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Philza stopped dreaming of lost children for a second, only to wake up and find one on his own porch.
A black and white figure was sitting down on the floor, near the entrance of the home Phil shared with Techno, hunched down and slightly shivering in the dark. He seemed lonely.
一Can’t sleep, huh?
Ranboo flinched. He turned around to face the older man, and when he recognized his warm eyes, he sighed in relief.
一Uh-huh 一he confirmed.
Phil smiled, dispiritedly. No one seemed to catch a good sleep, those days. He would listen to Techno’s uneasy steps coming from inside the young man’s room, when Phil himself couldn’t close his eyes for more than a few minutes.
一You know, you could come inside next time, if you need company. It’s freezing out here.
Ranboo’s eyes widened and blush appeared on his cheeks; if Phil had noticed it, he didn’t show it. The kid felt his heart warm up as he remembered a list of friends, hidden away in a book that never left his side. Philza’s name seemed to belong there more than ever.
一I like the cold 一he said 一. I mean, it makes my bones hurt a little, but I enjoy it. As long as it’s not raining, it’s not that bad.
Phil stared at the horizon for a little too long.
一We are often fond of the things that hurt us.
Ranboo frowned, confused.
一Phil?
一I’m sorry.
They both went quiet for a while, like a sweet understanding of the need of time to think. Phil could tell, even in the dark, that Ranboo had a lot on his mind.
一Ranboo, is everything okay?
The kid shrugged and tilted his head, while thinking of a smiley face and a stolen book and a betrayal of uncertain author.
Everything’s terrible.
一Nope.
If Ranboo had dared face Phil, he would’ve seen a worried, compassionate expression. But he feared rejection and prejudice too much to even turn around.
一Can I do anything for you?
Please help me.
一No. Not really.
A lonely wolf howled at the moon in the distance, as if asking for a friend.
Ranboo could relate. He desperately wanted Phil to hear his silent plea, but he knew he could never admit it out loud.
Phil heard it, nevertheless. He was good at that.
It was clear the exhausted teen wouldn’t explain his sorrow, so Philza offered all he had.
一Would you like to hear a story?
Ranboo’s tired, uneven eyes stared directly at his. Phil knew he had seen terrible things and endured enough pain to make him grow up too fast, but damn, he could still see a child’s soul behind those eyes. And thus, he would try to provide what any despaired child needed.
一Have you ever heard The Tale of the Three Birds? I could tell you that one, if you’d like.
Ranboo turned around to face him and hugged his knees. His eyes were wide open; his big ears, like those of a vigilant dog, seemed ready to listen.
Phil smiled, tenderly, and set out to tell his story, unaware of the third sleepless listener, who had sat on the floor, on the other side of the door.
Technoblade couldn’t sleep, either.
He was tired, yet functional, like he usually was. It felt as though he had been tired for years now. The minute he tried to close his eyes, a hurricane of blood-spilled images and threatening sounds stormed his mind, making it impossible to feel at ease. His mind was always shouting, he felt; if the pictures and memories weren’t loud, then the voices definitely were. Forever rowdy and forever awake, insatiable and demanding, the voices could easily transform everyday tasks into a nightmare. His ears hurt, those days, and he’d have to fight the impulse to scratch his head until he drew blood.
Those kinds of times had become more and more common, ever since he’d faced The Butcher Army. Something deep inside him had broken, that bloody afternoon; something he couldn’t quite name. There was something particularly cruel about seeing the kid he had started considering a close ally, who he had silently sworn to protect (because he could see the glow in Tommy’s eyes whenever he was around), in an apron covered in somebody else’s blood, looking for his. He could recall encountering a President that day, not a friend; not Tubbo.
Technoblade had had too many bad experiences in that matter.
In spite of their shared goal, Wilbur had also become Mr. President. Mr. Stranger. Techno would not have that again.
Ever since the night of the Trial and the Execution That Wasn’t, the voices seemed to be louder, more violent. Techno would try to find something to work on, something to distract his trembling hands, in order to quiet down the screams and avoid the blood they yearned for so intensely. He would work himself to exhaustion, until he could barely focus on anything anymore. His legs would feel weak, and he couldn’t trust his shaking hands.
