Magic Meets Might

Cup of Coffee

Epilogue

Home is where the heart is, as they so often say. Go home Cass. But I can never be home. I've wandered too far and too long. If I had a home, would those near welcome me? How long could I stay until I feel forced to move on? I've been in the state of "moving on" for far too long.

It's been 10 years since March 21st when the world almost came crashing down. I haven't aged a day but have dissolved to merely a face in the crowd. I have a normal life now, even went to the shop on the corner to pick up some coffee. Why does this matter? It means I finally have a shot at a normal life. I finally can relax and be myself without worrying about hurting everyone around me. For the first time in too long, I'm not fighting any battles.

Leave this place, the memories are too fresh.

The crater left by that battle-to-be remains. It's desolate and local legend says it's cursed because they couldn't find a better way of convincing people to stay away. All that's left is the frame of the nether portal, the blocks guarded by human absence. I guess people are still afraid that he will come back. I'm not. I watched that insane man disappear with my own eyes.

"The reason there are people like me is to fight monsters like you!"

"Then do it!" He hissed through a cracked helmet. His armor rested in shambles on his shoulders and his white eyes gazed daringly into mine. "Ah, just as I thought."

"No," I choked back a sob.

He grinned, "Same old Cassie."

"No!"

"Weak."

"I am NOT WEAK!"

I haven't contacted Notch since my trial a decade ago. He hasn't contacted me- a silent contract I'll agree to for the time being. I've found that without magic, I actually do more. I meet more people, more down to earth, more relatable to the handful of people I do talk to. I thought with magic gone, there'd be a bottomless hole in me. There was a small one but I've found it is slowly being filled in by time.

My name has been edited off the board of Minecraftia admins. My rank is null, my authority is void. The only place my name has any meaning is in a Moderator report file somewhere. I have no ill will against anyone. When I made that sword, I knew what would come as soon as I used it and I accepted that.

From the years I was on the run from Herobrine, I submitted the map of all 52 places (53 if you count the grave of my dog, faithful to the end) to hopefully be added to the world map. Some poor soul lost in the woods may stumble upon one of my homes and take refuge. I went to places so remote, the chances of that happening are slim but still there.

Cold wind stings my bare hands but is walled back by the tightly knit links of my sweater. It promises winter snow to come, despite March 21st being tomorrow. I don't look forward to a bitter cold spring. It's bad enough that it seemed to snow every day but Christmas this past winter. As it is, the sky is one of spring, bright blue with streaks of white fluff. It allows me to see in uncomfortable detail the crater's contours and nooks and crevices. And don't even get me started on the bones. They may not be human- only the Nether armies were close enough to the blast to die- but the zombies and skeletons bare enough resemblance that it's hard to think they aren't my friends.

Mitch, Sky, Deadlox. Add them to the list of people who have forgotten me. I can understand why. They have their own kingdoms and people to look after and at least the Budder Kingdom is still in the stage of economic recovery. Mitch started his own Survival Games corporation, building arenas and holding tournaments. Deadlox has taken it upon himself to begin gathering an army large enough to wipe out the End. Posters say it's for the good of all survivors- and it is- but I believe he's doing it to finally break the link between him and Enderlox. Good for him.

"So you're finally moving on?"

The trio stand with their backs to me, huddled around the grave of Seto Sorcerer. None of them are crying but are smiling instead. They know their friend is still watching over them.

"Well good for you three..."

Mitch turns around. "So this is goodbye?"

I nod and walk to the grave, placing a bouquet of orchids over the mound. "Goodbye."

Sky and Deadlox join in the hug and we all stand there for a few moments, not minding the light rain that begins to fall. 

"We'll miss you, Cassie."

"Keep in touch?"

Smiling, I pull up my hood and turn away. "I'll try."

Coupled with these dark thoughts, I've brought something else to amuse myself. It rests in my cold hands, fighting off the numb and curls of steam rise from the rim of it. I raise the porcelain mug to my lips and take a sip. The burning liquid returns feeling to my fingers and toes and awakens my senses. I'll have to go to that cafe more often because they make a good brew.

It's a simple cup of coffee but with a dash of hope mixed in. Is it extraordinary? No. Does it have to be extraordinary? Not at all. The key here is, in fact, not the dash of hope. It's the cup of coffee.

No- I'm kidding. It is the hope.

Hope drives people to go home. Just as they say, home is where the heart is. If I have hope, I can have a home, and a heart and a life. I can say, if I have hope, that with firm affirmation, I am no less than halfway there.

The end.

Wow everyone. That was it! I know this was a short ending (and probably not a very good one- feel free to yell at me about that) but I felt it was enough for this.

Now with the end of most books comes a very long, very sappy author's note. I'm not going to do that for two reasons. A) I want you to enjoy the end of the book and savor it and B) there's way too much to say in one note at the end so I will post something after this as the end note thingy.

Quick thank-you to everyone. Don't worry, proper thank-you will come soon.

-Rose