Eyes White as Snow - A Minecraft Story [discontinued]

Chapter 10- Ghosts of Glitch's Past

        By the time I woke up, I was incredibly sore. My eyes were tired and stubbornly refused to open, so I had to rely on my other senses to try and decipher where I was. Groaning, I sat up much to my back’s protest. The ground was apparently smooth stone, brick or something of the like. It didn’t feel like either. The air was hot and musty, filled with dust or possibly ashes. The only sound that I could hear was my own heavy breathing and a distant crackle of fire somewhere far off.

        “Welcome, Herobrine.”

        The voice that spoke was so familiar that I had to reply. “It’s you.”

        The voice chuckled, lacking the distant quality that it usually had when it was in my head. “Of course. I’m surprised that you didn’t suspect it yet. Welcome to my home.”

        I managed to open my eyes. Everything was a big blur of red and- Well, just red I suppose. A tad of orange here and there, but the entire area seemed to be a deep shade of scarlet. Once I could see a tad better than your average drunk, I could make out the fact that I was in a huge castle made of a red brick that I’d only heard of. There was a fountain in the center of the foyer spouting lava into a large basin. There were tall windows barred with Nether brick fences across most of the walls, and two spiraling staircases were positioned on either side of me.

        I looked up at the face of the voice, still not quite able to make out many details. “It’s you,” I hissed. “The voice in my head.”

        The figure chuckled. “Hm. Quite.” Unlike the instances when he appeared in my mind, where his tone was laced with malice, he seemed kind. Genuine, sort of. You immediately trusted him, from the moment he spoke. “I have yet to see your face, as you haven’t mine. You’re younger than I pictured. Usually glitches with such power are much older. Died at a young age, hm?”

        I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that mean?” I growled. “I have as much power as anyone.”

        He chuckled, apparently not bothered b my attitude. “Spirit, too. Yes, you’re a fine one. Not like most of the others.”

        “Others?” I echoed, standing up as the world stopped spinning.

        “Yes,” He replied. “Many. I keep a few. Better than killing them, I suppose.” There was something in his voice that I couldn’t place, but found myself ignoring it.

        Everything came into focus and I could see clearly now. The man was wearing a slightly worn brown shirt that had been torn at the arms. He had warm eyes and a short black goatee, and leaned slightly on his left leg. He was wearing a pair of light grey jeans along with it, the edges frayed with use. The bottoms of his shoes were made of a thin layer of obsidian, most likely to combat the hot terrain of his chosen home. 

        “Welcome,” He drawled. “Welcome to my mansion, Herobrine.”

        I glanced around, pretending to be very interested in the slightly charred tapestries. “Who are you?” I demanded. 

        He laughed, apparently having a very high sass tolerance. “You know me as Kungen. We shall keep it at that.”

        I shrugged, crossing my arms. “Fine. Why did you bring me here?”

        He hesitated for a brief moment before responding. “Because you and I both know that you don’t have much longer.”

        “To what?”

        “To live.”

        That much I expected. I huffed, glancing at the floor. “So what do you want from me?”