave Dad behind.”

“Are you doubting my ability?”

Mishiael loosely crossed his arms over his chest. “Can you blame me? You have been playing a slightly incompetent character for several years, and I don’t even know what you were before that, you barely contacted us for decades.”

Sky’s expression spoke volumes about how he felt about that little comment. “‘Slightly incompetent’? That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? I mean yeah, General Adam isn’t exactly brilliant at sword fighting and he might not be the smartest bulb in the box but he can hold his own in a fight! It’d draw too much attention if I was as knowledgeable as Seto or as good at fighting as Mitch, and just imagine how much attention I’d get if I was fighting using my full ability-”

The suppressed laughter on Mishiael’s face made him cut his words short. “You get so easily offended over it,” Notch’s captain of the guard said, and Sky punched his arm which made Mishiael give a bark of laughter as he clutched it, quickly quieting himself. “Ow!”

“That’s what you get for doubting your elders,” Sky said with a little smirk before growing serious again. “See if you can get everyone to come over here in the next few days. I’m willing to bet that things will start getting pretty hectic once we get Dad out and bring him back, and we’ll want to keep a step ahead of Israphel wherever we can.”

Mishiael raised his eyebrows. “You want the entire family to come over to Notch’s city? All of us?” When Sky nodded, he shook his head. “That’ll be the talk of the town but whatever you say. I guess it might be good to give everyone on both sides a few days to get acquainted. You do know that Dad’s captain of the guard will come too, right? Whether we tell him to or not?”

“Of course, that’s what a good captain of the guard does,” the other said, giving his brother another smirk which was returned by an elbow to the ribs. 

“Alright, you’ve had your fun,” Mishael said after his jab, crossing his arms again. “Just make sure you bring Dad back, okay? Wreck shop if you have to and if you get a chance to punch Israphel’s face, do it. Who cares if people find out who we are, they’re going to find out anyway if the family’s coming over.”

“That’s the third time you’ve said that, but I’ll keep it in mind,” Sky said, starting to back away down the street and turn around.

“And make sure you come back alive, okay?” Mishiael added. “I don’t want to be the heir, that’s your job.”

Sky turned around, his hands open. “Where’s your faith in me, Mishiael?” he asked. Then, with a tiny burst of yellow particles, he disappeared.

The cuffs around his wrists were too tight and they dug sharply into his skin as he hung from them, drawing warm blood which dribbled down his arms. Matching cuffs secured his ankles which were bolted to the floor but he thought that it was mostly so that he couldn’t kick, given that he couldn’t even touch the floor as he hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room. Very occasionally, a chain link would clink as he tried to shift a little to stretch his muscles but by now he had lost most feeling in his hands and the burning in his shoulders had become a blur, as had the grumbling in his stomach and the ache in his arms. The magic-repressing cuff was still locked tightly to his forearm, adding another layer of discomfort.

If there was any light in the cell room - and he thought there was, for it was always dim but never dark - Herobrine couldn’t tell where it came from. Four dark walls surrounded him, making the space he was held in feel small despite the large space that only he occupied, with no sound other than his own breathing and occasional pained grunts, accompanied by the clinking of chain links. It stank in the room on account that they never let him out to relieve himself and while this wasn’t Hero’s first rodeo, that didn’t mean that he had to like it.

The room had a sort of musty coolness to it but the lack of any moving air meant that Hero wasn’t exactly cold in his ripped shirt and pants. He could feel the stickiness of the dry blood that clung to him, cracking and itching at his skin - on his arms, his legs, all over his back and the thin line next to his eye. He’d been relieved to find that the eye hadn’t been damaged from the slash he had been given or the slap that had preceded it, but it had been enough of a warning to make him keep quiet as he was dragged to Notch’s city. He tried not to think about that.

The slightest of squeaks echoed loudly in the room and Herobrine had to squint his eyes against the blinding light that flooded in for a long moment before the single iron door to the cell closed and he could decipher the silhouette of the person who had entered his temporary abode.

“Oh, so you decided to visit me today,” Hero said, his slightly hoarse voice sounding unusually loud in the silence. “Anything in particular this time, or just here to gloat?”

“You should know me well enough to know that I do not gloat, Herobrine,” Israphel said smoothly, taking three slow, precise steps closer to him, his nose wrinkling disdainfully. Herobrine didn’t care to think about how he looked but since a huge part of it was Israphel’s fault, he liked that he wasn’t the only one suffering from his appearance.

“So what’s it today, then?” Herobrine asked as Israphel started on a slow pace around the room, tracing a wide circle that had Herobrine in the centre. He only deigned to turn his head a little to watch the sorcerer as he slowly walked.

“Can I not simply observe?”

“I don’t know, can you?” 

The smirk Herobrine felt on his face clearly wasn’t shared by Israphel, who kept to his silence as his steps continued to echo slightly in the room. Hero couldn’t forget Israphel’s words at Notch’s city, that he’d be useful to him in lieu of Steve and although he had half-expected it, it hadn’t made it any more pleasant to hear or remember. But on that topic…

“How’d you know about Steve?”

Israphel reached the beginning of his circle and Hero could see his evaluating expression. “I have the ability to manipulate and command shadows, Herobrine. I can control the things of nightmares. I can easily examine the memories of people as far as back as-”

“You found the old school records,” Herobrine interrupted. “I saw them on the desk when I broke in. It’s funny, I thought they all had been burned.”

He caught a glimpse of Israphel’s slightly irritated expression just before he left Herobrine’s peripheral vision. “Yes,” the sorcerer said after a moment’s hesitation. “They were difficult to locate but well worth my time and effort. And it helped me find these too.” Herobrine couldn’t see what he was referring too but he had a pretty good guess as Israphel continued with “It would have been irritating to me if you had successfully stolen these. They have been remarkably useful to me.”

“So you can understand why I stole them,” Herobrine said with a grin. His shoulders burned in protest as he tried to twist his head around to catch sight of the man, the pain enough for him to give up with a quiet huff.

Israphel’s eyes were on him as he came back into Herobrine’s sight. “Tell me about your brother. Surely you would not turn down some light conversation to fill your time?”

“Which one are we talking about? Neither have anything interesting to be told about them, at least not in comparison to me.”

“You know which one I am referring to.” Hero said nothing, keeping a slight smirk on his face as several moments of silence passed, focing Israphel to finally continue. “So it is a game we are playing, then. Tell me, Herobrine; do you play chess?”

Unseen by Israphel, Herobrine’s smirk turned into a grin. “Pawn to e4.”

“Pawn to e5.” Israphel came back into his view. Hero could see his partially gloved hands clasped behind his back, his cloak absent, and his thin smile. “If my sources are correct, you were hunting down the stones some time ago. How many did you find?”

Hero scoffed. “They’re basically impossible to find and their appearance shifts every few centuries. Even if I did find one, my information wouldn’t be of any use to you now. Knight to f3.”

Israphel’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You bring out your strong pieces early when it would perhaps be wiser to keep them hidden. Pawn to d6. What did you find when looking for the stones?”

“Nothing but ruble and disappointment,” Herobrine said, tilting his head. “Perhaps I bring out my strong pieces early as a warning to my opponent. Perhaps it’s my way of letting them know that I’m not afraid to use what I have at my disposal. Pawn to d4.”

“Bishop to g4.”

“You sacrifice your pieces. Pawn to e5, captures enemy pawn.”

Israphel had moved behind Herobrine once again, but the thin smile was evident in his voice. “Only to gain a larger advantage. Bishop to f3, captures enemy’s knight.”

“Queen to f3, captures bishop.”

“Pawn to e5, captures pawn. Tell me, Herobrine; are you the knight, or are you the pawn? I would like to know which piece I have captured. Their usefulness to me varies greatly.”

Herobrine snarled. “You’ve made a mistake. You’ve left your king open to attack. Bishop to c4.”

“Or perhaps I am setting a trap, willing to endanger something dear in order to win a significant prize. Knight to f6.”

“It’s a dangerous game you play. Queen to b3.”

“Queen to e7.” Israphel was back at the beginning, this time changing his route and taking a step closer to Herobrine before stopping. “So now we have both moved our most influential piece. And now your king is the one who is unprotected.”

“That’s what you think now,” Herobrine said quietly. “Knight to c3.”

“Pawn to c6.” Israphel gave him a smile, the deep red glint in his eyes flashing and he raised his hand with a flick and Herobrine felt the shadows twisting and consuming his vision and a painful ringing sounded in his ears, his magic lying dormant under the influence of that black cuff, unable to help him no matter how much he called to it. He tried to resist but chained as he was, he couldn’t stop Israphel from dragging him under-

The terrified whinny of the horse alerted him, making his head flick to the doorway as he heard Levi call out “It’s Sky’s!” and he sprinted out of the house, fear causing his heart leap to his mouth as he saw two figures lying unmoving on the ground, a few arrows sprouting from their bodies. Levi sprinted up next to him in a burst of speed, standing next to him as he knelt next to one of the figures, realising now that neither of them were familiar.

“Who are they?” Levi asked as Sky’s horse butted his head nervously against Hero’s arm, demanding his attention on the figure in front of him. He kept a hand on the unconscious and wounded man, letting his magic flow into the wounds as he gently strokes the soft nose of the horse.

“It’s okay, we’ll look after them,” he said quietly, then gave a nod to Levi. “You pick up that one, we’ll take them inside. Whatever attacked them might still be out there.”

His vision blurred and he found himself trying not to fidget with his hands and twitch his feet as he stood in front of his two brothers in the private quarters of their castle at the heart of the city, already partially regretting his decision to come to them but knowing that he had no choice as he finished his plea with “Please, I know that I don’t... deserve any of what I’m asking but- but this is my family , these are my children, I… I don’t want them to suffer for my mistakes.”

Notch pushed himself off the wall, approaching him and it was nearly painful to stop himself from flinching away as Notch put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze that calmed his jitters a little. “Of course we’ll keep them a secret, Hero. All you had to do was say the word. We’d already partially agreed to make sure no one know about them,” he added, casting a glance back at their other brother, who also stepped over to join them.

“Anything to protect our little brother,” Steve said, adding with a grin. “And besides, it’s the least you’ve done for me.” The wink he gave made Hero realise that his two brothers were much more than anything he deserved, and he was so grateful for them-

He went back in time, further and further, nightmares and memories that haunted him rushing by in a howling wind until he stood in a familiar throne room - his throne room. There was a man in front of him, a scout from some army he didn’t care to know about, and it was quite nearly with joy that Hero sliced open his throat, blood spraying into the air and only his skin as he pushed the scout carelessly away, the man’s legs collapsing from under him. He took a deep breath, feeling his stress and tension melt away in the face of the killing stroke, breathing in the release and when he let the breath out, he quite nearly felt calm.

But there was a sound behind him, a tiny shuffling of feet and Hero spun around, his bloodied sword still in hand and his world stopped. His only son, only a little over half a decade old, was staring at him with an expression of horror and terror, with tears welling in his eyes and spilling over down his cheeks. Hero felt like he couldn’t breathe as his world tunneled and shook and he somehow managed a strangled “Sky-” but the single word sent his son sprinting away, his terrified sobs echoing back as Hero called out his name in vain, knowing that his son now feared his own father, a killer-

Now he was the young boy, standing in the ancient castle courtyard, his white magic spinning dexterously around him as he blocked and deflected the blunted arrows that spat towards him from all angles, breathing heavily as he finished the defensive round but full of pride as he heard the teaching Masters clapping, and he turned with a wide grin to-

Hero’s scream broke through Israphel’s concentration and he was snapped out of the recollection and returned to the present, stepping back as white magic arced along Herobrine’s body like lightning, breaking him free of Israphel’s grasp. The bolts of white ran up the chains that held him from the roof as he thrashed and screamed, the black cuff around his arm glowing red hot and for a moment, Israphel was afraid that it wouldn’t hold. But it did and Herobrine fell limp, gasping at the exertion and although he was barely able to move, he raised his head and fixed Israphel with the strongest glare he could muster. The sorcerer didn’t seem disturbed by it but Herobrine couldn’t miss how Israphel’s eyes flicked to that cursed magic-repressing cuff.

“Bishop to g5,” the prisoner coughed. His head was spinning and all the muscles in his body were on fire, his throat raw. He’d been lucky that time, lucky enough to break off the memory and Israphel’s hold before he got what he wanted, what he was trying to force from Herobrine, but he knew it cost him in energy which he had little to spare. 

Israphel didn’t move from where he was standing, nor did his expression change. “Pawn to b5. How many offspring do you have, Herobrine? I am remarkably curious.”

“Knight to b5, captures pawn.”

“Pawn to b5, captures knight.”

“Bishop to b5, captures pawn, check.”

“Knight to d7, check resolved. Unlike you, I have kept my key pieces close to my king, ready to defend. Your king is virtually unprotected, with only a few pawns near it. And we both know that pawns are not useful in this game we are playing.”

“That’s where you’ll lose, Israphel,” Herobrine said, trying not to cough. “Rook castles queenside. Now my king is more difficult for you to take.”

Israphel took a step back, his eyes never leaving Herobrine as he began his circular pace. “Perhaps. Rook to d8.”

“Rook to d7, captures knight.”

“Rook to d7, captures rook.”

“Rook to d1.”

“Queen to e6.” Israphel’s voice echoed over to him. “You play a dangerous game. You take risks which are bold and would pay off well, but you leave your key pieces unsheltered.”

Herobrine’s voice was nearly a grumble as he said “Well I believe that the best form of defence is offence. Bishop to d7, captures rook. Check.”

“Knight to d7, captures bishop.” He could feel Israphel’s eyes on him. “You know my play, Herobrine, which may allow you to predict my movements to some extent. You have exposed some of your key pieces, though I may not yet know how many there are. But I know your secret weapon, kept so secret that only the two of you, and now I, know about it. Without that advantage, your winning strategy is falling apart.”

“Queen to b8, check.”

“Knight to b8, captures queen, check resolved.” Israphel stopped, now once again between Herobrine and the door, giving him a thin smile. “And now your strongest and most versatile piece is gone. We both know how this game will end, Herobrine, and I will ensure that it will not be pleasant for you. Had things gone differently, I believe that we may have worked well together. But not anymore. I will get what I need and if you are still alive then you may very well wish you were not.”

He turned away quietly, approaching the door as it squeaked open again, allowing other sorcerers to enter, carefully stepping around Israphel. Their hands held long leather coils which they flicked a little, the cracking sound making Hero’s whole body flinch despite himself and the chains that held him clinked, but he never took his eyes off of the retreating shadow sorcerer’s back, ignoring the underlings who took up positions in a circle around him.

“Rook to d8,” he whispered in the moments before the whips flew. “ Checkmate .”

Chapter Text

The forest was tangled and ancient, hidden far away from the nearest civilisation (a small town perched halfway up a mountain) and so old and remote that it had been virtually completely forgotten about, which suited its occupants perfectly. With its twisted canopy that wove together the thousands of trees, it hid the building from view from above, and with only a little bit of work and by taking advantage of the darkness of the shadows, it was nearly impossible to see from ground level too. As an extra measure, a special shield had been cast around the building, set to detect a magic user of any kind entering.

Hidden away as it was, and with the extra security of the shield, Israphel felt no need to have his sorcerers patrolling the building and instead put them to better use; spread out across the world, keeping hidden and searching for the items and information he wanted. Indeed, most of his followers (not that there were many to begin with) were out in the world at any given time, leaving only a few to inhabit and guard the building and the prisoner it now held within its walls. Israphel himself split his time evenly between what had become his home and the outside world, often venturing to the mountainous village.

Whether by luck or by fate, he was away when twelve shadows slipped from the shadow of the trees, remaining undetected by the shield and by any human as they flattened themselves against the wall, so still that they didn’t seem to even breathe. A slight breeze drifted among the towering trees, rippling the thick shadows they cast upon the ground and between one flicker and the other, the twelve simply disappeared from sight.

Deep inside the building, Herobrine still hung from his chains in that empty, dark room. He’d had no real company, though his captors had finally seen it fit to give him a little food and water. After all, Herobrine thought with a small wry grin, it’s just be inconvenient for them if he died right now. They hadn’t released his cuffs however and his situation hadn’t otherwise changed. He was bored, he was hungry, he was thirsty, and he was so, so tired.

Israphel seemed to visit sporadically and more often than not, his visits ended in another encounter with those whips and that shadow magic he couldn’t resist with that cursed cuff locked to his arm. His wounds itched as they healed achingly slowly without his magic to speed them and his neck was horribly sore and he had completely lost feeling in his hands and his arms had long since been feeling the strain. Each breath hurt his chest and it was getting harder and harder to suck in air.

The door to his cell opened, just a crack at first and Herobrine squinted as the light flooded in, his head raised only the slightest amount, his teeth already bared as he summoned what little energy he had left for this encounter. He saw the silhouette of a figure enter, and then another and then several more crowded in, the door widening a little as they came in and approached him.

“Wow, that’s an expression I haven’t seen in centuries,” said a familiar voice, presumably from the first figure who was now approaching him as the door closed behind them. “I would have thought you’d been happy to see me.”

“Steve?” Hero asked, hating how his voice croaked a little and blinking his eyes to try and adjust them to the dimness once again, and then he recognised his brother and that troublesome grin that ran in the family. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you, obviously! I hope you haven’t lost some brain cells, I don’t know how many you had to begin with.”

That grin told that he was joking but Hero couldn’t even register a comeback for it with his exhausted mind spinning like it was. One of the others in the room kicked over a few crates that had been piled up against the walls and Steve hopped up, starting to fiddle with the lock of the cuff on his left wrist as someone else did the same to his right. Hero flicked his eyes around the room, recognising nearly none of those gathered save for two, the second of which he instantly addressed.

“What part of ‘Don’t save me’ didn’t you understand?” he asked incredulously, his voice slightly rasping.

Adam held up his hands in a defensive way. “Hey, I was following through on your other command to protect him, and if he came that meant that I had to come too!”

“ This is your definition of protection?”

“I had no choice!”

The others in the room cast a few confused glances between the two, able to understand what they were saying but not understanding the context behind it. Mitch however, as Hero could see out of the corner of his eye, was holding back a laugh but Hero kept his gaze fixed on his son. “You and I are going to have a long talk about this later.”

“You know,” Steve said mildly, interrupting their conversation as he fiddled with the lock that was clearly giving him trouble despite the lock picking tools he had, “your language has grown a lot more mild than we last talked, Hero. I’m proud of you, you’ve matured in your old age.”

Hero instantly shot off several rapid sentences in their native tongue with a coarse sort of tone that had Adam double over and snort and then stand up and pretend he hadn’t said anything. Steve didn’t seem to react to what was clearly a long list of insults other than to jiggle the lock a little more and comment lighty when Hero was done: “Good to see you haven’t changed Hero. Can you catch yourself?”

