The Rescue (Caitlin)

I watched from a distance. Thousands of people have fought the dragon to no avail, but he seemed different. He came just as he was with no valiant speech, just the words "I'm not here to fight." If he said that, then why did he fight? That I may never know, but I saw each one of his jabs at the dragon. They were unorthodox fencing techniques, but they worked nonetheless, at least until he lost his balance and fell from the obsidian tower. Instinctively, I rushed to his side as I had recently brewed a healing potion. I never aided the others, but he looked vaguely familiar to me.

I checked his eyes with a torch. His pupils contracted when I held the torch close to his face; they expanded when I moved it away. I shouted in his face and pinched his arm. He did not respond, but he kept asking "Huh?". He had a grade 3 concussion, which requires medical attention. However, there were no doctors in the End and, though numb with fear, I just did what I had to. I removed his armor, filled the syringe with 50 ml of the fast-acting healing potion I had on hand, quickly wiped the injection site with an alcohol wipe, and injected it into his shoulder. I conducted the same tests. When he pinched him, he flinched. I injected a long-acting healing potion into his other shoulder. He opened his eyes, sat up, and held his head. This indicated the presence of a headache.
         "My head. My head." He repeated this until he put his head in his hands. "What happened?"
         "You had a concussion and a bad one at that. Stay here and drink this. You will be able to fight in two weeks." I offered him another healing potion. He sipped it slowly.
         "But I need to rescue you. For Vivienne." His condition improved; his headache seemed to subside and he just seemed tired, if anything. Seeing him brought a flood of memories. He kissed Vivienne before she left during our graduation. She attempted to fight the dragon using potions from her medical studies and accidentally poisoned herself while fighting. Her cry of "I'm doing this for Steve!" sounded through my head like a fanfare. In another event, he asked me "Would you like a banana chip?" on the school bus, and when I asked if I would like them, he laughed and told me "It's up to you to decide". I ended up developing a strong Unlike others, he didn't call me weird. I remembered trying to clean ink stains from his pants; as if in return, he caught me when I had a drop attack. Now, here he was, staring me in the face. He focused on me. "I must fight."Steve struggled to his feet, but I held him back by his wrist.
         "No, Steve. You had a concussion. Therefore, you are sitting down and not partaking in risky activity." I would have pinned him down, but that would be too much of a risk to our safety.
         "I'm fine. Really. I am." He brushed the dust off his diamond leggings and put his chestplate on. Raising his sword, he charged the dragon once again. I feared that he would fall and sustain another head injury, but I let him fight. It's his brain, not mine.

Steve did not fight like the other challengers. He was more up-front, spontaneous, and lacked the typical fencer's grace. His strokes were awkward and amateur-like, yet that never seemed to inhibit him. His eyes were the color of lapis lazuli, almost the same as Vivienne's--and I saw her in Steve in an almost uncanny way. The same sacrificial love burned within him as the fuel for his fight. Saying he had a heart of gold would be like comparing a diamond to coal. Unwilling to watch another friend die, I turned away and practiced my clarinet. I turned to a dynamic melody. I was never good with fast music, but it helped me to keep my mind off of the fight. Halfway through the passage, I couldn't play. I broke down crying in a heap. What would Steve do now if he saw me like this? Would he knock me down or help me to my feet? Why did he come? I looked up again and, in a flash of blinding light, the dragon exploded and left an egg. He descended to my level.
          "Caitlin?" Steve looked at me like he discovered something wonderful. I don't know what he saw in me, though. He was sweaty, seemed like he hadn't showered in days, and, for some reason, reeked of urine, but I didn't care. He was here and that's what mattered. He opened his arms and asked me if I wanted a hug and, for the first time, I did. I wanted to be there forever, safe in his strong arms.
         "You...You came back. What lead you here? The End is supposed to be impossible to locate."  He removed his armor as I handed him a towel. He wiped his forehead and continued to stare at me as if struggling to know if I were real. I looked down at my pale self, which was mostly covered by scullery maid attire.
         "My love for you served as my guide. That and a map, which I burned on the way over." I giggled with my hand over my mouth. "Will you come with me?" As if saving me from a fall, Steve reached his hand towards me and I accepted it.

