The World Where the Sun Never Rises

In my Minecraft world, the sun never rises. I spawned not on grass,

but on a floating island of obsidian amidst a void of violet static. While others punch

wood, I harvest "weeping glass" from trees that grow downward into the abyss.

Gravity here is a suggestion, not a law. I built my base in the ribs of a

giant, fossilized titan that drifts through the clouds. My only companion

is a Creeper that doesn't explode; it simply follows me, whispering coordinates

to structures that shouldn't exist. Yesterday, I found a portal made of bedrock.

It didn't lead to the Nether, but to a mirror of my own world—only there,