Authors note: Hello! This is a crosspost from my Tumblr account, which is under the same name. On that blog, it is not under this title. That is because I didn't realize until today, that I wanted to make it a multi-part fic, so I gave it a title. I hope you enjoy.
[Do we still have to write 'I don't own these characters, they belong to the original creators' or has that time passed, it's been a while]

Soren stands there, in the Order's Hall, but he doesn't feel the usual pride, or joy.

No one else is there with him, the graceful tower abandoned by his friends and fellow heroes, left as a stunning reminder to the world that anyone can be great.

What a joke.

He wanders through the Hall, stopping at the center, just glancing at the empty halls leading to the places his friends used to be. The multiple patched areas from where Magnus destroyed the tower and they had to patch it in a hurry, the stray piles of redstone dust that had blown out of Ellagaard's lab, the splinters of wood and bone that once made up the training dummies that Gabriel obsessively trained against, they scatter the dusty and uncared for floor.

And the scattered shards of glass from Ivor's testing of potions remain as well.

Soren knows he should clean all this up, that leaving it this way will do nothing for him but make him suffer, but...he can't let himself touch anything. Can't let himself change anything. Not...not anything major.

He shakes his head, moving down a hallway to get a pair of gloves. He can at least clean up the glass. That's a hazard, if any animals try to make the place their home. Cats and wolves know better than to eat wood and redstone, those are natural enough to prepare for, but glass is a human-made invention, and he can't risk it.

He returns quickly, gathering all the shards in his inventory, careful to not step on or disturb any of the other remnants. It takes him a while, before he feels he has collected all the pieces. He looks around once more, before heading off into his own wing. He doesn't bother to close the door, as he walks.

The floor in this area of the Hall is much less dusty, but once he enters the main area the dust is replaced with scattered and crumpled pieces of paper. He sighs, walking over to an object that looks like a furnace, dropping the glass shards into a hopper on top. As he watches the glass slide into the heated block, he smiles. That's one thing that can be reused, and he's glad for the slight distraction.

When his eyes start to hurt from watching the intensely glowing melting glass, he reluctantly makes his way over to a desk at the back of the room. He pulls off the gloves, dropping them on the floor nearby, before he rubs at his face. His research is going nowhere, again, and it distresses him. He didn't expect it to work, in all honesty, but...if there was any way for it to work, even a sliver of a chance...he had to keep trying.

He already couldn't forgive himself, for what he had done. What he had...failed to do. He had to try for this, at the very least.

He stretches out his arms, before looking over the papers that were left scattered over the surface of the desk, hoping that something new would jump out at him, that there had been something he had missed, that now, would be able to be seen. That he would somehow solve everything. That was what he was supposed to do, right? Soren the Architect, Builder of Worlds, Leader of the Order of the Stone...

This was his job. To take the impossible, and make it possible.

But he wasn't sure he'd be able to do it this time, and it kills him inside. If there was anything left to kill. He growls in frustration, sweeping his arms over the desk's surface, sending the pages fluttering all around the room. He breathes, for a moment, letting his head sink, before he hits a button on the side of his desk.

"Recording five. Currently, day 48, After The Ender Dragon." Soren speaks into the room, as he starts to pace around. "Despite my best...efforts...I am still no closer to completing my project since I last spoke. I have scanned over my writings, my books, over and over again, and I am still left with nothing concrete. I refuse to take that for an answer. If this is able to give us anything, if this has been able to allow me to do what I have done in the past, then there must be some way to make this work."

He walks across the room, folding his arms behind his back as he stares up at the block. It's surrounded in iron bars, glass covering even that. As he looks it over, he starts to shake. "The Command Block must be able to do something, about this. It has to be able to. There is…something similar that it seems to be able to have as a function. Something so close, that…I wonder if it can be adapted to our purposes. It has done everything else I have ever asked it to. There...must be a way. Therehas to be a way."

The sound of a button clicking startles Soren, and he spins around abruptly.

Ivor stands at the desk, setting the ejected record on the desk.

Soren watches him for a moment, before nervousness fades to sadness. "...Hello, Ivor."

"Hello, Soren." The black haired man looks around the room, resting his hands on his hips. "I...would ask how you were doing, but...I think that might be obvious."

"...Yes, well...I suppose you could think that." He turns back around, examining the block again.

"...Soren, when is the last time you talked to someone else? The last time you slept? The last time you even ate?" He walks forward, but still gives the orange haired man some space.

