Down the dark dreary steps of Herobrine's lair walked a dark figure. Draped in a cloak and holding something mysterious, a one in a million substance to wake the dead. As long as the person had only been dead for a few days.
The figure walked down until he reached a dreary cell, moist as if under a body of water. A wall of obsidian stood in the way of a perticular cell. The stranger pulled a diamond pickaxe out of his cloak and broke down the wall and the bars behind it.
Behind the wall and bars, wrapped in chains, the body of Herobrine was sprawled on the floor.
The figure raised his hand and tossed the bottle onto the floor by the body. The red potion splashed onto Herobrine's body and after a few moments the red liquid soaked into his skin. The wound in Herobrine's chest glew faintly and sealed itself, his chest moved slowly up and down. He opened his eyes black and empty, but slowly the white glow returned.
Herobrine smirked and tugged at his chains. The wall began to shake. He kept pulling harder and harder. The wall shook and the ceiling started to cave in.
The cloaked figure jumped back and ducked behind a wall.
Herobrine tugged one more time. The ceiling caved in, the wall gave out and a mountain of stone descended onto Herobrine, burying him completely in stone and rubble.
"S-sir are you okay?" Spoke the cloaked person.
For a moment all was quiet, then suddenly the mountain of rubble shook and with the loud sound of crashing stone Herobrine stood before the man.
The figure removed his hood and bowed before Herobrine. Under the cloaked bowed the villager with the caramel eyes.
Herobrine smiled wickedly at him. "You've done well, my servant."