Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“ Calm down! ”

It was Phil who came to his senses first, and realized that shouting wasn’t going to get them any closer to getting answers. Or getting to Tommy, for that matter.

And oh, isn’t hope such a beautiful thing? The feeling rose in Phil’s chest, rising and rising at the thought that his son would be alive- it rose until he was scared of falling and plummeting down to the earth. 

He could see it in the others’ eyes, too. Techno, Wil, Tubbo- even the others of Tommy’s personal flock. Each of them had a new light that entered with the mere prospect of the young phoenix being alive, and the hope in their eyes shone.

But hope is a dangerous thing.

“Puffy, was it?” Phil said slowly. The young woman in question inclined her head. For a moment, all of the eloquence from years of being king vanished, and he searched for the words to say. He finally settled on, “Tommy’s alive? ”

Puffy slowly leaned back, smirk ever-present. “Why, of course. Magic- the same magic that gave Sam his sight, his arm and gave me my legs- it saved Tommy, too. The City of Embers is full of magic.”

“The City of Embers…” Finn murmured as Phil’s mind continued to spin. Because Tommy’s alive- Tommy’s alive, and Phil has a chance to see his son again. The relief is dizzying, and he can barely hear the conversation over the roaring in his ears- but he must, so he shakes it off and continues to listen.

“The City of Embers.” Puffy agreed, nodding. “For years, decades- it was the four of us. We sought to protect the ancestral home of the phoenixes from the Fallen. Why exactly they keep on attacking, we do not know.” Puffy frowned, at that. “We think it may be the knowledge locked inside the library, or perhaps behind that netherite door none of us can access.”

“So it’s real.” Finn breathed out. “The ancestral home of the phoenixes. All that knowledge- and it’s still there?”

“All of it.” Puffy confirmed. “We have not yet touched the history in the books. It seems that only a phoenix has the ability to do so- but nonetheless, Velvet has read many of the journals written. And The Heart tells us much.”

“The Heart.” Finn echoed.

“It gives us what we need.” She gestured to her legs, useless and limp in her wheelchair. “The Heart speaks to us, sometimes. It tells us when there’s a threat. It tells us who to save.”

“So Tommy was not insane.” Harvey muttered, for which Vurb smacked him. Phil’s eyes caught the scar that barely peeked out of his sleeve, and his heart stuttered painfully.

He pushed down the feelings again. 

“And where…” Mayor Scar asked, “is the City of Embers?”

Puffy opened her mouth, about to speak, but the one beside her- Sam, if Phil recalled correctly,- put a hand on her shoulder. Phil did not miss the way the other arm was completely limp, nor the way his eyes were unfocused. “We can lead you there.” The green winged said. 

At this, Tubbo leapt up to his feet. “Then let’s go-”

Sooner than Phil could speak, Dream stood up. “Tubbo.”

“ Dream. ” There was a kind of desperation in Tubbo’s eyes- the same kind that was with him when he found out that Tommy was alive after the second time they thought him dead. It hurt Phil to see the boy, so young , to be filled with such desperation. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t see it in Wil, or even Techno as well.

“Tubbo.” Dream said, not unkindly. “I know you really want to see Tommy again. I’m sure that the rest of his family does too-” and at this, the phoenixes nod, and Phil finds himself shifting his wings, nearly subconsciously. “-but we have to plan this out.”

“The Fallen will return again.” Corpse cuts in, voice gravelly. “We must protect our own lands. We can’t afford to send too many of them off.”

The silence blankets them as they realize the gravity of the situation, despite the joy of being told that the youngest prince of the Antarctic Empire is alive. 

And Queen Lily tilts her head ever so slightly, after the brief pause. “Forgive me if this is out of line, King Philza.” And Phil tilts his own head in acknowledgement, allowing her to continue. “But perhaps the only ones we should send are from the combined kingdom that is the Antarctic Empire and the Dream SMP?”

Rae nodded in agreement. “Perhaps it would do to have the phoenixes only, in all honesty.” The woman pointed towards the group of ten with bright, red-orange plumage. Phil had a hard time reconciling this composed, professional front with the warrior he had seen rip through Fallen only three weeks ago.

Albeit that thought was somewhat overtaken with the grief that followed, with the realization that followed. Pokimane must have seen his face crumple a little bit, despite his calm exterior. “I’m sorry, King Philza.” Pokimane said softly. “But your people need their rulers.”

He took a deep breath at that, grounding himself with the knowledge that there are thousands of people, dependent on him and Dream’s leadership. “Right. Correct.” He lifted his chin up, and in that moment, the crown seemed heavier than ever. “Correct. I’m aware that the Antarctic Empire is still dependent on us. We’ll choose who to go carefully.”

Nods across the room. Some of them whispered to each other.

In appreciation or distaste, Phil didn’t know. 

“If I may.” Wilbur cut in. “We may need a little more time to discuss who goes, and who must stay. Miss- Puffy. You can stay for the night, if you wish. As for the other kingdoms-” Wilbur’s eyes scanned the crowd of rulers and people from all across the land. “-you are welcome to stay as well. But your kingdoms are all equally at risk of attack. Be careful.”

There were another sea of nods after Wilbur’s talk, and most of the rulers began to head back, a few discussing with each other the fastest way to support the other kingdoms. 

That year, the meeting disbanded far earlier, compared to previous years. It also disbanded with no trade agreements, but a mutual alliance between all of them- an alliance, against the ones that sought to burn their homes down.

That year, deals were exchanged and messengers were sent ahead to prepare for any siege that might befall any city, and they made clear with the remaining messengers exactly how important their job would become. 

That year, everyone left with the knowledge that the avariel gifted with Rebirth had returned, along with the knowledge that perhaps home will not be safe until the ones that wiped them out in the first place are gone.

~

Tubbo was- how should he say this?

He was terrified. But the hope had risen in his chest, and there was no way to squash it now. 

It wasn’t long after Wilbur’s final statement that most of the others have left. Most were whispering amongst themselves, particularly those not from the Comfy Kingdom. Likely, they were all preparing themselves for war. 

Would Tubbo call it a war? Not exactly. Back when he had first been kidnapped and shoved into a cell, with another phoenix- Tommy- in the cell across him, it had just been the two of them against the Fallen.

How quickly it had escalated. Because not even a year later, it was a full-blown war- and not between kingdoms. An alliance between the greatest powers of the land, all united against the same enemy- the same Fallen.

The exact same Fallen. Curse their immortality. A thing so unnatural and evil at the core of it that it makes Tubbo shiver.

So… yeah. Tubbo would call it a war.

Maybe it’s because at the core of him, he remembers the complicated politics of the land. Right up until Tommy had gone missing, the Dream SMP and the Antarctic Empire had been nothing more than enemies. Bordering on conflict. And now, they had decided to merge their kingdoms, shocking most, if not all of the rulers that were spread across the lands.

The politics of this world are… complicated, for the lack of a better word. 

But Tubbo still finds it hard to grasp the fact that all they needed to unite themselves was the return of the phoenixes, and with them, the return of an ancient threat that was after the said phoenixes. 

It’s one of the predominant thoughts in his head as he’s led to another meeting room where most of the Dream SMP, the Antarctic Empire and the phoenixes will meet. The rest of his mind is filled with Tommy.

Because Tommy is alive.

His soulmate is alive.

And it’s only been three weeks- no, it’s already been three weeks, during which he and Tommy’s family had been numbingly aching at the loss of such a familiar presence- something that disappeared as quickly as the morning dew. 

Phil had said they did not know whether or not he was alive.

That was true. Because the cursed wristband on his arm would not come off, and he remembers spending hours, days, weeks trying to claw off the piece of dark metal on his wrist. He remembers the nights he spent, sobbing into his brother’s shoulder- the nights during which Dream had to convince him to stop doing something that was ultimately fruitless.

He remembers feeling just as helpless as during the month when the Fallen had taken over the Antarctic Empire’s castle, even though there were no Fallen mantling their wings in his face, and there were no wing clamps taking away his flight.

But he missed him. Missed his toothy grin, his confidence, his arrogance and he missed the glowing disc on his wrist.

And now there’s a chance to see him again.

Tubbo half-stumbles, half walks to the room with the nine other phoenixes, his brother and his friends, and the rest of Tommy’s family. 

Most of their faces are set into a hard expression- Dream’s mask is still on, with that crude smiley face, Sapnap and George look mildly uncomfortable, Spifey’s lips are pursed along with Vurb, Mega, Zelk and Astelic. The last one’s scar across her face just darkens her entire expression even further.

But there is hope, as well. Finn is writing, scribbling furiously on his notebook- perhaps to document this moment, as historian. Harvey’s enthusiasm is no longer as tempered, and though Bad and Skeppy look more cautious than ever, there is a small smile on Skeppy’s face that also somewhat betrays how Bad feels. 

And of course, Phil, Wilbur and Techno. Once the door has closed, Phil’s entire kingly facade drops, and he now looks even older under the candlelight- but his posture is straighter, and he is no longer slumping, and Techno’s eyes look a little less bloodthirsty, and the madness that always seems to be bordering on spilling over in Wilbur’s eyes has completely receded.

It’s a sight to behold, but only if you know where to look.

There is a portrait behind Phil. It’s of the five of them- Tommy had insisted that Tubbo be included, and now Tubbo finds himself staring at the spot where he stood, documented in paint. Phil, Techno, Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo.

It was a while before someone cleared their throat- Phil. It was Phil.

It had been a little bit of a blur for Tubbo, he’ll admit. But in hindsight, everything was ingrained in his head with perfect clarity.

At that moment, however, the thing that took over his train of thought was the thoughts of Tommy, Tommy, he’s alive, he’s not dead, Tommy, he was saved, he survived-

Tubbo only startled back into reality when Dream shakes him. At the questioning incline of his brother’s head, he swallows and nods, knowing that he’ll have to listen to this conversation.

It passes in a blur nonetheless, but at least he’s there to process the words being thrown around the room. 

“...So.” Phil sighs, and his wings droop the slightest bit. “I think… I think we all know who must stay, and who must go.”

All eyes turn to Tubbo, and he flinches just the slightest bit under the attention- but Phil is not wrong. There would be nothing stopping Tubbo from attempting to reach Tommy, especially now that they have a lead. 

But Phil had also said “who must stay.” Why- oh.

Tubbo nearly smacks himself for forgetting that despite how close the family is, they are, at the end, rulers of an empire. Dream and Phil cannot leave- they’re bound to their land, just like three weeks ago.

The people need them.

(Tubbo is glad that he does not need to make decisions like this, yet. He cannot imagine choosing between Tommy and the fate of thousands and thousands of people, or bearing the burden of being the king of an empire, making decisions that carry so much weight.)

(He ignores the fact that one day, he will outlive his brother- and one day, perhaps it will be him on the throne, making these decisions, and going to war on behalf of the people.)

“So Phil will have to stay.” Techno says, gruffly. 

“You too, Techno.” Phil says, and he sounds tired beyond his years- but it’s something that needs to be said.

The warrior in question spins on his heels, and he glares at his father. But Phil doesn’t flinch. 

“That’s my brother .” Techno growls. “That’s my brother that’s been weeks without his family.”

“And that’s my son, too.” Phil shoots back, and at that, Techno deflates. “Tommy is important to all of us, Techno- but you’re our best warrior, along with Dream. If the Fallen attack again, we cannot afford to lose the city.”

Techno slumps, somewhat in defeat. 

“We-” Phil sighs, heavier this time. “We have a responsibility to our people, me and Dream both. And Techno, we need you too. And as much as I would love to have the phoenixes go and explore their ancestral home- I’m so sorry, but there are only so many people that we can spare. We barely survived the last attack. And though reinforcements are here, we have to be prepared.”

Phil raised his head again, another glint in his eyes. “To defend the city, and make another stand, if we must.”

“At the cost of your family, Phil?” Spifey asks, quietly.

Phil stills. 

Tubbo watches, somewhat morbidly curious at the answer. How does one make the right choice? Do you sacrifice thousands for the well-being of those that you love?

Who do you have more of a responsibility to? 

The people you swore to rule over with your best judgement? Or the family you’ve raised and loved?

He remembers Phil being asked this, right before the lands of the Antarctic Empire and the Dream SMP had been sieged.

He remembers the answer. 

“I will do my damndest to make sure everyone comes out of this alive.” Phil grits out.

“And that’s what you said the last time.” Spifey points out, softly.

Silence.

“We cross that bridge when we get there, Spifey.” Phil whispers. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

“You haven’t made your choice.” Spifey accuses.

“I have.” Phil replies. “I just don’t think it necessary to share it until the circumstances force it upon me.”

Tubbo listens to the conversation like he’s watching Technoblade and Dream spar, and he doesn’t know whether or not he’s supposed to feel relief or disappointment at the non-answer. 

Truthfully, Tubbo does not know what he wants Phil to choose.

The city? At the expense of the son he lost twice, the one that he thought dead for eight years and more , and Tubbo’s soulmate? His other half?

Tommy? At the expense of thousands and thousands of lives, and an empire he built himself from nothing? The heart and soul of himself?

“So not Phil, Dream or Techno.” Sapnap fills in, somewhat awkwardly. “And neither me or George, likely, because… well.” Sapnap shrugs. “It’s not necessary. And we’re decent fighters.”