The prisoner scoffed. “Can I catch myself, what do you-”

Two locks clicked and Hero dropped the short distance to the ground and instantly collapsed like a rag doll, biting back a sharp groan that still made it a little past his defence. “I’ve been hanging from the ceiling for what feels like a month, Steve,” he said through clenched teeth. “Of course I can’t catch myself, I can’t even feel half of my arms.”

Steve winced. “Sorry, my bad.”

The others in the cell stood guard while a few helped Hero sit up, giving him some water and making sure none of his wounds were bad enough to require immediate attention before they left. One of the group unlocked the cuffs around his ankles and moved to take off the black cuff on his arm, but Hero waved him away slightly with a “Don’t worry about that one, that’s going to take a lot more effort to take off”.

Some of the skin around his wrists had ripped when he’d dropped from the cuffs and they used the few medical supplies they had brought to quickly bandage them to make sure they didn’t get infected or leave behind a blood trail that could be followed, Steve and Hero talking quietly in their language while the rescue team worked. Several of Hero’s other wounds, especially the ones on his back, were either raw or had been reopened as he dropped but now that he was free, speed was their ally.

Steve and the man who had unlocked the cuffs supported Hero’s weight as they helped him stand, his legs too weak to carry his body. Adam quietly opened the door, glancing out one way and then leaning a little more to check the other. The two unconscious sorcerers who had been guarding the cell had already been brought in, leaving an empty hall before them.

“Left or right?” Adam asked, leaning back a little to talk to the group.

“Back the way we came,” one of the rescue team whispered. “We might get lucky again.”

“Left it is. Mitch, we’ll lead. George, bring up the back and if any sorcerers see you, give a shout.”

Adam slipped out the door, his sword bare in his hand as Mitch followed him, a matching sword as his weapon. The others filed out, half in front and half behind Herobrine and the two carrying him, quickly forming up to a clump as they jogged down the hallway, moving as fast as the two burdened ones could. It was very clearly suspicious but given the pre-dawn they had entered under, they hoped that only a few of Israphel’s followers would be awake.

Hero kept his grunts of pain to himself as he was carried through the hallways, his legs uselessly hanging below him, filled with pins and needles that stabbed below his skin. His neck ached whenever he raised it but he hated feeling invalid so he kept it up as much as he could, catching glimpses of Skylous as he led the pack, his old sword in hand.

A mage came around the corner, stifling a yawn and rubbing her eyes and Hero felt Steve tense at the same moment that he drew breath to warn the others but Skylous was already in action. He leapt up one of the walls, propelling himself off it to the other hallway wall and then back to the first, giving himself the momentum he needed to flip over the mage, who had only just caught sight of them as Skylous’ blade pieced through her back, his hand covering her mouth to stop the death gurgles. He gently pulled her body to the wall and lowered it to the floor, removing the now bloodied weapon.

“How the hell did he move that fast?” one of the others muttered but Skylous didn’t ‘appear’ to hear and kept racing ahead, and Hero only smiled.

Their luck ran out as they neared the exit. They spun into a hallway that held several gathered shadow sorcerers that spotted them the moment they arrived. Adam’s speed propelled him forward once more as he cut down three sorcerers and caught the spell of the fourth on his sword as Mitch dove in and slashed, drawing blood and the final two sorcerers went down. But the sound of the brief pained cries and the bodies hitting the floor was enough to draw the attention of other sorcerers and half a dozen rounded the corner in front of them, slashing black whips and throwing disks of energy the moment they were in sight.

Mitch rapidly gave ground, trying to copy Adam’s movements as the other held his place, his sword twirling and spinning to deflect and slash the attacks, each spell seeming to burst into a curling mist around his sword before it disappeared. Darts and a few arrows flew from behind the two, hitting the sorcerers and breaking their attacks they cried out, allowing Adam, Mitch, and two others to race forward and take them out as quickly as they could, ending the lives of some and simply kicking their feet out from under others, allowing their heads to slam into the wall or floor and knocking them out cold.

The way clear once more, the others ran (and hobbled) towards the door they could now see, their ears filling with cries and shouts coming from behind them as more sorcerers approached, a shrilling and piercing alarm beginning to whine in the air. But they were nearly to the door, which crashed open before them as several shoved their shoulders into it, Adam pressing himself to the wall to allow the others to pass, save for Mitch who stayed right beside him.

“Are we going to give them cover?” he asked between pants. He knew the odds if they stayed; the sounds of many footsteps racing towards them didn’t bode well for their victory, and Mitch’s arm was aching from a stray bolt of magic that had skimmed him. Even if Adam was Herobirne’s son, they’d clearly known how to take his father down.

“Sort of,” Adam said, his eyes narrowed on the end of the corridor, his legs bent a little.

With nearly no warning, sorcerers raced around the corner, their magic swirling around their hands as they raised them to cast but Adam had moved too, his sword coming up with the tip pointing towards them, the pre-dawn light from the open doors behind him reflecting off the blade. He twisted his wrist and the weapon and for a split second, Mitch could have sworn that lines of pure liquid gold shone along the blade but a moment later, a huge collection of shadow magic burst out of the tip and soared towards the sorcerers, exploding in a blast that was large enough to completely envelop the end of the corridor and the sorcerers who had rounded it, shaking the building.

Without needing to be told, Mitch sprinted out the doorway, Adam close behind him and easily catching up to run beside him, the two ducking and darting between the tangled and vine-riddled trees as the sounds of rumbling echoed quietly behind them, catching glimpses of the others spread out in front of them as they disappeared into the forest.

“How the heck… did your sword do that?” Mitch panted, partly from exertion and partly from the flood of adrenaline rushing through him. He hadn’t ever been part of a jail break before and honestly, he was enjoying the experience. “Can mine do that?”

“‘Couse,” Adam said shortly, glancing over their shoulder to make sure they weren't being followed. They weren’t. “I modelled my sword after my dad’s. I’ll teach you when we’re not running from Israphel’s base after breaking out his valued prisoner.”

Mitch chuckled as much as he could with his racing heart, leaping over fallen trees in the predawn darkness and ducking under branches weighed down with dead leaves and thick thorny vines, having to sheath his sword so it didn’t catch or else he’d commit the classic mistake of accidentally stabbing himself.

They caught up with the others when they reached the rendezvous point which was only marked by the tall peach-haired sorcerer with her rolled up sleeves. Everyone had seemed to make it out okay save for a few thorn scratches. Steve was now the only one holding up Hero, whose legs had woken up enough to support some of his weight.

“Let’s get out of here before we can find out whether they followed us or not,” Steve said, giving a nod to Veraela which was returned. Everyone gathered around her in a tight circle, holding onto each other’s shoulders as peach sparks drifted around them, rising up and teleporting them across the country to land in a circle surrounding a grey multi-toned falcon in the shadow of the city’s castle, the tips of which were beginning to shine with the light of the rising sun.

Chapter Text

Since the pre-dawn jailbreak, the sun had risen into the sky a little more, casting soft golden light though the tall windows of the room and giving Adam perfect lighting as he used a dagger and a few sharp lockpicking tools to try and pry off the black cuff that clung stubbornly to Herobrine’s forearm. Also in the room were the other two brothers Steve and Notch, Captain Michael, and Mitch and Seto, and more than a few of them were looking concerned at how unwieldy Adam was with his chosen weapons.

“Are you sure you don’t want some help?” Seto asked with a note of nervousness. “I know a few spells that are good at unlocking things.”

“Nah I’ve got this,” Adam muttered, one of the tools embedded in a tiny slit that he had found in the cuff. “Technically, only the person who got it on can take it off which means that magic won’t work on it, and they’re a pain in the arse to forcefully get off once they’re on because they don’t have a lock or an easy opening.”

“If you cut off my arm, you’ll never hear the end of it,” Herobrine said, the ghost of a smile on his face. He seemed completely undisturbed by the number of sharp objects Adam was prying into the cuff on his arm. Adam stopped what he was doing to give the man a deadpan expression before he went back to work.

In the few hours since they’d gotten back, Hero had been looked at by the medics and most of his cuts had been bandaged or stitched and after a shower, change of clothes (borrowed from Steve) and a decent meal, he looked nearly back to normal. Now, they could see that he had the same troublesome look in his eyes as Steve but carried the same air of steadiness and confidence that always surrounded Notch. This was the first time they’d had a chance to properly talk to him since then.

“So care to inform us why Israphel made you his prisoner?” Steve asked, leaning against one of the walls with a casual smile on his face as he observed his brother.

“Oh that’s easy,” Hero said. “I stole something from him.”

Seto frowned in confusion. “What did you steal? And why?”

“When Isaphel visited, did you pick up on the hints he was dropping about some ‘stones’?” When the others shrugged and nodded, Hero continued. “Well from what I can tell, these ‘stones’ aren’t stones at all but rather some wearable object that otherwise seems rather ordinary. I assume that there are several of these ‘stones’ and while I’m not sure what they can do, I know that at least some of them can enhance a sorcerer’s magic. Israphel already has one of them; a power stone, which was actually those gloves he was wearing.”

“The weird completely fingerless ones?” Mitch asked.

“You’d never guess it by looking at them, huh?” Hero asked, a slight grin on his face. He gave a hiss of pain as one of Adam’s tools slipped and slashed a thin cut in his arm. “Are you sure you’ve got that?” he asked his son with a note of condemnation.

Adam waved one of his tools, not taking his eyes off the cuff. “You know I got one of these off Svello once. And anyway, I’m nearly done, just needs a bit more convincing.”

Hero hummed, unconvinced, but he turned his attention back to the others in the room. “Anyway, I tracked Israphel down to figure out who or what he was after and why. When I found out that he was after the stones and already had one, I followed him to his base and broke in and stole them. Only problem was that I was found on my way out and hunted down. I gave them a good run but they got me eventually.”

“Got it!” Adam said with a cheer as the cuff shattered into a hundred tiny pieces that tumbled to the ground. 

Hero gave Adam a joking glare as he rubbed his lower arm where the cuff had been, the skin raw and red under his hand. “Only took you an hour.”

Adam rolled his eyes but grinned as he packed up his tools and Hero stood. Mitch’s eyes widened as he saw that the cut that Adam had made on his arm had completely disappeared and Hero, who caught him looking, gave a wink. “Would it surprise you if my magic speciality is actually in healing and not fighting?”

Notch stood up next to Hero, giving him a gentle clap on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you your room and then you can get some proper rest.”

The others let the two brothers leave the room, Captain Michael only a step behind them. He cast a quick glance at Adam as he followed the two out and a moment later, Mitch saw Adam suddenly grin as if he’d just thought of something funny and stood, handing Steve back his lockpicking kit. Why Steve had a lockpicking kit, no one cared to ask.

Hero spent several hours sleeping, during which the others who had been part of the rescue team left for their homes and armies, leaving the Sky Army Generals as the only army representatives who hadn’t yet returned home. When Hero was first seen walking around Notch’s castle and the city, Steve was at his side and, to the curiosity of many people, so was Adam. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, which left his warm golden-brown irides easily visible and earning many double takes from the crowds, none of which he seemed to notice.

In fact, over the next day or so, whenever Hero was seen, Adam was there too, walking in step with him and often talking in a foreign language that no one recognised. In fact, it seemed that Adam never left Herobrine’s side, even though most of his wounds had healed after his initial several hours of sleep and were vanishing quickly since then. Mitch tried not to comment on it, and the same went for Seto and Ty but some of the others in the Team weren’t about to be quietened so easily and they finally cornered Adam at the edges of the central square, keeping well out of the way of the sorcerers adding in a new teleportation circle next to the grey falcon.

“Okay, now I’m not saying that you have to spend every waking hour with us because we’re your best friends in the whole wide world,” Ian said, raising his hand. “But you’ve been keeping some weird company.”

“Specifically one person as company,” Jason connected. “Specifically the man who is known as a legend, a sorcerer, and also sometimes as a killer. And also you always wear your sunglasses, why the change? I seem to remember your eyes being brown.”

“Basically, we’re asking why you’ve been hanging out with Herobrine so much,” Quentin summed up.

All the confusion suddenly left Adam’s face. “Oh! He’s my dad.”

Mitch threw his apple core to the ground where it smashed to pieces. “Oh come on ! I had to push you so hard to get you to tell me, I had to figure it out all on my own and then you just go ahead and just tell everyone else straight up! Why not make them work for it, they didn’t go through all the trouble of putting together all the pieces! I worked so hard to figure out the truth! This is unfair treatment and you know it!”

Several of the others sniggered, Ty most of all and Jerome patted Mitch’s back while holding back a snort. Jason was the only one who seemed to hold a steady expression. “So… you’re Herobrine’s son ?”

Adam nodded. “One of them at least.”

“There’s more of you?!” Seto asked, the question nearly exploding from him.

Adam nodded again, completely calm. “Actually, I’m pretty sure they’ll be visiting in a few days. I’m not entirely sure when but it’ll be soon.”

That exploded into a cascade of questions and that Adam expertly dodged and avoided and out of half-hearted spite, Mitch threw a few curveballs at him that eventually made Adam dash into the streets and disappear into the crowd before they could catch him and interrogate him.

“I absolutely could have seen that he’s Herobrine’s son,” Jerome said afterwards, to everyone’s disbelief. “I could have picked it from a mile away.”

A bare day later, the additional teleportation circle was finished; a bird with its wings open in the same fashion as the grey falcon, but was a riot of reds and oranges - a phoenix rising from the ashes into a bright, brilliant sky. The rim around it was a pearly quartz and it hadn’t yet reached midday when magic sparked and skittered across the rim and a group of warriors appeared on the circle, all of them instantly looking around for threats.

Six had dark skin and dark eyes and looked to be generic warriors but from the thin plates of armour they wore, the swords at their sides and daggers at their legs, and the matching phoenix patch on their left shoulders, they were royal guards. The seventh had lighter skin that seemed to be tanned, with shoulder-length light brown hair tied back and with armour that was more detailed, similar to what Captain Michael wore.

Herobrine and Adam had been waiting for them and they walked forward to greet the party, the six warriors kneeling before them with heads lowered while the Captain of the Guard bowed before stepping up to them, the three talking with a sense of familiarity. Clearly, both Adam and Herobrine got along well with their Captain.

On the edges of the square, Jerome, Mitch, and Ian had stopped to watch the arrival, as had several other nearby civilians. Notch and Captain Michael were quick to join the group, standing beside Hero and Adam while the six warriors stood back a little to give them space, their eyes cooly travelling the crowds. 

“Huh, it’s kinda weird to think that Herobrine has a Captain of the Guard,” Ian muttered to the others. 

Jerome nodded but Mitch couldn’t take his eyes off of the man, his mouth hanging open a little and his eyes wide as he was thrown back to the past. Jerome frowned, giving his shoulder a little shake but when Mitch didn’t move, he and Ian glanced at the Captain, confused. Steve, coming down the stairs to join the group, was also giving the Captain a curious look and his eyes flicked over once to Mitch then back to the Captain.

Herobrine’s Captain of the Guard must have felt eyes on him because his head suddenly flicked around, landing on the three Generals, one of which was still staring at him numbly. He gave a frown of his own, like he was trying to place them, but then a wide grin burst upon his face and his eyes shone and he took a small step away from the group, calling out “Mitchie?!”

The royal members glanced over but Mitch hadn’t moved, everyone's heads flicking between the two of them for several long moments, noting the similar heights and builds, the way they held their shoulders, the similarities in their hair and eye colours, but it was Jerome who finally made the connection.

“HOLY HECK IT’S MITCH’S DAD!”

Just like that, the spell was broken and Mitch spinted forward with a cry, the Captain meeting him halfway and wrapping him up in a hug, his head beside Mitch’s as happy tears ran down both of their faces, Mitch chanting “I knew it, I knew it!” over and over as Nathan was laughing, holding him tight until he finally leaned back enough to hold Mitch’s head.

“You’ve grown so much, where have you been ?” he asked, a smile on his face and tears running down his cheeks.

“Where have I been? Where have you been?” Mitch asked, unashamed of the tears on his own face. “You’ve been gone for ten years, and now you’re the Captain of the Guard for Herobrine , what-”

“I know, I know, so much happened,” Nathan laughed, hugging Mitch tight again. “Oh, I missed you so much Mitchie, you just disappeared from the village and everyone said you were dead but I never wanted to believe it-”

Mitch echoed the laugh, hugging his father back just as tightly. “You never came back, I tried to find you and I always believed you were out there somewhere, I just didn’t expect that you’d be… here !”

Over with the others, Herobrine elbowed his eldest son in the ribs. “Are you telling me that you never noticed this?” he muttered in their language, gesturing to the hugging and crying father and son. “After you’ve been his friend for years and have met Nathan several times?”

Sky shook his head numbly, not taking his eyes off the two. “Nope, not once.”

“You’re a horrible friend.”

“Well you should have picked up on it too!” Sky said, nudging him back. “You spent several days with him, you didn’t suspect anything.”

“And you spent years with him.”

“Well they met back up eventually, so it… doesn’t really… wow, I am a bad friend, how did I never notice? I knew his last name and everything.”

Hero chuckled, strolling over to the reunited son and father and clapping Nathan on the shoulder. “Take the rest of the day off, I’d imagine you two probably want the time to catch up.”

It was towards the end of the day when Herobrine and his son returned to the royal chambers of the castle and Hero rounded on Sky the moment the door shut, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re having that talk now,” he said.

Sky winced, rubbing the back of his head. “I’ve been dreading this all day.”

“So you should be! What the hell were you thinking, Sky? First of all, I explicitly told you not to save me. What if it was a trap and I was the bait? You could not only have led yourself and innocent people into that trap, but also your uncle whom I told you specifically to protect! You directly disobeyed the orders of your father and your King.”

“I had no choice!” Sky exclaimed, taking up a defensive posture as he tried to explain himself. “Steve insisted that he was going and none of us could change his mind, and I know that look that was on his face, it’s the same look any of us had when we’ve made up our mind. The best way for me to protect him was to go with him-”

“The best way to protect him was to not let him go at all!” Hero half-snapped, but his tone was more brisk than angry. “You should have found a way to stop him, to the point of telling him who you were.”

“He already knew,” Sky said. “But he- he knew where you were and he knew how to get there and it was like he knew something we didn’t. He… had some way to track you or something, I don’t know. But come on, Dad! I couldn’t just leave you there with what Israphel was doing and I know what you ordered but I reasoned that protecting Steve was the greater order.”

Hero’s anger deflated a little and he sighed. “I’ll believe that Steve made you all think that, it’s exactly the sort of thing he’d do,” he muttered as if to himself. “But it wasn’t a smart move, Sky, no matter what explanation you may have.”