To the Void Part 2 (Steve)

When the sun set, I embarked on my quest. The path led through a swamp. Other than smetterings of somewhat dry ground and trees, it was a hot, humid expanse of mud. Careful not to fall into the mud, I walked on land and the occasional lily pad. A zombie challenged me, but I calmly drew my sword and slayed it in one hit. I did not eat its flesh. Rotten flesh tastes like moldy head cheese and has the texture of sinew; the sickening substance is best left out of one's inventory. I went on and found myself in a cave. I felt an arrow in my side and spotted a skeleton in the distance. I couldn't hunt a pig with a bow well, let alone a skeleton. Running for cover, I ducked behind a tree. Another arrow hit my arm. I plucked the arrows from my body, keeled over in pain, an, as the map scrambled again, tried to sleep. 

I woke up wet and humiliated. What would Caitlin think if she saw me like this? No one else knew about this but Andrew, my doctor and best friend. I trudged on at night, barely evading more arrows. The smell attracted more monsters; they backed me into a cliff. I scrambled up its face, but not without difficulty. My hands shook as I hung on for dear life trying to find the next hold. I placed my foot on the wall and barely reached a small indentation in the wall. If I hadn't remembered to use my feet, I would have made a tasty Steve pancake for the skeletons, zombies, and creepers chasing after me. That thought made me smile. A sense of humor protects in ways that diamond armor just can't.

Trudging deeper into the cave, I found diamonds and stopped to mine them. Little did I know that this was a trap. I hung by my foot from a rope like a helpless pig. A woman in a pink shirt assessed me with piercing green eyes. She looked puzzled.
         "Andrew! What? Wait.... You're Steve." She looked at me again. "Have you seen Andrew?"
         "Yes, I'm Steve. My question is: Who are you and why am I hanging upside down by my foot?"
         "I'm sorry. I just didn't want Andrew to sneak off at night. I set this trap to teach him a lesson about scaring me like that."
         "And you snared the wrong guy."
         "Right. I'm sorry about that. I'm Sofi, by the way." She cut the rope with a sword, which I noticed she wielded uneasily. I fell on my back. Sofi slipped further into the mineshaft. I continued following the path on the map and emerged in a violent sandstorm. Covering my eyes, I tried to walk forward. A strong gust of wind knocked me off my feet and into hot sand. Luckily, I found a village where I could gather some supplies. I was so desperate for water that I tried to drink out of the farming plots, but a villager offered me some well water. I drank gratefully, letting it cleanse me from the inside out. She was pleasantly surprised that I asked and told me about herself. I listened and gave her a diamond. It would give her food for a lifetime. Again, the sun set, allowing me to follow the map. The path ended at the ocean. Its calm, vast waters beckoned me into the unknown. I made a makeshift boat out of some wood I had and sailed on with only my intuition as a guide. Knowing the map would serve no further purpose to me, I folded it into something crane-like and burned it with my torch.
         I didn't think as I went on. I just went in what directions seemed right. A creeper blew me off my feet, but I brushed it off. I think I twisted my ankle, yet I felt no pain. However, a greater pain washed over me like a tidal wave. I dug straight down and landed in a stone room where silverfish assaulted and overwhelmed me. What if I failed this quest? What if Caitlin died, rejected me, or wasn't who I thought she was? What then? No. If I died, I didn't it to be from silverfish. I killed them off and entered the portal.
         The desolate stone landscape made me wonder how anyone lived here at all. I looked around for any signs of life, but the only thing I found was a large black dragon with terrible violet eyes.
          "Give up, Steve. You can't possibly win."
          "I'm not here to fight you." I drew my sword and donned my armor
          "Of course you're here to fight me, brave hero. That's what you all want: to slay me, the Ender Dragon. When you fail, I'll make sure no trace of you is left." I flashed back to a memory of bidding my high school sweetheart farewell. I barely remember her name, but I remembered this: She would fight the Ender Dragon to save her sisters from doing its bidding. I knew her name, but I had no specific memory of her. Still, this aspect of Vivienne Netherfield was all so new to me. She was talented, intelligent, and kindhearted, but she never struck me as brave, at least not in a heroic way. Vivienne's legacy will not die in vain. I raised my sword and challenged the dragon.
          At first, I fought with ease as I did so for Vivienne and Caitlin. Then, I realized I've haven't eaten anything in a week and drank very little water. My concentration faded. My movements failed; my sword became heavy as if it were the first time I picked one up. I took one last swing and, as my balance failed, I fell to the ground and everything went black. 