Phil could easily recognize those especially hard days. He was able to spot the symptoms, and he’d do his best to help his suffering friend. His soothing voice would sometimes be enough to appease Techno, for the voices seemed to like Philza. They were kind enough to let Techno sleep whenever his friend was around. Although some days, some dreadful days, when nothing could calm down the voices’ lust and Technoblade resembled a wild beast more than ever, when he was forced to become the Blood God, Philza’s words proved insufficient.
Those days, he stayed nonetheless. A promise made long ago remained untouched, unbroken.
The days when he could help, he would; and the days when he couldn’t, he would stay by his side.
Technoblade, unaware of that promise, would silently thank his friend’s help, unable to find the appropriate words. However, Phil would understand.
That night, that evening of chilling breeze and unsurprising insomnia, was not particularly bad, but he still roamed the quiet house to try and relax.
一Shut up 一he whispered to himself.
Shut up and let me sleep.
Quit yelling and forget the blood.
Think of a Friendship Emerald and leave me be.
From a distance, he looked like an angry animal. A frustrated boar trapped in a zoo, walking back and forth with his eyes closed and tight fists, which turned his knuckles white. In this tiring walk, he started following Phil's voice without noticing it, which, in all fairness, was not an uncommon thing to do.
(Philza would sometimes find him by his side, while he worked on some farm or repairing, without an apparent explanation; he'd let him be, because each other's company helped them both.)
Once he had reached the door and was about to open it, Techno heard a second voice. He recognized Ranboo's murmurs immediately.
The kid had proven not too bad, despite all. He appreciated Techno and Phil's hospitality, he would build small gifts for his host-ish, which would confuse Techno (though nothing was more confusing than finding himself thinking about those kind gestures hours after they had taken place), and he tried his best to be out of their way. Techno had grown to enjoy Ranboo's quiet and kind company; he would even make him laugh, sometimes.
It took only a few days for both him and Phil to notice Ranboo’s own baggage.
They'd sometimes find him talking to himself or moving from one place to another non-stop, without saying a word. A few minutes after that, he'd sort of snap out and be confused about the place he found himself in, like he didn't remember going there.
It confused them, sure. But, to be absolutely fair, who among them didn't have their own peculiarities?
Technoblade’s mind would never shut up.
Philza had nightmares that made him sob bitterly in his room.
Ranboo suffered from poor memory.
Techno almost wanted to tell him “hey, come in, join our little club; we're all messed up here”.
The young man sat down on the floor, with his back against the door, trying to listen to Ranboo and Phil’s conversation; trying to distract himself. He thought about joining them, but almost immediately discarded the idea. He felt he needed time for himself.
He didn't even notice the voices had quieted down, now that Phil was speaking. He took off his crown while wriggling his fingers and unconsciously pressed his head against the door. As Philza said something about a story, Techno started remembering a little boy with a red cloak and a wooden sword, who sometimes couldn't sleep unless a blond man sat next to him and told him about his journeys.
Phil found himself back in the “bedtime story-teller to an insomniac kid” role so quickly it almost scared him. It fit perfectly, like an old sweater he hadn’t worn in a long time, but was still comfortable.
The role felt unused, and the kid seemed lonesome.
Before he even noticed, he was easily narrating the beginning of the story.
一Once upon a time, there was a green, wise bird, who we will call Old Bird. Old Bird was kind and brave, and he had the keenest sight of all birds in the sky. He enjoyed using green leaves on his head, because it almost looked like he wore a hat. Sadly, he had spent many years on his own, flying alone and searching for company. Until one day, he made a family for himself.
Phil smiled proudly, as though remembering old times.
一First came Pink and Yellow Bird. He took them in so few weeks apart neither of them could longer remember who was older. It took them very little time to get used to their new home. In fact, Yellow Bird seemed so pleased that he tried to imitate Old Bird’s funny hat, and found leaves for himself. Only his were of many shades of dark brown.
The man chuckled.