“I know that!” Sky exploded. “I had no other choice! Mishiael had to stay here to protect Notch, Levi’s not experienced enough for a jailbreak like what we did, and no one else was able to come in time! If it had looked like we wouldn’t have gotten you out or that Steve was about to be captured, then I would have done my best to slaughter them all and made sure that you both got out, no matter what it cost me-”

“That’s my point, Skylous!” Herobrine snapped, his voice suddenly loud and fierce like a thunderclap. He stopped himself and took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he calmed. In a much quieter voice, he said: “You have no idea how terrified I was the moment I saw you walk into that room, Sky. I don’t want to think about what Isaphel might have done if he got you. Especially if he had me as well.”

Sky saw the remains of fear in his father’s eyes, fear that he usually kept hidden so that no one else could see, and his shoulders slumped. “I know. I’m sorry Dad.”

Hero took a step forward and hugged his son tightly, Sky doing the same back, head resting on his father’s shoulder. They stood there for several long minutes, both comforting the other and themselves. There was a time when neither of them would have ever dreamed of even being in the same building as the other, much less hugging them like this. But that time had long since passed, and both of them were grateful for it. 

Finally, Hero stepped back, releasing his son. “Now I’m going to find your uncle and have a go at him.”

“Oh good, at least I’m not the only one.”

Hero grinned and went to leave the royal chambers, but turned as if struck by an afterthought and pointed to Sky, a serious but slightly mocking expression on his face. “Don’t follow me this time.” He ducked out before Sky could complain that he should let the past go, but he wasn’t going to; it was too enjoyable to poke fun at him.

Steve was walking through the partially full hallways when Hero found him and the two walked for a good distance before they deemed they were far enough from the crowds to not be overheard.

“And how are you, Hero?” Steve asked, turning his head to examine his brother as they walked.

Hero shrugged then winced a little as his back twinged. “It’ll take a day or two for everything to heal up but I doubt I’ll get scars.

“Oh good, I’d hate to have gone through all that effort of saving you only to have you dying on us,” Steve said with a grin.

Hero hummed in agreement, returning the grin. “That reminds me, actually; What the fuck were you thinking Steve, you half-witted, idiotic douchebag and son of a dung bug with a maggot riddled eggsack for a brain!”

Steve raised his eyebrow. “I don’t recognise all those insults, are some of them new?”

“I had made them up for Israphel but I decided that he wouldn’t appreciate them as much as you do.”

“I’d rate them a solid 7 out of 10, but you must have been half-asleep when you made them cause that’s not up to your usual standard.” Steve turned his eyes back to the front. “You’ve got more to say so get it all out of your system.”

“Actually, I’d rather you explained yourself first for once,” Hero said sweetly, clasping his hands behind his back.

“You know I could have taken down that whole base if I wanted to,” Steve said flatly, his gaze sliding back to his brother. “I hated the idea of that little shit having my little brother in chains and torturing him just because he could. I nearly attacked him when he showed up with you. In fact, it might have been easier for everyone if I did.”

“So you decided to risk everything and everyone despite the very real possibility that it was a trap.”

“I knew it wasn’t.” Steve gave his brother a raised eyebrow. “You must have known what I was doing, you were keeping eye contact with me when you were brought to the city. You were giving me all the information I needed. Besides, whatever trap Israphel might have set wouldn’t have been able to hold me-”

“He knows, Steve!” Hero hissed, grabbing his brother’s arm and pulling him to a stop, forcing him to realise the gravity of the situation. “He knows . If he wants to, he can find a way to imprison you and it will work . He might not know everything but he knows more than enough to know that you’re a threat. He knows more than anyone else in remembered history has ever known.”

“Not including us of course,” Steve said with a grin but he grew serious for Hero’s sake. “I was being careful, little bro. I knew that at least two of your sons were in close proximity to me, so if something went wrong and if for some reason I couldn’t do anything about it, they could. Besides, General Adam was right, Israphel having you was too much leverage. Better to risk it than let him have that.”

Hero sighed, shaking his head. “You’re a right pain in the fucking ass, Steve,” he muttered.

Steve laughed, slinging his arm over his brother’s shoulder. “That’s why you love me, I was the one always getting us into trouble at school.”

“And I was the one always bailing us out,” Hero muttered but he was grinning. “Good to see nothing has changed.”

“Never, Hero. We’ll never change.”

Chapter Text

It was a novel day for Mitch and one that he never really thought he’d get to experience. He kept being surprised at the sight of his father standing beside him, starkly different but also completely unchanged from how Mitch had remembered him. The two spent all day together, wandering around the streets and strolling through the castle, getting lunch together and catching up on years of missed time, but it had reached evening before they were finally sitting down and Mitch felt ready to ask the question that had been on his mind since his father had first disappeared all those years ago.

“Where did you go ?” he asked, his voice quiet and urgent for the first time that day. “What happened to you?”

Nathan gave a sigh, putting down his mostly finished dinner on the half wall the two sat next to, overlooking part of the city. “It all happened rather quickly, honestly. I got a message from Lords Notch and Steve asking me to come back to the city, saying that they needed to ask me something.”

“They wanted you to come back and be their Captain of the Guard again,” Mitch said. “Why did you stop? I mean, you’re back as a Captain now.”

Nathan gave a small shrug and regretful smile. “It’s dangerous being the Captain of the Guard,” he told his son. “There’s a lot of people looking to you for leadership but also a lot of people looking to bring you down or take you out entirely so that they can take your position or get to the Lord you protect. Being Lord Notch’s Captain meant that I had to give my life if it meant saving his, but I didn’t want to risk that if it meant leaving you an orphan. And my face was too well known for us to stay quietly in the city, so I decided to move you somewhere where I could raise you safely.”

Mitch nodded a little. “Okay. So what happened? Lord Steve said you left the city after refusing to be their Captain but you never came home.” 

“No I didn’t,” Nathan muttered, leaning back in his seat with a sigh. His tanned skin was a lot darker than Mitch remembered it, even under the flickering light of the lanterns. “It was stupid, really. A group of bandits attacked me and cornered me into an old ruin of some building. I only managed to get away because they let me go. They knew how badly I was hurt, I wasn’t going to make it till the end of the hour.”

“Clearly you did,” Mitch said with a half laugh that his father returned.

“I did, I got lucky. One of Lord Herobrine’s sons found me and brought me back to his kingdom and they got me back on my feet. Lord Herobrine never asked but I’m pretty sure he had guessed that I was Lord Notch’s Captain of the Guard when he asked me to be his. I said no because I had to get back to you, but in the two weeks I’d been gone, you’d disappeared and no one knew where you went.”

“I went out looking for you,” Mitch said with another laugh.

“Well why’d you do that?” Nathan asked, sitting up and giving him an incredulous grin. “I told you I was going to come back home!”

“You said you’d been three to five days! And I didn’t even mean to go far, I just got really lost and ended up going in circles.”

Nathan shook his head. “My goodness, Mitchie. Can I even call you Mitchie anymore? You’re a man now, you’ve completely grown up!”

“Course you can still call me Mitchie, you’re my dad!” Mitch insisted. “So what about after that? You went back to Herobrine?”

His father nodded. “He’d given me a way to contact him in case I changed my mind so I called him and told him I’d be his Captain of the Guard if he helped me look for you. He said that he'd help me look no matter what but I became his Captain anyway and he and his sons went out looking for you.”

Mitch scoffed. “Well he must have done a horrible job. He saved me from a bear only the day after I got lost from the village!”

Nathan leaned forward in his seat. “You’re kidding me.”

Mitch laughed. “I’m not! It was only a few days after you left though, so he might not have known at that point, but still!”

The older shook his head, putting it in his hand. “I’m gonna have to have a talk with him when this is done,” he muttered, briefly closing his eyes before raising them to meet Mitch’s. “So what happened? How did you become a General and friends with one of Lord Herobrine’s sons?”

So Mitch told him. He told him about the bear attack and growing up in a different village and joining the Sky Army and then being promoted to a General, and about always hunting down for leads on Nathan but never finding anything (“Which now makes sense, you were in Herobrine’s kingdom the whole time!”). He told him about going to the outpost and the bandit attack, and then being found by Herobrine’s family (“I’m going to have to talk to him about that too.”) and he showed him Herobrine’s sword, insisting that they should spar soon.

“I’ve learned a lot since you were training me,” Mitch said with a grin.

Nathan laughed. “I should hope so! But I’ve learnt a lot too. You won’t be able to beat your old man easily.”

In a different part of the city, another father and son were having a long conversation, relaxing in matching armchairs. Perhaps Herobrine wasn’t technically allowed in the royal chambers of the castle after everything that had happened so long ago, but Notch and Steve didn’t seem to mind and so he sat in the common room with Sky, the two talking in their ancient language.

“Are you sure you’re okay after being Israphel’s prisoner for a week?” Sky was asking, a note of concern in his voice. “You looked pretty bad when we found you, and we both know that mental scars take a lot longer to heal than physical ones.”

“Yes Sky, I’m fine,” Hero said patiently. “I’ve been tortured before, you know this. My main problems were that I’d had one tiny thing to eat in five days, had barely anything to drink, and I hadn’t slept comfortably in over a week. In fact, most of the time Israphel was just talking to me. We played a chess game once but other than that, it was all physical things which were insignificant. I don’t even have scars from it.”

Sky didn’t reply other than to raise his eyebrows slightly, which Herobrine ignored as he leaned back further into his seat with a sigh, his eyes closing briefly. “Are you going to tell your army the truth, now that your friends know?” he asked.

“I probably won’t have much of a choice, nothing destroys an army faster than a lying leader,” Sky said, swinging his leg where it hung over the armrest. “But I don’t think they’ll overreact too much, not if the guys are joking about it like they’ve been doing constantly since I told them.”

“Would they remember you?” There was a note of curiosity in Hero’s voice.

Sky gave a sort of hollow chuckle. “Nope. The history records say that the army was started by a warrior with the last name of Skylen and that he set his eight children to be the Generals when he passed. There’s nothing about me creating the army and setting up the eight general system. Honestly, I kinda prefer it this way. People don’t know I have a particular investment in the army.”

Herobrine shrugged a little, his eyes closed once more. “Fair enough. Wanna play chess?”

“You know I can’t play chess.”

“I could teach you.”

“You’ve tried, several times.”

The door to the common room opened and Sky hurriedly swung his leg off of the armrest and sat up properly in the chair. Steve, who had entered just in time to see the quick movement, pointed a finger at the youngster. “You’re lucky Notch didn’t see that, he’d have your head.”

“I’d have who’s head?” Notch asked, entering a moment after Steve and closing the door behind them.

“Nothing,” Sky said quickly. 

“You’re looking rather comfortable there Hero,” Steve remarked innocently, taking a seat in another matching chair not too far from his brother.

“Knock me off the chair and I’ll throw you out the tower window,” Hero muttered.

“Grumpy,” Steve said with a smile. “And how are you Sky? Are you enjoying actually being welcome here instead of gatecrashing like you did last time?”

Sky gave a loud groan, slouching in his seat. “Not you too,” he grumbled. “He’s already never letting me live it down.”

“That’s right, I’m not,” Hero said with his eyes closed. “Because you followed me into potential enemy territory after I told you not to and then quite nearly attacked my brothers.”

Sky grumbled and pouted to himself, crossing his arms over his chest and lowering his eyes into a squint. Steve’s smile hadn’t diminished in the slightest and Hero had a small matching grin on his own face. Notch, having taken a seat closer to Sky, looked up from the book he had picked up with an unamused expression, his half-moon spectacles catching the light.

“Do you have siblings, Sky?” he asked innocently.

“I have a few,” Sky said, his mood instantly changing. “All much younger than me though.”

“But at least one of them is in this city,” Steve said, sitting up straighter in his chair. “And that person is close to Notch and I and is also male, given that you referred to them as a ‘he’.”

“You sound like you’ve talked this through a lot,” Hero sighed, shuffling deeper into his armchair. 

“Quite a lot, actually, since Steve found out he’s here,” Notch said, putting aside his book. “We put our heads together and came up with several people, after knowing how Sky disguised himself. There’s the head of the scouts whom we talk to often, and being our primary source of information would also be beneficial to your family to know what was happening. There was also the Chief of the People, who knows about what’s happening in the city and makes sure the people are satisfied, so there could be that. We had also thought that he might have been the head sorcerer, since that would mean that he is a little more involved in our defence and knows exactly which sorcerers pass through.”

“In the end, we decided that they were a little too obscure and hidden,” Steve continued. “We know you, Hero, you take risks and you like to be dramatic. So we thought about the person we work most closely with, the man whose primary job is our protection: Captain Michael.”

“It actually made a lot of sense when we thought about it,” Notch added. “He was part of our army for a few years but no one can quite remember how he got in, and he was in the exact right place at the right time to become our Captain of the Guard when our last one retired. His position means that he knows nearly everything that happens in the city. Add to that that we already know he has some magic and seems rather at ease taking on a large amount of responsibility despite his apparent young age…”

“Basically, we think that you planted one of your sons to be our Captain of the Guard to make sure we were protected and also to get some information on the side,” Steve summed up, looking to his brother for a reaction. 

The smile on Hero’s face already said his answer as he opened his eyes. “I was honestly worried you’d figure it out within the first few months but Mishiael loved the idea of playing a glorified mix of hide-and-seek and charades with his two uncles as soon as I suggested it that he wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Told you so,” Notch called over to Steve before returning to his book.

Steve rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, tucking his hands behind his head. “So Isaphel’s after the stones, huh?”

“Wow, no warning about the topic change or anything?” Hero asked, sitting up properly and apparently wide awake.

“My bad, allow me to try again.” Steve dramatically cleared his throat. “I wish to discuss the various topics associated with the one shadow sorcerer who is known by all as Israphel, who is the same Israphel who wishes to have me in his custody for reasons poorly explained, has tortured our one dear brother and engaged in a battle of words with our other dear brother and whom we know is after the Shifting Stones from long forgotten magical lore.”

“Thank you,” Hero said, “now, as you were saying?”

“What’s his deal, Hero?” Steve said, dropping the posh accent he had put on. “He’s got one stone, what about those others you mentioned? You were hunting them down at some point, right?”

“You know I was hunting them down, I gave you one!” Hero scoffed.

“Yeah and I love it,” Steve said, examining his claw necklace. “Concentration stone, it’s perfect for what I need.”

The two had matching sneaky grins on their faces but Hero quickly moved on with “And I found a second one too, the Flame Ring. Sky’s the one looking after it.”

“A Flame Ring?” Notch asked.

“One of the few that I don’t think needs to be worn by a sorcerer to be used,” Hero said with a nod to his son. “Obviously we haven’t fully tested out what it can do…”

“Which is why I’m keeping it safe,” Sky finished. He unclasped a secret hook in his amulet and the hollow feature swung open, allowing a bright orange signet ring to drop into his hand. He held it up to the light, watching how the beams reflected off the ring’s surface “Goodness knows what the others would do with it, a few of them a trigger happy.”

Hero scoffed. “They wouldn’t abuse it, they behave themselves when they want to.”

“So when are your family coming, Hero?” Notch asked. “I need ample warning about when and how many there are so that I can get enough rooms prepared and alert the cooks. They’re never happy when I don’t give them enough warning for these things.”

“I’ve already let them know the numbers, don’t worry about it,” Hero said casually.

Steve put a hurt hand to his chest, gasping. “You’ve told them and not your own brothers? Shame on you, Hero.”

“Get over it drama queen,” the younger said flatly, leaning back in his chair again and closing his eyes.

Steve turned his hurt expression onto Notch, who shrugged and picked up his book once again. “You are awfully dramatic at times, Steve,” he commented lightly as he resumed reading.

“It’s called acting and I am a master at it,” the middle brother said with a haughty expression that dropped the moment he turned to his nephew. “Can you believe my family?”

“Of course I can, I’m part of it!” Sky replied instantly, laughing at Steve’s horrified expression.

The rest of the evening went rather well.

Chapter Text

It was a warm day, the sun nice and bright and shining down on the city below, the sky scattered with thin, fluffy clouds. Crowds moved across the hundreds of streets; working and playing and meeting up and napping and training and enjoying life. Herobrine, as he nearly always was when he wasn't with General Adam, could be found standing beside Steve, the two of them watching and muttering to each other with grins as Notch talked to a few of the builders who were on break from their work refurbishing some of the buildings along the less main streets of the city. Every so often, Notch would glance over and catch sight of them, giving a questioning eyebrow but they just waved him back to doing what he did best, seeming more than content to watch. Captain Nathan stood not too far from Herobrine, with General Mitch having become his near-constant shadow, the two constantly analysing the street for dangers.

Elsewhere in the city lay the sorcerer's headquarters; an appropriately designed building which was a cross between some architecture of an ancient and long-lost civilisation and a futuristic wonderhouse. It was three stories tall, with huge windows and balconies, and people whispered that it had another three stories beneath it (This was a lie. There were five). Seto had, of course, been here several times of his life and in his usual troublemaking/inquisitive way, had already scoured every floor from end to end and knew the entire place inside out and back to front, and yet nowhere could he find Master Veraela. 

He asked around and everyone said they'd seen her here or there but when he reached 'here or there', no one seemed to know where she was or even that she had visited. He had talked to her once since arriving, when she had promised him that she was nearly finished reading his books and would return them within two days. And that was nearly four days ago now. Seto was beginning to fear that he would need to mourn the loss of his beloved books but he forged onwards and didn't give up his hunt.

In yet another part of the city, this time the castle, Captain Michael and General Adam earned their fair share of curious looks from the commoners and nobles and servants who passed them. No doubt their attention was drawn by the unusual pairing and also that Captain Michael was usually seen near or next to Lord Notch (though some had noted that he was less likely to be near Lord Notch when Herobrine was). Few were around them long enough to note the large amount of similarities between them or to hear the old language that they were speaking in as they walked around and around the castle hallways.

"So I've seen that your friends are still here," Mishiael was saying, holding back a smirk.

Sky gave a small groan that hinted his vast annoyance. "The most pointless two hour conversation of my life . They would not take no for an answer, no matter how much I tried to convince them with very good reasoning."

Mishiael held back a snort. "That sounds about right. And have you told them about who you are?"

Sky nodded. "Mitch had already figured it out and Ty and Seto were with me when we saw Dad getting captured. The others had already figured out that something was off so I let them know when they pinned me down for questioning."

"And they're... just okay with that?"

"Of course," Sky scoffed. "They're the Generals of the Sky Army, we're known for taking things in our stride; it takes a lot to throw us off. Me being the son of the most well known and terrifying sorcerous figure in history who literally changed the way our world worked just isn't going to cut it."

"Right right, because you meet someone like that every other day."

"Exactly! If Mitch's dad can be Herobrine's Captain of the Guard then I can be Herobrine's son. This is logic."

A figure crashed into the two from behind and sent them all stumbling, with arms thrown around their shoulders and long sandy brown hair flying into the faces. Both of them instantly tensed but just before they could spin and attack, a feminine voice asked "What's logic?"

Both of the men spun around and out of the arms, recognising the figure looking at them with a wide smile and flashing midnight blue eyes that glowed with magic. "Yev!" Mishiael said, instantly embracing her. "It's been so long!"