Vivienne's Last Request (Caitlin's Perspective)

Trigger Warning: Death of a loved one, possible suicide
I sat at a desk of end stone folding paper cranes, sometimes flinching while anticipating a horrible attack from the horrible dragon looming above me. The cranes reminded me of freedom. No one knew how much I wanted to take to the skies and soar, yet I was so afraid to fall I couldn't bring myself to try.

A crane folded with lapis lazuli paper stood out among the rest. It was the largest, poorly folded, and seemed to lead the flock of other cranes trailing behind it. I awkwardly limped over to my study with more origami paper when the dragon knocked me to the ground telling me that I was worthless. This occurred multiple times a day, but I glanced back to the crane and attempted to join my sisters.

Alisha, Samantha, Lorelai, Marciana, and Rosalie sat at in a circle, apparently trying to close me out. They sat with plates of beautiful, lavish food and ate while praising the dragon like an idol. We used to be the Seven Sisters, but Vivienne died and I was rejected for numerous reasons. I am different from them, yet I can't understand why. I stared at a mirror analyzing my reflection. Why did there have to be such a rift between my thoughts and words? Why were they oblivious to the gaping chasm? With pale skin, dark brown eyes, and a small, waifish figure, I looked like I could play the part my sisters could. However, I couldn't carry a conversation well or bring myself to serve the dragon. I knew, somehow, that it was wrong, but I never could voice this instinct concisely.

Since Vivienne's last request was to spare my life, I now served as their scullery maid. Trapped in a gilded cage, I waited for their orders like a good, obedient servant. Surely enough, they left their mess for me to clean. It wasn't all bad, though. I managed to glean from what they left: some scraps of meat, an untouched dinner roll, and an orange slice. I could not eat too much, though, or they could accuse me of gluttony, which is punishable by death. As cursed as I was, I wanted to honor Vivienne's request and live on.

Vivienne was the kindest to me of all of my sisters. She didn't care if I was weird unless it bothered me, helped me understand concepts such as empathy and finesse, invited me to eat even when I didn't want to, and made my life worth living. On Saturdays, we ate popcorn and drank hot chocolate while laughing at each other's jokes. She cleaned me up when I had accidents and helped me sleep when I was scared. I vividly remembered her last words: "Do what you want, but Caitlin must live...". She ate pizza the night she died, so, logically, Alisha blamed me for lacing one of the slices with poison as I am adept at making potions. While coroners did find a poison in her stomach, it was not one I knew how to make or one I wished to make. Alisha was second oldest after Vivienne, followed by Marcinia, Samantha, Lorelai, Rosalie, and then me. As the youngest, I felt like I had to be the good little sister I always had to be. Since Vivienne secretly despised the dragon, I think she took her life in an attempt to take control of her fate.

As I picked up the detritus they left from their meal, I thought about the fairy tales she read to me. If I were Cinderella, would my Prince ever come?             