一Shortly after, Pink Bird started feeling left behind, so Old Bird reassured him that he needed no leaves; he had beautiful crimson wings, and three bright-yellow feathers on his head that wouldn’t stay down.
“You see?”, he said to the little bird, “this is your crown, and this your cloak. You don’t need a hat; you are our little king.”
Technoblade smiled, holding his golden, not-feather-made crown in his hands. He remembered similar words being said to an adventurous child with glittering eyes.
一A few years later, came the last one: Youngest Bird. He was loud and energetic and fearless, and he became one of them incredibly fast. His wings were red, a lighter red than Pink Bird’s, and the day after Old Bird brought him home, Yellow Bird gave him a piece of green cloth he had found on the ground. Youngest Bird wore it around his neck proudly, and refused to take it off ever since. Even when…
一Even when what?
Phil stayed silent.
“Even when Wilbur wasn’t around”, Techno remembers.
Philza took a moment to catch his breath, before continuing.
一Neither of them were his own, but Old Bird didn’t care. He shared no blood with any of them, and yet they were his kin; that was his family, small and loving. Those were his sons. He had found them and he swore to protect them with his life, for he loved them with all his heart.
The young man sitting against the door, trying not to be discovered, remembered that silent oath. He could recall making an identical one.
The kid in black and white smiled. He wondered if anyone had ever promised to keep him safe so fiercely.
一And what happened then? 一asked Ranboo.
一Then, one day 一Phil frowned, his lip quivering 一.... they discovered the outside world.
The wind shook the leaves of a nearby spruce. Phil was looking at it when he spoke again.
一The little birds were curious, ever so curious, and Old Bird knew he wouldn’t be able to keep them close forever. They were getting bigger, after all. Youngest Bird was still little, but he followed his brothers nonetheless. And there was no coming back, after that. The kids would spend hours and hours outside, playing games, flying around, learning. They would come back, late at night, to ask Old Bird questions he sometimes didn’t know how to answer. They seemed to grow every day.
一And what did Old Bird do?
Phil sighed.
一Well, he did what he had to do, didn’t he? He let them grow, as all fathers must. It ached, just a little bit, not seeing them as much, but everything was going fine, until…
Ranboo felt his leg muscles tense up. “Until” seemed to hurt him, exactly like rain did. Not immediately, not fatally; but too much of “untils” and his skin would start burning.
An excessive amount of that potential tragedy, encased in that word, could become lethal.
一U-until? 一he said, encouraging him to continue, yet dreading what he had to say.
Techno exhaled quietly; he felt a dormant catastrophe coming up, slowly but steadily.
一Until 一Phil’s voice was almost a whisper 一 Yellow Bird fell in love.
一White, red, blue, black and yellow she was. Beautiful and breathtaking, indeed, but deeply deceiving, Old Bird could tell. Yellow Bird didn’t seem to notice. He used to call her Freedom.
Phil laughed, humorlessly.
一She seduced him, and he persuaded Youngest Bird. He somehow managed to make him love her, and thus, they were both led away from home. Away from their nest, away from Old Bird, who stayed behind with Pink Bird, until he ran away too, to help his brothers.
一Help them?
一Yes. Freedom was elegant and exquisite, but she was also demanding. She started asking more and more from the little birds, until they had made enemies out of every single one of their friends. Until they had nothing left to offer. Pink Bird heard their brothers’ wail and rushed to them. But before leaving, he looked behind, as he sprayed his burgundy wings; he looked directly at Old Bird’s eyes, asking for his blessing.
一And what did Old Bird say?
The moonlight made Phil’s eyes look wet.
一He said yes 一his voice cracked and broke Ranboo’s heart, just a little bit 一. He said yes and stayed alone in the empty, solitary nest.
一Why? Why didn’t he go with Pink Bird?
Phil’s laugh was bitter and faint.
一Because he was a fool. He stayed behind, and he waited, and he hoped. He thought Pink Bird would return with his brothers, and the three of them would come back soon, safe and sound. He stayed behind because he wanted to make sure the little birds’ home was prepared for their return, doors wide open and the fire ready.
Silence.