"Oh, I've missed you Mishiael," the female sighed as she returned the tight hug, her sandy brown hair the exact same colour as Mishiael’s. "It's been so weird to be out on my own without you watching my back."

"Ah, you're fine at it," Mishiael said as he released the hug. "You were always watching both of our backs at once, you can take care of yourself."

"I can still miss my twin!" Yev insisted as she accepted Sky's hug. "Hey Sky, I've missed you too, the house is quiet without you."

Sky laughed. "It must have been real quiet for the past fifty years then."

"The whole reason why he came out here was to get some excitement," Yev said, jerking her thumb to her twin who spluttered in protest but she ignored him and waved her hand to the two of them. "Come on, the others have already arrived, I was the last to get here."

The two followed Yev out of the castle, half-running down the halls and drawing a lot of attention as they dashed out of the thrown-open front doors but that attention was nothing compared to what was being paid to the central square. A huge crowd had gathered and more were joining by the second, all staring at the half dozen new individuals who were scattered across the patterned pavers; two involved in an intense discussion with Seto that was quickly drawing the attention of several nearby sorcerers, one with bright green eyes casually catching up with Mitch and Jerome, a female with soft orange eyes standing on top of one of the buildings and looking out across the city as a pair of rust-coloured wings folded onto her back, and a slightly older female standing beside Hero, her arm around him as his was around her, the two in discussion with Notch, Steve, and Captain Nathan.

Sky looked to the side and saw that the rest of the Sky Army Generals were with the crowd staring with wide eyes at the new arrivals, gazes which they turned to him as he hopped down the castle steps with Mishiael and Yev by his side. He waved them over, calling "You wanted to stay and meet my family so much, so come and meet them!"

Like they had just been jerked out of a trance, the four rushed up to him, forming a half crescent around the three. "So, all these are your siblings?" Quentin asked, looking around the square. "They're all Herobrine's kids?"

"Including these two here," Sky said, tilting his head to the Captain. "Meet Mishiael and his twin Yev."

"You mean Yev and her twin Mishiael," the female corrected quietly.

“No, I'm older so I get to be named first, it's Mishiael and Yev," the other recorrected.

Yev scoffed. "You wish. I'm the oldest, everyone knows that."

"No, everyone knows that I'm the oldest! I have the bigger bedroom!" Mishiael said instantly, his brown eyes flashing a richer brown tone as he fought the grin on his face, a grin that Yev was also struggling to conceal.

"We'll get back to you guys on that one," Sky said quickly, waving his friends further into the square as they left the two bickering behind them. "Once they get started, they don't like stopping until they've covered all the usual topics and invented some new ones. I think their record is two hours and twenty-five minutes of constant debate over who's the oldest."

"Only two and a half hours?" Ty muttered, glancing back with a raised eyebrow.

Sky shrugged. "Yev can be easily distracted."

Jason was also looking back at the twins. "Captain Michael is Herobrine's son? Why is he Lord Notch's Captain? And how?"

"Think about it, it's the best protection," Sky explained. "And this way, we can know who might be trying to target Notch as well as finding out any potential information that might come through the city. You could say we like to keep tabs on things." He pointed up to the female perched on the tops of the buildings as if to distract from that point. "That's Svello, don't ask how she has wings because none of us really know, she's the only one who has them."

He paused to watch her and a few moments later, the winged female's head flicked to them and she soared down, her red, brown and blond feathered wings fluttering lightly on the air as she landed and the wings folded delicately on her back before she and Sky embraced, quietly saying a few words to each other before Sky introduced his friends. Svello's bright orange eyes were piercing and bird-like but now that Sky had his sunglasses perched on top of his head and his golden-coloured eyes were flashing in the sun, she seemed to fit right in.

A sharp whistle pierced the air and the heads of the new arrivals flicked as one towards Herobrine, who waved them in. As they gathered together in a loose sort of huddle, Sky whispered to the four that his mum Anne was the one hand in hand with Hero and Levi was the one Mitch and Jerome had zipped over to talk to. 

“Rik, Tanyo!” Herobrine called to the sorcerer huddle. “Are you planning on being part of the family at all?”

In a burst of purple and sky blue particles, the last two of the Brine children joined the circle, both seeming to have agreed to pretend to have been here the whole time. The crowd around them shuffled in a little closer (but only a few steps), peering both anxiously and excitedly at the extended Brine family huddle; Lords Notch and Steve, Herobrine and Anne, and seven Brine kids.

“So first, ground rules,” Herobrine said. “First, no tackling or loud arguing with each other in public, people don’t understand how we play and they’ll just take it the wrong way and freak out. Secondly, don’t let down your guard. With all of us here, we’re not a nice target for certain people but our numbers won’t deter Israphel, so keep an eye out. Thirdly, don’t do anything to embarrass your brother.” Here, he pointed a finger to Sky. “He still has to help run an army when all this is done.”

The sky-blue eyes Tanyo sniggered a little. “Yeah, we don’t want to make the Crown Prince angry at us.”

Svello elbowed him. “Tanyo, stop! You’re going to make the Crown Prince angry at us!”

“Apologises Mr Crown Price Sky sir,” Levi said with a little flourishing bow. “You’ll have to excuse our brazen words.”

“I’m already regretting telling Mishiael to call you all here,” Sky said flatly.

“Admit it, you love us,” Rik said, not hiding his smirk.

Sky gave a heavy sigh. “Yeah, alright, I do. But that can change!”

“Alright you all, settle down,” Anne said with a slight smile. “Otherwise your uncles are going to kick us out before we reach lunchtime.”

“Actually this reminds me of all the times Steve and Hero used to argue,” Notch commented lightly.

“I always won,” Steve said with a troublesome grin that apparently ran in the family.

Hero scoffed. “You cheated, constantly. If any of you need me, don’t find me and sort it out amongst yourselves, I’m gonna be raiding the library.”

Perhaps it was the sudden nature of the appearance of the Brine family, or the sight of Lords Notch and Steve and the seven Sky Army Generals completely at ease around the family, or the way that life didn’t seem to change in the following hours. No matter what it was, the crowds seemed more than content to stare wide-eyed at the children of the myth, whispering behind their hands with awe in their eyes and quickly averting their gaze when a Brine child caught their eye with a grin.

Several onlookers had stopped to watch when Generals Mitch and Adam took up position at opposite sides of a duelling circle in the training grounds, the former having cast aside his jacket to the nearby fence and the latter’s golden eyes shining in the late afternoon light, the sun's rays glinting off their matching swords. Captain Nathan was leaning against the fence, his longer overshirt discarded as he relaxed from his own duel with his son a number of minutes ago. It had been a close match but eventually, the older had yielded to the younger.

"Now I would ask if you're sure about this," Adam said, loosening his wrist by swinging his sword in small circular motions, "but I know that you don't propose things like this without proper thought."

"Yup," was all Mitch said, raising his sword in a defensive manner. "Give me your best shot."

Adam grinned and the world shrunk down to the two of them and their matching swords, an extension of themselves. They shuffled in a duelling circle, their swords flicking out in tiny movements to test the defence of the other, seeking any weakness to exploit. Adam had been watching Mitch fight for years and had just watched the duel between him and his father. Mitch knew that underestimating Adam could be a fatal mistake and that to assume anything of him would be just as bad. Neither of them noticed the gathering crowds around them: soldiers and civilians alike had picked up on the tension and apprehension that surrounded them and waited with bated breaths, eyeing the razor-sharp blades both wielded with awe in their eyes.

With a shuffling of feet and a grunt, Adam struck first with his sword arcing up then down, delivering a crushing blow that Mitch deflected with a screech of steel and sparks flying as he held his ground, his sword moving in a spinning circle of lightning against Adam's blade that struck like a snake's tongue. Left and right and up and left and upper cut, Adam left no room for Mitch to breathe or retaliate, his sword constantly edging a hair's breadth closer to his skin. Mitch’s mind screamed at him to take a step back and get out of the killing circle, but if he took one move out of the duelling circle then he automatically lost.

He took a gamble and in the space between one strike and the next, Mitch stepped forward, now much too close for comfort as he swayed out of Adam's downward strike and in the split moment that Adam had to reevaluate his swings, Mitch cut low for Adam's knee. Instinctively, as Mitch had known he would, he stepped out of the blade's path and then it was Mitch's turn to push forward, constantly taking that extra step too close that would force Adam to retreat a further step. The heel of Adam’s red shoes were at the edge of the circle now, hovering only an inch away from it and he refused to yield another step as he hurriedly defended himself, never letting that blade get past his defence, waiting for his chance.

Mitch was like lightning, but it was a speed that he couldn't keep up forever and when he at last faltered, Adam slashed forward, making Mitch leap out of the way as the tip of the sword nearly caught his shirt and Adam leapt straight up in the air. Mitch ducked as he jumped and the older used his hunched shoulders as a sort of springboard to propel himself forward, flipping in the air and landing solidly on both feet, already in a defensive pose. 

Mitch, having stumbled from the force, spun around expecting an attack but when he saw Adam watching him, he let out a breathy laugh. "Oh, so now you can do flips?"

"Well we agreed to no magic, so flips were the next best thing," Adam said with a smirk, his breaths coming only a little faster than usual.

"Where'd you learn though? You're like a gymnast or something."

"Actually, it was-"

It was a classic move, to attack midway through the opponent's sentence but it was one that Adam was more than prepared for. He caught Mitch's strike and locked their swords, holding his ground. The two were staring each other right in the eye now, panting and grinning with their matching swords blocking half of the other's face.

"KICK HIS ASS, BRINE KID!" someone yelled.

Both warriors flicked their gazes in the direction of the cry, noticing the crowd for the first time who laughed and chuckled awkwardly at the call but it was clear that they were all very very eager to see the result of this fight. 

Adam grinned in the direction of the caller. "What do you think I'm doing?" he yelled back.

In retaliation, Mitch stamped down on Adam's foot (a dirty move they both agreed later, but they also agreed that Adam kinda deserved it) and unlocked their swords as he heaved the man backwards, going on another offensive flurry that had Adam at the edge of the duelling circle again. For a few moments, Mitch thought that he had him, his sword cutting ever closer and Adam's blocks were barely in time to stop his blade. Too late, he caught the wicked look in Adam's eye.

He felt something hit his ankle and he bit back a cry, the force sending him backwards a step but it was all Adam needed. A shoulder barged into his shoulder and a leg hooked behind his, taking out his feet from under him and he hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of his chest. He still had his sword in hand, but the tip of Adam's blade was at his throat and they both knew that he had won this round.

Several long minutes later, when the crowds had finished cheering and finally dispersed and Captain Nathan had left to hunt down Herobrine, Mitch and Adam lent against the fence, watching the afternoon turn into evening.

"So are you finally going to tell me how old you are?" Mitch asked.

Adam laughed a little. "Do you want the truth or do you want something believable?"

"The truth would be nice," Mitch muttered, taking another long drink.

"I'll be reaching my 800th birthday in a decade or so."

Water flew out of Mitch's mouth as he spat and spluttered, coughing as he accidentally inhaled some water and Adam patting his back while laughing. "What the hell ?" Mitch asked when he had finally regained the ability to breathe. "800? How the hell are you that old?"

"Well my dad's nearly a thousand," Adam said as if that explained anything. "And the world's over twenty thousand years old or something so it's not that long in the huge scheme of things, really."

"So that makes Captain Michael... what? 700?"

"He's 250ish I think. Maybe 300 by now."

Mitch frowned. "That's a huge age gap, how come?"

Adam shrugged a little, a sorrowful look coming into his eyes. "It was a hard time for everyone. My dad especially."

He didn't say much else on the topic, which made Mitch turn the conversation to other things, like how the swords were actually forged (again, Adam didn't say much but this time it was with a wink and a suppressed smile) and how to properly use their magic-absorbance abilities ("It's all in the twist- no not like that, that's nothing like how I just-" "It was exactly what you just did and you know it."). It was only when it became so dark that Adam's golden irides were starting to glow that they finally called it a day and headed back inside the castle.

Israphel stared at the empty cell, resisting the urge to wrinkle his nose at the stale smell. It had been a few days since Herobrine had been freed from his bonds and Israphel had no doubt that he had found a way to break off the magic-repressing cuff. It was a shame, really. He was only a little closer than he had been before: he had some confirmation of what he had suspected, but he was no closer to locating the other stones (for he was sure that there was at least one more) and he still had no real idea as to just how much of a danger Steve was.

That said, he did have some valuable information. He knew that Herobrine had children, who were no doubt just as strong as he was. He knew that the three brothers were close, perhaps closer than they had ever been before in recorded history. Most of all, he knew that Herobrine was aware of Steve's secrets and of the stones.

"Lord Israphel?" a feminine voice behind him said hesitantly, as if wary of disturbing him.

He turned his head to the side a little, not enough to see her but enough to signal that she had his attention. There was a moment of silence filled by her taking a breath.

"The Shadow Beasts have returned both from the east and Lord Notch's city. The trail to the east has died. They found no traces of artifact magic or the magic of a sorcerer. We do not know what happened to the trail. The scout from Lord Notch's city saw the children of Herobrine there."

Israphel's head turned a little more as the sorcerer continued. "There are seven of them in total; five males and two females, as well as a third female who appears to be the wife of Herobrine. One is winged. They all appear to have magic. Herobrine's Captain of the Guard is also there, along with a small escort."

He paused for a moment to take in the information, then tilted his head and returned his gaze forward. Behind him, quiet footsteps left him alone to his pondering. He had several options now, several ways to go. He could do nothing and simply keep hunting down the stones, but Herobrine, Steve, and no doubt Lord Notch all knew that was what he wanted. He would risk being hunted down by them and stopped, or worse, them tracking down the stones before he did.

To add to that risk, he did not yet know the true strength of Steve. That was the biggest hidden play to this game, the factor that could either pose no risk to him at all or tear down his plans and reduce them to rubble. It was a threat, a threat that he couldn't quantify or predict. Not until he had more information. He had to force their hand.

He turned, his grey cloak flying out behind him as he walked down the corridors, entering the common room shared by his sorcerer followers. Their conversations died out as they turned to him, rising as they saw the way his shoulders were set back and the deep red glint in his eyes as he surveyed them.

"Prepare the Shadow Beasts," he said, his voice quiet but seeming to echo around the room. "We attack the city of Lord Notch in two days."

Chapter Text

The day had a decent scattering of clouds that posted the potential threat of rain and cast light shadows upon the ground as it blocked the sun’s light, but that didn’t stop the civilians and soldiers alike from enjoying the day. The sun was near it’s noon position and despite the overcast of clouds, the Brine family decided to have lunch out on the large field in the city, ringed by the long low library and a few other public buildings.

Given Herobrine’s seven children, Anne, the three brothers, Captain Nathan, and Mitch (who showed up because his father was there) and Jerome (who didn’t even ask but he never left Mitch’s side), it proved to be quite a large and chaotic lunch. Two languages were spoken at once, often overlapping and mixing in a single sentence which left the two Generals missing half of what was said but from what Nathan whispered to them, he was in much the same boat.

After a hearty lunch of sandwiches with a dozen different meats and salads, and fruits and juice and sweet bread, everyone was kicking back and enjoying what small sunlight there was of the day or talking in groups of three or four. Mishiael and Yev were both chatting with Notch, Herobrine and Steve were in discussion with Nathan, Mitch, and Jerome, and Anne and Levi were catching up with Sky while the other three children closed their eyes and lay back or stared up at the sky. At least, that’s what Rik was doing before he slowly rose, his eyes fixed on something above.

“Dad?”

The tone of his voice drew all of their attention and they all followed his gaze to the sky. A single black bird was flying above, tracing slow loops around their group, its head twisting as if to try and catch a better look at them. It appeared curious, like it had stopped its flight path to examine the scent of food below. And yet…

“It’s not casting any shadow,” Mishiael pointed out, his eyes having flicked down to the lush grass before flicking back up to the bird above. From the city wall far from them, there was the warning call of several large black hounds.

Herobrine jumped up, spinning around and giving a few rapid orders in the ancient tongue, his tone urgent and sharp and his children rushed into position; Mishiael and Yev drew matching swords and took up position on either side of Notch, scanning the open grassland; Svello’s rusty brown wings flashed open and she took to the air, circling around and yelling for civilians to get clear; Rik and Tanyo both teleported away in a flash of purple and sky blue dust respectively; Sky turned and sprinted in the other direction, up towards the castle; Anne and Levi stood back to back, ready; Herobrine kept his position beside Steve, both of them now holding their swords. 

Mitch, Jerome, and Nathan all stood with their weapons drawn but before they could move, the black bird tilted its head once more, seeming to catch sight of Steve. It gave an ear-piercing shriek that was too loud to be natural and grated on the ears of the family and they all dropped their weapons as they clutched their ears, stumbling to their knees, their eyes scrunched up to try and block out the ringing shriek that assaulted their minds.

Huge black shadows melted out of tree trunks and the sides of buildings, anywhere where there was a scrap of shadow, racing towards them: gigantic black dogs and wolves and bears and boars and hunting cats of all kinds, sprinting towards the incapacitated family with their mouths open and teeth bared, ready to tear.

But as fast as the Shadow Beasts were, Herobrine was faster. His sword was on the grass but his hands flashed with white magic as he stood straight, giving a warning shout as his hands flashed through the air, a burst of magic hitting aside the first of the wolves who had pounced for them, their teeth bared for Steve’s neck.

More hounds and bears launched for them but Steve had his sword in hand now and was standing back to back with Hero, who had white magic spinning around his arms like a whirlwind, his eyes flashing with power. Shouts filled the field, both of civilians fleeing and of the family as they fought against the Shadow Beasts who attacked them on all sides. Svello wove and dove along the outskirts, taking out any beast who got too close to the escaping civilians with her pointed feathers that were as sharp as any sword. The others fought back to back in their pairs and trios, holding their ground as they were swarmed by waves and waves of shadows.

Slashing through the creatures as they launched at him and watching how the dissolving blackness was absorbed by his sword, Mitch caught sight of a figure out of the corner of his eye and his head flicked around, his sweaty hair flicking into his eyes. Adam was running across the tops of the buildings, a quiver of arrows on his back and a curiously shaped bow in his hand that Mitch recognised from that secret alcove in Adam’s room. He swore that it wouldn’t be able to fire but Adam raised it anyway, pulling three arrows out of his quiver at once and fitting them to the string, pulling it back and firing without even seeming to take aim.

Mitch watched in awe as each arrow slammed into a shadow creature, each arrow exploding in gold which caused the shadows closest to it to also dissolve into nothing. Even as he watched, another three then six then nine arrows flew in the air, taking out more creatures in perfect hits. He glanced down at his sword, noting the way the blade glinted and shimmered, nearly feeling the absorbed magic humming in his hand. He raised his weapon, aiming the tip to the side of where Herobrine and Steve were fighting alone in the thickest collection of Beasts, and gave a twist of his wrist.

