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To this day, there would be no world without imagination. We use it to create our homes, our cars, our brethren. Without it, there would be nothing on the barren planet of Earth. So it was only an extension of our daily imagination when a man in Sweden created his own world, Minecraftia.

This world was based on the belief that life could be simpler, but it could still be adventurous. This world was based off of measurements and textures, of minerals and ideas, that Markus Persson strung together in his head and wrote it all in code. Blood was none existent, for food could naturally heal the wounds of a fallen warrior.

This world was magically generated over and over again, by millions of people all around Earth that wanted to know what they could create for themselves. They wanted to know how long they could survive in an imaginary world with creatures only thought about in fables and stories in their homes.

There was so much in this world to do. There were monsters to be slain. There were friends to be made. There were pets to be tamed. There were villagers to trade with. There were creations waiting to be constructed. And every person who took on this story would try to do something unique, something that they had never done before that they wanted to be created.

There were so many stories to be told. Stories about someone who survived an ambush of Creepers. Stories about someone who caged a ghast. Stories about someone who made a skyscraper, or a race track, or a recreation of the Eiffel Tower. So many worlds could be created; so many imaginations could finally be quenched.

Yet there was one story that relied on itself to save this imaginary world. A time where everything was peaceful, but there was a threat looming that those who cared about their wonderful world had to stop.

Notch was a god in this world. The villagers built churches for him, and the people who played in his world thanked him for his creation. He was the ruler of the Aether; a world like heaven which could be visited through a portal. From his palace in the floating islands above the clouds, Notch watched over all the people that roamed in his world. The people who had recovered the rare materials to reach him traveled through his palace where they would bow to him in salute.

Notch would tip his signature brown bowler hat and answer to the requests of the brave travelers that had reached him. They would ask him for answers; how to save those in peril, what needed to be recovered to create something. Notch would sit on his throne or pace around the room, showing the travelers the materials or strategies that needed to be used to meet their requests. He would bid the brave ones ado as they exited his palace to travel back to the Overworld or fight in the dungeons that held secrets in the Aether. Notch would resume watching over his people, satisfied with his work. The Ruler of the Aether was always at peace.

Herobrine was Notch's brother. Myths created him in an evil image which was not true. Herobrine had helped Notch in creating his world. While Notch created the Aether and the wonders of the daytime, Herobrine ruled over the Nether and the creatures of the night. Herobrine was the Ruler of the Nether, the Guardian of the Monsters. He lived his life in creating the beasts that would harm, fight, and sometimes help the people of his brother's world. He always got a bad rap, though. In every world, something bad happens for all good. So Herobrine was just making sure that it was all in balance. Besides, the materials collected from his creatures were necessary to survival.

Herobrine watched over his realm much like his brother did. He had his own army of Zombie Pigmen to attack those who only came to the Nether to destroy it. It was his world that he had created, so it was his world that he would protect.

The two brothers had always been in total control of the laws and wonders of Minecraftia. They had shared their interests and ideas, and both had aided those in need. Never had they not had control over anything in their world. Until now.

There was a new threat on the horizon. Notch found that cave networks and mineshafts were suddenly ending in world generations. There were enormous networks that seemed manmade, even though he had not created them, nor had any of his people. He consulted his brother to see if it had anything to do with him. Herobrine was afraid to say that he had no idea what was causing the disturbances as well.

Later that day, Notch observed a mysterious black figure with four long, thin legs and two arms of a similar build. He noticed that the figure was slowly traveling toward a town of people. The figure entered one of the houses, and Notch observed a commotion. The house was burned down, and two of the figures walked back out. This process was repeated among the entire village. Something was wrong.

Notch consulted Herobrine to see if he had recently designed a new hostile mob. Herobrine confirmed Notch's fears that the figure, which he called an Enderman, was not in fact created by one of the rulers of Minecraftia. It had been resurrected by an unknown source.

Over the next couple months, Notch grew restless. More increasingly large towns were being attacked by the Endermen, and they also seemed to have begun to control the other mobs. Notch hoped that his strongest cities would be able to stand tall, for there were only three large cities left; Mt. Wolfpack, New Copenhagen, and Imperial Plains.

But even the greatest of his cities wouldn't be able to withstand the new threat to Minecraftia. Notch had hope, though. For a few weeks into the Raid of the Endermen, one of Notch's faithful servants reported that an Oracle in Imperial Plains had created a prophecy on the result of the Raid. Notch heard it, and knew that he had to keep one child safe.

This is the story of Alex, the child that is the only hope for Minecraftia's last stand. This is from his perspective, so grab a soda, boot up your internet browser, and enjoy the ride!

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