“Finn should go.” The phoenix in question snaps to attention as Harvey pipes up. “Finn’s our historian. He needs to document the stories, store them somewhere safer. Or, at the very least, if the City of Embers is the safest place for these stories- then we have Finn bring them over. Add to the collection.”

Finn blinks for a little while longer before he sighs and closes his notebook. “I guess so. I’ll bring the introduction notecards. And the books I have written.”

“Alright.” Phil nods. “I think we could probably spare two more phoenixes. Who else should go?”

The remaining eight phoenixes exchanged glances, before Bad and Skeppy stood forward, as a unit.

“We can go.” Bad said, quietly. “We do need to find some more information about the soulmate bond, do we not? I think… maybe that’ll be a chance for us to know more about this.” And Bad tapped the glowing duck on his wrist at that. Tubbo winced as he was reminded of the dark metal that covered his own wrist, and clenched his hand against the thought.

Phil exhales slowly. “Okay. So you, Skeppy, Tubbo and Finn. Is that-”

“Me.” Wilbur said suddenly.

All heads turn to look at him. “...Wil?” Phil prods, cautiously.

“Me.” Wilbur repeats, eyes blazing with… something. Fierce protectiveness, perhaps, Tubbo muses as he watches the older brother’s wings flare, mustard yellow and white. “I’m useless here, anyway. The kingdom does not need an orator in the time of war- perhaps I’ll actually be of some use at the City of Embers. Helping Finn, perhaps, or comforting Tommy."

“I…” Phil still looked a little uncertain.

There were a few beats of silence.

“ Inter arma enim silent leges. ” Technoblade quoted, in the silence. “In times of war, the laws fall silent. The people need a general, not a poet, Phil.” Technoblade gestured to Wilbur. “If I must stay behind, at least allow Wilbur to go.”

For our peace of mind goes unsaid.

During a few tense seconds, everyone waits with bated breath. Even Dream, because despite being a co-leader, he recognizes that perhaps, the elder makes better decisions in regards to what’s good for the empire.

“Okay.” Phil finally concedes, and nods to the rest of the group. “Wilbur, Tubbo, Finn, Bad and Skeppy. When should we expect you guys back?”

Bad, Skeppy and Finn exchange glances. “Well,” Finn starts, “We have no way of knowing. Perhaps we’ll be staying for a long time, to note down everything for the history of the phoenixes- or perhaps it’ll be a matter of a few days to collect Tommy and get him to return.”

“Hate to say this.” George breaks in. “But we know that Tommy would do anything to get back to you guys. Something has definitely happened that prevented him from flying back to us.”

Tubbo felt a pit in his stomach grow. 

He remembered the last soulscape he shared with Tommy and Phil, Wilbur and Techno.

He remembered the flickering illusion of wings, something Tommy had desperately tried to trick him with- to keep him away from the reality- the gravity of that situation.

He remembered Tommy’s words, sharp and clear.

I suppose I wasn’t ever meant to fly again.

“He doesn’t have wings.” Tubbo realizes. “He doesn’t have wings. He can’t fly.”

The silence that followed in the room was heavy.

“He said he was no longer a phoenix.” Tubbo whispered. “Because they took away his wings.”

And perhaps Tubbo should’ve had this revelation weeks ago, when Tommy told him that he wasn’t going to come back. Not in this world. But the past few weeks have been passed in numb, horrifyingly numb grief- and it’s not until Tubbo realizes that Tommy can’t return to him because of the lack of physical freedom he has, and not because of the throes of death, does the truth of the matter really hit him. 

“They took away his wings. ” Tubbo repeats. “His freedom is gone. ”

Tommy loves flying. Tubbo knows that.

It just serves as another reason to hurt.

~

Puffy is sitting in her room, rubbing her legs and preening her wings when there’s a knock on her door. 

“Come in.” She calls out.

She’s a little surprised to see the young woman that pushed her chair up the hill earlier- “Niki?” She asks, somewhat cautiously.

The blue and white-winged baker gives her a smile. “Hey, Puffy.”

Puffy nods to the chair in front of here, where Sam had been sitting only half an hour ago. The baker makes her way to the seat, and now both of them are sitting, facing each other with folded wings behind their backs.

Puffy inclines her head. “So? What brings you here at this time of the night?”

Niki just stares at her, an unreadable expression on her face. Puffy shifts, ever so slightly, golden wings unconsciously ruffling at the attention. She is not so used to the outside world and the politics it holds- she is not sure whether or not she should be starting conversation, or if she should be waiting for Niki to start. 

The wind blows in from the window. Neither move to close it, and Puffy takes a little time to analyze the baker’s face, awash in the cold moonlight and the warm glow of the candles. She sees the light fringes flap ever so slightly with the wind, a stark contrast to the rest of her braided, dark hair. She sees her dark eyes, aflame with something she does not recognize.

Puffy thinks she needs more practice reading people.

“Tommy.” Niki finally breaks the silence, and Puffy inclines her head, once again, to show that she is paying attention. “You… mentioned him.”

“So I did.” Puffy says.

Niki chews on her lip for a little longer- a relatively un-ladylike habit, but in all honesty no one’s around to berate her for it. “...how is he?”

Puffy- well, she doesn’t quite freeze, but it is a near thing. 

Niki sees this. 

“Not well, huh.” Niki mutters. 

“I wouldn’t say that.” Puffy says, eyes faraway. “The Heart takes care of him. The Heart takes care of all of us, really.”

“So he can fly in the City of Embers?” Niki asks, hope shining. “You say you can walk there, and Sam can see and use both of his arms. And there’s another-” Niki snaps her fingers. “Another, that had his wings wrecked, and yet he can fly. Surely Tommy can too?”

Puffy wishes she didn’t have to extinguish that light.

“The Heart can only heal what is already there.” Puffy says, quietly, and watches as Niki’s face crumples. “It cannot give what has been lost completely.”

Silence.

“But flying is everything to Tommy.” Niki says, voice broken.

“And perhaps hearing is, too.” Puffy says, gently. “But at least Sam was able to fashion hearing aids for those.”

“Tommy is deaf? ” Niki asks, horrified.

“We don’t know what happened.” Puffy said, almost mournfully. “But he was flown into the City of Embers deaf. We think it might’ve been something with the Fallen, when they ripped out-” Puffy cuts herself off. Niki looks somewhat sick.

“Those bastards. ” Niki hisses.

“Hey, hey.” Puffy settles a hand on Niki’s shoulder, and something in her chest lifts when Niki does not flinch away, but she pushes the feeling aside for now. “Anger’s not going to help anyone at the moment, least of all Tommy, alright? We’re protectors. We do what we must, until the anger we gather can be of use.”

There is a bit of quiet that follows that statement.

Niki studies her. “How did you know?”

Puffy does a small double take. “Know what?”

“The protector bit.” Niki says, ever curious. 

Puffy is silent, for a few seconds. How did she know?

“Well.” She pauses, remembering something Velvet told her, ages ago. “Did you know that the phoenixes used to group the winged into kinds of people?”

Niki raised an eyebrow, a prompt for continuation.

“It’s… a little complicated.” Puffy admits, brushing her fingers against her wings as she does so. “There are many grey areas, obviously. It’s not a perfect system. But the phoenixes were knowledgeable. They were able to reliably ‘classify’ most of us, so to speak- the protectors, or Guardians- the fighters, or Warriors- the silver-tongued, or Poets- and the Kings and Rulers.”

Puffy gestured to Niki. “You, dear friend, are much like me. A Protector of all kinds. And we might not be the strongest- but the ancient magic that we inherited as part of our wings was the protective kind, the one of the flock. King Philza, of course, is a Ruler. He has a responsibility to his people. He has always known. Wilbur is a Poet, and Technoblade a Warrior.”

Puffy taps the banner of the Antarctic Empire, a carpet below their feet. “The three of them, and you , Niki, are examples of people who have inherited the most of one instinct. But something particularly intriguing that The Heart finds of Tommy has received a bit of all four. Something that has, apparently, not happened in centuries. A little bit of magic, that furthers our abilities when we need them.”

“...magic.” Niki mutters. “But that shouldn’t be possible. Only phoenixes have magic.”

“The phoenixes knew a lot.” Puffy says, not unkindly. “They knew that perhaps, we weren’t supposed to have wings. That the wings that we have on our backs were a bit of magic, given to our lands, that we’ve taken for granted.”

“But that’s not possible. ” Niki insists. “Everyone has wings.”

“We do not know that.” Puffy reminds. “What lies beyond the lands of the Comfy Kingdom? Of Hermitcraftia? Forbidden lands, we’ve said- but perhaps they house those that see wings as magic.”

Niki opens her mouth to protest again, then closes it.

“Magic.” Puffy whispers. “It lies dormant in all of us. For most of us, it isn’t enough to materialize into something we use- but Technoblade and Dream’s skills as warriors are undeniable. Philza’s natural leadership and Wilbur’s silver tongue are undeniable. Tubbo, you and my protectiveness is undeniable.”

“...I guess.” Niki muttered. “The phoenixes truly were special.”

“Truly.” Puffy agreed. “There are so many books in the City of Embers, and we’ve only gone through a portion of it, even though we’ve been nowhere else for decades.”

The wind blew in from the window.

“Do you know if the phoenixes have been somewhere else?” Niki wonders. “The forbidden lands? The woods no one has ever returned from?”

“Possibly.” Puffy answers, eyebrows furrowed. “There is one adventurer, who wrote tales and tales and tales that do not sound like they were from our time, or our lands. Perhaps he travelled.”

“Perhaps…” Niki echoed.

~

Quackity tells me that I should start writing the stories that I see. I don’t know, I mean. It’s like if I write them down, my memory just kind of starts flickering out.

But I’ve got to admit, the things that I see are quite interesting. None of the other phoenixes know of the scrying ability that only I seem to have- well, some of them do. There is a section of the phoenixes that have a scrying ability, but they’re visions of things that have happened in the other kingdoms, at that time. I don’t know why mine is so weird.

It seems to come at the cost of my memory, which… I don’t know if I like that or not.

But everything seems manageable! The gaps are nothing more than annoyances at the moment, anyway. They haven’t become too big of a problem yet. I’m sure Quackity is just overreacting. 

The Phoenix does tell me to tread carefully, though. Something about how these visions can mean the future, the past, or the lands far away. 

She’s frustratingly vague about the answers more often than not. 

Then again, she’s another being entirely. Sure, we’re phoenixes- but really, she is The Phoenix. She knows things that we do not know, and breathes life into our feathers and her eggs- she speaks in tandem with the universe, and she creates something out of nothing.

She is also cursed. We do not know how to break that curse. 

Quackity insists that there is a way, but I’m not sure. Either way, we’re trying to free her at the moment. It’s an enigma, truly.

And Quackity is now telling me to write my own name. I don’t know, he seems to be under the impression that I will one day forget who I am- really? I don’t think I’d do that, but let me introduce myself.

Wow, it feels weird to write that. I’m probably going to be the only one reading this, anyway.

And now Quackity is going on a spiel about how this is history, how my scrying abilities are frankly, unprecedented and I should document everything about it. Which, I suppose he does have a point. 

Time passes quickly, while writing. Hmm. I suppose I should get on with describing my dreams? Visions? I don’t know what they are, really.

It’s just… every time I’m in that dream, it’s like I’m playing a new character. It’s always first person, and I think the interesting part is that during those dreams, none of the people I see- or me, for that matter- have wings. It’s the weirdest thing! 

But The Phoenix says that there are lands where you can’t find anyone with the extra limbs on our backs. I can’t imagine not being able to fly, but I suppose we’re all used to it.

It’s quite fascinating, actually. Those wingless stories I’ve witnessed- those are few and far between. Most of my visions consist of the normal ones, albeit some of them didn’t seem to come true at all.

But then again, not all of the scryers’ visions are accurate. I’m pretty sure there isn’t an Antarctic Empire or a Dream SMP in our lands. And what kind of a name is the Comfy Kingdom? Or Hermitcraftia? It’s all somewhat strange.

And get this! The name of our land, the beautiful ℸ ̣ ᒷ∷∷ᔑ ╎⊣リ╎⚍ᒲ, is called the City of Embers instead. I mean, it does technically mean the same thing in the common tongue, but the language that The Phoenix speaks is unique. She named this beautiful place we call home. Unless circumstances caused our language to be lost, I’m not sure why it would be called the City of Embers.

But at least during those dreams, everyone has wings. Granted, none of the phoenixes I recognize are there- Eret, Foolish and Quackity certainly aren’t. I’d recognize them anywhere.

The Phoenix says it’s important. I don’t know why, but she’s always known better.

I just kinda wish that she’d actually give us straight answers, though.

But the wingless stories are really, more interesting than the winged ones. Or maybe that’s because we all have wings. But there was one, where I led a group of people to build a city- only to blow it up after an hour had passed! I don’t know what took over the thoughts of those people. And there was an even crazier one, where people were executing the other members of their town without significant evidence, all driven by fear and worry!

I mean, for all I know, these stories aren’t even real. Maybe I’m just delusional, though every time I seriously ponder about that, The Phoenix says that I’m not. I don’t know where her wisdom comes from, but there’s definitely a large reserve.