Technoblade closed his eyes and let out a sigh, while imagining a fire lit for no one.
Ranboo held his knees closer.
一Old Bird didn’t like Freedom? 一he asked, with a hesitant murmur, loud enough to be heard only by the flies.
一There was nothing wrong with Freedom itself 一answered Phil, raising his eyebrows 一. But She led them to War.
Ranboo nodded weakly. Neither of them said a word, until Phil spoke again, as if he had thought better about his answer.
一No, Ranboo 一he said, with a wry smile 一. He fucking didn’t. Freedom cost him his sons.
Silence fell again, stubbornly determined to steal Ranboo’s words away.
The leaves being shaken by the wind was the only sound on that quiet night. It seemed to be the only sound in the world.
Phil looked sad and Ranboo had no clue how to ease the painful absence of comfort. No words seemed appropriate.
What is there to say when a good man’s heart is breaking?
In the end, it was Philza who broke the silence.
一He did go to them, eventually. Old Bird, I mean.
一And what happened when he did?
The breeze was the only answer.
Phil frowned, tightening his fists.
Ranboo held his breath.
So did Techno, from the other side of the door.
What happened when he did?
Ranboo knew a small part of the story. He heard rumors of a Revolution and a podium, a monster and explosions, a button, a plea and a blade. Two best friends with broken hearts, a man who felt betrayed, a son who went mad, a mourning father who slayed a dragon. Ranboo had seen the cruel ending to a lost country, he had written down the secrets of a war whilst in the battlefield, but he wasn't there when it all started. He’d met the amnesiac ghost, but not the man he was before.
If he'd known that the man who had actually met the Mad Man, the man who was there, was sitting 2 feet away from him, he would've had the answers he didn't want.
He would've been told all about the day Old Bird came to his sons and found them lost.
He would've known that Pink Bird's beak was spilled with blood that wasn't his.
He would've found out that all that was left in the world to prove that Yellow Bird was ever there was his hat, his brown leaves he playfully wore on his head; the ones Old Bird brought to his chest and held closer than ever, as he screamed in agony.
The hat and that old, green piece of cloth. The one Youngest Bird wore around his neck. The one he took off for a moment, angry and sad, declaring he'd never put it on again. That same piece of cloth that he couldn't keep away, for it was all he had left from his brother. The one he put back on, and tied tighter.
He would’ve heard about the pieces that were stripped from the world, that day.
Unsung songs, unplayed chords and broken promises.
The things Yellow Bird took with him to his grave.
A piece of Old Bird’s heart, a slice of Pink Bird’s bravery, a fragment of Youngest Bird’s innocence.
Ranboo would’ve known about the things Phil didn’t want to talk about; the ones Techno didn’t want to remember; the ones Tommy could never forget.
What happened when Old Bird came to his sons?
He found them and he hurt them, trying to protect them.
一Old Bird did his best to help the little birds.
Old Bird killed one of his little birds.
一War broke loose and it became too much to handle. Youngest Bird followed his brother around, waiting for instructions. He put himself on the crossfire multiple times; and when he didn’t, Yellow Bird made sure to put him there.
That last part was a whisper Phil didn’t want to be heard.
But Ranboo heard it.
He sensed the slightest hint of resentment in that broken whisper.
一Yellow and Youngest Bird had ran away from home, found a new one and then lost that one, too. They were lost and angry and sad. Pink Bird flew to them to help them take it back, and it pretty much worked out, at the start.
“Until Wilbur lost his mind. Until I joined forces with him like a fool, because I didn’t realize how dangerous he had become”, Technoblade thought, bitterly.
一But then, Yellow Bird lost himself. Youngest Bird didn’t recognize him anymore, and he grew scared. He relied more and more in a Green little bird he found on his own, and less and less in his own family.
一Was Old Bird mad at him, because of that?
Phil took a moment before answering. He couldn’t be mad; the boys were acting weird, and Tommy felt afraid.
一No, of course not. After all, Old Bird had taught him to love.
Ranboo closed his eyes and enjoyed the cool breeze.