The very tip shone white then black and a bolt of pure shadow bloomed from the blade and shot like an arrow of death into the crowd, dissolving the dozens of shadows in its path in an instant and clearing a space just beside the two brothers. Someone gave a loud whoop and another beam of black shot out, carving another thick path among the shadows and giving the two brothers another moment of respite before the Beasts swarmed again. 

There was no end to the creatures who continued to spawn and swarm from the shadows of the buildings, the many who evaded Rik, Tanyo, and Sky’s blockade of attacks launching at the small groups who fought. Eagles and hawks and vultures flew from the air, Svello trying to intercept them in a deadly dance. With his back to his father’s and his best friend by his side, Mitch knew that if there was no change to this attack then they would be overwhelmed by the sheer unending numbers. 

But there was a change. He felt it in the sudden prickling of hairs on the back of his neck and the sudden sixth instinct that screamed at him to duck and run, but he had no time.

With a shout of defiance and a clap of thunder that was loud enough to set their ears ringing, a wave of pure force the colour of lavender crashed over them, enough to send them stumbling a few steps but it slammed full-power into the shadows, vapourising dozens and dozens and dozens of them upon contact. The rush of the pure magic against his skin made goosebumps rise all over Mitch’s body and his hairs stand on end and he spun around, his sword instinctively coming up to defend himself as he saw all of the others doing the same.

He saw Herobrine rising from his huddled crouch, ready for another attack and seeming completely at ease, but it was Steve that Mitch’s eyes were drawn to. If Herobrine’s white eyes were flaming, then Steve’s eyes were a lavender inferno. Swirls of lavender magic whipped up his arms and spun around his body, his hair flying around in the tiny magical tornado he had become, his claw necklace catching and reflecting the light of his magic.

From above, the birds of a dozen kinds shrieked and squealed and cawed and dove in a huge mass, aiming for the brother but Steve was already watching them and his lavender magic surged brighter, collecting around his hands as he raised them in the air and slashed them diagonally down with a shout of triumph, dozens of huge lavender disks spitting from his hands towards the shadows and shredding them to pieces. He hardly paused to watch the destruction as he whipped around, his magic flaring around him as he threw whips and arrows and bolts and disks at the remaining hounds who leapt at him with teeth bared. White magic twisted with the light purple as Hero copied his movements, the two brothers working in perfect tandem to disseminate the last of the shadows like they were nothing but tissue paper on the wind.

A different shadow caught Mitch’s eye and he spun around to face it. Starting at the base of the tree and spreading out on the ground in the overcast sunlight was a human’s silhouette. No facial expression could be seen and yet it seemed to be watching them, evaluating them as the last of the shadow beasts was slashed to nothing. Steve turned and saw the shadow as well, and his glowing lavender eyes flashed brighter.

“You want me Israphel?” he shouted at the shadow, his words echoing across the field and buildings. “Then come and get me.”

The shadow rippled and disappeared, leaving nothing behind it. Svello swooped down from the sky as the three Brine sons jogged forward, joining the group of confused expressions that were all aimed at Steve who didn’t seem to notice them and was instead sheathing his sword as Herobrine dusted off his hands.

“Dramatic as always, Steve,” Herobrine said as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, picking up his sword and checking that it was clean before sheathing it. “But you did just invite Israphel to invade the city and pick a fight with us.”

Steve scoffed, his eyes still glowing that solid lavender that seemed to contrast yet blend perfectly with Herobrine’s. “He was going to come at some point, all I’ve done is given him a timeframe.”

“All you’ve done is goaded him to attack,” Hero corrected, but he seemed to be rather at ease with that fact as he looked around at his family, evaluating them. “Is anyone hurt?”

Levi winced and put a hand to the side of his neck where a tiny bit of blood was dribbling down slowly. “One of them managed to get a swipe at me.”

Hero stepped forward while waving a hand for Levi to come closer and he put his hand to the side of Levi’s neck, frowning a little. His white eyes pulsed brighter and white smoke drifted around his hand as black smoke evaporated under his palm, gushing out as Levi tried not to wince. When Hero took his hand away, there was still blood on the younger man’s neck but the wound itself was gone.

“Umbrakineses,” Hero muttered, casting a glance to Steve who winced. “The most annoying wounds to heal.”

“Most painful too, they hurt like hell.”

“Hold on, are we going to address the elephant in the room here?” Mishiael asked, raising his hand slightly with his eyes on his uncle. “You have magic ? Since when?”

“Since always, don’t you know how magic works, Mishiael?” Herobrine answered instead with a raised eyebrow. 

Steve chuckled, the lavender glow of his eyes starting to die down. “I’ve been keeping it a secret from everyone for several centuries,” he explained, casting a slightly guilty glance at Notch. “Even from you Notch, we kinda decided that it was safest if only the two of us knew.”

“ We ?” Notch asked, his eyes flicking between his two brothers.

“We,” Hero repeated. He waved his hand and the picnic supplies, most of which had been ruined in the fight, floated into the baskets and the blankets rolled themselves up. “Now, since your uncle here has just invited the shadow sorcerer we’re fighting to battle, we’d better start thinking up a plan.”

“Uh, excuse me,” Notch interrupted, raising an eyebrow at his two brothers. “Did you two forget that I watched both of you train in your magic when you were kids and also watched you both on the battlefield many times flinging spells this way and that? Or did you expect me to forget that I was the only brother who didn’t have magic?!”

The two younger brothers froze and glanced at each other. “Yes?” Steve said hestiantly.

Notch slapped the back of his head none too gently. “Idiot.”

“Well why didn’t you say anything?!” Steve asked, rubbing the back of his head and glaring slightly at the elder.

“Why didn’t you ?” Notch asked. “I thought you’d grown uncomfortable with your magic or could only do small spells, and you never picked up on the hints I put down so I dropped the topic. If you both had told me to keep it a secret, I would have helped you!” He threw his hands in the air and marched off towards the castle. “I get told nothing in this family! Nothing!”

“Love you big bro!” Hero yelled after him with a grin, laughing at the hand Notch waved in response.

Chapter Text

The Sky Army Generals gathered in their tri-sworded teleportation circle, but where eight had arrived, only five were gathering to return home. Adam, being one of Herobrine’s sons, was staying to join the fight against Israphel and none of them had felt that it was right to ask Mitch to return home after he had so recently been reunited with his father. Jerome, once it had been decided that Mitch was staying, hadn’t even seemed to consider that he might be required to return home and had only blinked blankly when Jason had implied it, so they all let him be. 

They had agreed to meet at the teleportation circle two hours past sunrise but Seto was late and the others were starting to get impatient, if Ty’s grumpy expression and Quentin’s tapping foot were anything to go by. Finally, he showed up from a side street with another sorcerer at his side who seemed to be about his age, but with a sapphire blue cloak.

“Master Vikk is going to teleport you guys home,” Seto said when he had come close enough, his hands in his pockets and giving a nod to the huddle of Generals before turning his attention to Adam. “I’m staying as well.”

“Woah woah, we didn’t agree on this,” Ian said, taking a step forward.

“I know,” Seto said with another nod. “But this city is most likely going to be the target of any large attack made by Israphel. They’re going to need all the help they can get.”

Ty gave an exasperated huff. “Seto, we need all the help we can get. Notch’s city has five times as many sorcerers as we do, they’ll be fine.”

“But not all of them are trained in combat,” Seto corrected him. “Besides, we have more than enough sorcerers to protect the base and I’ve made sure that all of them are trained in combat. And anyway, the likelihood of Israphel attacking our base is rather low. There’s nothing there for him to want.”

Jason gave a sort of sigh, but the others turned their attention to Adam, who seemed to analyse Seto for a few seconds before giving a nod. “Alright, you can stay,” he said simply. 

“And what about the base!” Ty exploded but Adam calmed him with a hand.

“Relax, the base is well protected,” he assured them. “ Trust me. If anything, the sorcerers will just be a backup.”

The four leaving Generals didn’t seem comforted by the request to ‘trust him’ but they didn’t resist any more and after final farewells, Master Vikk brushed his hand across the teleportation circle and they were gone.

Jerome turned to Seto with a smirk. “You just wanted to stay because Master Veraela still hasn’t given you back your books.”

Seto flushed a little. “I mean… yeah that’s… part of it. But you guys will need some combat sorcerers if Israphel attacks. Also I’m really missing my books, Veraela is avoiding me, I know it.”

“Are you sure that leaving the base with one less sorcerer is a good idea, Adam?” Mitch asked, jogging to walk beside the son of Herobrine.

“Mitch, trust me ,” Adam repeated. “Notch’s city might have more sorcerers than we do but Seto is right, not a lot of them are trained in combat. It’ll be good for him to lend a hand here, especially if he and a few of the other sorcerers can set up some sort of defence system in case Israphel’s shadows come here.”

“And what about you? What are you going to do?”

Adam shrugged, grinning a little. “That’s what I’m on my way to find out. My whole family’s meeting up to figure out what we’re doing so that we can get everyone else organised.”

“Did you know that Lord Steve has magic?” Mitch suddenly asked and Adam threw his hands into the air.

“No! No one did! And Dad knew the whole time, apparently! I mean, he hasn’t said that, but he’s dodging all of our questions so he’s definitely known for at least a while and never told us! Here I am, wondering how my siblings and I are supposed to protect this guy from a powerful sorcerer and here he is as a powerful sorcerer himself and-” Adam cut himself off and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “No, I didn’t know,” he said in a calmer voice.

Mitch gave him a pat on the back. “Well, have fun in that meeting,” he said before darting off in a different direction.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks,” he said to the air, continuing on his path.

He was the last to reach the meeting, which hardly looked like a meeting in reality; Notch and Rik were the only ones seated at the long wooden table, placed across from each other in the middle and talking in serious tones; Mishiael and Yev were at one end of the table - the latter perched on the top while the former leaned back in a chair and both gesturing empathetically with their hands while they talked - and Tanyo and Svello were at the other, playing a game of chess but using their magic to move the chess pieces while they arm wrestled, Levi being the judge and occasionally stealing chess pieces. Hero and Steve were standing in the corner, their arms crossed casually and lost in their own little conversation, oblivious to the noise.

Sky hopped over to join his father and uncle, easily adopting a similar position as he leaned beside his father. “Did I miss the meeting or am I early? Or did I get the wrong memo completely and this is the knitting club?” 

“All of the above,” Steve said, pausing to give Hero a wink as he uncrossed his arms and walked to the table, fishing below it for a few moments. After some shuffling, he pulled out a huge rolled up parchment and flung it down the table to roll it out, covering nearly the full length of the table. “Alright you lot, let’s talk business.”

In the moment of distraction, Svello won arm wrestling and Levi returned his stolen chess pieces and Yev and Mishiael sat down properly in their chairs as Hero and Sky joined the table, the room suddenly becoming serious in a matter of seconds, Notch muttering to himself about how it was so nice for them to finally join the discussions.

Steve gave his older brother a pat on the shoulder. “Now, obviously we’re going to have some sort of confrontation with Israphel-”

“Given that you goaded him to a fight in the city, I’d say so,” Hero commented blandly. As all those gathered were… old, they spoke in the ancient tongue to avoid being eavesdropped upon.

Steve tried to give him a slap on the back of the head, but Hero ducked in time and squinted at him until he dropped it. “Okay fine. But I don’t want it to be in the city. There’s way too many people who could get caught in the crossfire, not to mention that the added chaos is more likely to hinder us than help us.”

“And I doubt he’ll come alone,” Mishiael added. “He’ll at least have a few other sorcerers with him, so you can bet there’s gonna be a lot of collateral damage.”

“I’d like to have a city and a people when this is over,” Notch admitted.

“So we go out of the city.” Steve flicked his hand and a pencil lying on the table levitated in a sheath of lavender magic. “I’m thinking one of these three spots, either here, here, or here.” He twirled his finger with each ‘here’ and the pencil circled three places on the map. 

“I’m still mad over how you could do magic this whole time and just never told us,” Sky said cheerily. 

“Get over it,” Hero said with no emotion, leaning over to look at the three spots. “We’re not going over here Steve, that’s a marsh. The unstable terrain and soggy ground isn’t going to do well for our mobility. Remember that the Shadow Beasts aren’t stopped by the kind of ground they travel along.”

Steve’s pencil scrubbed out the lines of the circle Hero gestured to as Levi leaned over to look at the remaining two circles. “So what do we have? A forest near a sea or a plateau near a mountain.”

“Forest might be nice,” Tanyo contemplated, twirling another pencil around his fingers. “Lots of places to hide and a good terrain to leap off and use to our advantage.”

“But there’s a lot of shadows there,” Rik pointed out. “And that part looks quite dense. We might be impeded in our movements, especially Svello with her wings.”

“So we go to the plain,” Yev said. “Lots of space, easy to see who or what is trying to creep up on us, lots of space to move and fight.”

“We’ll be easily seen,” Svello warned.

“That’s partly what we want, to make ourselves an easy target,” Hero said. “We want to goad Israphel to a fight, to a place where he can see us and know where we are. If he knows that we’re not in the city then he’ll know that he has nothing to gain from wasting his resources on it.”

“That said, he might just attack anyway,” Steve said with a glance at Notch.

Mishiael leaned forward, suddenly looking a lot more like his old Captain self despite his glowing warm brown eyes. “If I’m going with you guys to help fight Israphel, then that leaves no one to protect Lord Notch.”

“Generals Mitch, Jerome, and Seto of the Sky Army are all staying,” Sky piped up. “And if Captain Nathan is also staying, then that leaves four people who can protect Lord Notch. They might not be up to your standard, Mishiael, but the four of them will do the trick.”

“So we’re going to travel to that plain there,” Tanyo summed up, “and we’re all going save for Uncle Notch who will stay and be protected by Dad’s Captain of the Guard and three of Sky’s friends in the case that Israphel should attack the city but we’re sure that he’s going to attack us because…?”

“Because the eight of us - nine, since Steve’s coming - are enough of a threat,” Hero explained. “We know he wants Steve. We gave him a hint of what we could do when his Shadows attacked yesterday. He’ll want to deal with us to get us out of the way and that’s when we’ll deal with him.”

“What about Mum?” Levi asked.

“She's going to go back home, right?” Yev asked. “That’s the safest place.”

“If you can convince your mother to go home while we’re all going out to a big fight against the Boogeyman, be my guest,” Hero said, standing and ignoring everyone’s snorts at the nickname. “She’s going to refuse to leave the city until we’re all back safe and sound. Svello, fly out to the plain and scout it out, we’ll be teleporting to you after we get ready. Just some basic supplies and food will do, I think.”

“Always so quick to action,” Steve said in mock offence as he also stood.

The moment they were outside, Svello was off in a flash of brown feathers, flying into the distance with the sun shining on her wings. The other eight were a bustle of activity as they prepared to leave, which included Captain Michael quietly taking aside Mitch, Jerome, and Seto. 

“If anything happens to Notch while I’m gone, I will personally hunt down you three and make you regret every day you’ve ever lived on this planet,” he said, low and dark. “He is under your protection and if anything happens to him-”

“Yikes, what happened to you being all chill and happy going?” Jerome asked, taking a step back with his hands raised defensively. “I think I preferred that Michael.”

Michael grinned. “You could say I’m nervous.”

“We’ll look after him,” Mitch said confidently. “No matter what happens, we’ll be there to protect him.” He glanced over to where Nathan was talking to Lord Notch, the two in deep discussion with Nathan gesturing to the city as if he was drawing up battle lines and strategies. He glanced over under Mitch’s gaze and the father and son grinned at each other.

Elsewhere, a little later, Hero and Anne were talking quietly as the eight prepared to teleport away. Hero had his sword strapped to his back but otherwise looked normal, although anyone who knew him would know that the presence of the sword sheath meant that he was preparing for trouble.

“You be careful, okay Hero?” Anne was saying quietly. “Don’t do anything noble or self-sacrificing, I know you.”

“You know me all too well,” Hero said with a grin, kissing her gently on the cheek. “If I suggested for you to go home to where it’s safe, would you refuse?”

“You know me all too well,” Anne repeated, smiling. She stepped in and threw her arms around Hero, holding him tightly as he held her just as close. “Bring all my babies back, Hero,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut so that tears wouldn’t escape.

“I won’t lose a single one,” Hero promised. “Not one, Anne. All of them will come home.”

It took a long moment before either of them felt ready to let go and it was another few moments before they actually did, feeling that if they held the other any longer then they’d lose their nerve altogether. Hero walked her to the top of the steps beside Notch, the three Generals, and Captain Nathan before hopping down the stairs and joining the others in the square. All of the Brine children had gathered, having already said goodbye to their mother and leaving their parents to their private moment.

Around the city, sorcerers were starting to weave their magic into the air and citizens were packing up the streets, clearing them as much as possible. The family put their hands on each other’s shoulders, forming a human web as Hero’s white magic surged around them in rings, obscuring Anne from his sight. He closed his eyes and sent out his magic, searching for Svello’s magical aura and the moment he found it, they teleported and were gone.

Chapter Text

The plain stretched out for miles and miles around them, the horizon in two directions rimmed by forests, obscured by distant mountains in a third, and in the fourth, the land met the sea which stretched on and on and on. With the last few hours of sunlight they had left, the Brine family set up camp; half of them out gathering wood and stones for the fire, the other half setting up bedrolls under the open air and scouting the plain to ensure that they were alone. For now, at least.

None of them were fully comfortable with being so easily visible from such a huge distance, especially once the fire flared to life in the dusky air. Even so, all of them found comfort in being surrounded by family with each individual being capable of taking on a small army by themselves. 

(Actually, they just assumed that they could take on a small army. None of them actually had tested this theory, save for Hero and Steve who had once teamed up to hold back an entire army for several days. The kids, of course, didn’t need to know this). 

With the fire burning cheerily, potatoes wrapped in foil went into the coals and a pot with water was brought to the boil before being filled with herbs, vegetables, and the fresh rabbits that Sky had shot with his tricked out bow. The smell of cooking dinner made all of their mouths water, even though most of them pretended to not be burning with anticipation until finally, Tanyo could take it no longer.

“Rik, hurry up!” he burst out, tapping his hands on his knees in excess energy. “You’ve been cooking for so long! ”

Rik rolled his deep purple eyes. “Relax Tanyo, it’s nearly done.”

“It’d better be nearly done,” Mishiael muttered with a grin. “If it takes any longer then Yev is going to waste away.”

“And Mishiael is going to turn into a raving beast,” Yev instantly called out from the other side of the fire. “Then we’ll never get any rest.”

“Settle down you all, let the cook do his work,” Hero said. He had been feeding logs into the fire and positioning them perfectly with his bare hands, but he paused and looked up at Rik beside him to mutter “But seriously, if you take much longer, you’ll probably have a riot on your hands.”

Rik sighed, his eyes flashing in the firelight. “It’s probably ready now anyway. Could you fetch out the potatoes?”