The visions are mostly happy, at the moment. There is one about a phoenix being born into the royal family- I mean, the vision doesn’t tell me, but I just know. I don’t know how I know- maybe it’s inherent, from being one of the same lineage. And there’s another one in the neighbouring kingdom, apparently. 

There’s a really big skip in between? My memory isn’t very reliable. But the boys grow older, and apparently they’re soulmates. Which… is a little concerning. Bonds are only formed in a phoenix’s darkest hour- I only formed one with Quackity because we were both literally bleeding out from netherite at one point.

But they’re happy, and laughing, and there are nine more phoenixes with the two of them- not people I recognize, but phoenixes nonetheless. And it seems okay.

Maybe my scrying will allow me to revisit that world, one day. At the very least, it does not seem like ours. 

At any rate, see you next time, I guess.

~

I got another Wingless dream! Or, as I like to call it, anyway. The Phoenix thinks it an apt name, after all. 

Half of the time I’m convinced that she has been in the forbidden lands, beyond Shady Oaks and the Beast’s lands. She’s very tight-lipped about it, though.

Maybe there are Wingless there. Not Fallen, those whose wings were pulled out, under some bigger power and corrupted with something that The Phoenix destroyed long ago.

I mean, if the Fallen weren’t so terrible, I’d think their predicament was interesting. The remnants of the nameless darkness that The Phoenix utterly destroyed and she got cursed by came back in the form of the Fallen- and we are here to counter them.

They can’t be reborn. Sucks to be them.

But that’s a tale for our historians to fit in their books. Maybe Foolish will actually write a copy of it in the common tongue, one day.

Anyway, this dream was slightly different. There were four fishermen who were exploring this underground city, and there were all these different rooms. I didn’t recognize most of them- well, Eret’s name was mentioned, though the documented info is so different from the Eret I know. I don’t think Eret would be a tyrant with an iron fist.

It’s a mystery. There was someone who… likes to collect plates, I think? And there was an unknown room that the person leading the fishermen didn’t know who it belonged to. I don’t know, I’d think it fits me for the colour scheme and the photos on the walls. 

But I digress. 

I don’t know where I’m going anymore. I used to have some semblance of control over what I scry- the other scryers never had this ability, but my ability has always been different. But now, I’m losing control of where I go, and there are these flashes of an entirely white castle and a tree and- I’m actually getting a little bit scared.

And whenever I have a Wingless dream, there’s always the words “Don’t forget who you are.” What? I mean, I’d think that I would remember who I am, though?

I mean, the memory gaps have been getting a little bit bigger, recently. But I’m sure it’s fine. The Phoenix has been a little more silent than usual, though.

She’s only ever silent when something big is about to happen.

Usually it’s bad.

I try not to think too much about it.

Not like we have much control over it, anyway. None of us can see the future.

...but what if I tried?

Hmm.

And The Phoenix has just told me that it would be very dangerous. Very, very dangerous. But she hasn’t said anything else. 

I mean, I do have control over the Winged visions, interestingly enough. The gaps in my memory are frustrating, but I know that I once knew what I don’t know.

Wow, that’s confusing.

It’s food for thought. I think I might try it next time.

Aaaaaand now Quackity is yelling at me. 

It’s alright. I know my limits. I know what I should do, and what I shouldn’t. I haven’t lost myself. 

Yet. I’m scared, sometimes. It… the void in which I see my visions is calling me. I’m getting scared. I think I may lose myself, and forget myself and Quackity and all the others.

What do I do?

~

That crossing out last time didn’t seem very successful, if my confrontation with Quackity was any indication. Anyway, I’m back with another Wingless vision. 

This one was at a masquerade, a kind of ball. Everyone was wearing masks, and everyone seemed to be rich except for one. I don’t know why- I mean, I’d think the rich mingle with the rich and the poor mingle with the poor, from the distaste I’ve heard.

But the hierarchy doesn’t work like that in ℸ ̣ ᒷ∷∷ᔑ ╎⊣リ╎⚍ᒲ, so I digress. The main point is that the organizer of the party killed everyone? For this red crimson egg thing that I still don’t really understand?

It’s not the same red of the phoenixes. It’s something… worse. Evil. Corrupted. 

It promises things that are not possible.

At least The Phoenix is brutally honest about what she can give and what she can’t. She may be one with the universe, but she can only bend the rules so much for her fledglings. 

I do find it interesting, though, if someone else ever stumbles upon these words. Would that be thousands of years in the future? Or right after my death, when the flames that keep me alive eventually burn out?

Quackity tells me to not think like that. But it doesn’t change the fact that we’re both bound here, and we’re only alive because of the magic The Phoenix possesses.

I am grateful, though at the same time a little resentful.

Maybe I’m just ungrateful.

I wish there were some way for me and Quackity to go above to the lands of the other winged, too. Eret tries to tell us the stories of all of it- the green grass, the fake feuds that are ultimately just friends poking fun at each other, the blue sky- but it gets harder and harder to imagine.

I’ve long since forgotten what grass looks like.

But our wings were wrecked beyond repair. The Phoenix may be able to heal our wounds so that we won’t die if we were flown out- regift us with a fire that we lost while fighting, but we cannot fly outside of the City of Embers. 

The Winged visions are getting darker. There is tension in the air whenever I visit that place, and the nameless phoenixes and other avariel from their flock are preparing themselves for war. I do not know what will be of them.

My memory gaps are becoming worse. I don’t like to think about it, but maybe Quackity is right- the problem isn’t going to go away by hiding from it. 

It’s getting increasingly hard to navigate the ℸ ̣ ᒷ∷∷ᔑ ╎⊣リ╎⚍ᒲ. I’m starting to have difficulty distinguishing reality from my visions- sometimes, I blink and the home that’s always so full of fire is completely empty, save for six people.

And four of them aren’t even phoenixes.

The Phoenix is not… stingy, per se. She opens up her home to anyone who stumbles in with injuries, or anyone who’s looking for shelter of any kind. We offer a helping hand when needed. But she draws the line at letting anyone that isn’t a phoenix settle permanently in a land meant for the phoenixes.

In a way, it’s for their own good. We play around with the knowledge that we are all fire-resistant. I have no doubt that if a non-phoenix avariel were to settle in here, they would die within a month of burning or something else like asphyxiation from smoke.

That took me way too long to write.

But I don’t know. My job is to document these visions, not make sense of them. Though, not gonna lie, the Elders don’t really know what to make of these visions, either. And if The Phoenix knows anything, she’s not giving any indication of it.

Maybe we’ll never know. There’s never been a record of someone having Wingless visions.

And I forgot- at the end of that last dream, the vision transported me into that white castle with the white tree that I talked about. It did say not to talk about that castle, but I do not trust it as much as I do for the Phoenix. As vague as she is, she has saved my and Quackity’s lives more times than we can count.

I’m getting scared for myself. Truly scared. I forgot Foolish’s name the other day. My mind went completely blank, and I forgot who Foolish is as a person. He doesn’t blame me- of course he doesn’t. He’s kind. But I feel terrible, and nothing will ever change it.

Quackity says that I should stop seeing those visions. But I don’t have any control over it- my scrying ability is completely out of my control, now.

Even the winged visions.

I grow worried.

The void where I find the Wingless visions call to me. I felt so close to jumping into that portal, once. And whenever I look at myself in those visions, I see the wings- but they flicker in and out.

I couldn’t find a way to our shared soulscape, one day. I promised Quackity that I’d go, and I just- forgot. I forgot about it, and when I did remember, I didn’t know how to call upon that soul bond to get into that soulscape.

How could I forget? We’ve been bonded for years- decades, even. What’s wrong with me? What’s going on?

~

I’m getting more and more worried as time goes on, gonna be honest. I’ve got another vision, now- the people in this one all have these weird accents that I can’t really place. Kinda interesting, really. And there’s another one from last night, where someone else had founded a country.

It seems a little foolish, because they’re fighting for a potion empire. Or, as they like to call it, a “drug empire.” I don’t understand these people.

That one passes really quickly. Apparently, by the time my vision cuts off, it’s already been three months. I relived an entire war and three months in the span of a single night.

That’s new.

The normal scryer’s visions are completely normal. They only ever tell stories that happen in the present, and at most they tell the story of a day. Not months.

But then again, my scrying ability is anything but normal, if we haven’t established that already.

We had a Fallen attack the other day. A group of them, really. There were only thirty or forty of them, though, and they managed to break through the door.

Which shouldn’t be possible. The door is only for the phoenixes, and can only be opened by The Phoenix herself.

Unless something has happened to her.

She refuses to tell us if anything is impeding on her powers. Sometimes, I find that stupid- almost all of us rely on her to keep us alive. She gifted us with fire. She heals us when netherite touches us.

Why does she refuse?

Unless she’s getting weaker.

Quackity cut himself by accident, on the metal feathers in his wings, the other day. We stared and waited for the gash to mend itself- except it didn’t.

Something’s up.

The Fallen cannot attack us and survive- we made sure to keep them at bay. But I swear that I recognized one of the ones I’ve killed- except that isn’t possible. It shouldn’t be possible, because the Fallen can’t be reborn, right?

The Phoenix used to answer my questions when I asked them. Especially things of such gravity.

I don’t know what it says about our current predicament that she’s refusing to answer these ones.

The rumours are flying around, and the Elders have started to accept less and less people for counselling. Quackity tells me that they’re discussing the omens and forming contingency plans, for the worst of the worst.

But the worst of the worst is getting wiped out, permanently, with netherite, is it not?

Is the situation really so dire?

I’ve tried not to think too much about it. I am not an Elder, and I am not The Phoenix. I do not have much of a responsibility but to tell everyone if I have a particularly concerning vision.

There is frustration for some of them. The fact that the Fallen are attacking at all shouldn’t be possible- and yet it is. It doesn’t matter that the phoenix guards are easily able to kill them with a clean slice of the sword. The fact is that there is a threat to a sanctuary that’s supposed to be safe.

The phoenixes we sent to the yearly meeting between the kingdoms still haven’t returned, either. They were due back almost twelve hours ago.

Did something happen?

Or maybe I’m overreacting. The other scryers haven’t gotten any terrible visions yet. Their minds are still sharp, even though I’m losing it a little. The children are still playing around, and it’s entirely possible that the diplomatic group has just been delayed a little. And The Phoenix might just be in one of her moods. It has happened before.

Everything will be fine.

The void calls even more insistently. I have to hang on to my shared soulmate bond more often than not in my sleep, and I force myself to stay in our soulscape even though I would’ve once jumped at the possibility of having a vision.

I’m scared to explore those other stories I’ve been shown.

Quackity might be a little suspicious. He knows that I’m having difficulty remembering things, but I don’t tell him that sometimes, I feel like I’m going insane.

Like I’m losing myself.

Is that why I keep seeing the words “Don’t forget who you are?”

Something’s up.

~

The Fallen are attacking, more often.

It’s not a problem, really. But I don’t know- between that and my loss of control over my visions entirely, I’m scared.

I don’t have a grip over my mind anymore. Everything is a blur more often than not, and when I go to sleep, my mind takes me somewhere else that I can’t control. I’ve had more Wingless visions since then, but I honestly couldn’t care less anymore.

The Fallen are attacking.

They seem to be hellbent on destroying Her.

There is a tension in the air more often than not, now, in ℸ ̣ ᒷ∷∷ᔑ ╎⊣リ╎⚍ᒲ. The Fallen wield netherite- we do not know if the information that netherite can permanently kill us got leaked, or something, but it’s too much to not be a coincidence. Netherite is rarer than all other metals combined.

They wouldn’t try to gather so many netherite weapons if they didn’t know.

But what happened? The fact that netherite can permanently kill us is a closely guarded secret. The Phoenix wanted a way to keep us in check, and we agreed- there would always be the occasional phoenix that got too drunk on power. Netherite is useful.

But in the wrong hands, it would be a deadly weapon to us, and it would be a huge, huge problem if it were to be given to anyone who wants away with our entire race.

In a way, it’s an advantage. Netherite is our metal before it is the Fallen’s, but it doesn’t stop the fear from spreading in our home. People are getting scared. The Elders and scryers are tight-lipped, and my visions are becoming murky.

My memory is getting even worse.

The children are no longer as carefree as they were before, and the fire crystals in our caverns seem to be dimmer than they used to. 

One of the Fallen begged for mercy, earlier today.

I hesitated too long. I’m lucky that Eret was nearby.

We are not overwhelmed. But I fear for the possibility that we can- because the netherite weapons are our bane as much as they are our strength, and though we are three hundred, it’s possible that the Fallen are so much more.

Some of the phoenixes that flew out to the yearly meeting between kingdoms never returned.

I don’t know what happened.

~

“Tommy?”

The phoenix in question sighed as he closed the journal that he had been reading. “Yeah?” He asked, turning around to see Ranboo standing in the shadows.

They stared at each other for a little while longer before Ranboo broke the silence. “You don’t have to feel the obligation to… like me, you know.”

Tommy ran a hand through his hair, at that. “Yeah?”

“I mean…” Ranboo muttered. “I’m half-Fallen, really.” He winced as Tommy flinched. “It’s okay if you want to stay away from me.”

