The next blockbuster Minecraft novel from the bestselling publishing program--now with over five million books in print! Opal has almost done it all--fighting monsters, protecting people from pillagers, and even defeating the legendary Ender Dragon! But that’s all in the past. Now, Opal has hung up their adventuring hat and is living the life of a happy creafter, far more likely to build you a bed than fight a Wither. In fact, Opal has decided that their time is best spent building their Dream Manor outside the very village that displays the Ender Dragon Skull they brought back from the End! Meanwhile, Opal’s sister, Lisa, is only at the beginning of her journey. She’s ready to be a hero. Just ask her. Or don’t. She’ll tell you anyway. She knows every single story ever told about her sibling, and probably a few other heroes as well. She admires Opal immensely, always has. But now it’s her turn to have an adventure. And that adventure might be bigger than she could ever have imagined. One day, a traveling adventure named Braun arrives in town, claiming to know how to defeat a Warden--a fearsome mob that not even Opal has bested. Lisa jumps at the chance to join Braun on his epic quest, and Opal reluctantly agrees to accompany the duo--only to protect their sister, of course. But along the way, Opal might just rediscover their love of adventure, and realize that it’s even more fun when someone else is there to share in the story….

Autorentext
Danny Lore is a queer Black writer and editor raised in Harlem and currently based in the Bronx. They’ve had their short fiction published by FIYAH, Podcastle, Fireside, Nightlight, EFNIKS, and more. They’re also included in A Phoenix First Must Burn and Janelle Monae’s The Memory Librarian. They’ve written the comics Queen of Bad Dreams, Quarter Killer, and most recently, Lunar Room. Their next creator-owned project is the middle-grade graphic novel Kicks, illustrated by Seth S. Smith.

Leseprobe
Opal

I’ve finally done it.

Everyone in the village thinks I’ve already done “it all.” It all is an adventuring term, where everyone and their moms think that adventuring is the height of everything. So of course, Opal the Adventurer accomplished it all a long time ago.

I journeyed across our world and back again, battling witches in swamps and pillagers in plains and creepers in caverns. I’ve brought home obsidian and strange ancient debris and all sorts of wild treasures. Most updated maps available are based on my journeys, and those that aren’t I’ve probably got a strong opinion on (never ever use Purely Paladin’s Perfect Paths if you want to find your way home!).

I’ve been deeper underground, higher in the clouds, and farther into the Nether than nearly anyone I’ve ever met. I fought a Dragon that most didn’t believe existed until I brought back proof.

And yes, by that definition it all is pretty cool. It has to be, because everyone who wanders into the nearby village or shows up at my door wants to hear about my stories, or recites them back at me, or tells me how they want to walk that same path. I’m not going to tell them that they’re wrong.

But they’re kind of wrong about that being it all. Because today, when I pull this lever, I will have done it all, as far as I’m concerned.

I will have created the world’s most epic, most beautifully designed door and gate entrance in the history of doors.

Okay, okay, so to the doubters: Most of you have doors, and especially in a world of creepers, zombies, and really nosy neighbors, you know how important a door is. And yeah, I could have a normal door or a simple redstone contraption. Step on pressure plate, pull lever, slab of iron opens or closes. But we’ve all done that . . . right?

So imagine, if you will, the Best and Coolest door. Even if my sister Lisa stood on my head, we’d be too short to reach the top of it. It’s powered by sticky pistons and so much redstone that it took me weeks to mine it all up. Composed of various deepslate, gilded blackstone, and gold and copper block, which all pull back in perfectly timed chunks to reveal the entirety of the farm that Lisa and I have built for ourselves.

When closed, the gilded blackstone and gold form the shape of the Ender Dragon I defeated. I had only my own sketches to base it off of, since no one else had ever seen it, but I think I did it justice. In the center of the door, I put a single diamond block as its eye. The eye? If I set this up properly? Should be the last block to pull away, and the first to be pushed back into place.

I have spent months planning and mining. Weeks putting every block in, piece by piece. Using wool and wood and dirt to map out the best thing I’ve ever built and then replace those blocks with quality materials.

And now it’s time to have truly done it all.

Or, at least, it should be.

“Well, at least enough blocks move that we can get into the house,” Lisa offered. “You know, if we climb a couple.”

I stared up, slack-jawed at the utter failure of engineering I’d apparently created. While the top left side of the door had moved properly, after that only a few pistons had activated, leaving scattered holes through my carefully conceived Dragon door. Through the holes I could see our wheat field, the grain waving in the wind. “No, no way, I mapped it perfectly, it should work . . .”

My Dragon door was part of the wall that protected our farm, done in the same dark wood as the wall we’d built around the village. But the entire wall was worthless if the door couldn’t door properly, wasn’t it?

I still had scaffolding and ladders set up from all the construction. Grabbing hold of a ladder on the right side of the door, I started to climb up. I had to see where, exactly, the construction had failed. Were the pistons not set up properly? Was the redstone—

The redstone. As soon as I’d climbed up my scaffolding and looked at it from above, it was clear that was the root of the problem. There was redstone dust scattered on top of some of the blocks. Had the pistons ruined some blocks I couldn’t see? Farther down, I could see my still-connected redstone layout was glowing way less than it should have been . . . so I’d probably also attached too many pistons, even though I’d done the math a bunch of times and thought I had it right . . .

Lisa was looking up at me, and she wasn’t anywhere near as impressed as I’d hoped she’d be today. Which sucked for two reasons: one, because we looked so much alike I could have been staring at a reflection of my own disappointment. Or a ganglier, slightly taller version of my own disappointment, anyway. I’d once made a joke that she looked like who you’d get if a sapling could cross its arms, and she pointed out, rightfully so, that meant she was going to just keep getting taller than me.

The other reason it sucked was because Lisa was always so impressed with the retellings of adventures and weird creatures in the world. For all she cared about my old life, I wanted her to understand how equally cool my projects here were, too.

“You’re gonna be at this all night, aren’t you.” Lisa wasn’t asking a question.

“The door should work!” I shouted down. “Maybe I need more redstone?”

That got Lisa’s attention, and she perked up slightly. “Do we need to go mining tonight?”

I rolled my eyes. “Obviously not.” Her shoulders drooped as I came back down the ladder. “I’ll go mining in a day or two. I just have to…