For all of their feigned nonchalance before, everyone was very satisfied with the meal and Rik received many compliments for his cooking, many even assuring Steve that Rik really was the best cook alive and had won several competitions and should really work as a royal cook in Lord Notch’s city. They even went so far as to offer to open up a spot among the cooks, which was when Rik finally snapped and told them that he’d never cook another meal again if they kept up the conversation. The result was instant silence broken by muted giggles.

After the meal, Levi picked up the tub full of the dirty dishes and disappeared in a green blur of speed, following Svello who flew to the stream that ran across the plain a good distance away, heading towards the sea. As the others prepared to sleep under the star-filled sky or to stay up talking some more, Hero and Sky went to find a good place for a night watchguard to stay.

“What do you think of the location?” Hero asked quietly as the two walked in a long loop around the camp, watching the plain around them.

“I hate it,” Sky muttered back. “It’s open, it’s exposed, we have nearly nowhere to retreat to, and we’re very clearly a huge target, especially with that fire. It’s perfect for what we’re trying to do but I hate it regardless.”

Hero hummed. “I agree. The only good thing I can see about it is that we’ll be able to see anyone who tries to sneak up on us, but you’re right. We’re purposefully making ourselves a target here. All we gotta do is hope that Israphel falls for it.”

“But he will, right? He’s after Uncle Steve, he probably wouldn’t mind getting you back in custody, and we’re all a huge threat to him, really.”

Hero gave a nod. “He’ll come for us. He’ll have back-up, but he’ll come. We’re too big of a threat for him to ignore.”

Hero took the first watch of the night and Sky, who was going to take over from him in a few hours, rolled up and went to sleep with his back to the fire. Svello and Rik followed their eldest brother’s example, which left Mishiael, Yev, Tanyo and Levi to try and pry information out of their uncle as the moon slowly rose to flood the plain in light.

“So, you’ve clearly got magic,” Levi said as a few logs bobbed over on lavender magic and sunk into the fire, “which none of us were ever told about. How long have you had it?”

“Since I was a kid, maybe about five years old,” Steve said, flicking the lavender mist around his fingers and settling back against a backpack, grinning at his niece and nephews. “When Hero also started developing magic, our parents sent us to the only sorcerer school at the time to be trained.”

“You were properly trained? At a proper school?” Tanyo asked, sitting up straighter and his eyes widening.

Steve nodded, then frowned at the sudden awe in the children’s eyes. “Didn’t any of you go to a sorcerer school?”

All four of the children shook their heads mutely. “It’s never been safe for us,” Mishiael explained quietly. “Dad and Sky taught us most of what we know and the rest we learnt from each other or on our own.”

Steve made a sound of realisation and nodded, picking up on the serious attitude. “You were all born after the whole… thing with Hero’s old habit, right?”

“We were,” Yev said, gesturing to herself and her brothers. “Sky wasn’t. He was there for a lot of it.”

“We try not to talk about it too much,” Mishiael admitted quietly. “Whenever the topic comes up, both Dad and Sky get quiet, and Dad seems to become guilty, he doesn’t look at anyone. We…” He glanced at his siblings as if making up his mind, then seemed to decide to continue with what he was saying. “We don’t know much about what happened other than Sky and Dad really didn’t get on during that time, but we’ve kinda guessed that Sky and Mum helped Dad get over his old habit despite… something going wrong. Even so, Sky… didn’t trust him for a long time.”

“He nearly never left when Mishiael and I were young,” Yev continued. “It was the same for Rik but he seemed to have relaxed a lot by the time Tanyo was born, and then Dad left for that meeting with you and Uncle Notch.”

Steve hummed, casting a glance at the sleeping figure of Sky then shrugged, reminding himself that he couldn’t know everything there was to know. “How much do you guys know about when Hero and I were growing up?”

“Barely anything,” Levi said. “Or at least, I know barely anything. I get told nothing in this family.”

“Cheer up Levi, we don’t mean it,” Mishiael said with a smile. “It’s only because you’re young-”

“I’m 53!”

“And I’m 305, you’re young.”

“I’m seven years off a thousand,” Steve remarked lightly.

Yev gasped quietly. “Dad’s a decade off four digits guys, we’ve got ten years to plan his party.”

From the sudden grins that lit up the faces of the others, the ‘party’ was more likely to be a series of well-intended pranks and jokes than a traditional gathering, but Tanyo quickly steered the conversation back to Steve's question. The next half hour was spent explaining how sorcerer schools work and what it was like for Hero and Steve boarding at one for a good part of their childhoods (“We went back for holidays and weekends, but we had to be teleported home by a Master each time so we preferred to spend the nights in the castle.”).

“So Dad’s known this whole time that you’ve had magic?” Tanyo asked. “But he never told anyone ?”

“Pretty much,” Steve said with a shrug. “Honestly, I was half-expecting him to tell everyone or at least force me to reveal myself when he was attacking villages, but he never did. Even then, he was subconsciously protecting me.” He pulled a face. “Even if we did have a few hairy fights.”

“Why keep your magic a secret, though?” Levi asked. “I mean, sorcerers weren’t being hunted.”

“That’s true, they weren’t,” Steve agreed, “but I guess I didn’t want people knowing just how much I could do. I didn’t want to be looked up upon, I supposed, or become a target.” He shrugged. “You guys might understand: pretending to be a normal person when you’re anything but is actually pretty fun. It’s relaxing in a way. And besides, with magic as strong as mine, there’s always going to be someone wanting to fight you.”

“Yeah, that’s true enough,” Mishiael said, yawning. “Right, I’m going to bed, I’m supposed to be taking over watch after Sky.”

Yev nudged him. “Yeah, go to bed, sleepyhead.”

Mishiael shoved her none too gently and she fell over with a laugh that she quickly covered as Mishiael shuffled over to his empty bedroll and curled up, asleep in moments. The remaining four talked around the fire for several more minutes before they drifted off to their beds one by one, leaving Steve alone next to the slow-burning fire, staring into the coals and thinking.

Finally, he stood up and left the circle of dim light, reaching out with his senses until he found the slow flickering of Hero’s magical aura. The man was lying in a shallow ditch a distance from the camp, the tall grass hiding his form and his eyes barely glowing in the night. He didn’t move as his brother approached but there was a quiet mental flicker of greeting between them as Steve lay down beside him, helping him keep watch.

And though neither spoke as the hours ticked by, that quiet mental connection remained between them, pulsing quietly with soft communications that were felt rather than heard. When the moon was a third of the way through its nightly dance, they finally rose as one and went back to the camp. Hero woke Sky to do the next watch and they both went to their beds, the mental connection remaining until they both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Steve sharpened his sword, watching with a grin as Mishiael and Yev exchanged blows, their swords flashing like lightning as Hero paced around them, watching and calling out reminders and warnings. The feet of the twins shuffled back and forth as they spared, their eyes locked on the other and heedless of the flashing blades that spun a hair from their skin. 

A little away, Svello and Tanyo were resting from a spar of their own while Sky and Levi trained in their own area, the older seeming to teach the younger a few tricks, although they kept switching weapons so that if Steve looked away for too long, it seemed that they were dueling with daggers one moment and the next, Sky was trying to teach him the best way to block with an axe.

A sharp yelp and a sudden scurry of movement redrew Steve’s attention and he looked back in time to see Yev level her sword at Mishiael’s neck, her foot on his chest and his arm. Hero was clapping and Yev was grinning widely as she stepped off and offered a hand to help her brother up.

“You know, I’m starting to think that Yev should have been our Captain of the Guard instead,” Steve called over as Mishiael accepted the hand up.

Mishiael pretended that he didn’t hear the comment but Yev spun around with a smile, her sandy brown ponytail threatening to fly into her face as her midnight blue eyes flashed. “I’ll duel you next if you want?”

Steve waved a hand. “No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“No no wait, I want to see Uncle Steve duel,” Svello called over, her rusty brown wings flapping a little as she stood. Tanyo stood with her and from across the other side of the camp, Sky and Levi seemed to suddenly become distracted and start approaching them as well. Hero grinned and waved his hand.

“Come on Steve, you’ll enjoy it. Hey Rik! Come on, your turn.”

“What?! Against him?” Rik asked, pointing to his uncle who was dramatically rolling his eyes and huffily standing, sheathing away his razor-sharp sword. “Why do I have to be the one to duel him?”

“Because you’re doing nothing, up you get.”

“You’re doing nothing either!”

“I’m being the referee.”

Rik groaned but he stood and slouched over to his dad and uncle, the latter of which had a huge grin on his face. The others in the family grouped up in a few clumps a good distance away, giving more than enough space for the two to duel.

“Judging by the fact that you’ve left your sword behind, I’m wagering that you’re wanting a magic duel,” Hero said to his brother. Steve opened his hands to show his lack of any weapon and Hero turned to his son. “Are you good with that, Rik?”

“Why do I feel like I’m about to get my arse kicked?” was the response.

Hero chuckled a little and clapped him on the shoulder. “Do your best, you’ll be fine.”

He backed up several steps as the two took up positions opposite each other, light purple against dark purple as they both summoned their magic to prepare. Hero looked at one then the other, casting a glance around to make sure that the rest of his children were safely back. 

“Go!”

Before the word had even fully left Hero’s mouth, a dozen lavender whips had lashed out, twisting and curling around Rik who had barely started to react. Steve sprinted forward, his eyes glowing a solid lavender colour and his hands miming pulling the ropes towards him as he flipped up and over and Rik was yanked below him, being tossed to where Steve had been as Steve took his spot. 

Shards of deep purple spat out of Rik, shredding the lavender ropes and he came up on one knee, his eyes focused on his uncle. He spun his hands and a series of vertical purple disks appeared around him like shields and with a flick, two of them flipped and spun horizontally towards the other. Steve merely took a step forward and slashed his hands and the disks shattered into nothing around him, sliced apart by nearly invisible lavender magic.

Steve crossed his hands in front of his chest and then thrust them to the ground and instantly, it rippled and curled under his hands, waving like a heavily disturbed pool of water that rushed towards Rik. The sudden movement sent him off balance and yet the rolling ground seemed to aid Steve in his steps as he ran towards his nephew. Rik’s shields moved into place, obscuring his path but he ducked and darted between them and whenever his hand touched one, it instantly dissolved into purple mist. 

In moments, Steve was right next to Rik and they were fighting hand-to-hand, blocking and throwing punches and strikes to the neck or chest. Rik was retreating quickly, the ground still rolling under his feet and threatening to send him off balance. Steve didn’t have the same problem. A lavender aura was flickering around him, shattering the shields as they came forward to try and block his attacks. 

The circle of spectators moved and shifted so that they wouldn’t disturb the two fighters as Steve continued his flurry of attacks, Rik’s shields now hanging back to circle them. Rik’s hands were enveloped in purple sparks that arced up Steve’s arms whenever they made contact but he didn’t even seem to notice. At least, he didn’t notice until they suddenly sparked brighter and he was thrown away in a flash of light and a shout, rolling as he hit the ground but with a spin of his legs, he landed on his feet, the earth stilling around them. 

Rik’s shields condensed around him in a locked hamster ball as he panted, catching his breath. “How the hell did you do that ground thing?”

“Heck of a lot of practice,” Steve said with a grin.

“You do realise that Steve’s stronger than I am, right?” Hero asked, still standing far enough away to be out of combat but having followed them as they moved. The mouths of the circle of spectators dropped open but before anyone could ask how he was so casual in admitting that, Hero nodded to Steve. “Toss me your stone, let’s have some fun with this.”

Steve slipped off his claw necklace, tossing it across to his brother with a “Don’t lose that, that thing’s a godsend.”

Hero, of course, easily caught the necklace and lavender swirled around Steve’s body again as he dropped into a defensive crouch. Rik shook his head but his shields spun and split into dozens of razor sharp spikes that raced towards Steve. A lavender shield went up to block the deep purple shards, with bolts arcing erratically from it and shattering many of the shards that missed the shield.

Rik dashed forward, leaping into the air and flipping as he cast down a few bolts of magic that were just as easily deflected. Steve cast his own stream of magic at Rik as he landed, some of the lavender arcing up the man’s arm and back but the attack threw Rik off balance and in a blur of speed, Steve was dancing around him as lavender sprung up and down his body even as he made a cascade of shields and ropes and shards that Rik could barely defend against. The older man suddenly sprinted away, flipping several times in the air and landing like a cat, lavender swirling and dancing and leaping across his body in random movements as he waited, quite nearly shivering.

Hero stepped forward, calling out “I think that’s enough for now, Israphel might be watching.”

“On that note, may I have my necklace back?” Steve asked, standing up and swiping at the lavender mist swirling around him. “You know how chaotic I am otherwise.”

“You big wuss, you were never that bad,” Hero scoffed, but he tossed over the necklace and Steve quickly slipped it on, and the lavender faded and his eyes stopped glowing their solid colour.

A splattering of furious claps went up from the spectators as they ran up and crowded the two, words overlapping about how cool that was and how Rik shouldn’t worry, it was really an unfair fight and he’ll get Steve next time.

“What about you, Dad?” Sky asked with a grin. “Are you gonna verse Uncle Steve?”

“I’ve already done that plenty of times,” Hero said, waving off the suggestion. “And besides, there’s no point in showing Israphel just how strong we actually are.”

Steve, watching Hero, caught his brother’s eye and frowned, then his face split into a wide grin even as Hero quickly broke the eye contact and looked away. “Oh, you’re worried about losing in front of your sons and daughters, huh?”

Hero rounded on him with a glare that couldn’t fully hide his smile. “No mind reading, Steve! You know that’s cheating in all circumstances!”

Steve scoffed and inspected his nails. “Whatever you say, Heronas.”

The children all winced as one, a low “Oooooh” going up as their eyes locked onto their father for his reaction. His expression was deadpan as he met his brother’s challenging gaze. “Watch it, Stephan.”

Steve winced. “Ouch, called out.”

“You call me by my full name, and I’m gonna call you by yours.”

“Hey, this sounds like something you two would settle much better with a little spar,” Tanyo piped up.

Hero’s gaze flicked over to him. “You watch what you say too, Tanyando.”

Another chorus of “Oooooh!” went up among the kids, followed by more than a few chuckles. Tanyo’s narrowed eyes ran over his siblings and landed on the youngest of them all whom he shoved good-naturally with his elbow. “I thought you liked me, Levithas!”

Levi gasped, grabbing his arm. “Oh come on! Why am I being dragged into this?”

“Because you laughed!”

“You were laughing,” Sky added.

Levi glared at him. “You laughed too, Skylous!”

Sky grimaced and his siblings, father, and uncle all laughed until he was suppressing his own smile. “Well alright, fine. You’re next Rikandas!”

Yev stepped back with her hands raised. “My full name’s Yevina, just calling that out before anyone else does.”

“I don’t know what the rest of you are complaining about,” Mishiael commented with a grin. “Svello and I are fine, our preferred names are our full names too.”

Svello winked at him and Heronas rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “If we’re all quite done with the full-name-calling? We should do some hunting and scouting now so that we don’t have to do it near dusk.”

With all nine of them helping out, half hunting and the others scouting and keeping guard, it was a very pleasant evening and they all got a restful sleep. When they woke up the next day, Hero, Steve, and Sky all felt like they were being watched, and the three of them knew that the Shadow Beasts were out there somewhere. But nothing eventuated that day, nor during the third day but as they all settled down around the fire at dusk, something triggered.

It was Sky who sent a subtle mental flicker of warning to his father but Hero already knew. Like Sky apparently had, Hero had set up a perimeter around the camp that he had set to trigger any sorcerer entering or leaving and he had felt his magic shift as the perimeter line was triggered. While still holding the conversation the family were having, he sent another warning flicker to Steve and nearly instantly got one back in reply. Steve was ready.

Casually, Hero leaned forward to stroke the fire and as he leaned back, his magic solidified in his hand to form a pure white dagger that disappeared after only a few moments. The sudden shift in his children’s eyes let him know that they understood his signal as hands drifted to weapons, but the conversation continued as if nothing had happened. They each searched over the shoulders of the person opposite them, waiting for the flicker of enemies across the plain.

“Two behind Sky,” Rik’s mental voice whispered to them.

“Another two behind Levi and Yev,” Mishiael’s voice said a moment later.

“Maybe four or so behind Steve, I can’t quite tell in this light,” Sky’s voice added.

“The light’s confusing, not great to fight creatures of shadows.” Steve didn’t seem uncomfortable as he made the statement.

“Another two just rose up behind Dad.” Tanyo seemed moderately uncomfortable.

“Keep your head, watch each other’s backs, shout if you need help,” Hero ordered quietly. Then he smiled; partially warm as he looked over his family, partially smirking as he thought of what kind of trouble they were about to cause. “Let’s give them hell .”

Chapter Text

To the two dozen sorcerers creeping through the grass, it seemed like the Brine family was having a quiet conversation as they lounged around the blazing fire. They were completely oblivious to the enemies sneaking up on them, but the sorcerers had been warned that appearances could be deceiving. They crept closer still, crouching low, their magic whispering around them. Deep black blankets of threaded shadows formed and silently rushed over to the family.

While the Brines may have been aware that they were being sneaked up upon, they were not ready for the silent surge of magic that overcame them so suddenly. Any defence they may have made was overtaken. Their eyelids grew heavy. Their minds calmed, their bodies slouching where they sat. They were so tired. It would be nice to have a little nap, they would feel so refreshed afterwards, what was the harm-

“Get up! We fight!”

Steve’s urgent voice filled their minds and a surge of energy sparked through them, awakening their muscles. It forced the fog from their minds and snapped them awake in an instant. They leapt to their feet, weapons in hands, and spun around to face their enemies. The sorcerers jerked back at the sudden movement, freezing where they were and the two sides stared at each other mutely. 

Bare hints of the sun’s final rays filled the sky, barely illuminating the half-hidden shadow sorcerers. The Brine family, with the firelight behind them, were black silhouettes in the late dusk. Pairs of eyes a dozen different colours burned where their faces were. The sorcerers heard no sound and they felt no flicker of magic to warn them. The Brine family lept into action with shouts that were deafeningly loud, racing towards their chosen targets with their swords catching the light of their eyes.

Magic sparked and flew across the plain that had been so peaceful and quiet only a few minutes before. The shadow sorcerers outnumbered the Brine families but the odds were stacked against them. Swords sliced through shadows and drank them up. Brightly coloured bursts of magic flashed and banged. It would be two sorcerers against one, then one lost in a sea of enemies, and then a duel to the death between two.

The fight was electric, adrenaline burning through bloodstreams. Smiles flashed as shadow sorcerers fell. Swords sang and the Brines felt victory in their bones and elation filled their minds as they crushed their enemies. They were heedless to the man watching them, the man who knew that his followers were falling. The man whose deep red eyes surveyed the field and locked on Levi, the youngest of the Brines. 