“But you’re not truly a Fallen.” Tommy pointed out. “The Heart didn’t declare you a threat. And we know that the Fallen are always bent on destroying this place, though we don’t know why.”

Ranboo shrugged. “I know. I just… fear isn’t rational, Tommy.”

Tommy gave a smile, at that. “I know, dickhead. But as much as you’re a Fallen, you’re also someone who was forced into his current predicament. Really, Ranboo, I’m sure you’re fine. Just don’t break the trust, yeah?”

Ranboo swallowed. That was an easy enough promise to give. “Yeah.”

“Good enough for me.” Tommy grinned. “Come on, I need entertainment. I’m as bored as shit.”

Ranboo rolled his eyes as he sat down beside Tommy. “Aren’t you literally reading a journal right now?”

“I’ll admit, it’s quite interesting.” Tommy said, waving the pages around like they aren’t centuries or millennia old. “The phoenix who wrote it didn’t seem to know that he was scrying what had happened to me.”

“Scrying?” Ranboo asked, slowly.

“Yeah. It’s kind of like, visions.” Tommy said, arms gesturing wildly about. “You know, like, fortune-teller shit and all that? Except it’s real, and often they’re things that actually happened. While I was- a prisoner-” Ranboo winced, “-I would have visions of my family, sitting by my tombstone, or something like that. Their slices of life.”

Tommy tapped the cover of the faded journal meaningfully, a spiral of purple and green. “This dude, on the other hand, seemed to be having visions of places where you don’t have wings. Crazy shit. And more stuff that happened in our time.”

“But… that’s not possible.” Ranboo dragged out. “Velvet told me that you guys can only perceive what’s happening in the present.”

“This one seemed to be an exception.” Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know, the stuff confuses me. Not really my job to make sense of it- it would probably be Finn.”

Tommy’s face dropped at the mention of the other phoenix, and Ranboo immediately set to comfort him. “Hey, you’ll see them again.”

“Will I?” Tommy muttered, unlike his usually boisterous and loud personality. “I can’t even fucking fly, Ranboo. I can’t fly. I can’t leave the City of Embers.”

“Hey.” Ranboo said, gently, and Tommy turned around to look at him. “If what you’ve said is true, then your family will be fighting to see you again as soon as Puffy tells them that you’re alive. They’ll come for you. You’ll see them again, promise.”

Tommy snorted. “Don’t make promises you can’t guarantee, big man.”

“I can make the promise if I know that they’ll come for you.” Ranboo voiced, confidently. “You have the gift of a beautiful family. Trust them to come for you. Trust them to find their way to you.”

Tommy stared at him for a few beats of silence before he dragged a hand across his face. “Damn it, since when did you get all that wisdom?”

“You’re quite wise too, you know.” Ranboo said, conversationally. 

Tommy choked on his spit. “ Wise? Me? Big man, I know I’m great and all, but wisdom- even I know that I lack that.”

“Maybe you do.” Ranboo conversed amusedly, and watched as Tommy choked again. “But your way of thinking has definitely evolved a little from your experiences. You seem like someone who makes stupid and impulsive decisions, and from your stories of your youth, that doesn’t seem to have changed- but at least you know to be smart about it.”

“Those two statements contradict, big man.” Tommy stated, dryly.

“You can be smart and stupid at the same time.” Ranboo spread out his arms. “Like me. Or Velvet and Ant. Or you, for instance.”

Tommy chortled. “Or Tubbo.”

“I have not met Tubbo.” Ranboo deadpanned. “But sure. Or Tubbo.”

Tommy ended up laughing, at that. “You sound so much like Technoblade.”

Ranboo blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah. Oh- god, wait, can you do a disbelieving ‘heh?’ for me?”

Ranboo scrunched up his face, and attempted to make the confused sound. It ended in Tommy’s howling laughter.

“Oh my gods, you sound so much like him- oh god, just wait until Techno meets you, this is going to be fuckin’ hilarious-”

Ranboo’s face reddened at that, and Velvet and Ant ended up poking their heads in the room just to make sure that Tommy was still breathing.

Something in Ranboo’s chest lifted at the sight of the boy laughing without a care in the world. 

(It was far from the truth, but Ranboo knows that at least, they can pretend. They can pretend for a little while, until they’re forced to confront the reality of the world they live in, and their respective heritages- though that is a problem for another day.)

~

“And we’re here.” Puffy announced, landing in an ungraceful heap on the ground. Sam immediately moved to help her up, and she took his hand gratefully, pulling herself into her chair so that she could take off again, when they would fly into the little crevice that was the entrance to the City of Embers.

Wilbur squinted in the sun of the midmorning day. “I don’t see it. Is it camouflaged?”

Puffy laughed, a light and airy thing that Tubbo could barely hear over his own sea of thoughts. Because the chanting of Tommy, Tommy, tomMY- was back, full force. 

The first thing he noticed was the absence of the burning of his soul bond. The first time they had been reunited, when Tommy had literally flown through the window to save the Antarctic Empire from the Fallen, the disc on his wrist had been beckoning him to get closer and stand beside his soulmate, after a month of separation.

The netherite band on his wrist prevented him from feeling anything at all. 

But Tommy is alive, surely he is, because Puffy does not seem like one to lie, and- “Where is it?” Tubbo asked, desperately.

Innately, he could feel the pull of the ancestral home. But it was underground, which didn’t make sense. Unless…

Tommy told him of the cavern in which the phoenixes had lived in beforehand, and he remembers being told of spacious areas for him to learn to fly, and for the others to live in. Where he’d been taken to after he was saved.

Puffy looked at him with a knowing look. “You can feel it, can’t you? The pull of Home. Of The Heart. She calls to all phoenixes, you know.” She spread out her hands. “Take the leap of faith. Follow your instinct.”

Tubbo closed his eyes, breathed in, and tried to calm his racing heart. He felt around for the pulsing connection, the inherent part of being a phoenix. When he opened his eyes again, he was scanning the grass with intent.

He spotted the crevice.

It was both the pull of the ancestral home and the desire to see Tommy again that possessed him as he pushed past the others and leapt into the crevice. He ignored the shouts of “Tubbo!” behind him. He barely caught Puffy telling them to let him go, and took the leap of faith.

There was no room for him to spread out his wings, but Tubbo couldn’t care. He knew that where he had to go was underground, and he let gravity pull him towards home- towards his other half. 

Falling through the crevice was terrifying, in a way. He could hear nothing but the wind- but it really wasn’t all that different from flying, was it? It’s just like flying. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that he was in the air, wings spread out, soaring high in the skies. 

He felt at home.

Briefly, he wondered whether or not this is what Tommy felt like as he fell, when the Fallen let him go over a cavern of lava and fire. 

A voice echoed through his head- The Heart, maybe, as Puffy called it. She had said that The Heart spoke to them, sometimes. 

He could hear it. Maybe Dream would call him crazy, but it felt right. A presence that he never knew he missed filled some of the hollowness inside of him.

“Welcome home.”

The voice filled his head as he plummeted, and he felt the wind rushing past his ears. Before long, the hole widened open, and the burst of colour and flames and magic hit Tubbo like a tidal wave. It felt warm, it felt beautiful, and it felt right.

The crystals in the cave glittered and shimmered with the light that was cast upon them. There were houses- far more than the six that Puffy had said housed the four guardians, Tommy, and another avariel. Perhaps housing his ancestors- the other phoenixes, gifted with the same rebirth that he and Tommy had been gifted with, that had been wiped out and killed centuries ago.

They’d had a conversation, before leaving for the City. Niki had pulled them all aside and told them that Tommy was deaf- to which Wilbur stiffened and Tubbo shook in silent fury. Puffy had stood beside her, and confirmed it all.

She’d told them that Tommy wouldn’t tell him that he’s deaf. She’d told them to act like everything is normal, because that was what Tommy wanted from them. After all that, Tommy was too scared to show any weakness, despite the fact that no one would be there to take advantage of it.

The mere thought sent Tubbo into a kind of rage, but that was not important right now.

Because Tommy is alive, he’s breathing and his eyes are moving and though his wings are missing but he’s alive, and Tubbo sees the golden bee on the startled boy’s wrist flutter as he draws closer.

And for a moment, it was just the two of them, staring at each other across their ancestral home.

Tubbo snapped out of his shock soon enough. He started running to Tommy, and the other similarly rushed towards him, book forgotten and tossed behind him as another avariel squawked as he attempted to catch the fragile volume. They crashed into each other’s arms, and all Tubbo could think of was the way Tommy was shaking against him- sobbing, most definitely, and Tubbo wonders at the circumstances that would’ve pushed Tommy to openly be clingy, but he’s alive.

He’s alive. Tommy survived. He survived being captured by the Fallen a second time, after they had ripped out his wings and taken away his hearing and left him for dead. He’s alive, and there are tears on his shoulder, but Tubbo honestly couldn’t care less.

His arms squeezed tighter around Tommy as they sobbed together. Tubbo felt the empty space on Tommy’s back, and his heart twisted painfully at the thought.

They sank to the floor in a heap of tears and feathers.

Tubbo did not register the others flying in, or the exhilarated sighs of Puffy and Sam regaining control over their legs, arms and eyesight. He did not quite register Wilbur’s choked sob as the older brother rushed over and gathered them both in his arms, either, until he felt his warm embrace.

They stayed like that for a long time.

A very long time.

If Ranboo, Sam and Puffy all guided Finn, Bad and Skeppy to the library and the archives just to let the family have their moment, and the others followed willingly- well, that was their secret to know, and theirs to keep when the family inevitably untangled themselves and looked around at the empty cavern. 

Chapter Text

“Tommy.” Wilbur said, breath still hitching. Because his little brother is alive- he had not failed. 

No, he had. He had failed, as an older brother. The missing bright red, orange and yellow wings were the perfect proof of that.

“Hey, Wilbur.” Tommy still had that shit-eating grin, even after all that, and a wave of pure fondness briefly overtook Wilbur as he looked at the little gremlin child. “You didn’t really think I’d die, did you?”

“You-” Wilbur cut himself off. “You said you’d die. You said that you would die, and gods, Tommy, don’t you know how badly you fucking scared us? Techno was inconsolable- he wouldn’t stop training for weeks, and Phil had to pull himself together through all that to be king and Tubbo- ”

“I know.” Tommy murmured. “But I’m alive, yeah? And that’s what matters.”

“Tommy.” Wilbur stressed. “You don’t have wings. ”

The phoenix winced, at that. Tubbo glared at Wilbur, and Wilbur cursed himself for being so insensitive.

“No, wait- Tubbo.” Tommy caught Tubbo’s arm as the other prepared to berate Wilbur. “It’s alright. I don’t have wings, I know. We’ll just have to make do without, yeah?”

“Flying’s your life , Tommy.” Tubbo whispered. “You love flying. It’s a fundamental part of you.”

“So it was.” Tommy replied, and it was lost on no one that he used past tense. “But The Heart cannot give me new wings. Looks like I’ll be stuck here-” And he gestures to the entirety of the cavern, at that, “-but we’ll make do, I guess. It’s not all that bad here.”

Tommy’s gaze grew uncharacteristically pensive. “It reminds me a little bit of where I stayed… the first time.”

“The volcano.” Tubbo said. 

Tommy shrugged. “It’s not all that different, really. Another haven for phoenixes, in a place undiscovered, where I can’t fly.” Tommy sighed. “The only difference is- well, instead of wrecked wings, I had weak wings.”

“That’s not an improvement.”

“Probably isn’t. But at least I’m alive… right?” Tommy tried.

Tubbo shook his head tearfully and responded by burying his head in his shoulder. Tommy heaved another sigh, louder this time, and tightened his hold on his soulmate.

“I can’t believe you.” Tubbo sobbed. “You’re going to be grounded if I have any say on the matter, as soon as you come home.”

Tommy didn’t smile at the joke. “You know I can’t go home. Not anymore.”

“We’ll find a way.” Tubbo insisted. “There must be a way. We’re going to find it.”

Tommy shook his head sadly. “Sometimes there isn’t a solution, big T.”

“Like last time?” Tubbo demanded. “You said there was no avoiding death. And you’re alive. You’re standing right here, breathing, talking to me.”

“And?” Tommy challenged. “I was lucky enough to get away with my life. They ripped them out, Tubbo. I’m not a phoenix anymore.”

“Yes, you are. ” Tubbo insisted. “Once a phoenix, always a phoenix.”

Tommy pushed Tubbo off of him, and grabbed his shoulders, forcing his bondmate to look at him. “Tubbo. Tubbo, listen. I have no wings. I have no fire magic. I do not have the power of rebirth. I am not a phoenix. Not anymore.”

The silence was loud and heavy in the air.

Surprising Tommy, Tubbo grabbed his wrist and turned it so that the inside was facing up. “Yes, you are. ” Tubbo reiterated, grounding his teeth. “We still have our soulmate bond. That has to count for something , shouldn’t it?”

“Maybe not.” Tommy wrenched his wrist out of Tubbo’s grip, speaking softly. “Maybe things are not meant to be this way.”

Tubbo stared at him, tears tracking down his face.

Tommy breathed in shakily. “Maybe I wasn’t ever meant to fly.”

~

Puffy led the three other phoenixes down the halls that she’d walked thousands of times before. It was liberating, to be able to use her legs as freely as she’d been used to, and she could tell that Sam felt the same about his sight and his arm.

