A made-up scene that will probably not happen in FD. Forgotten Demons is by @RainingFaye.

~~

Petra had been wandering again.

She wasn't really sure why. With the creepy demons roaming the world, it would be best for everyone, Authors, heroes, or otherwise, if they stayed in the Order hall and only those on patrol duty left. She'd been smart enough to remain inside, but Notch knew she'd been having difficulty staying in place recently.

Her hands brushed the marble pedestals by her sides, registering the faint brushing of leather and wool against her fingers. Banners and paintings decorated the walls around her, and some of their lesser treasures hovered over the pedestals. Several enchanted swords, a couple of potion bottles, an ender pearl, the best bow she had ever seen. The banners displayed the Amulet, the faces of herself and her teammates, and some of their strongest enemies - the Witherstorm, the White Pumpkin, Salem and Jacky... the list went on.

As she walked, Petra hummed a simple lullaby, stepping quietly on the red carpets so as to not disturb the oddly anxious stillness. No breeze shifted the banners, no dust settled on the ground. Everything was still, except the orange-haired mercenary who regretted the title of hero.

She picked up the faint sound of a voice a short distance away and halted, her wordless music faltering. The voice seemed to belong to one person, but interrupted itself and carried over previous sentences in a manner that seemed to indicate multiple. Either way, someone else was out of bed, and she intended to find out who.

Her dark-eyed gaze flicked in the direction of the source of the voices, and her left hand lowered to grasp the pommel of her enchanted golden sword. Cautiously, silently, she headed toward them, cursing the interesting acoustics of the Order hall that distorted the voices.

Petra's ears led her toward the entrance to their main treasure room. She was now fairly certain the voices belonged to one of her teammates, but still couldn't understand the words. She pressed her back to the wall just behind the archway and took a calming breath before tightening her grip on her sword and turning in to the Order's treasure room.

The walls here were of polished marble, occasionally striped through with gold and iron. The treasures here hovered over blocks of gold, the remnants from their greatest adventures yet among spaces for those to come. The blue flint and steel drifted next to the dark Nether star, and a leather-bound, gilded book stood a few blocks away from a pulsing, glowing red light. At the far end of the treasure hall, upon the raised platform that housed Ivor's many armor sets and the Fictions and Fables of the Order (as it was called), stood two identical figures.

Both had long black hair, reaching partway down their backs. Both wore the same spiked purple armor, and both carried the same diamond sword upon the same hip. Each stood facing away from Petra, and seemed to be discussing something of importance. She snuck closer, crouching behind the White Pumpkin's mask when they turned and began walking toward her.

"...and then everything began burning," one of them said, green-eyed gaze drifting away. "I don't know what happened to the others. Rush only survived because... well, she already told you." The second figure nodded, and Petra cursed under her breath - one of the two was Jesse, her teammate and leader of the Order.

She couldn't tell which was which.

"Would writing in the book change things?" the second figure asked, brushing away a lock of black hair and fixing the yellow hair clip over it. "That's what the surviving Authors did last time, wasn't it?"

"I don't know, I was-" the first speaker froze mid-sentence, her eyes trained on Petra, who stood and shook her head slightly. I should have been paying attention, she growled at herself.

"Petra! How've you been?" one of the Jesses asked. "Was Clarion okay?"

The first Jesse was silent, one arm holding the other as if nervous.

"It was... fine," Petra replied, puzzled by a whole number of things. "Civil war was brewing when I left, though."

"Oh no," the talkative Jesse said with a faint gasp. "Now, of all times?"

"Yeah. We can deal with it later, though. Why are there two of you?"

They glanced at each other, then the silent Jesse gave a faint smile as her colors began to blur. Petra watched with disturbed fascination as her black hair turned to brown, her sword seemed to meld into her body, and she shrank several inches, all with that same small smile on her face. After a few seconds, the second Jesse was nowhere to be seen - in her place stood a short, black-jacketed teen with a long scar across her face and a pair of feathered gray wings. The young woman reached out her hand as the colors stopped shifting. "Ruby," she introduced herself, that smile still on her face. "You might remember me."