Levi barely managed to cut down a sorcerer before something fastened around his neck, choking and burning him as it pulled him backwards. He was jerked of his feet, his feet kicking at the air. His sword toppled from his hand as he desperately tugged at the rope twined around his throat. Bright green magic flared around him and did nothing. He couldn’t draw breath to scream, the world was growing black spots. Panic was filling him even as his sight was fading away, the shouts and cries becoming fainter and the flashing lights growing dimmer.

Though half-closed eyes, he saw the faintest flash of white and from far away came an outraged scream. The loop restraining his neck suddenly dropped away and Levi gasped, panting heavily as he tried to draw breath. His hands scrabbled in the dirt and grass, his legs flailing. A hand firmly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up, an arm pulling him close and a sword handle was pushed into his hand.

“I’ve got him!” he heard Sky’s voice shout from beside him, suddenly clear as the world snapped back. He blinked to see Sky’s warm golden eyes watching his, full of concern. “Stay beside me, I’ll look after you.”

Levi nodded, spinning his sword as he got feeling back in his arms and his breathing settled, trying not to think about how close he just came to death. Sky gave him a brief, tight hug, and then the two spun around and were back to back.

Duels sprung up around the plain. Green and gold swirled around Levi and Sky who fought together, magic flashing in one hand and swords spinning in the other. Purple bolts whizzed by shields of sky blue, rusty feathers slicing through the sky. The twins were weaving a dance of their own around their attackers, narrowly missing a whirlwind of white that spun and darted between them.

Hero was dodging and dancing every which way with only one goal in mind. His vision was bombarded with dark swathes of black and flashes of magic, with sneer and grins and fear-filled eyes. He could smell the metallic tang of blood, maybe his or maybe someone else’s. There was sweat in the air, there was charred grass. He heard shouts and bangs and clangs and groans. Everywhere he looked, he saw his children fighting for their lives. And so every sorcerer felt his blade.

Steve was in a world of his own, narrowed down to him and one other. Lavender light glowed on his skin, turning his spilled red blood into a deep black liquid. His eyes were focused on the cloaked figure in front of him who spun and whirled in place. Magic so deep red in colour that it was nearly black wrestled with his light lavender magic, fizzling and hissing where they connected. He saw other colours flash out of the corner of his eyes, chaotic and distracting. Once or twice, he found Hero at his side as they fought Israphel together. Once, it was Sky’s golden magic twisting with his, then the familiar white magic again. Then it was just him.

Mishiael’s blade sliced through the throat of a sorcerer, metallic blood flying as the sorcerer gurgled and collapsed to his knees, tipping over. With Yev behind him, he spun to face the next enemy, his sword clashing and interlocking with a sword. Tanyo’s sky blue eyes met his, the battle frenzy within them dying a little as they recognised the other. The sounds of battle had quietened, only low groans echoing in the air to the backing track of hissing magic in the distance.

“We’ve got to help Uncle Steve,” Rik gasped as the children came closer together, ignoring the bodies that lay on the ground and the charred and metallic smells in the air. Bright flashes of lavender and deep red filled the sky, the silhouettes of Steve and Israphel barely visible inside it.

“We’re more likely to hurt ourselves or Steve,” Hero shouted over the rumbling boom that shook the ground at their feet, the lavender magic pulsing brighter. “The best we can do is hang close and be ready to dive in when he gets tired-”

“Beast!” Svello yelled, her voice taunt and her wings whipping open. 

The family spun around, weapons out in front of them, their arms shaking a little from the tiny rest they had. Shadows of the night came to life from every direction; growls and shrieks and cries filled the air. Beasts of a thousand varieties swarmed around them, leaping with fangs and beaks and claws bared as swords sang into the night once more.

Chapter Text

The family of four huddled in their living room, the two boys pressed close against their mother in the corner while the father was only a touch in front of them, his hand clenching and unclenching around the handle of his pitchfork. Their home was locked, cloths blocking the gaps around the windows and doors, and every light source was extinguished. Even so, the sounds of beasts growling and howling and men crying in defiance and pain made it through the barricades.

A corner of cloth slipped off the window, exposing the corner and the boys gave a gasp that their mother quickly muffled, the father gripping his pitchfork tighter. Flickers shone through the gap; orange flames of lanterns and torches obscured by black beasts that whirled by faster than any of them could see. The sounds grew slightly louder. A shadow paused outside the window, a head turning with cat-like eyes narrowing on the open window, seeing the family within as teeth were bared.

The black panther leapt for the window and the family within, claws outstretched and the two boys tried to stifle their screams as the father rose to his feet with his pitchfork ready to fend it off. A different figure outside stepped in front of the window, a red jacket peeking through chainmail and a light blue and white sword carving a path through the air. It sliced through the panther which disappeared into smoke, and the figure turned to peer through the glass.

“Put back up the cloth!” the warrior said, slightly faint through the window. 

The father surged up and quickly reattached the cloth to hide the family and with a nod, General Mitch turned from the window, evaluating the street. Torches were set up at even intervals, the flames lighting up even the darkest corners to prevent the Shadow Beasts from jumping past their defence lines. The archers that had initially been stationed atop of the city’s walls had retreated further in towards the castle and the defences of the sorcerers had been activated, filling the streets with brightly coloured flares of magic.

Even so, many Shadow Beasts still broke past that line, leaving it up to the city guard to fend them off in the streets. The fighting had not yet made it close to the castle but Mitch could easily see that it was heading that way. He flicked his wrist, feeling the lightweight nature of Herobrine’s sword, then leapt back into the fighting. 

He tried to dodge battles where he could but it was hard to avoid boars that charged you and tigers that pounced upon you and huge hounds that snapped at your feet and birds that pecked at your head. His chainmail shirt and shin pads deflected most of the attacks and his sword was a whirlwind as his feet danced across the pavers. When he broke through the defence line, he allowed himself a moment to breathe, sheathing his sword and putting his hands on top of his head, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. 

Jogging around the inner side of the defence line, Mitch stayed out of the way of the medics constantly moving from the frontline to the castle where they had set up an infirmary and kept his eyes peeled as he scanned the warriors. He had become split up from Lord Notch and Jerome in the early minutes of the fighting and he couldn’t see them anywhere, but they weren’t the person he was looking for and they shouldn’t have been in the thick of the fighting anyway. The person he was looking for, however, was in the thick of it and Mitch drew his sword and lept in to lend a hand.

The two stood back to back, their swords moving in identical movements as they hacked and slashed. Mitch’s mind was in hyperdrive, combining all the techniques he had learned over the years. He pivoted on his heel, his sword raised and slanted so that claws glanced off it. The blade then slashed down, Mitch using the momentum to jump and flip and twist in the air and take out two birds who had been swooping down. He ducked under his father’s sword as it cut around and was up in a moment, kicking a panther in the face and slashing it.

The Beasts around them thinned and at a nudge from Mitch, the two dove out of the frontlines and let others take their places while they took a deep breath, savouring the calm moment.

“Are you okay?” Captain Nathan asked, scanning his son with concern in his eyes.

“Haven’t been hit yet,” Mitch puffed, opening his arms a little to show his lack of wounds. “The Shadow Beasts are advancing pretty fast and there’s no sign of them slowing; we need to start thinking of how to set up more defence lines when we’re pushed towards the castle.”

“The sorcerers have a few more tricks up their sleeves for when the Beasts get close, but we’re going to have to fully disengage for it and I don’t like our chances of succeeding at that,” Nathan said, looking over the troops. “The civilians are okay?”

Mitch nodded. “The window coverings are working well, the Beasts are focusing on us.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way. I want to see if we can funnel them down the streets and then let the archers take them out.”

“If we set up the archers and call a retreat early, then they can bombard the Beasts while we’re retreating. That will give us time to disengage and then the sorcerers can set off their trap.”

Nathan gave his son a one-armed hug. “That’s the kind of thinking I expect from a General. I’ll organise the troops, you need to find Lord Notch and make sure he’s clear of the fighting before we call the retreat.”

“Got it. Be careful, Dad.”

“You too Mitchie.”

Captain Nathan went one way around the castle, shouting for the captains of the army while Mitch went the other, jogging to find his friend. The defence line was surging and waving under the onslaught but it was more or less holding firm. The line of Shadow Beasts seemed to be unending and tireless in their resolve, constantly determined to break the lines of the warriors and tear them limb from limb. 

Mitch dove into an alleyway and came out to find that this section of line was much closer to the castle, and he saw Jerome’s axe flash in the torchlight as it was raised and brought crashing down. Mitch stayed out of the fighting as long as he could before he darted in, spinning around enemies with his sword blocking attacks. Between one blink and the next, he found himself fighting shoulder to shoulder with Lord Notch, Jerome causing havoc on the other side of the man. 

“You know you’re not supposed to be on the frontlines, right?” Mitch grunted as he fended off a particularly ferocious hound.

“I was trained in the sword just like my brothers, General Mitch,” Notch shouted back over the din, wielding a long silver blade. “The line was buckling, it needed reinforcement.”

“I’ve got him Benja, they can’t take us down,” Jerome yelled from Notch’s other side.

Mitch let it slide for now. “We’ve got to get clear, a full retreat is going to be called so that we can set up a trap.”

“I’m not sure that’s an entirely good idea, but Captain Nathan’s judgement has always been better than mine,” Lord Notch said.

“Let’s go!”

Chapter Text

The world was a chaotic, surging mess of a thousand different colours that flew a hair’s breadth from his skin. Each minute movement meant the difference between life and death, each action was dependent on the speed and accuracy of instinct. It was a thrill of adrenaline that Steve lived for. The heat of enemy magic flying past him made each breath send shockwaves through his body and with his own spells that flew from his hands came a surge of tangible energy.

It had been centuries since he had been in a fight like this one but he remembered his old skill like it was only yesterday. His eyes constantly searched the air around him and so often flashed over Israphel’s deep red eyes. His feet shuffled forwards and backwards and his hands were in constant motion, calling on his magic and oblivious to his sword cast behind him. If there was anyone else in the world, he didn’t see them and if anyone was calling out to him, he didn’t hear them.

Lavender magic flew across his arms and burst out into shields and arrows and shards and barricades and whirlwinds. In his veins, he could feel the power of the claw necklace he wore as it aided him and concentrated his attacks. It was offset by the fingerless gloves that were on Israphel’s hands, and even Steve was impressed by the power of his strikes. 

Shadow magic twisted yet again around his head and he felt that horrible weight that urged him to relax and sleep. His shields flickered for a split second and more shadows surged forward, trying to entangle him within their grasp in his moment of weakness. But once again, just like he had already done so many times before, his magic pulsed and condensed for a split second, and in that split second, Steve felt more alive than ever before.

The shockwave of lavender magic that burst out of him was nowhere near as strong as the one days ago that had torn apart the shadows in the city, but it was easily enough to destroy the shadow magic surrounding him. He launched out of the burst of light with a snarling grin, both hands glowing as he shot forward a ball of pure magic. Israphel barely managed to sway to the side to avoid it and they spared back and forth.

Across the rest of the plain, the Brine family were islands in a sea of Shadow Beasts that pounced at them from all angles, dancing and snapping. Swords sang and magic slashed and family fought back to back or on their own, becoming a whirlwind of death. Even for all their strength, the unending numbers of the shadows were beginning to overwhelm them. None of them thought about aiding their uncle now as each were focused on protecting themselves and the person at their back. 

They were already slightly worn from their battle with the sorcerers and the fast pace of the Beasts was wearing them down even more. They hacked and slashed where they could, but attacks were starting to break through their defence. A claw scratch here, the scrape of teeth there; inconsequential wounds normally, but the shadow magic made them sting. 

Mishiael fought back to back with Yev, the two perfectly in sync. There was no flipping now, no flanking maneuvers to overcome their opponent. It was a hacking fight that was quickly becoming desperate. Mishiael’s sword swung up and slashed through the body of a panther, swaying to the side as Yev’s double-ended weapon cut over his shoulder to keep back a python that was rearing up. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Mishiael knew that he’d been hit somewhere below his knee, and he felt that Yev had a cut on her arm. His limbs were growing tired from the constant and ferocious movement and with a thrill of fear, he knew that he was slowing.

Elsewhere, only a little away from the twins but invisible in the crowd of enemies, Sky fought back to back with Levi and Tanyo. Tanyo’s breaths were coming in short gasps and Levi’s strikes were chaotic and wild, swaying as he was thrown off balance. Sky was more experienced than the two and wasn’t yet feeling the strain but he knew that neither of them could fight for as long as he could. And even he couldn’t win against this unending tide. Not without a little help.

“Cover me!” he half-shouted. He dropped to a crouch, hiding between Levi and Tanyo as they crowded closer, attacking in large sweeping strikes. He fiddled with his amulet, his sword leaning against his leg, his glowing golden eyes not making his job easier as the lock refused to give. Frustrated, he wrenched it open, snapping the hinge and the ring inside slipped easily onto his finger like it had been waiting for him to remember it.

One moment, the plain was a blanket of a living, surging black mass and pinpricks of colours that quickly faded, backdropped by a swirling whirlwind of shadows and lavender. The next, it was a wreath of blazing orange flames that twisted and twined across the battlefield, burning all the Shadows in its path. Mishiael and Yev ducked as one, huddled together with their hands over their heads and their eyes screwed shut, pressed into the other. The fire surged close to them, enough for them to feel their skin heat up and split before it. 

As if realising its proximity, the fire moved away from them and they raised their heads enough to see. A huge living wall of orange and yellow curled into a shield between them and the Shadows who snarled and snapped outside it. Far to the left of the twins, through flickering flames, they saw Levi and Tanyo kneeling on the ground, taking deep breaths. Sky was standing between them, his teeth bared and his hand raised with a bright orange signet ring shining on his finger. 

Sky caught them looking and raised his voice over the sound of the fire and the roaring of the Beasts. “I can’t keep this up forever but I can at least give us a break for a few minutes!”

Mishiael nodded, waving a hand to signify that he had understood. He crouched on the ground, his sword resting beside him as he flexed his hands and rotated his wrists. Yev crouched next to him, resting her double bladed weapon on the ground and giving a small chuckle. “This is fun, huh?”

“We’ll laugh about this in a few days,” Mishiael grinned back.

Hero wasn’t laughing. With the surging mass, he hadn’t been able to zip and dart and dodge around to protect his children. He could feel their constant pulses of magic that meant they were still alive and he was relieved, but he felt uneasy for a different reason too. A sixth sense that he had learned to listen to was screaming at him to step back and take a look around. So he obeyed.

He covered his face with his arm and sprinted through the flames in a burst of speed, using them to break through the army of Shadow Beasts. Once clear of them, his feet skid to a stop on a small knoll only a little away and he turned to evaluate the battlefield with his white eyes. He took in the centre, then circled his gaze wider. His heart froze and he stopped breathing.

The flames curled around the plain, easily marking where the family were, split up into several groups and out of reach of their siblings. Figures were moving through the Beasts, approaching his children; humanoid figures with black cloaks, hoods hiding their faces, and chains dangling from their belts. Several stroked the Beasts nearly lovingly as they passed. They were encircling each group, cutting them off from the others, ready to attack while his children were oblivious, their view obscured by the flames. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Hero saw several suddenly vear in their path and approach him but he paid them no heed as he desperately flicked his head over to his brother. More sorcerers were approaching Steve, keeping low and out of the path of the whirling magic as he fought Israphel but Hero’s gaze went beyond him. Further to the side, nearly perfectly hidden in the grass, he saw a man who had his eyes fixed on Steve, deep red magic spinning around his hands. His eyes were deep red and he turned as if sensing Hero’s gaze and their eyes locked for a split second, Israphel’s eyes narrowing. Hero’s head flicked back to his brother, the illusional shadow he was fighting, and the sorcerers surrounding the Brine family. The flames around the family were dying, the sorcerers ready to spring.

“It’s a trap,” Hero breathed in the ancient language. He leapt forward, sprinting towards his brother as he screamed to his children “IT’S A TRAP!”

The flames flickered and flashed to life again but it was too weak to hold and Hero heard shouts and cries echo behind him as the sorcerers leapt forward, the plain thrown once again into darkness. He spun around while running, slashing his hand backwards, blindly sending a burst of magic at the sorcerers. He didn’t know who he hit but he heard unfamiliar cries of pain as he continued to run towards his brother, torn but his mind was overruling his heart. He ducked around the surging sorcerers, his sword cutting one down. Steve’s magic, recognising him, parted before him and he sprang back to back with his brother, his sword in motion while his magic twisted with Steve’s.

“It’s a trap,” Hero panted, stemming the bitterness that was welling up inside him. “They were waiting for us to separate and become easy targets. I led us all into a trap.”

Steve swore between breaths, finally noticing the sorcerers just on the other side of the whirlwind. “What do we do?”

“You need to get clear, just run! Israphel can’t get you, you’re the biggest threat to him, we’d have done this all for nothing if you’re captured.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll cover you.” Hero twisted and slashed above Steve’s head as the older ducked, destroying a bolt of shadow magic as he shouted to his children. “Get clear! Protect Steve, get out of here!” He blocked another magical attack and spun around, pointing his sword into the darkness and twisting it. The absorbed magic spat out in a line and without hesitation, Steve sprinted down it, his lavender magic surging around him. “ GO! ” Hero shouted.

Hero fought furiously but he was distracted, constantly watching the black mass of the plain, cuts stinging across his body. He saw a lone figure break through the mass and sprint after Steve, his purple eyes flaring in the darkness. A second figure swooped down from the sky on rust-coloured feathers, trailing them. Hero breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of them, and felt a thrill of fear that the rest weren’t following. Then he was fighting for his life.

Shouts in the common tongue went up and several shots of magic flew across the plain towards the escaping three, only some intercepted by lavender or white. Svello swooped and dodged where she could but several still slammed into her wings and she dropped to the ground with a sharp cry, quickly surrounded by a dozen sorcerers. In front of her, Steve and Rik disappeared into the darkness.

With the trap fully fledged, Hero found his shoulders pressed to the warm back of his eldest son. Their swords spun in identical maneuvers as they fought furiously against the black Beasts that were only intent on wearing them down so that the sorcerers could get them. 

“You know,” Hero grunted as he deflected and attacked. “There was a time when in a situation like this, you would have happily abandoned me and then left me to die alone.”

“That was a long time ago, Dad,” Sky said, momentarily pressing harder against Hero’s back as he leaned away from a strike (or maybe it was to comfort him). “From now on, we fight back to back - father and son - like we were always supposed to.”

The brief flare of relief and pride in Hero’s chest died before it could properly take root. “It’ll be hell when Israphel has us,” he breathed, unable to keep the fear from his voice. “It’ll be worse than hell, for everyone.”

Sky’s voice was strong as he replied, and it filled Hero with just a little more confidence. “Then we’ll give them as much hell as we can before they get us.”

Hero grinned; a warm, proud grin despite the inevitable outcome they now faced. “That’s my boy.”