It was quiet.

Far too quiet.

Puffy turned around, and saw Ranboo avoiding the glances of the other three phoenixes. 

She sighed, then came to a stop after a few more paces. Sam turned around with a questioning tilt of his head, though he nodded when he saw Ranboo’s uncomfortable expression.

The other four avariel startled at her unplanned pause.

“So?” Puffy raised her eyebrows. She directed her gaze at Finn, Skeppy and Bad. “I know you want to say it.”

Finn shuffled around, a little bit uneasy. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing.” Puffy deadpanned, somewhat sarcastically. “Listen, we know that Ranboo’s half-Fallen. But The Heart hasn’t declared him a threat, and he saved Tommy. You don’t have to be afraid of him.”

Skeppy nodded, though he still seemed a little bit apprehensive. Puffy turned to Bad, who straightened and nodded as well- though she could see the fear in his eyes.

Hmm. That will have to do. For now. 

She turned around, and began to continue her brisk walk- before Skeppy called out to her again. “Hold on. The Heart?”

Puffy barely turned around. “Yes. Didn’t you hear it? The voice that spoke in our minds when Tubbo flew in. That’s The Heart.”

Finn frowned thoughtfully. “I could feel a pull to her. Is that normal?”

Puffy’s train of thought screeched to a halt. “Hold on. Her? ”

Finn blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

Puffy frowned. “Where did you get that from? I mean, we’ve been referring to it with… well, It. It- she never told us anything about pronouns.”

Finn paused. How did he know The Heart is female?

“I don’t… I don’t know.” Finn turned to the other two phoenixes. “Did you guys…”

“Yeah.” Bad muttered. “I don’t know what, but it just… felt right.”

Silence.

“Huh.” Puffy said, before turning around and continuing their trek through the tunnels. The others scrambled to catch up with her.

“Wait.” Skeppy cut in. “You’re not going to question it?”

Puffy shrugged without turning around. “The Heart barely tells us anything. If it- she- shares any information, then it must be necessary or essential to protecting her. Of course,” Puffy amended, “I’ve had suspicions over the years. But we haven’t prodded, exactly.”

Finn brushed his hand against the walls. “And you never thought to ask?”

“Not really?” Puffy watched the engravings on the walls, a language lost to time and genocide, glow in the presence of the phoenixes as they passed by them. Finn furrowed his eyebrows, attempting to read the mysterious symbols. “There’s a lot that we don’t know. So much has been lost to time.”

“She doesn’t tell us, anyway.” Sam filled in for Puffy. “Even when we do ask. She always says she’s waiting for her fledglings to return.”

“Nothing in the libraries?” Skeppy asked, curious.

“Probably. Probably somewhere.” Puffy’s voice echoed in the tunnel. “But the library is vast. We don’t even know where to start. Really, we’ve just been playing a waiting game for… well, decades, really.”

Skeppy raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? All this time you guys were stuck down here, and you never thought to at least check what’s in those books? That’s valuable knowledge, you know.”

“Skeppy!” Bad hissed in admonishment, though Puffy laughed and shook her head, unfazed. 

“You’ll see why.” Puffy smiled. 

Eventually, they came to a stop. Giant bronze doors stretched high, towering above them, gleaming as the slightly dusty gold caught the light of Puffy’s torch and the crackling flames lining the walls. The three phoenixes stared up at the imposing doors with wonder. 

“How do you open these?” Finn asked, poking the gold engravings. He could feel… something, on the other side of these doors, but there was nothing telling him how to get there. Nonetheless, he could feel innate excitement building up inside him. 

Puffy smiled. She gestured to the palm imprint at the centre, faintly glowing orange. Finn could’ve sworn it wasn’t there a couple of seconds ago, but the swirling aureous metal did not lie to his eyes. 

“Would you like to do the honours?”

As if in a trance, Finn’s hand came close to the imprint. Almost immediately after he touched it, there was a loud clang that seemed to shake the entire cavern, though none of the walls or the ceiling seemed close to collapsing. Briefly, the four avariel covered their ears, even as the two guardians exchanged amused looks at their surprise.

Unexpectedly, there was no ear-piercing screech as the bronze doors made way. As they opened backwards, powered by some unknown magic, the movement was nearly noiseless. But what caught Finn’s attention was what lay behind those doors. 

Because just as soon as a crack had appeared between the bronze gates, the musty smell of old paper hit Finn like a tidal wave, and he found his own eyes widening as he took in the sight before him. Dozens and hundreds and thousands of books, sitting on their shelves, carefully preserved by the magic that thrummed in the very core of the ancient home of the phoenixes. 

The library was huge.

Finn found himself running forward before he knew it, reading the labels on the shelves, memorizing the categories and forming a plan in his head. The magic books would have to come in first priority- but gods there were so many of them, Finn doubted that he would be able to get through all of them within a month, and that won’t do- so he’ll have to look into quite a few of those journals, too, maybe that one person with the weird scrying ability that Ranboo told him about- oh, but the history, and-

A voice echoed in his head and he flinched, though he’s not so sure that the others heard her too, from the way they shot him confused glances. 

Welcome, little fledgling.

“I-” Finn found that his voice could not form words. “Me?”

Not only you. After all, three others came with you.

Finn recomposed his thoughts for a few seconds before frowning. “Why talk to me?”

Another laugh, albeit more of a giggle this time.  

You, dear phoenix, are the historian of this generation. There’s a story to be told in these books, if you can find them. Something wistful appeared to have entered the voice’s tone. I believe that it deserves to be known.

“But there’s so many.” Finn said, with a tone akin to desperation. Indeed, there were thousands of tomes in this library, and perhaps he’d be able to go through all of them if he spent his lifetime on it, but- this is not his only life. He has a family in the castle, with Bad and Skeppy and Spifey and Mega and all the other phoenixes, and he highly doubts that they’d stay down here forever. 

Your time here will be short, phoenix. She sounds sad. Finn does not know how concerned he should be, for the future of himself and the rest of his flock. I can guide you, tell you which books to choose, for you to learn from.

“Why not tell me directly?” Finn questioned.

Knowledge is earned, not given freely. Especially knowledge like this.

On cue, the spine of the book on the top of the pile Finn had created started glowing a soft, warm orange. A second glance at the rest of the aisle showed sparse lights, all the way down, and Finn had no doubt that if he turned around, ran back to the previous shelves, he’d find more with that same, earthly glow. 

There is one more. The voice murmured. That one is in the hands of the young one. A green and purple spiral is the cover- make sure to read that one. It is quite important indeed.

Finn swallowed dryly. “O-of course. Thank you. For everything.”

The voice did not answer. Finn didn’t think that she’d need to- everything he would need, for however long they had until the Fallen would attack again, was right here at his fingertips. The stories of countless phoenixes from millennia ago, details about their fire magic and their scrying. 

Finn was going to be very, very busy.

~

Tommy lay in bed, staring up at the rocky ceiling. It had been, all in all, a very stressful and eventful day. 

And it was nice, probably. To have seen his family once again. He’d missed Tubbo, and definitely missed Wilbur- he understands why Techno and Phil cannot abandon their people, but he wishes they were here all the same.

Maybe that makes him selfish.

Tommy couldn’t bring himself to care. 

At that moment, Tubbo was curled up in the bed beside his, and Wilbur was on the couch in the same room. The two others had been adamant about staying with him, and he couldn’t fault them- not after complete silence for an entire month, during which he had been… objectively, not at his best. 

Not that he’d admit it. He’s strong. He can push through anything.

(A voice in his head whispers, and begs to differ.)

Sighing, Tommy tried to will himself to sleep. Tubbo would ask him why he was so late to the soulscape, but would undoubtedly be even more alarmed if he didn’t show up at all. 

At the thought, Tommy raised his wrist up, just to see the faint glow of the bee that was his soulmark. 

I don’t deserve any of this. Tommy thought, tears pricking the edges of his eyes- not that he’d admit that, either. Tubbo deserves better than me. My family deserves better than me- someone who can fly, at least. I’m fucking useless. 

That was his last thought before he drifted off into sleep.

~

He woke up, as expected, in the flowering field that was his and Tubbo’s shared soulscape. Squinting, he could see bright phoenix wings, stretched out to their fullest extent, burning with fire. 

Tommy exhaled, a worry he hadn’t known that was building up melting away. He cupped his hands to his mouth and called out. “Tubbo!”

Tubbo did not turn around.

Tommy frowned. Maybe he didn’t hear him? He started jogging over to his soulmate, noting the charred black grass surrounding the other phoenix. 

Maybe he was having a bad day? It would be understandable, given their current circumstances and what has been unloaded on Tubbo for the day. 

Finally, Tommy ran up behind his soulmate, panting. “Jeez, Tubbo, you couldn’t hear me when I called you? Man-” He stopped when Tubbo still didn’t turn around.

That is concerning. Tubbo has never ignored him before. Not like this. He’s the clingy one.

“Tubbo?” Tommy tapped his shoulder hesitantly. “Hey, big T, you good?”

The phoenix still did not turn around. The fires, however, on his wings, died to embers- then vanished. 

“Tubbo?” Tommy ran in front of the avarial. “Tubbo? C’mon, big man, don’t scare me like this-”

He was startled into silence as the field around them withered and died. Charred grass spread like a plague, sucking the life out of the green blades of grass and the leaves of the trees. The flowers wilted, drooping over and disintegrating. Clouds obscured the sun as the trees in the distance crumbled to ash. 

“What the fuck?” Tommy scanned the area around him. “Tubbo, what- are you doing this?”

Tommy turned back to his soulmate, only to find nothing. “Tubbo? TUBBO?” His voice quickly rose to a panicked shout. “TUBBO, WHERE ARE YOU?”

And slowly, ever so slowly, the scene before him changed. Instead of a wasted, dead field, he saw arrows embedded in the ground, swords stained with blood, stomped on and forgotten. The smell of smoke slowly overtook his senses, and he coughed, trying to see past the obscuring gas. With it, came the sharp tang of blood.

Eventually, the sounds of battle reached his ears- slowly, and carefully, as if whatever was happening didn’t want to startle him, but there came a point where all he could hear was the clash of swords, the beats of wings, and the twangs of bows. 

It was a brutal scene that played out before him.

He didn’t know which kingdom this was. After all, Tommy hadn’t had enough time to explore the other kingdoms before he was stolen away a second time, but he did recognize the Fallen when he saw them. Feathers rained down from both sides- the blackened and corrupted ones from the fallen, the bright and fiery ones from the phoenixes. Nameless soldiers fell all around him. Tommy instinctively brought his hands up when a sword flew out of someone’s grip and made its way to his head, though it did nothing as it passed through him.

A vision, then. 

He frowned. Unless that was happening now? But that didn’t make sense- Bad and Skeppy were right there, as was Finn. There was no way that they could’ve flown out that fast. 

And there’s himself, too. He’s sleeping. He can’t be fighting a war at the same time.

He watches with horror as more and more fall, and as the Fallen keep coming back. Their ashes rise, over and over, and they’re using netherite weapons, every single one of them. Their arrows, swords- more than once, Tommy cries out because one of them gets too close to his family. 

And the phoenixes fight hard. He can see every last one of them, fighting like there is no tomorrow, fierce looks on their faces as their swords are lit on fire and they exhaust their magic, over and over. 

There is no rest.

He sees many others that he recognizes, too- there’s Corpse, Sykkuno, Rae and Toast, all fighting together as a unit, quick and deadly. Phil and Techno are back to back, filling each other’s weak spots, moving as efficiently as possible. Even Wilbur is somewhat holding his own, trying his best.

But in the end, they are eleven phoenixes against hundreds of Fallen, and they are mortal avariels against immortal Fallen, no matter how much their power may be stolen. 

And there is so much death, and-

Tommy screams when he sees an arrow launch itself towards Tubbo, but even as he places himself in front of it, he cannot stop it. He sees the moment it embeds itself in Tubbo’s heart- the surprise, pain and resignation that flash across his face before he crumples. He sees himself screaming, too, before he himself is cut down- a costly punishment for a distraction. 

And just like that, there are so many people who start dying. 

He sees Phil falter- a slight mistake, but it earns him a cut to the arm, and he may be king but he has been fighting for hours- and he becomes increasingly weak before there’s a sword to the stomach and the father that Tommy had only known for a year lies on the ground, bleeding out. Techno and Wilbur’s voices break from screaming his name, and Wilbur, too, finds himself with the same fate.

And Techno may be the best warrior in the land, but he is human, and he no longer has someone to fight back-to-back with. 

Tommy can feel the tears on his cheek and his raw throat as Techno, too, receives a stab to the heart. He can do nothing but watch as his mind forces him to witness what may just be the death of his entire family. 

He sees George get a slit throat, and Dream and Sapnap shout his name, but the throes of death are unstoppable, even in this vision that he sees- and he begs, begs that this won’t be the future that they face, but there is something lodged in his throat and he thinks that, horrifyingly, maybe he does not have the power to change it.

And he can only watch as Rae takes an arrow to the back, passing away as Toast catches her- Corpse and Sykkuno, condemned to death by a blade, the last of their group falling alongside them- Dream and Sapnap, surrounded from all sides, blades pointed- Ranboo, killed by his own kin, disintegrating to ash- and Tommy stares, stares at those ashes, hoping with all his heart that Ranboo comes back but he doesn’t, and it’s been far too long.