"That doesn't matter. I have a problem to solve."

"And you can't keep solving it if you keep pushing yourself like this! You'll starve, and then what am I supposed to do? I don't know how this thing works as well as you do!"

Soren spins around again, his face unreadable. "You've been gone the whole time. You aren't doing anything to help."

Ivor looks hurt, for a moment, before he sighs. "I've been...talking with the people who live around. Checking up on them. Like we...used to do." He crosses his arms, looking off to the side. "...They're making cities, you know."

"I don't honestly care." He wanders across the room to check on the molten glass, again.

"I didn't expect you to say you did." Ivor walks back over to the desk, setting down a small bag. "...I brought you some food. I assumed you hadn't been eating, so...it's got a bit of everything. And I've started work in the garden outside, again. Since you've...neglected its upkeep."

He sighs, staring at the glass. "...I can't give up, you know."

"I know, Soren." He walks over, resting an arm over the other man's shoulders. "I know."

They stand in silence, watching the used glass melt down into something new, something useable. Something that can make other things.

Soren finds it sadly poetic.

"...So." Ivor finally starts, looking over to him. "How are you really doing?"

"Well..." He takes a shaky breath. "...This isn't...how I thought this would end." He slides out from under the other man's arm, turning and resting his back against the warm block. "I thought...we would all stick together. That we...would all keep going. That we could do anything." His shoulders slump. "...I feel terribly, terribly guilty."

There is a pause, before Ivor joins him on the floor. "...This isn't your fault."

"Oh, but it is-"

"Soren, listen to me. IfI hadn't convinced you to leave that damned block here at home-"

"No, if I hadn't thought we should go fight the damned thing-"

"You couldn't have known what would happen-"

"I should have!" Soren's shout startles the two of them. It takes him a moment to recover. "...I should have realized just how dangerous it was. It was...foolish for me to think we could manage it at our state. We weren't ready. And I pushed us forward anyway."

Ivor watches him, before he looks away. "...It isn't fair to blame yourself."

He pushes himself to his feet, abruptly. "No one else will. So I have to." He wanders back over to his desk, glancing at the bag. His shoulders un-tense slightly. "...Go ahead back to the garden. I'll...meet you outside in an hour or two, alright?"

"...If you aren't actually out there, in two hours, I'm coming back to drag you out myself." He gets to his feet, dusting off his robe. "Got it?"

"Of course, Ivor."

Ivor watches him for a few moments more, before he leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Soren sighs, picking up the record and placing it back in the machine. He hits the button again. "Ivor has arrived to bring me snacks, and to pull me out of my work. Finally. I expected him to...show up earlier than now. Not that I mind having the time to work, that of course is the most vital. However..." He glances over to the clock across the room. "...I think all this time alone is starting to get to me."

He shakes his head, opening a drawer in his desk, pulling out a book. He rests it on the table. "As I started to say earlier, I have...found an artifact. An old one, long unused. It is...a book. It speaks of, well..." He sighs again. "...When it speaks of is unimportant. But it speaks of command blocks. And different abilities that they can use. I have been attempting to figure out how to activate these different 'modes', if you will, for a while now. While I can get it to create objects as I request, even ones without a known crafting pattern, I am...unable to activate anything else. Supposedly...it can activate the ability to create without limits and to fly, the ability to be unable to effect the world around you...and the most crucial of all..." He looks over to the block again. "...The ability to return from death."

He starts pacing around again. "It is referred to as 'respawning', but does...not list how to activate this ability on the device. Nor, does it say if the ability is retroactive. If I can find a way to activate it...then I can at least try. Perhaps it...requires something of the person, in order to do so. If that is the case..." He looks down at the floor. "...Their armor is always accessible for that purpose."

He stops pacing, finally returning to his desk. "I hope that it will not take much longer to figure out how to cause this to occur. The longer they remain...away...the harder it will likely be for them to be able to adjust to being back." He wrings his hands, before pressing them against the table. "...Magnus must be so frustrated, with how impatient he is. He's probably talking their ears off, complaining to Ellagaard and Gabriel about me taking so long. I...can't make them wait much longer. Having to wait this long is already far too cruel. For all of us."

Soren sighs once more, resting his hand over the button. "I must return to my research. I have been given two hours by Ivor, before he comes to retrieve me and force me to go outside. That...I hope this two hours will be enough to fix this." He presses the button, ending the recording, before he starts to page through the book again.

"Come on, Harper...please have written something else useful in here..."