He had just been out mining, heading home when it happened.
A figure dressed like him, who looked like him, down to almost every detail, had appeared on the road in front of him. He'd stared, because the doppelganger in front of him had possessed glowing white eyes.
Then the other had vanished and Steve had stared walking again, wary and slightly curious.
Now he was at home, opting to leave the door locked like he usually did during night, but not shutting the curtain. If the mystery figure decided to make a reappearance, then maybe Steve might see a difference, or something to prove he'd just been really tired- which he still was, but adrenaline was shoving down the exhaustion.
He headed towards the bookshelves he'd kept in his house, for nights where it was too cold or too many mobs lay outside. He usually just read the same ones over and over, but since many books were only produced once, the collection could be worth much more than a few emerald blocks.
He tossed some of the books off his shelf and into a pile, anything to do with people- possibly even myths. Anything that could help him figure out if he'd been hallucinating or not.
When he finally decided he might have enough books to at least find a hint as to what he'd seen, Steve sat down- nearly missing the seat. As it was the chair tilted dangerously, and he had to stand back up to straighten it again.
When he'd finally gotten to a point where his hands didn't shake so much from adrenaline, didn't rip the pages with a single motion, he opened the first book on the pile and buried his face in it for the next thirty minutes, skimming the pages at times and others rereading every word ten times.
It was useless.
Nothing pertained to the figure he'd seen, just past political figures and a few revolutionary builders who were long dead. He tossed the book into a new pile, one he mentally labelled useless. He picked up the next book.
The next.
Another.
More.
Slowly the adrenaline faded, exhaustion returning. Steve rubbed his eyes and yawned constantly, eventually just looking over certain books' table of contents before tossing it into the useless pile.
After the aforementioned pile had reached its peak, he was down to his last five books. He picked up one of them towards the middle and opened it.
He was hardly reading it, simply skimming, until a phrase caught his eyes and he stopped. He'd missed the page so he turned back, flipping until he found it again.
...gleaming white eyes that shine like twin moons...
Steve quickly realized he was in the middle of the chapter, so he turned back until he'd reached the beginning.
"Several times in my travels I have heard of one Herobrine who is a supposed myth. One who looks human but is in reality a monster. It has killed many and has the capacity to kill many more.
It is certainly not human, for it can command mobs and fly. It can move faster than one can blink, and does not care about fires or lava- it can command those elements too.
It has dark hair and gleaming white eyes that shine like twin moons. Most I have met have seen it carrying either a diamond sword or pickaxe. The pick is more common, but the sword has been seen many times, though never at the same time.
It will follow you, and once it has seen you, there is no chance of survival.'
The rest of the chapter looked like drivel and nonsense, mainly, just a repitition of the first segment over and over. Steve shuddered, but then remembered the same name mentioned in some of the books he'd already skimmed through. He checked a few of them again, but it was just the name and 'white eyes', in general. He huffed and picked up another book he hadn't read yet, skipping to the chapter he wanted.
His eyes dipped to the words, searching for differences. But it was just like the rest of the useless books, so he tossed it and reached for another.
He opened it, found the chapter, and read. The third book was pretty much the same thing as the first, except for-
'He does not speak, although I think he might be able to. Besides, he does not need to speak to terrify his victims- his presence is good enough.'
Steve stared, suddenly feeling small chills. The book didn't feel right. It felt like the author was trying to convince the reader that Herobrine was evil and the first book had done pretty much the same thing.
He set it down, reaching for the fourth book- then paused. Beneath it was a book he'd never seen before.
The cover was black and yellow leather, embedded with iron studs. There was gold lettering spelling out the title, and the pages were a light, light blue color.
He stared. Dyeing leather was common, but paper? Not in texts, just with maps and occasionally inks. The ink itself was a dark green, and there was more gold filligree on the pages.
The whole thing must be worth a fortune.
He finally tore his eyes away, opening the fourth book.
'You may or may not have heard of a mythical being going by the name of Herobrine at some point in your life. Rest assured, he will not hurt you. He does have pure white eyes, wears blue and can move from one place to another before one can see.
But he never carries a sword or pick, although he does have a scabbard at his waist. He has never drawn his sword in my presence or in the presence of any others I've talked to.'
Steve had to skim again. because the author was rambling about how of course Herobrine was harmless and he couldn't hurt you and things.
He found a paragraph where the author finally changed the topic and wrote about something no other book had mentioned.
'With such pure eyes, he could be the brother of Notch himself. A being of divine purity.'
Steve stopped, repeating the words under his breath.
Then he shook his head. The person was all for Herobrine, but that line made Steve skip the rest of the topic.
Eventually, after checking for any other useful information, he shut the book, which was ended with the author's ramblings on how great people were and things and nonsense that was probably nice and good but wasn't presented in a legible way.
And he'd reached the last book.
He still swore he'd never seen it before, with its strange patterned black and yellow leather cover, but there it was. He took one look at the cover, Strange Tales Taken by the Ears, and wondered if it was really worth reading.
In the end, though, he was skipping through, grateful that this author had included a table of contents and page numbers. The chapter on Herobine was labelled as one of the last, and it seemed to be added last, as it was both written in different ink and the handwriting was quicker, more urgent.
He found the page and began reading.
'I don’t know much about Herobrine. Probably not enough, but I don’t care. Even if he doesn’t kill me (which I don’t believe he will at this point), I don’t have much longer to live anyways. So here goes.
One fact that goes without saying is that he has white eyes that light up. Not just plain white, but like sea lanterns, if sea lanterns were a pure, piercing white that stared right into one’s soul and was able to discern every little thought you could possibly have.