And then it’s Bad and Skeppy that are next, crumpling to the ground with no wounds in sight- and Tommy wants to question it, he really does, but he thinks he may be hysterical at this point with his grief, because it all looks so real. And he watches and watches as the flames of the phoenixes diminish, slowly, until Spifey is cut down and there is nothing left of them, once more, but the golden feathers of their wings. 

Then there’s a loud, horrifying screech- and there’s a firebird, a True phoenix, that bursts out of her shell in the City of Embers, flying in a terrible glory to a battlefield decorated with death. There is fear on the faces of the fallen, even as their archers try to shoot her with netherite arrows. 

She turns their magic against them, angered by the destruction of her kin, once again. 

She is too late, and when she is finished, caged once more and restrained by her curse, there is quiet on the battlefield. 

Tommy stands in shocked silence in a field of bodies and blood, feathers and ashes. He can’t bring himself to count the bodies.

The smell of smoke is still in the air, even though the fires are long gone. He doesn’t know what to do.

What do you do when you’ve just witnessed what could very well be the future? A future in which all that you love is gone and everyone in your family is dead?

It’s part of why he does not realize that his surroundings have vanished into nothing but black until the blinding light of the crystal is searing his eyes. Bringing up a hand to them, he barely processes the crystal cracking apart, only absently noting that it looks eerily, eerily similar to the Heart. 

He draws closer. 

The crystal bursts open in flames and glory, and Tommy raises his wings to shield himself. 

Wait, wings?

Tommy stared, wide-eyed, at the appendages protruding out of his back. Bright, beautiful and fiery wings met his eyes, and he blinked a couple of times. 

Is he hallucinating?

Fledgling.

Tommy quickly tears his gaze from his wings. “Who- who are you?”

The voice chuckles from the depths of the ashes and dust that had been kicked up by the explosion. You know who I am.

And indeed, Tommy did know. “You’re… you’re the original. The phoenix.”

They called me the True Phoenix, back then. The voice mused. Just like back then, I had been cursed. Forced to remain in the crystal, slumbering, only communicating in their minds. 

“Did you give us these… gifts?” Tommy asked. And though he didn’t elaborate, it was clear what he was asking. 

Of course. The phoenix steps out, and Tommy sees her- just like a normal bird, but with fires licking the ends of her feathers, bright red and orange, much like Tommy’s own. I gave you fire. Rebirth. I taught them how to forge netherite. I gave those wings.

Tommy exhaled, shakily. “Then you also gave me the scrying ability.” He does not mention the wings. That is a can of worms for another day, perhaps. 

So I did.

“You know what I saw.” It wasn’t a question.

I do.

“Should I?”

The phoenix hummed. Do you want to?

“I… I don’t know.” Tommy confessed. 

The phoenix nods. I will tell you this much. Your suspicions are correct- you were scrying the future. You nearly destroyed your soulbond while doing it, drawing too much power from your soulmate, but I could not stop fate from forcing you to see what you saw.

Tommy staggered backwards. “The future?” He clarified, voice sounding weak. “But that can’t be- surely not-”

The phoenix’s beady black eyes seemed to soften. I cannot promise you that no one will die. It’s quite the contrary, to be honest. There are many who are destined to die during your final stand, and I cannot save them.

“Can you tell me who they are?”

No.

Tommy sighed. Worth a try.

But not everyone will die. There are many that will live past that day. The phoenix reassured him. I cannot tell you who, nor how many of them will, but there will be life.

“I saw myself standing there, fighting.” Tommy said. “How will I do that? Without wings?”

The phoenix smiled. Are you so sure to give up on your wings, little fledgling?

“What- but in the vision-” Tommy spluttered.

You’re well aware that the visions are never wholly correct. Especially when they’re of the future. The phoenix said airily. Remember the journals of the other phoenix? Like you?

Tommy didn’t have time to respond before his surroundings faded once again, his last remaining sense being the weight of wings on his back. 

~

“-ommy? Tommy?? Tommy can you- Tommy, whatever you’re seeing, it’s not real, you’re safe, you’re here, I’m here- Tommy?”

Tommy’s eyes shot open, breathing hard. He saw Tubbo and Wilbur hovering over him worriedly. Dimly, he registered that there was fire lighting up the room, washing it in a soft, warm glow. His eyes briefly caught black feathers- Ranboo- and he involuntarily flinched, screwing his eyes shut again.

“I…” Tommy swallowed, ignoring the soreness in his throat. “I’m good. What-”

“You were screaming.” Tubbo says, a strange edge to his tone. “You screamed my name, and then I was woken by a pull on our soulbond- Tommy, you were drawing so much power. And then Phil, then Wilbur, then Techno, then so many others- and then you fell silent, and to all the gods above, Tommy, you scared us.”

“Sorry.” Tommy muttered.

“No, no, it’s just I-” Tubbo ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Just- Tommy, what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He really didn’t. The nightmare was so fresh- it wasn’t even as much of a nightmare as it was a fucking vision from the future, which didn’t make it any better, and Tommy did not want to relive the moments of death so soon. Not now.

Tubbo sighed. “Tommy, we want to help. Please. You’re clearly not okay-”

“I’m fucking fine- ” Tommy objected.

“-no you’re not, and these things never get better when they’re bottled up, so for god’s sake, Tommy, let us help. ” Tubbo said firmly.

Tommy opened his eyes and stared at his soulmate, gritting his teeth. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s nothing you can help with.”

“Then we want to hear it anyway.” Wilbur cut in. “Tommy, you’re my brother. You’re Tubbo’s soulmate. We want to know what hurt you so…” Wilbur trailed off.

Silence. The others in the room shifted awkwardly. 

“It was a vision from the future.”

Tubbo stiffened. “But- but that’s not possible. A phoenix rarely does scry, but even when they do, it’s events in the past or present- Tommy, is Phil safe? Is Techno safe?”

Tommy waved it off. “No, it’s definitely from the future. I was there. Fighting. So were you. So was Ranboo.” Tommy pointed to the half-Fallen, who jolted at the attention. “Unless we can fight wars and sleep at the same time, the vision was in the future.”

“It’s not impossible.” Finn- Rose?- murmured from her corner of the room. “There was a record of a phoenix that seemed to scry whatever was happening with Tommy. The journals must be millennia old.”

“The one I gave you.” Tommy agreed. “I never finished it, but whoever was writing in there definitely saw things that have happened in our lifetimes.”

Tubbo breathed out, slowly. “Okay, so seeing the future is possible. Is it-” His voice cracked. “Is it really that bad?”

Bodies falling, arrows and swords littering the field. Blood painting the canvas of the earth a deep crimson, and ash and smoke polluting the air. Extinguished fires, clanging blades, fallen flags and crowns. 

“Yeah.” Tommy whispered. “Yeah.”

Tubbo launched himself towards Tommy, catching him in a hug, which Tommy returned. He was not sobbing into Tubbo’s shoulder, thank you very much- but at that moment, Tommy wasn’t in much of a state to deny anything.

“Fuck, Tubbo, I-” He hiccuped. “Fuck. It- there were so many of them, and the Fallen were everywhere- they could come back, and we had been fighting for so long, and they had netherite arrows and netherite swords and you were dead and I couldn’t fucking do anything about it, and Phil and Techno and Wilbur and Bad Skeppy Finn Vurb Mega Astelic- ”

“It’s alright.” Tubbo tried to be comforting, even if his own pit of dread in his stomach grew larger and larger as he continued to listen to Tommy’s rambling- broken sentences of a horrible future, where they had failed, even if the Fallen were destroyed in the end, with nothing left of them but the locked city and their ashes and feathers, once again.

“I don’t fucking know what to do anymore, Tubbo.” Tommy confessed, face wet with tears. “It feels like it will never end- all this war and bloodshed and fighting and- Tubbo, when the fuck will we catch a break? ”

Tubbo couldn’t answer that question. He risked a glance over Tommy’s head, and wished he hadn’t- the look on Wilbur’s face was pure devastation, even as he moved over to give Tommy the comfort of an older brother. Puffy was horrified, and Sam’s face was blank- Velvet and Ant seemed similarly stricken, and the other three phoenixes looked vaguely sick.

And Ranboo…

Tubbo wanted to do something, to ease the guilt on the avariel’s face, but Tommy takes priority over Ranboo, as selfish as that would make Tubbo if he admitted that. He can see the grief, but he does nothing to comfort him.

Despite the gravity of the situation dawning on them, they say nothing about the evening when the dawn follows. 

There’s nothing to be said, after all, and Tubbo thinks that Tommy would much rather leave those vulnerable moments and the terrible visions behind, even if they may just be confronted with it in reality when their final stand inevitably comes. 

~

“Wait.” Finn’s brain did a full stop. “You’re leaving?”

It had been a couple of days after what had been dubbed as the incident- that night with the haunting cries of Tommy and the knowledge of the broken future that lay in store for them. They hadn’t talked about it, and everyone had made an effort to pretend things were normal, just for a little while- but it didn’t change the fact that war was looming, and death was going to knock on their door very, very soon.

Bad and Skeppy’s announcement to Finn was only proof of that.

The elder smiled sadly. “Yeah. It’s already been a couple of days, and I know you’ll be safe here. We know you’ll be safe here. But the Empire may be under attack soon- if not, then perhaps the others. Hermitcraftia. The Comfy Kingdom. They need as many hands on deck as possible.”

Finn swallowed dryly. “You could help here-”

“You are the only historian of our race, Finn.” Bad said, gently. “And perhaps we should have more. But none of us are fit, really, and Skeppy and I have never been used to caverns like these, no matter how beautiful. Besides, someone must be the messenger.”

“I…” Finn sighed. “I guess. Will you visit?"

Bad shook his head. “Let’s hope I don’t. If I do come, it will be with news of war, Finn.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” Finn muttered. “I’ll miss you guys, though.”

“You’ll have others.”

“It’s not the same.” Finn glanced over at Tommy, Tubbo and Ranboo, shoving each other around like the children they’re supposed to be as Wilbur watched with a fond look on his face. It took a while for Wilbur to warm up to the half-Fallen, and even longer for Tubbo, but they got around. 

“They’re phoenixes, but they’re young.” Finn said. “We were together for years in that cavern. I don’t think I’ve ever been alone since I fell there, without a member of our original flock.”

“Change can be hard.” Bad amended. “But Tommy and Tubbo are a part of your new flock, as well. And even though perhaps-” Bad swallowed. “Even if we may not all make it out of this alive, there will still be family. You’re not alone, Finn.”

“It does feel like it sometimes.” Finn let out a huff. “But it’ll be okay, I suppose. You’re going to tell them?”

“Skeppy’s over there right now.” Bad nodded towards his soulmate, talking quietly with the now subdued youth. Both of them saw Tommy nod, a graver look on his face than they had ever seen, and Tubbo hugged Skeppy fiercely before nodding as well.

“I see.” Something in Finn’s heart twisted, telling him to make the most of this moment, this period of peace- but he pushed it down. Bad and Skeppy will live. And the others will, too, and even if death must claim them Finn will make death work for it. “Safe travels, Bad. Be safe.”

Bad pat Finn’s shoulder, wings flickering behind him with a small lick of flame. “Be safe.”

It wasn’t long before two avariel flew up and out of the caverns, waving behind them as they left the ancestral home. 

~

Tommy thinks that it’s been a rather long time since he had a good night’s sleep. 

He still hasn’t gotten used to those visions that he saw- the blank, open stares of his family and flock haunt him by day and pester him by night. Wilbur and Tubbo have taken to moving into his room, permanently , just so that they could comfort him during his night terrors.

Evidently, however, they were also quite heavy sleepers, because it barely took Tommy any effort to walk out of their room and into the halls of the City of Embers. 

It’s quite a beautiful place, even at night, Tommy supposes. The crystals glow with a soft light, and whenever Tommy touches it, it feels warm- a comforting warmth that often chases away his earliest memories of staying in a cell, marking off his deaths. The torches flicker on the walls, and whenever Tommy’s fingers brush over a symbol, it glows, as if it's trying to tell him something.

Tommy frowns. Finn has been trying to decipher the ancient language, but he hasn’t been successful. Even The Heart herself does not fully remember these methods of communication, and Tommy feels a wave of sadness when he thinks that this may be one of the many things lost forever, to time. 

Tommy thinks that if not anything else, then the constellations the crystals form are quite pretty. They are a pathetic imitation of the real thing- the stars that twinkle in the blanket of indigo, far above in a place where Tommy cannot see them, but they have a semblance that Tommy can take comfort in.

The halls of this ancient place seem endless. There is carpet, though it’s a little worn- and though the crystals and torches are the only source of light, they illuminate the vast settlement and every crack on the wall. Tommy smiles when he sees script he can read- names, little things that people have carved to mark their presence.

Tommy thinks that someday, maybe he and Tubbo will carve their own, on that wall of names near the chamber where the heart lies. 

There are so many stories in these walls. In the month during which Tommy has healed, stuck in the City of Embers, he had been moping for quite a while of it- until he’d seen Ant move, with a book in hand, to another section of the city he had never seen before. He’d been greeted with the sight of thousands of books, lining the shelves, carefully preserved.

