by Mark Mulle
*****
“What should we do about the two of them?” one of the cult members asked on the following night. The person under the hood felt brave asking that, since Draven appeared to be irritable ever since the meeting.
“We have to find them,” Draven stated. “This time, we’ll all strike. I thought I could take them on by myself, but they managed to slip away. I thought that I had buried the boy, but I can still feel his presence. He is alive and well, but before too long, he won’t be. I have plans in store for him.”
Draven tried to sound cocky, but in reality, this whole crisis troubled him. He had never had so much trouble in dealing with just two people. While it was true that he outmatched the boy, that kid was clever, managing to slip away like a magician. His first flaw was not bringing his other members. After the incident, he dismissed them eventually, saying that he would handle it on his own. He was embarrassed at the fact that someone knew about his meetings, someone he assumed was the hero who would defeat the Ender Dragon again.
“Where could they be though?” one asked.
Draven rubbed his chin, thinking of the possibilities. Then he realized something. “Aha. I might know where they are.”
“Do tell!”
“I don’t know where that hole leads, but there is a mansion close to where the girl escaped. A storm happened shortly after I lost them as well. Unless the owner is a cruel, heartless person, the girl probably ran into the mansion, seeking shelter there. Tomorrow, we shall see. We won’t assault the mansion unless they are in there and won’t come out.”
The crowd gave their cheers as everyone was dismissed. Draven put out the fire, and then when everyone was gone, he disappeared. When he reappeared, he stood in a room that should not have existed. There was no structure, no light, and it didn’t provide any ways to exist. Even more of a paradox was the fact that he could see himself fine, as well as the creature in the center.
The creature was entirely black and should have blended in with the room entirely, but Draven could distinguish it from the rest of the void. The creature appeared to be sleeping, but Draven knew that it could hear him even if he whispered. Even when in the recovery stage, the Ender Dragon could see and hear all.
“I’m sorry that I’ve yet to kill them, Master. But don’t worry. I think I’ve figured out where they are, and they’re in for a rude awakening once I assault them,” Draven stated. Usually, his voice was filled with confidence, but in front of the Ender Dragon, it sounded meek, almost as though it begged for mercy. The Ender Dragon did not respond, but Draven knew that it heard him. It currently rested in a pocket dimension that branched from The End. Here, it rested, absorbing the darkness that surrounded it. While the Ender Dragon was powerful enough already, it still needed lots of rest before it reawakened as the ruler of this world. Inside of it, it still had the soul of the boy who consumed the dragon’s blood, and it needed to gain its powers back. Draven saw it as someone who had broken their legs and would take months to recover, gradually gaining back their strength, taking baby steps. The Ender Dragon was doing the same thing, and when it awakened, it would have all of its power, and the boy who existed inside of it would finally be extinguished, consumed by the Ender Dragon’s black soul. The idea made Draven giddy; his ancestors had worked hard in order for this plan to work, and his grandmother was the one who delivered the black blood to the boy. This plan was coming into fruition like clockwork, and when it was over, they would all pay for their crimes against the world.
Chuckling, Draven teleported out, removing his hood as he went back to the Overworld. The sun would be rising soon, and the castle would be calling him to do his work. He let his hair down, revealing that his slicked-back hair was shoulder-length, and his skin began to change from pale to creamy. Finally, he allowed himself to teleport, ending up in the watchtower of a castle. Thankfully, he would just cast a few spells, and that would be it; then he could bring his wrath down upon the heroes and the person who kept them in the mansion if he needed to.