To the Void Part 1 (Steve's Perspective)

     Of all the girls I have met, Caitlin was different. They were all beautiful, but Caitlin outshone them in a way that I can't understand. She was different and...I like that. I held a paper crane she gave me shortly before she disappeared. The paper shimmered in the sunlight like a watery moon. It reflected her endearing shyness. She rarely talked to me; in fact, she ran away every time I approached her. However, she helped me when I truly needed it unlike the others who only hung around me for my status. I was captain of the spleef team in high school, played trumpet and guitar fairly well, and good at sword combat, but some people only saw that. I remember spilling ink on my pants in middle school. Back then, I was the despised kid. I couldn't parry another sword to save my life, got horrible grades because the words on the page distorted, and still wet the bed, which I have never outgrown despite what many an unhelpful doctor said.
     "Who are you calling an unhelpful doctor?" Andrew, my longtime friend, came up to me. He sat next to me about half a block away.
     "I never said that." To be honest, I sometimes don't remember what I say. When I referred to the unhelpful doctors, I never referred to Andrew specifically. He has trouble with comments like this, though I am never sure why.
     "Steve, if I could fix your problem, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I can't. Your best hope is to wear protection at night and line your bed with plastic sheets, which you already do. I may be intelligent, but I can't do everything."
     "Yeah." At this point, I resignedly sighed. It felt like I had an entire cave's worth of cobblestone on my shoulders that I couldn't use. I needed to boost my morale, but I wasn't sure how to do it. Maybe I could go on a quest to find Caitlin. She would remember me, right? I told Andrew about my plan to go on a quest.
     "I have a map to her location, but it's a dangerous quest, even for someone like you."
     "Come on. When have I been known to shy away from risk taking?"
     "Still. You could die trying." He tried again to steer me away from my impulsive thinking as he has since we were in the seventh grade. Pointing out every risk, he outlined about twenty horrible ways my life could end. That, however, never stopped me. This was also different from most of my impulses. I felt like I had to do this, but I wasn't sure why.
     "And I can die not trying. What's life without a little risk?" I unsheathed my sword and went on my way. Andrew followed, again trying to dissuade me. We arrived at his house.
    His house was made of oak wood and was mostly average except for the adjacent examination rooms. He claims this configuration makes his patients more comfortable. A door with a coded lock separated this space from his home. Leading me to the dining room, he droned on about attack strategies and tactics. I ended up tuning him out. I can't process information that comes too quickly or does not interest me. As much as I "know" about fencing, I just see it as hitting my enemy with a sword until it dies. I couldn't learn traditional techniques, so I found out what works through (nearly fatal) trial and error. I prodded Andrew into retrieving the map; he still tried to dissuade me from going on the quest while sitting on a chest that I suspected the map was in. Why did he have to be such a good friend?
     I told him to get off the chest. When that didn't work, I lifted him off the chest, found the map, and ran off with it. He chased after me and blocked the door hastily, his dark brown eyes filled with fear and concern. This continued for about an hour and, when he was sufficiently tired, I made a sprint towards my own house.
     From the outside, the house was impressive. It had two floors with a balcony that overlooked a lake. A mineshaft stretched underneath the house for miles and served as a vessel for untold wealth. Wildflowers, trees, and the occasional creeper peppered the surrounding meadow. On the inside, it was nothing special, just a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen, a living room and storage space. On the other side, villagers tended their fields, but I never thought much of them. Minecraftians looked down on villagers, but they still smiled and invited passersby to trade. I approached their village with my map, armor, and sword in tow. I stopped to examine the map. The letters blurred and swayed in sickening ways. Even if I didn't read like that, I didn't know the language.
Well played, Andrew. Well played.
     A villager greeted me and volunteered to interpret the map. He persisted until I relented, handing over the map. He said that someone like me could only read it at night and translated it, but I think I needed another translation for the first verse alone.
          Traverse over rocky paths, steep and flat
          And through mires and marshes wade.
          Find this land's most beautiful place
          And be careful not to mar its face.
          Cycles, how they ebb and flow,
          Yet it's up to you where you must go.
          Through storm, through fire you must persist
          As the souls you cherish fade into the mist.
I could write an entire book about my thoughts while interpreting this, but my only thought was "What?". The path went through about one hundred biomes, which was not long for me, but I would have to climb some sections, travel at night which meant fighting off monsters, and I forgot food. I just hoped my desire to see Caitlin could fuel the journey.