Most people are downright terrified of him. Some act like he doesn’t exist. Others just act like he’s a really good guy, we are just misjudging him blah blah. I don’t really have an opinion of my own. The accounts make him seem from a homicidal maniac who could destroy the world to a simple person like the rest of us. But I don’t think that he’s on either end of the aforementioned accounts.
He did follow me once. Probably still is following me, but I won’t be able to tell until I go to bed or something, look outside or turn off the lights.
Some suspect he can give nightmares. Like, stand at one’s bed and enter their mind and creep them out. He hasn’t done it to me (yet), but that doesn’t mean he can’t or won’t. I’ve heard too few similarities in the stories of others, and this subject is one that seems to jump all over the place.
Another subject that is highly contested is whether or not he is- odd as it is to most, and I personally find it lightly interesting… if that is the word to use- Notch’s brother. It is vehemently opposed by all priests, but there are plenty of others who think the idea is reasonable.
I leave the subject as a neutral- neither side is right- but he does have some sort of otherworldly power. One moment he was on my left, next kind of to the right. He is able to move distances that would take normal people a few minutes to traverse in the blink of an eye, meters away in the small time it takes for one to turn around.
He is also believed to be ‘King of Mobs/Nether’. Again, I have no true belief, but I do know mobs do not bother him and make a point to stay out of his way. He also has a lot of stories that deal with fire, and sometimes if he is near and my fireplace is lit I can notice it flare up a few feet- which is easily visible, as I have a small fireplace and my fires are usually very small. So the flames will go from a few inches to my neck in moments.
...I believe he is outside right now. I can feel his eyes on my neck- and now I’m sure he knows I am aware of his presence. '
Suddenly on the back of his neck, the miner could tell- Herobrine was indeed there. And why he waited until Steve had reached the exact point in the book where the author had been watched.
'...Yes, he is there. But he’s just watching. If he wants me dead I am certain he would not wait. So as long as I can still write, I will.'
Steve didn't turn- he didn't need to look to know that there were white eyes staring in through the window.
'There is nowhere you can hide from him, once he has first seen you. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t follow you on your way home- even if you go down a mineshaft and block up every entrance possible, I’m sure you could be located. This is a subject I am certain of, and so is everyone else, including the ones that are more on his side. He will find you if he wants to. I don't know if he means harm or not. I may not live long enough to tell.
If these pages are stained with blood, then I suppose either he meant harm or I cut myself preparing dinner again as I did at the beginning of this book. I'm awfully clumsy. If I cut off suddenly or my writing gets worse than it already is, maybe then that is your clue- if this reaches someone- that he means harm. I do not think he does, though.'
Just as Steve finished the paragraph, the eyes he'd felt were gone. He turned around, but nothing was there.
'....He is gone, for the moment. He might reappear right beside me next. I will not know until I look, and I am not willing to look anymore. The window is behind me and my neck is tired. Writing all day is a tedious career.
If you have not met him, I give you some tips in case you happen to run across him- stay quiet. Do not speak. If he speaks- which I doubt he will- and asks a question, answer with all respect, but try to let him do what he wants. I am not sure of his intentions.
Stay still. Do not walk. If you were moving, simply stand up and wait. If he is behind you, do not turn around. He is likely behind you for a reason. If he is next to you or in front of you, turn your head to look at him.
If he vanishes, wait a moment to acsern if he has gone. If he is out of sight, you can continue with what you were doing.
And if you've already encountered him...
Leave your windows and doors unblocked. Shutting him out may be like enticing him to break in. If you are scared, hide it as best you can. I will not know what he wants.
And over all, do not try to chase him or cause him harm. Part of me believes the stories where he kills are the fault of the ones killed. An idiot who looks an Enderman in the eyes on purpose- if he gets hurt, it was his own fault.'
The chapter ended there.
Out of all the books that he had, none of them had been neutral or provided a point of view like this one.
Steve leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. There were so many different views- and there were probably thousands more. Somewhere. He shut his eyes, then stood up and headed outside.
The sound of the door clicking shut would be the last noise in the house until dawn.
*************
He was weaponless, nothing with him except for the last book he'd read, the full moon's light shining on the book's iron studs.
For some reason, there were no mobs out even though the moon was high in the sky. There was nothing, no sounds, not even the small sounds of leaves, wind. Nothing.
Steve kept looking around, trying to see if he'd be met with a pair of white eyes again. He saw nothing, and even though he felt cold starting to bring goosebumps to his arms, he continued to walk along.
Suddenly he could feel eyes on his back again. Steve stood still, not turning around, but very aware of who was there.
"Herobrine." Steve heard footsteps, coming a little closer. They stopped, and Steve took a moment to collect his nerves.
"What..." He stopped, then licked his lips and tried again. "What do you want?"
There was no response.
"Are you going to just watch me? Talk? Kill me?" Again, silence, but this time the feeling of cold was lessened, and a slightly warm breeze began to form.
"...I don't know exactly what to think of you. Some say you're a monster, others say you're divinity, and yet others...." Steve shook his head. "And then there's something else."
He looked back, then said, "Why do you look like me?"
The other crossed his arms, white eyes staring. Steve turned around, but didn't go closer or farther away.
"Or is it the other way around?"
Silence.
"Just... I don't know."
Suddenly the wind knocked the book Steve had been holding out of his hands, setting it closed on the ground in front of the other.
The gold shone like sunlight in the dark clearing.
"...What are you going to do?"
The other snorted, the first actual sound he'd made throughout the whole thing, then Steve blinked and the other was gone.
He whirled around, but was met with nothing. He looked back at where the other had been and stared at the book, picked it up, and headed back home.
The sun rose just as he entered, and lit on a figure standing not far from the miner's house.
The figure watched the miner fall into bed and pull the covers over his head. Then the figure was gone, leaving the sun to shine over the trees and grass like noone had ever been there before.