Chapter Text

It was dark, the full moon having set some time ago and the stars shed little light on the world below, and the night wind was cold. It only grew darker as Steve and Rik sprinted through the forest that rimmed the far edge of the plain, the canopy growing thicker and thicker over their heads as they went deeper and deeper. In the darkness, they stumbled and lurched over invisible tree roots and into dips in the ground, their ankles twisting but they kept running. Branches swiped at their faces but they didn’t dare slow and they didn’t dare make some source of light to find their way. Every shadow seemed to be a Beast about to attack and each sound of a twig snapping was the signal of an ambush.

Time blurred and the air whipped their skin but the near silence was broken by a wet snap and Rik gave a scream that was hurriedly cut off with a strangled gasp, something heavy hitting the ground. Steve jerked to a stop, a vague remnant of his lavender magic swirling about his hand as he spun around, half-expecting shadow sorcerers to leap out of the trees. Instead, he saw that the Brine child had collapsed to the forest floor, his eyes screwed up and his teeth digging into his lip as he tried to push himself back up, his clenched jaw only half muffling his whimpers of pain. One of his legs moved as he tried to push himself up while the other was limp and at an odd angle to the rest of his shaking body.

Steve hobbled back to him, ignoring his own aches and the tightness of his chest and heaviness of his eyes. He leaned down and helped Rik up, slinging the younger’s arm over his shoulders to take up some of his weight. “Come on,” he coughed, “just a little bit more.”

Rik’s eyes were only half open but he nodded, his good leg trying to propel him along but Steve still had to support a good portion of his weight as they stumbled a little more along the invisible forest path. Steve’s squinted eyes searched the darkness for a place to hide and rest. He didn’t want to stop if Israphel’s men were on their trail but even if they were being hunted, they couldn’t hope to outrun even a baby in this state.

What was only a few minutes felt like hours but Steve finally caught sight of the low entrance to a dark hole with half grown bushes on either side of it. He angled towards it and gently helped Rik inside, the two having to crouch through the low archway with Rik’s leg dragging behind him. Once through the entrance, the small hole became a little more cave-like with enough height to sit up in. Rik put his back to one of the dirt walls, his jaw clenched as he tried to keep his leg still and his pain silent.

Steve hovered near the entrance for a moment, his eyes squinting into the night and his ears straining. He heard the hoots of owls and the faint laughter of some sort of hunting cat, but there were no footsteps and no whispers. Reaching out a little, his hand lightly touched one of the thorned branches of the bushes at the entrance. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath and pushing aside his exhaustion and a pain in his side as he summoned a little more of his magic, forcing it into the branch of the bush under his fingers. He felt the leaves of the plant shift and the branch under his hand move as it snapped and creaked, but he kept his eyes closed until he couldn’t feel the night wind on his face.

He opened his eyes to see the bush fully grown over the mouth of the small hole, hiding it from sight. Exhaustion crashed over him and his side stung and his eyes fluttered, but he kept himself awake enough to shuffle further into the hole, putting his back against a wall opposite to Rik and letting out a sigh. 

Steve’s head was swimming and his vision was fuzzy and sometimes doubling, and the pain at his side was increasing. He shifted a little, holding back a grunt as he lifted up his shirt, his hand lightly touching the skin. At the contact, his skin burned and he hissed, the hand jerking back for a moment before he carefully reached forward again, bracing himself for the stinging. It was too dark to see what it was, but he felt warm blood on his fingertips and the ragged skin near it, and while he might have been imagining the freezing heat that was radiating from it, he knew that the burning eating away at the wound wasn’t a dream.

“Are we screwed?” Rik’s strained voice asked, quiet in the darkness

Steve dropped his shirt, leaning back until he felt dirt trickle into his hair. “I don’t know,” he whispered. He closed his eyes, trying not to think of where his brother might be now, how badly he was hurt, whether he was dead, and whether his children had died with him. “I don’t know.”

The frontline of the fighting was now a circle around the castle of Lord Notch: a sea of black held back by a thin line of human warriors. Sorcerers, untrained in battle as they were, had retreated to form a last line of defence that everyone hoped wouldn’t be necessary. Many of the servants and the homeless in the city or those whose homes had not been considered secure enough had taken shelter inside the castle.

Mitch was in the frontline with Lord Notch on one side and his father on the other, rallying the soldiers for a final push back. The Shadows were unending no matter how many they cut down and they didn’t seem to waver in their resolve despite hundreds of their numbers disappearing. Mitch didn’t see a way to hold them back any more, and if his own strength was beginning to fail him then he didn’t want to imagine how the less trained warriors felt. He was beginning to feel like he would have to finally accept defeat.

There came no horn or shout and yet as one, the Shadows suddenly stopped fighting and retreated, pulling back from the line. Several warriors surged after them with war cries but they were held back by their more level-headed fellows as the Shadows stood silent and unmoving before them. Medics were called, new warriors went out, and the four leaders gathered in a tight circle.

“Why did they pull back?” Jerome asked, his eyes wide and confused as he stared after the Beasts.

“Who knows, they’re mindless,” Captain Nathan said flatly. “It doesn’t matter how many we cut down, they just keep coming. We can only assume that whoever controls them called them back.”

“We need to figure out how we’re going to win this, because we can’t win a battle like the one we’re fighting,” Mitch puffed, rolling his wrists.

Notch pointed to the tops of the buildings that encircled the castle. “If we do some controlled demolition, we can bring down those buildings to block the streets between us and them. We can then pick them off as they climb it and it would slow the flow of Beasts making it down here. My only concern then would be that they turn to the civilians as easier targets.”

Nathan went to reply but cut himself off as Seto sprinted up to them, gasping slightly. His cloak was ripped around the bottom and he seemed exhausted down to his bone, but he somehow kept on his feet as he reached them. “The Shadow Beasts are forming a path between them, there’s three sorcerers approaching, all wearing black cloaks.”

The four glanced at each other. “Shadow sorcerers,” Mitch muttered.

“Let’s go meet them then,” Notch said, already turning to follow Seto. 

At a nod from Lord Notch, the guard line parted slightly to let the five see the approaching three. The three did not talk nor make any sound save for their footsteps as they approached, ignoring the army of Shadow Beasts around them who stood unnaturally still as if they were ancient statues made out of basalt. Raised hoods threw their faces into darkness and their long cloaks flared back with each step they took, revealing their leather boots.

They came to a stop at the beginning of the gap across the two armies, not coming the full way to Lord Notch’s warriors but still within talking distance. Even so, the middle one raised his voice to speak, ensuring he was easily heard. “We come from Lord Israphel.”

“Never would have guessed,” Jerome whispered to Mitch. Mitch shushed him with an elbow to the ribs.

“You know as well as we do that you cannot stand forever against our forces,” the sorcerer continued as if he hadn’t heard Jerome, which of course he couldn’t have given the distance. “For each Beast you cut down, we can easily form two more. There is a large troupe of us commanding these, and we will not tire. The shadows will only become more numerous as the night wears on and your torches burn low.”

“He’s got to be lying,” Seto breathed. “They’ve got to be using so much energy to be forming and commanding these Beasts, they surely can’t keep it up much longer without becoming magically exhausted.”

“These Beasts are their main method of attack,” Nathan reasoned in a low voice. “It would make sense if they found ways to make it less wearing for themselves.”

“Surrender to us now, and we will send the Beasts away,” the sorcerer called. “Surrender here, and there will be no more bloodshed.”

At this, one of the other sorcerers moved his arms, revealing something that had previously been hidden in his cloak. With minimal effort, he tossed it forward into the gap between the two armies. It caught and reflected the light of the torches as it clattered to the ground, ringing and vibrating. The blade was light blue with white lines, washed with blood, yet the etchings near the hilt were easily visible.

“Herobrine’s sword,” Mitch breathed. The sword in his own hand - a near replica to the one that lay on the pavers - suddenly felt much heavier.

If Notch was breathing, none of them could hear it. Nathan’s eyes were fixed on the sword for a few long seconds, then his expression hardened and he raised his head to the sorcerers. “What if we have forces that you do not know about? What if we refuse to surrender knowing that we can win?”

“Our own reinforcements are coming,” the male sorcerer said. “Even if you could best our current force, its size will increase ten fold in mere minutes. Should you choose to continue a resistance, we will send Beasts into the city itself to attack and tear down houses and anyone they may find inside.”

A ripple went out among the defence line. There wasn’t a person here who didn’t have a family or a friend in the main city. Nathan stepped forward, calming the force with his movement. “May we have a few minutes to discuss your proposition?”

The wave of a hand granted the request and the five backed into a circle, the line closing behind them. They huddled in close, their heads nearly touching as they discussed.

“We can’t risk the people, no matter what the price is and we have no way of protecting them while we’re here, we must surrender,” Lord Notch said firmly.

“Lord Notch, I agree with you, but the question is how ,” Captain Nathan said. “They cannot gain you as their prisoner, Lord Notch. Not if they’ve killed Lord Herobrine and especially not if they have him captive.”

“What about Adam? And Levi, and the other Brine children?” Mitch asked. His voice shook a little as he spoke and the urge to look back at the bloodstained sword was nearly unbearable. Did some of the blood on that sword belong to Adam? Was he dead? Was he alive, but dying? His blood rushed with each buzzing thought and he could hardly focus on his father’s words.

“We can’t stay and wait to find out,” Nathan said quietly. He put a hand on Mitch’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly. The action cooled Mitch’s racing thoughts and gave him a moment to suck in a deep lungful of air and slowly breathe it out. 

“There is only one path for us now,” Captain Nathan continued, “We must surrender but Israphel cannot get Lord Notch. You three,” here, he looked to the three Generals, “must teleport him away from here and protect him at all costs. I will stay here to negotiate the surrender and ensure that the people are safe, and I will try to keep Israphel’s attention away from the civilians and the city as a whole as much as I am able to.”

Lord Notch gave a small nod, his expression grave. “The people know you. They will trust and follow your lead.”

“And I’ll make sure that they know that you haven’t abandoned them,” Nathan added, inclining his head to the older.

“Dad…” Mitch’s voice died off, not sure exactly what he was going to say, if anything at all, but he felt like he’d only just gotten back his father and now...

Nathan’s hand on his shoulder pulled him in and Mitch hugged his father tightly, pressing his head into his shoulder. “Protect Lord Notch, Mitchie, but look after yourself too,” his father’s quiet voice whispered in his ear. “I will be safe here.”

Mitch nodded. “I love you, Dad.”

"I love you too. Always have. Always will."

Nathan released him and turned, moving back to the gap between the forces. Seto quickly motioned for the remaining three to move into a circle, his purple magic already swirling around them. Mitch heard his father call out “We will give our surrender on certain conditions-” and then the world changed. 

Jason’s fingers tapped out a rapid beat on the hilt of his sword, his eyes scanning the empty plain of hills that spread out before the walls of the Sky Army base, his foot shuffling on the bricks he stood on. Around him, the fully armoured warriors were relaxing their spears and bows against the parapets of the wall, talking with one another but many were casting side-eyes at Jason, several copying his nervous actions.

The land had been nearly black with shadows only a few minutes ago, and it was weird to see the green grass again when Jason was expecting another hoard to burst out at any moment. His training insisted that no enemy would only launch one attack and then leave it, but that seemed to be what was happening.

With a long sigh, the General turned his gaze from the plain to further down the wall, where stood one of the many towers that fortified the Sky Army’s defences. They had rounded tops and were a rather new construction that everyone agreed had been built for little to no purpose. That was, of course, before the Shadow Beasts had attacked and the towers scattered across the wall and the base had suddenly whirred to life.

Now, a huge cannon jutted out from their tops, pointing out across the plain with a dozen bright yellow lights lit up along its sides, their ends smoking slightly. Not a single warrior or sorcerer had had to lift a weapon as the towers had come to life and bright yellow magic had burst from them, completely destroying every last shadow that had been racing across the plain towards them. 

Jason turned to look back into the base, his gaze travelling down the castle to the central square. From his elevated position, he could see clearly the purple mist as it rose around the teleportation circle of the grey falcon, shrouding and then dropping away to reveal four figures. Jason could recognise Mitch in a heartbeat as one of the two figures who quickly split off and ran through the base, the third and fourth staying on the circle.

Jason all but leapt from the wall and sprinted through the base, his hand holding his sheathed sword, reaching the square in record time. Seto was one of the two standing in the square, purple magic still drifting around his hands. The other person brought Jason up short.

“Lord Notch?” he asked in a voice slightly higher than his usual one. “What happened, is your city okay-”

“It was attacked by Shadow Beasts, we couldn’t beat them so we had to go before we could agree to surrendering,” Seto interrupted quickly, his words nearly too fast to understand. “We can’t stay for long though, Israphel might be after us-”

“Is your army okay?” Notch asked, bringing some calm to the conversation.

Jason nodded, slightly dumbfounded. “We had a wave of the Shadow Beasts but remember those towers Adam insisted on installing a few years ago? Turns out that they’re actually weapons, blasted all the Shadows right out of the sky. What happened with Israphel, why do you have to leave, why can’t you stay here?”

“We don’t know what happened, that’s why we have to go,” Mitch’s voice said, coming up from behind Jason with a small pack on his back, panting slightly. “The sorcerers had Herobrine’s sword and it was covered in blood, we have no idea what’s happened to him or Adam.”

Ty and Ian ran out of the crowd, joining the group. “What happened?”

Jason sharply waved a hand. “No time. Mitch, what are we doing?”

“Stay low,” Mitch ordered. “Don’t draw Israphel’s attention. There’s no reason he should want the base so if you can stay out of his focus then you’ll hopefully be left alone.”

The Generals nodded and as Jerome arrived, the four stepped back into their circle.

“Be careful guys,” Jason said quietly as they teleported away.

Israphel watched with his hands clasped behind his back, silently observing the plain before him. The moon had finally risen and bathed the plain in silvery light, allowing nothing to hide from his sight. His sorcerers crowded in close clumps around the plain, facing inwards and securing cuffs and shackles as others placed hands to wounds and drew out shadow magic from the cuts. No sense in letting them die now. From his right, Israphel saw a few other sorcerers approaching from the forest, coming close to him before stopping.

“Lord Israphel, we’ve lost the trail of Lord Steve and the Brine boy,” the head sorcerer said, stepping a little closer than the others. “We believed they were heading west but their trail has disappeared and they may have altered their course since then.”

A small flicker of a scowl crossed Israphel’s face, gone so quickly that he hadn’t seemed to react at all. He knew that Lord Steve possessed a Shifting Stone; that necklace he always wore, no doubt. Israphel had been hoping to capture the royal man along with the others, but it was not his priority. The trap had been a success.

He gave a nod to the sorcerers and they retreated as he turned his gaze back to the plain before him. His followers had finished separating the family and locking the magic-restraining cuffs on their forearms and were now standing back slightly, and Israphel ran his eyes across them. The green eyed man had his head lowered sullenly, the toes of his shoe stirring the dirt slightly. Nearby, the sky blue eyed one was keeping his head up despite his black eye, watching and analysing the sorcerers that surrounded him. 

The winged one was standing, favouring one leg over the other. One of her wings was bound to her body while the other hung limply from her back, the bone and feathers unaligned. Her orange eyes were lowered and her shoulders sagged. The other female that Israphel had only caught a glimpse of had fled in the final moments of the trap but his followers were on her trail. Her brother - no doubt her twin by their close similarities - was sitting cross legged, his eyes also analysing the sorcerers but he had a sort of smirk on his face like he was amused by their appearance.

Only two of the family had been kept together. Israphel moved from his place to approach them, his followers parting obediently before him. The shirts of both men were bloodstained and ragged, their hair sweaty and tiny lines of blood dribbling across their faces. Herobrine’s head was hanging, his eyes more closed than open and he sagged against his son who sat beside him, his golden eyes locked on the approaching shadow sorcerer. The son’s expression was tight and focused, hiding any emotion except the chilled anger he clearly felt for the sorcerers around him. 

One of his followers stepped forward as Israphel entered the circle, his head bowed a little. “The Brine son was attempting to hide this,” the sorcerer said, holding out his closed hand. The red-eyed man held out his own and the sorcerer carefully placed the object in his palm, allowing Israphel to raise it to the sky and examine it. It didn’t appear to be much; just a small signet ring made of a bright orange material. 

He sent a tiny, brief surge of magic to his fingers and in response, the orange ring shone brighter and a flicker of flame burst around it and faded. He smiled slightly, slipping the ring into an inner pocket of his cloak and clasped his gloved hands behind his back, turning his attention to the more conscious of the two Brines. “It was Sky, was it not?”

“That’s Skylous to you,” the golden eyed one all but snarled.

“Skylous then,” Israphel said smoothly. “You did not want me to have this ring.”

“I don’t want you to have anything .”

Something deep in Israphel’s eyes seemed to flash and his expression tightened. “You would be wise to watch your words when your very life is hanging onto my every word. With that magic restraining cuff, it would be easy to end your life and the lives of your family with you.”

Had Skylous’ shoulder not been supporting his father’s weight, he would have surged to his feet. As it was, he simply leaned forward bared his teeth. “You watch your own words! I was ancient before your ancestors were even born . I’ve walked this earth for a thousand more years than you ever could and have learned things that you could never even dream of! From one sorcerer to another, you should be showing some respect.”

“That may be true,” Israphel said, his voice still sharp. “But that does not change my statement, nor your position. And nor does it change the fact that you have actively worked against me and, if the roles were switched, you would not hesitate to end my life.”

Skylous kept silent, conveying his answer that Israphel spoke the truth. The edges of Israphel’s lips twitched up in a smile and his eyes flicked up to his followers, still arranged in a circle around the two. He gave the slightest jerk of his chin. “Separate them.”

The boy gave a shout and tried to fight against the sorcerers who took his bound arms and pulled him up but without his magic, he couldn’t resist being hauled away, snarling and snapping something in an ancient tongue. Herobrine slouched where he was sitting and groaned in his half-conscious state, his head rolling a little as if he was looking after his son, but then it sagged again. The remaining sorcerers made their circle a little tighter as Israphel turned his gaze upon him. 

“You may have won our little chess match, Herobine” he said, “but it was never a game I intended to win. I noticed that you were prone to leaving your most important pieces unprotected and you noticed that I sacrifice my pieces in order to gain a larger advantage. In fact, I told you myself; I set traps, willing to endanger something dear so that I may win a significant prize.” He opened his arms a little, gesturing to the circle around them. “I endangered myself and my followers, risking our failure, but you are my prize. And I am sure that your children will serve some purpose too.”

Hero’s head sunk down a little more, whatever energy he had left evaporating from him. Israphel stared at him a little longer before he turned his gaze away to take in his crowd of followers. He raised his voice to speak so that all heard him. “Lord Steve knows the location of our primary base. It is no longer safe. We will take our prisoners to our secondary location and continue our operations from there.”