Finn would love this was his only thought as he stared in wonder. His feet had taken him directly to the section filled with journals- there were so many, of all kinds, and he didn’t know what had brought him to take the one with the green and purple spiral, but he’d become immersed in those entries soon enough.

That was the same feeling that Tommy now felt taking over him as his feet moved of his own accord. He wasn’t particularly concerned- any inclination was usually done by the Heart, and as mysterious and annoying as she is, she has their best interests at heart. Besides, if he were really concerned, he could snap himself out of it.

For now, though, he allowed his ancestor to guide him towards wherever that hallway was leading to- yet another place Tommy had never explored. 

He stopped in front of another bronze door. On it, there was an engraving- a young man falling, the sun above him, feathers melting and raining all around him. There was another with wings as well, seemingly shouting. 

Do you know the story of Icarus, fledgling? The phoenix murmured. 

“Yeah.” Tommy thought back to one of his earliest memories with Techno, back when he had been innocent, unhurt, and wingless. “I think it was one of Techno’s favourite stories. Right after the tale of Theseus. It was about that guy who flew too close to the sun and fell and all that shit, right?”

In a nutshell, yes. Tommy seemed to get the impression that the phoenix was currently circling him, studying him with beady black eyes. Icarus was too prideful. He flew too close to the sun, and his wings were ripped from him, sending him plummeting to his death.

“But I never flew close enough to the sun.” Tommy said, growing slightly defensive.

The phoenix let out an amused sort of sound in Tommy’s mind. I never said you were Icarus, fledgling. There is a detail in the story that everyone seems to forget.

Tommy’s mind whirled through the possibilities. “Which one?”

They seem to forget, she murmured, that Daedalus had crafted those wings. He had been trapped with his nephew, under the thumb of King Minos. He had no wings, and neither did Icarus- but in order to escape, he made his own. In other words, dear fledgling, he got his wings back after he had lost them.

Something rose in Tommy’s chest, though he didn’t quite dare to believe it. “But you said you can’t give me back my wings. That you can’t fix what is completely gone.”

And you’re correct. She said. But that does not mean I cannot give you something new.

The doors cracked open. Unlike the ones to the library, this one came with a loud screech, but that wasn’t what caught Tommy’s attention.

What did were the beautiful, black wings that were hung up at the other side of the room, centered and gleaming with magic. He knew it to be netherite, not Fallen- and once, he might have flinched away from the metal, but now, he draws himself closer until he can touch the cool appendages, staring in awe at things that should be decorations.

“Are these- are these for me?” Tommy whispered hoarsely. 

In a way, yes. The phoenix replied. The one who saw the future saw you, you know. He saw you without wings. It was a long fight with the Elders- but eventually, they agreed to forge a pair of netherite wings, a tool that can be used to give back a gift to someone who has lost it.

“The one who could see the future. He- he commissioned these?” Tommy asked, even though he already knew the answer. The wings looked far too heavy to be able to work, but by the power of something above, Tommy could lift them off the handles easily, admiring the beauty of such a thing.

He did. The phoenix sounded amused. I did tell you to not give up on your wings, fledgling.

“I-” Tommy cut himself off. “I can fly again?”

Would you like to?

“Wait, tell me-” Tommy interrupted her. “Tell me how to put these on.”

It’s not a painless process, fledgling. It’s not an easy one either. The phoenix warned him, though she knew it wouldn’t be of any use. Tommy loves flying as much as he loves the feeling of wind in his hair and the soulscape he and Tubbo share, and he is far too eager to take back something he’d lost.

“I’m sure. I’m sure- tell me how to do this.” Tommy pestered, examining the connections between the two wings. “How does this work? ”

Netherite is a harsh metal. The phoenix mused. The others have used other materials to imitate the texture of regular flesh and bone, but it will still feel a little stiff. Other than the attaching process, though, it should be painless.

“Why would it be painful in the first place, though?” Tommy frowned. “It’s not like it’s going into my back.”

Your wounds are not yet fully healed, fledgling. The phoenix reminded him. They can be quite sore. And don’t try to lie, she spoke amid Tommy’s protests, I know that you feel pain whenever you lie on your back. This may be worse than that.

Tommy was silent for a couple of seconds. “So we can do this?”

Yes, we can, I suppose. She sighed. Let us begin.

~

Tubbo woke up, once again, to the feeling of pain from his soulmate. He shot up, panicked eyes searching the room, before realizing that Tommy’s bed was empty.

Fuck.

Tubbo quickly ran out, intentionally disturbing Wilbur with a shout in the process. There was no way of telling if Tommy was in danger, and The Heart may be powerful but she still needs Guardians for a reason. Tubbo’s mind runs through many possibilities, none of them particularly good. 

He runs through the halls, feeling his soulmark pulse, even with the damn netherite covering the golden music disc, and he finds himself in front of a room, doors blown wide open.

He can hear screams.

Tommy is screaming, and in pain.

Tubbo tries to run to him- he is a phoenix, after all, and fire has always been his element- but he feels a wave of something blow him back, and the panic that he felt returns tenfold.

“ Tommy! ” He shouts, trying to establish a connection with his soulmate, but his soulmate is unresponsive.

Do not fear. Tubbo freezes as the voice enters his mind. Do not distract him. He needs all of his concentration right now.

“He’s in pain. ” Tubbo hisses, and with the part of his mind that is not alight with a protective bonfire, he realizes that once again, the other inhabitants are all gathered behind him. “He is in pain, and he has had enough pain for a lifetime.”

It will not take much longer, fledgling. The Heart, as much as Tubbo doesn’t want it, is soothing, and her voice is like a melody to his ears, despite the dangerous plight he and his soulmate are stuck in. Soon enough, Tommy will soar in the skies again.

“In death? ” The thought horrifies Tubbo enough to try again, but instead of being thrown back, he is pushed, almost gently, away from the flames that now roar blue, radiating heat even Tubbo finds hot. 

In life, I assure you. She whispers back. He is free again, Tubbo. Be sure that he makes the most out of it.

The flames suddenly vanish, and when the smoke clears, Tommy is there, standing. Tubbo lets out another shout and runs towards his soulmate, catching him in another hug, just as tight as the one from a few nights ago.

Tommy looks surprised. “Tubbo? Big T- what are you doing here?”

As his fear wears off, he feels a small flicker of anger take place. “I could ask you the same thing!” Tubbo punches Tommy, albeit playfully. “What were you doing here?”

Tommy gives him a grin. “Getting wings. What else does it look like?”

“Oh, shut up.” Tubbo scoffs, though he can never stay mad at Tommy for too long, not when he has that grin on his face. His eyes sparkle with a new light, looking far more alive than they had for the past few days, and for that Tubbo is grateful, even if he had to listen to his pained screams only a couple of minutes ago. 

Tommy’s face becomes uncharacteristically serious. “I’m not joking, Big T. I came here to get new wings. So that I could fly again, and so that I can actually fight in the war that is to come.”

“What-” And usually Tubbo is the optimist, but really, Tubbo is glad that Tommy’s alive, wings or not, and he had been confronted with the reality of a wingless Tommy for weeks now, even if he hadn’t processed the fact for most of it. “Didn’t you say it’s impossible? That your wings are far too gone, and The Heart cannot fix what is gone?”

There’s another smile that stretches on Tommy’s face. Except it’s not the same, shit-eating grin that he usually sports, nor is it the over-excited or loud, really, smile that takes over when he’s laughing- but a small, soft one that only precedes grand revelations.

“She is not The Heart, Tubbo.” Tommy says, almost too softly for Tubbo to hear. “She is The Phoenix. The True Phoenix. She’s our ancestor, the one who breathed life into our wings, and gave us the powers of fire and rebirth. She gave me my scrying ability, and gave us our soulbond when we needed it the most.”

Tubbo stumbles, only slightly, as Tommy continues. “She had given the same gift to someone, thousands of years ago, with an ability to see the future. And that same someone saw what happened to me, and forged wings for me to have.” Tommy runs his hand through the netherite feathers. “She gave me back my wings, gave Puffy her legs and Sam his arm, and Ant his flight and Velvet his body.”

“She-” Tubbo cut himself off, trying to process the new information. “That’s her? ”

“It does seem so indeed.” Experimentally, Tommy reached out to the hum of the netherite, now attached to his back. He reached in for that magic, and was delighted to find a new fireplace, not like the dying embers that had been there when his wings had been first ripped out. He felt around the metal, and flapped his wings- once, twice.

A blast of air rushed into Tubbo’s face, but he didn’t mind- instead, he stared, slack-jawed, at the new wings that flanked Tommy, filled with a new kind of joy he had never experienced. “You can- you can control it. It’s netherite. Holy shit Tommy, you can fly again!”

Tommy returned the grin with equal excitement, though it faded a little when he caught sight of the wristband, still attached to Tubbo’s arm. He caught Tubbo’s hand, the other pausing and tilting his head with a questioning air- before gasping as the metal came off.

The skin below the metal was a harsh red, having been pressed by the metal for far too long. But it was finally off, and Tubbo began tearing up at seeing the golden music disc, glowing the same aureous shade that Tommy’s bee was emitting as well. 

“Tommy-”

“Shush, Tubbo. You can be clingy for today.”

He didn’t need to say anything more. That night would remain a happy night in their memories for however long they lived. 

(And a small part of Tommy whispers enjoy it while it lasts, because there will come a day when their fire burns out, no matter if it’s on the battlefield or centuries into the future- but Tommy shoves the thought aside for now, and clings onto his soulmate.)

~

In the depths of the caverns, behind bronze doors and stacks of books, a phoenix stared at the piles of books he would have to study and carefully take notes for.

This would be a long couple of weeks.

~

The Fallen keep coming.

I don’t know why. It’s- they keep coming. We are getting more and more worried, and the ℸ ̣ ᒷ∷∷ᔑ ╎⊣リ╎⚍ᒲ no longer feels safe. It used to be just tension in the air- now, it’s fear. 

Children aren’t allowed at the entrance area. We have patrols on, shifts planned, to cover the areas at all times. The Fallen are getting bolder and bolder, and I have stopped hesitating to kill them whenever they threaten my home. 

I don’t know if I should be horrified and scared of myself, or glad that I’m finally seeing past my naïveté. 

But regardless, it’s not safe. As much as I hate to say it, I think we may be trapped. There are no back doors, no planned escape routes- we had thought that this would be a permanent sanctuary, and a place where we would never need to worry about getting killed, much less by netherite. 

I am almost certain that they know that netherite kills us permanently now. The Elders disagree with me, which I cannot fault them for- the information is closely guarded, and there is no reason for phoenixes to leak that information. We risk extinction if it becomes well known.

But some of the envoy to the yearly meeting between kingdoms still haven’t returned. The ones that did refuse to talk- in fact, they aren’t in any condition to. Some of them are traumatized beyond belief- some of them are mute. Some of them bear scars that I do not want to think about. 

Fear is a powerful motivator, and I think all of us know this. But at this point, fear is doing far more harm than good. Foolish lost control over his fire magic the other day, and burned a house down by accident- there were children in there. 

We are phoenixes. We are immune to fire. But it does not stop the children from screaming in fear, watching the debris fall around them, even if The Phoenix will never allow any harm to come to the youngest of our kind.

Not if she can help it. 

Foolish didn’t forgive himself for days later. I still don’t think that he has. 

My mind is slipping too. I am forgetting too many people. Fundy- I don’t think I’ve talked about him all that much here, haven’t I? But he’s a good friend too. He’s been here since the beginning. 

I think I actually did write about him.

No, I didn’t. Did I forget about him while writing?

I barely remember my memories of writing in these journals, though.

It’s all terrifying.

Fundy is a good person. He’s been by my and Quackity’s side for a long, long time. And I forgot who he was. Just like the others. 

There are days, Quackity tells me, when I stare at him with nothing but blank eyes for ten minutes before truly waking up. I think everyone knows of my unstable mind at this point, but I couldn’t care less- and though some, like my closest friends, may be concerned, we have bigger problems at hand. 

They got one of the patrol phoenixes today. With netherite. A netherite arrow to the chest. 

She fell. She didn’t get back up.

I forgot her name.

I’m ashamed of that fact. How can I, when her family mourns, when her child screams for his mother and when she can never be there to comfort him, ever again?

Quackity tells me it’s not my fault. But in a way, it really is. I strayed from the path. I forgot.

No. No. No. The path- no.

What is happening to me?

Why are they telling me to come home?

Am I not home?

What’s happening?

~

“TOMMY, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Wilbur screeched as he ran after his little brother, eggs splattered and mixed in his hair. The phoenix in question laughed as he ran. 

The City of Embers was indeed quite vast. There were caverns and caves, small rooms and large halls, providing so many forms of resonance. Wilbur had brought his guitar (like the musician he is) and he often finds delight in playing in those large halls, enjoying the echo of his notes. 

Then, there were moments like these, when Wilbur wished that there were more small rooms so that Tommy didn’t have as much space to run away from him.

He watched, breath somewhat caught in his throat, as Tommy saluted him and jumped off an edge.