一Anyway, the three birds were together, but they stood far away from each other. They didn’t trust each other as they should’ve. However, Pink Bird helped his brothers and the friends they had slowly regained back. And when it seemed they had won their home back…
“Everything went wrong”, finished Techno.
一The things they hadn’t talked about enough came out in the light. Youngest Bird made his choices, Pink Bird made his. They both felt betrayed by the other.
一And what about Yellow Bird?
Phil stopped.
He hadn’t thought about how to tell this part of the story.
一Yellow Bird 一he said, hesitantly 一became unstable. He did horrible things, and Old Bird had to stop him.
Stop him for good.
一He went mad 一said Ranboo, testing the waters.
一No 一Phil’s response was a little more harsh than he had intended, so he tried again, softer 一. No, Ranboo. He lost perspective and he forgot to think about everyone else, yes.
“You fought so hard to get this land back.”
一No one could deny that what he did was bad.
“Wil, it’s all gone!”
一But he was also sad. He was mourning.
“My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished!”
一Not many heard that.
Ranboo wrapped his arms around his body, hugging himself.
Technoblade’s hands were shaking uncontrollably. The voices were loud; impossibly loud.
Phil thought about telling Ranboo the rest of the story. The ending that led them where they were. The night he and Techno sent a message.
“You knew Friend was in your house!”
But he couldn’t.
He said something else instead.
一While Youngest Bird and his Green friend fought against Pink Bird, Old Bird found Yellow, and said “let’s go back; everything will be okay if we leave this place”, in spite of believing nothing would be okay again.
一Old Bird lied to him! 一said Ranboo, like a little boy who feels betrayed by a fairy tale’s hero.
一Oh, yes. Old Bird lied many times.
What is a father, thought Phil,
(“Just breathe”, he’d told him, knowing damn well that he couldn’t, “and you’ll be alright”.
“Lying bastard”, he’d said to himself that afternoon, while trying to keep him warm.)
if not a bunch of reassuring lies?
(“It’s okay, mate. You’ll learn to control the voices one day.”)
What was he, indeed,
(“I’ll always keep you three safe.”)
if not a well-intended liar.
Old Bird.
Yellow Bird.
Pink Bird.
Youngest Bird.
Technoblade listened through the door, with a heavy heart.
The birds’ names seemed so innocent; and yet, they explained Philza’s perspective perfectly.
Old Bird.
Pink and Yellow Bird.
Youngest Bird.
His and Wilbur’s name were free of any reference. They were their own person.
But Phil and Tommy?
No, not them.
They were roles. Parts in a play; a play about a family.
Old Bird. Aged, mature, wise. He who should protect and heal.
Youngest Bird. Inexperienced and childish. The little boy who knows nothing of the real world. The kid meant to play with toys.
Only Tommy wasn’t that anymore, was he? He had grown up; he’d grown past his juvenile role. He knew more about the world than any kid his age should; sometimes, he seemed to understand it better than Techno himself.
But in Philza’s eyes, they would always be the musician, who listened to no one but himself; the king, who lived his life on his own, away from everyone, by choice; the child, who would always need someone else’s help.
“How the tables have turned”, thought Techno.
一Old Bird wonders, sometimes...
Ranboo didn’t notice he was holding his breath.
一...he fears he let them leave the nest too early. Not that he could’ve stopped them, anyways. His birds were as stubborn as they were brave, after all. They had grown up; a little too much, a little too quick, but they had. They had earned their independence.
Phil spat out that last word as though it was poison. Ranboo knew damn well that that was exactly what the word seemed to be ever since he’d joined the Dream SMP.
With L’Manburg, came Independence. And with it, destruction.
“Independence or death” someone had said once, he’d been told.
一Yes, exactly 一said Philza, dryly.
Ranboo felt shivers down his spine. Could Phil hear unspoken words?
(He could. He heard Wilbur’s doubts behind his pride and Tommy’s fear behind his leader façade and Techno’s pain behind his apparent indifference)
Or maybe he had said it out loud without noticing it.
一Yellow Bird said exactly that. He once demanded independence, or death.
“And in the end”, he thought, “he got both.”
Silence.
