Explore the world of Minecraft inside and out with this boxed set collecting three official novels: The Crash , The Lost Journals , and The End ! Minecraft: The Crash When Bianca and her best friend Lonnie are in a terrible accident, she's hospitalized and faced with questions she's not equipped to answer. She chooses instead to try a new virtual reality version of Minecraft that gives her control over a world at the very moment she thought she'd lost it. As she plays, she realizes that Lonnie is somewhere in here too. She encounters Esme and Anton, two kids who are also playing on the hospital server, and teams up with them to play through to the End—and hopefully to find Lonnie and bring him back to reality. Minecraft: The Lost Journals Allison and Max must team up to find his missing uncle Nicholas. Using the journal his beloved uncle left behind as a guide, the duo hurtle headlong into a treacherous and unknown landscape called the Nether. There, they meet a strange girl named Freya and her woefully unheroic wolf, Bunny Biter, who agree to help them in their quest. The group must take on dangerous new foes and unravel the cryptic journal to find Nicholas and reunite this fractured family. Minecraft: The End For as long as they can remember, the twin endermen Fin and Mo have lived in the mysterious land of the End. They know everything there is to know about their world—or so they think until the strangers from another dimension arrive. The invaders are called humans, and they’ve come to steal artifacts and slay the ender dragon. Caught off guard, the twins are trapped in the middle of a war between the endermen and the humans, with the future of their home at stake. Tracey Baptiste is the author of several works of fiction and nonfiction for children including the Jumbies series and The Totally Gross History of Ancient Egypt . Baptiste volunteers with We Need Diverse Books, The Brown Bookshelf, and I, Too Arts Collective. She teaches in Lesley University’s creative writing MFA program, and runs the editorial company Fairy Godauthor. Mur Lafferty is an award-winning author and Hall of Fame podcaster. She’s the author of the Nebula- and Hugo-nominated finalist Six Wakes and the Shambling Guides series, and host of the popular Ditch Diggers and I Should Be Writing podcasts. She also co-edits the Hugo-nominated podcast magazine Escape Pod. Lafferty is lives with her husband, daughter, and two dogs in Durham, North Carolina, where she runs, plays computer and board games, and bakes bread. Catherynne M. Valente is the New York Times bestselling author of dozens of works of science fiction and fantasy including Space Opera , The Refrigerator Monologues , and the Fairyland series. She has won or been nominated for every award in her field. She lives on an island off the coast of Maine with her partner, her son, and several other mischievous beasts. From Minecraft: The Crash I was getting used to moving around in the game. There was one thing that I really wanted to try. Flying. From the top of the hill, I jumped twice, expecting my avatar to soar into the sky. Instead, I tumbled down a few blocks. Must be survival mode and not creative, I thought. I climbed back up and looked around. On the other side of the hill, in the distance, was a field of brown. A desert biome, I guessed. There didn’t seem to be any villagers or buildings, so I turned and went north, following the curve of the river. I ran past mobs of pigs and sheep, clumps of trees, and fields of flowers. Much farther away, things turned green. Swampy. I’d have time to explore all of that later. What I wanted was to check out the village on the other side of the river. So I turned my gaze, and the entire world turned beneath me, pointing me in the direction of the village near my home base. Running in the game felt amazing. The world whizzed by me, and the exhilaration of being able to sprint around was intoxicating. I could almost pretend that they were really my legs pumping beneath me, sending me flying through the Technicolor scenery. “Optical illusion,” I said out loud. I knew I was really lying in bed in a hospital room, and the entire world around me was a projection of light that extended only as far as the goggles did. It wasn’t real. None of it. It reminded me of a unit we did on optical illusions with my eighth‐grade art teacher, Mrs. Franklin. I loved it. There was the Necker cube—a cube drawn in two dimensions—that you could see two different ways depending on which plane you decided was “front” or “top,” and also the Hering illusion, which showed how a at illustration could appear to curve or even move with a series of strategically placed straight lines. But my favorite was the snake illusion, a circle of colors that only seemed to move when you weren’t looking directly at it. It seemed like magic, like the colors themselves had a mind that could read me, and know when I wasn’t looking, and prank me f