一They would’ve been gone no matter how much Old Bird had tried to stop them, yes. But still…
Phil’s voice went quieter, and Technoblade pressed his ear against the door.
一He still doubts, he still ponders. He lies awake asking questions no one answers. He wonders if he could’ve done something; anything at all. Maybe if they had stayed, everything would be okay.
Silence.
一An empty nest is a sad sight.
一This was not how Old Bird intended for things to happen.
Ranboo was happily looking at an arctic fox that was chasing something. Phil’s eyes were drawn to the small animal; it seemed as if he was talking to himself.
一”Little birds were not meant to be kings or soldiers or heroes”, Old Bird said one day.
(“It was never meant to be”, Yellow Bird had said once, repeating someone else’s words.)
一”They were never supposed to be called Leader, President, traitor.”
(Technoblade felt an invisible rope tightening around his heart.
You betrayed us!)
一”They were never weapons.”
(I am a person!)
一”My birds were meant to be birds. Nothing more.”
Nothing more.
一You understand what this story is about, right?
The kid was unsure of what to say.
一Ranboo?
一I- I think I do.
Did he?
一It’s- it’s about a… about a family, right? A family, and- and war? And how independence is sometimes bad, or maybe not bad, but it can- it can mess someone up, and sometimes a father must, or maybe not just a father, but everyone…
Philza shook his head, with a tired smile on his mouth.
一No, Ranboo. You see, it’s far simpler than that.
Red and green eyes stared directly into blue ones, waiting for an answer.
一It’s about three little birds who were meant to come home.
Ranboo’s heart felt heavier; maybe even broken. He turned his back on Phil and looked at the wide, dark sky.
The stars were beautiful but far away. The moon was bright but its glow couldn’t quite reach him.
Phil regretted his words immediately. They were true, but they were painful. And even though he had grown used to that pain, that aching feeling that had made a home inside his chest, he did not wish for other people to feel it.
Especially not kids who couldn’t sleep.
He knew what he had to do. It was not morally okay, it was dishonest, but it felt as though it was the only option.
No child would ever feel lost and scared again; not if he could stop it.
What would another lie do to an already crooked Old Bird?
一So it’s a good thing they did.
Ranboo turned, eyes wide open, shy hope starting to form.
一They came home?
一Yeah, mate 一he did his best to hide the cracks in his voice 一. They did.
So Philza told the insomniac child all about the three birds’ happy return. How they flew back to their father’s embrace, how secure they felt in his wings, how they all forgave each other, how they were all safe and sound, out of the crossfire.
He spoke fables and myths and fiction. He ignored his crying, treacherous heart which reminded him of a different ending.
And for a moment, a precious, brief moment, the kid believed, and the birds were home.
Technoblade listened, miserable and confused.
He wished to be Ranboo’s age and believe stories like he did. He envied his naive mind and his comforted heart. He dreamed about being a small bird; he dreamed of his home, so far away and so forgotten by the kings, soldiers and leaders they had become.
The young man felt the golden crown in his hands and it almost repulsed him. The voices were yelling again, but they quieted down just enough to hear Philza saying something along the lines of “happily ever after.”
He could recall a blond kid in his bed, stubbornly refusing to sleep, even after hearing songs, a guitar and someone’s sweet voice; even after someone else had promised to train with him the next day.
Nothing seemed to settle the rowdy child down.
Not until an older man came into the room and told him a story.
Techno remembered thinking “why tell him false stories? Why don’t you tell him about your journeys, the ones that actually happened?”
Years after that, on a night of chilling breeze and another kid who wouldn’t sleep, sitting on the floor, trying not to be discovered, Technoblade was drowning in different thoughts.
“Lie to him”.
It seemed as if he was begging.
“Let him sleep. Let him believe”.
一You can come inside, if you need to sleep.
一Oh, it’s okay, my house is right ther…
一We have extra blankets. Techno won’t mind 一said Philza, while standing up.
Ranboo smiled and stood up as well. His house suddenly seemed too cold and too lonely.
Phil opened the door and let Ranboo in; he could’ve sworn he saw someone hurrying upstairs.
一Here 一he said, as he showed him a couch 一. You are quite tall, but I think you’ll fit nicely.
一Thank you, Phil 一murmured Ranboo. The kind gesture almost seemed to overwhelm him.
一I’ll let you settle, while I go find some blankets for you.
Phil left the room. Up the stairs he went, and as he was looking inside one of the chests, he saw him. Crown in hand, bags under his eyes; he didn’t sleep either, Phil could tell.
一Hi there, mate.
一Hey. I was just having a glass of water.
一Were you listening?
Techno didn’t answer. Philza wasn’t even looking at him, but his mere posture seemed to say “don’t try and lie to me”.
一You know, you could’ve joined us.
一Naaah, I preferred to let you two have your little moment.
Phil snorted, unconvinced, and they both went quiet.
Technoblade wanted to say something, and Phil knew it.
一You know, there were some interesting characters in that story of yours. Some curious names.
There it was.
一Such as?
一Old Bird?
With a scowl, Phil turned to look at him.
一Like the wise owl in children’s fairy tales? 一continued Techno 一You know, the one that says smart riddles and meaningful words? The one who keeps the protagonist safe?
Technoblade hid his shaking hands behind his back.
一I hadn’t noticed 一Phil’s voice was faint.
The blond man grabbed a pillow, as Technoblade ran trembling fingers through his hair.
He felt shivers down his spine when he noticed Tommy had been the last one to use the blankets Phil was holding.
一When was the last time you tucked someone in? 一Techno laughed.
Phil stayed silent, thinking about cradling a dying bird in his arms, who went to sleep too quickly.
一I’m going to get these things to Ranboo.
一Of course, of course.
Philza was about to go down the stairs when he heard one last question.
一Hey, Old Bird? You know you don’t need to protect us anymore, right?
Techno’s voice sounded anxious.
Phil smiled dryly.
I’ll never stop.
一Goodnight, Techno.
一G’night, old man.
I’m going to look at the sky and find them. I’ll look for them in every flock and every nest. I’ll find them, and I’ll bring them back. I’ll help them come back to Old Bird.
Ranboo stopped writing in his book when he heard Phil coming back.
一Here you go 一said the older man, handing him the blankets and the pillow he had found.
一Thank you.
They went quiet, although they both felt comfortable in the silence; they had grown used to it.
Philza looked at the room around him, as if he didn’t want to go yet. Ranboo didn’t want him to go either, but he knew they both needed to rest.
一Thanks for letting me sleep here.
一Of course, mate.
Phil approached the stairs.
一Phil?
一Yes? 一he said, while turning.
一What happened to Freedom? What happened to the bad guys that tried to hurt the little birds?
The question caught Phil by surprise.
He thought of explosions and ashes, a flag waving at the bottom of a crater. He thought of justice delivered and a lesson taught. A devastated ghost and the things he didn’t understand.
Justice delivered to some, he should add. Because there were still others who needed to learn. Some who he ought to pay a visit. The one who used to rule the skies and lands, who had thought himself all-powerful and invincible. He was now under control, but Phil wasn’t credulous enough to be fooled by the temporary peace.
The man he had worked with before, who he had used as a mean to an end, was going to walk free again, that much was obvious.
And when he did, neither the entirety of his resources nor his power and influence would be enough to prevent Phil from finding him; nothing would be enough to make him forget what he had done to his kin.
But how to tell that to Ranboo?
一The bad guys were stopped. Old Bird found help and justice was done.
The kid smiled, making himself comfortable on the couch.
一But those who are still out there, Old Bird hasn’t forgotten. He keeps them in mind every single day.
Ranboo furrowed his brow, as his blood cooled and the hairs on his neck rose.
一And he will make them regret hurting his family.
Phil turned around to leave the room.
一P-Phil?
He smiled at Ranboo, to try and reassure him.
Everything’s okay.
一Goodnight, Ranboo. Sleep well.
Phil was grinning inside his bedroom when the sun started rising on the horizon.
They thought they were messing with an old, powerless, tired bird.
But they failed to realize they had angered a father.
And Philza would make sure they’d never forget it again.