It’s not a particularly tall cliff. There aren’t any too tall cliffs- perhaps it was for the smaller, younger phoenixes all those years ago. But there are places like here, where Tommy practices his flight. There’s an instinct in him that screams at him to protect, to catch him and hold on to him and make sure he’s safe, but he knows that Tommy has not lost control over his new wings- if anything, he’s even more in control of them now that they’re netherite.

And maybe he has to relearn how to flap them, and do all those fancy wing movements, and practice until flying is once again but a mere thought of his mind- but Tommy can fly, and Tommy can glide, and that’s enough for Wilbur as he watches his brother land gracefully at the bottom of the cavern, diving down after him.

He can hear the other avariel in the City of Embers laughing as the brothers pass them- Ranboo chortles, catching himself on Tubbo for support as he bends over, and Puffy gets that soft smile. Finn looks up, a small part of him annoyed, though he’s amused nonetheless- and Sam looks long-suffering, but they all know that he, along with Velvet and Ant, find beauty in the laughter of children.

It’s enough.

~

We’re losing people.

I think the reality is truly starting to hit most of us at this point. Our people are turning to ash with nothing to bring them back. Their family stays by the ashes’ side for hours, but it’s of no use. 

We are losing them, and fast.

I think the worst scenario may just be upon us. I find it funny that Quackity is the one telling me to be optimistic nowadays, but my mind is spiraling and the worries find too much purchase in me. I think that this could be the end.

But maybe we have to stay strong. The Elders are conversing, trying their best. Fire magic roars in all of us, that the Fallen do not have. 

They keep coming.

Their numbers seem endless. We cut them down, hundreds at a time, but they still have the resources to attack every day. It’s just like a siege. 

I don’t think the other kingdoms know what’s going on. After all, we were always more of an isolated group of avariel. There is no need for them to get involved if they do not know- and perhaps they have suspicions, from the lack of letters between friends, but otherwise, there’s nothing that would warrant an army. 

I could’ve sworn that I saw a familiar Fallen, one day. He had the same face as the one that had nearly spared- that would’ve cut me down, permanently, had Eret not been there. But Rebirth had only been given to the phoenixes. 

The Phoenix may lie about some things, but when it concerns the survival of her race, she does not refuse these answers, and she will only tell the truth.

Perhaps a twin?

I really, really hope that it’s the latter. But from the way they keep coming, and others whisper that they have seen their attackers before, I have a suspicion that we may just be fighting a foe with the same powers we have.

Some of the particularly crazier magic specialists theorize that the power of Rebirth was stolen.

I’m…

It’s a horrible thing. I don’t like the thought of it- but wouldn’t it make sense? Those missing phoenixes, and the traumatized ones- what better than torture and experiments to break a person?

I know that my thoughts are getting more morbid by the day. But there’s no other path your mind can take when everywhere around you is filled with war and bloodshed.

My grasp on my mind is falling apart. I don’t think I can do this anymore. Flashes of a white castle- and it’s supposed to be a sanctuary, somewhere safe, somewhere I can rest- but it’s not, and there’s something urging me to go to the portal, to leave, and there’s another place- and there’s black? And red?

If I had to pick between the wither rose and the white tulip, I’d pick the white tulip.

But I’d known the wither rose for so long.

What had changed?

Why does everything seem like it’s falling apart, again?

~

We lost Fundy.

I’m not sure I can say more than that. Eret held him as he died, bleeding out from a wound to the gut- it sounded painful. Fundy was sobbing through most of it.

He had never been particularly braver than the rest of us. He’d always had dreams of the future- truly, he’d been an ingenious person with brilliant ideas and the ways to execute them.

He’s gone.

I don’t think I can process that. Not quite.

The historians are growing more pragmatic. They’re slowly gathering books, taking note of our knowledge, in common script. They’re urging people to keep journals, if they hadn’t already.

Fundy didn’t have a journal.

All we have of him is a feather and the wooden toy fox he treasured so much.

Eret kept both. He hasn’t left his house since.

~

I know it. I knew it. I know it. 

I know.

They’re coming back.

I swear.

Even the Elders agree.

There is all-out terror in what used to be a haven. Children jump at the slightest noise. Adults flinch at the sight of black feathers. Tears come to our eyes whenever we think of our own dead. 

I hate this. I hate it all. Why can’t it stop? Why must it be like this?

My visions have stopped.

I think I finally lost control. My amnesia gets worse, with nothing to show for it.

I think this may be the end.

Even Quackity doesn’t try to get me back to my optimistic self.

~

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Ant sighed as he moved over to where the historian of a race thought extinct sat, intensely flipping through pages and scribbling down notes with a quill and ink. There was a small plate of fruits in his hand.

“Puffy told me that you skipped lunch.”

“What about it?” Finn said defensively, not looking up from where he was scanning the contents of the book, brushing his eyes over lines and lines of small script. So many words, so many sentences and paragraphs, so many stories, and so little time to make note of it all.

“Finn.” Ant prodded gently. “It won’t do if you’re not going to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“ Finn. At least take a break. You’ve been up late at night, barely sleeping, working around the clock. You don’t join us in the dining hall more often than not. You’re over exerting yourself, Finn. Even Velvet has told me to check on you.”

Finn sighed. He had been staring at the pages for a long time. And his eyes were hurting. That’s probably not a good sign. “Fine.” He relented.

Ant gave him a small smile before setting down the plate, fork at ready. Finn eyed the other avariel. “I presume you’re not here just to tell me to eat.”

“Actually, that was exactly what I came here for.” Ant said. “But we can always talk.”

“Sure.” Finn poked through the fruit. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“Anything, really.” Ant shrugged. “What about those journals you have been reading?”

“Those?” A strange look crossed over Finn’s face, and he stayed silent. Ant felt the mood drop. 

“Or we don’t have to talk about those.” Ant hurried to add. “It’s fine, if you don’t want to, we can talk about Tommy’s recent prank, or-”

“No- Ant, no, it’s fine. I just…” Finn paused. “They’re not happy stories.”

Ant swallowed dryly. “I can imagine. The Heart does not reveal much of the first of her kin, but whenever she talks about her fledglings, there’s always a sad note to her voice.” 

Finn smiled, just as sadly. 

Ant stared at the books, eyes brushing over the lines of text, though not actually reading them.

“Did you know that in the first generation of phoenixes, there was only one pair of soulmates?” Finn said, quietly.

Ant blinked, slowly. “But… but we have two.” He said. “And the phoenixes in this generation are only eleven-”

“A soulbond is only formed in a phoenix’s darkest hour.” Finn chuckled. “To quote Skeppy, ‘trauma makes the best of friends.’ Back then, the phoenixes were so free. There were hundreds of them. There was a whole hierarchy- Elders, magic users, scryers, warriors, protectors… so much. It’s fascinating.”

Ant remembered Finn’s excitement, the first time he’d flipped through one of the books detailing the culture of the ancient firebirds. “I can imagine.”

Finn laughed. “They had been so free. There was only one pair that had gotten any severe trauma- I think it says a lot about how much we have failed, as older phoenixes, to protect the young ones.”

“Tommy’s sixteen.”

“He’s a child.”

Ant frowned. “Yeah, I guess he is. He never seems like it.”

“And he should.”

Ant nodded.

The rest of their companionship was passed in silence, with only mindless chatter filling the void when either found it to be too suffocating. 

“I’ll…” Ant stood up awkwardly. “I’ll be gone now. Don’t work too hard, alright?”

Finn threw him a grin. “Historians are pragmatic for a reason, Ant.”

Ant hesitantly returned it. “I suppose. Just don’t die. Bad and Skeppy wouldn’t forgive me for it.”

Finn waved him off. “Go, go be- I don’t know, go be with your boyfriend or something.”

Ant flushed amid the peal of laughter that was released somewhere in the halls, and Finn smiled as he turned back to his books. 

The candle’s length had been decreased to the middle.

~

We lost more.

We lost Eret.

I think Eret had been too distracted. Eret had been, indeed, somewhat attached to Fundy, more than the rest of us- which was understandable. Fundy had always been looking for a father figure, a semblance of something that he never had. He was trying. Eret was trying to fill that hole.

But he’s gone.

We mourn. Some of the Elders fell too. The number of magic specialists we have is growing dangerously low. 

The historians almost have all of our knowledge on culture bound in books. I admire their ability to work, sometimes.

I don’t know why I’m being so casual.

Two of my friends are gone, and in the span of a week.

Not dead. Gone.

That’s a key difference in the community of the phoenixes.

Maybe it’s because I’m refusing to truly acknowledge what has happened.

It’s a strange feeling, to acknowledge denial.

But we don’t have time for the other stages of grief. If you can’t go through them quickly, then you can’t go through them at all. Especially when you’re in the middle of fighting a war.

They’re killing the children too. One of the Fallen had a child at knifepoint- the mother screamed, begged, pleaded, but the Fallen had slit her throat anyway.

I feel sick whenever I think about that.

There has to be a way. Stealing magic comes with a price.

There has to be a way to turn the Fallen’s sick magic against them. I just don’t know how.

We have to find a way to do so.

I’ll do it.

Even with my deteriorating mind.

~

I spoke with The Phoenix earlier today. She told me that it is indeed possible to release her from the prison, and then she’d be able to turn the Fallen’s magic against them. After all, they stole from a phoenix. They will face the consequences.

But she refused to tell me how. She told me that we should only use it if we’re backed to a corner.

I think today’s the first time I truly got angry at her. Even if it’s only for a few minutes, even if the curse that binds her to the crystal is eternal and we can only palliate it, wouldn’t it be worth it? 

What price must we pay?

Or maybe she wants to tell us, but the higher powers aren’t letting her. That could be a possibility as well. 

It’s not impossible. She may be the Phoenix, but she is not fate, nor life, nor death itself.

She does not control everything.

But there’s a way. And we’re going to find it. We have to find it, because there’s no other choice.

~

The historians have everything copied down. They sealed the library today.

The Phoenix- she insists that we call her the Heart now. She assures us that in the event that, we do indeed get wiped out, she will protect the library at all costs, sealing the entrance and waiting for the next of our kin- the next generation that will be born from fire, ashes and feathers.

Hopefully it works.

If we cannot save ourselves, we can save our culture. 

At the very least.

The library is unsealed to phoenixes. I’ve been researching. Quackity pleads with me, asks me to stop, asks me to rest- but I cannot. There’s a way to save us.

We just have to find it.

~

Ranboo knocked on the frame of the door to the workshop in which Sam was currently busying himself in. “Sam?”

The green avariel turned around, startled, before relaxing at the sight of the familiar half-Fallen. “Hey, Ranboo. Anything up?”

“No, not really.” Ranboo let himself in. “I’m just wondering how you’re doing. You’re almost as bad as Finn, you know- you work yourself until you’re running on fumes."

Sam laughed, amused. “I suppose I do. But I have an idea, and it’s something that will hopefully allow Tommy to hear, when he inevitably flies up and out to the battle waiting for him.”

Ranboo’s eyes widened. “Wait, really? Even away from The Heart?”

Sam nods, a smile on his face. “I know, it’s crazy to think about. But theoretically- because we now have the information that The Heart actually wields the same power as a phoenix does. Like, a regular one. So if we could somehow harness that, and power Tommy’s hearing aids…”

Ranboo clapped his hands together- “That’s- that’s awesome, Sam. Hey, doesn’t this also mean that you’d be able to fly out of the City of Embers, and use your arm and sight above ground?”

Sam froze. “What.”

“Yeah!” Ranboo continued. “Like, the tech you used for Tommy is the same as the brace for your arm and Puffy’s spine, as well as Ant’s wings, right? And your eyes? Aren’t they all powered by the Heart.”

“Wait…” Sam said slowly. “Wait… yeah.”

“Oh, this is amazing! You can see the grass, the sky-” Ranboo cut himself off at Sam’s blank expression. “Sam, are you telling me that you never thought of this?”

Sam swallowed. “Not exactly.”

Silence. Ranboo’s mouth twitched before he burst on into full-on laughter, even in the midst of Sam’s slightly disgruntled expression. 

“Oh god, you can come up with ingenious ideas like this, and you can’t think of the implications of them? Man. That’s just-” Ranboo chortled. “That’s just sad. ”

Sam didn’t roll his eyes. No, he didn’t. Ranboo will say otherwise.

Eventually, though, when their mutual amusement died down, there were details to be ironed out.

“So how would we do this?” Ranboo looked over the blueprints of the thing that Sam was trying to develop- a power source, of sorts, that would be able to power the aids of any person reliant on the Heart. It took the form of a pendant, to be hung from a phoenix’s neck, drawing their latent power. With any luck, it wouldn’t affect them nearly as much as their fire magic does.

“I don’t really know.” Sam mused. “I was thinking that we could make something out of that crystal? I don’t think she would object.”

“Most definitely not.” Ranboo agreed. “There’s… hmm. You might need some symbols of some sort.”

I can help you with that part.

Both avariel jumped at the sudden entrance of the voice of the Heart. Before long, though, Sam tilted his head. “You can?”

I can. The phoenix confirmed. I recognized why the language of my kin is so familiar- it’s the same symbols as the ancient language called Galactic. They arranged it with different orders, and different sentence structures, but theoretically, if you translated the common tongue to Galactic, you should be able to form some runes that you can carve into the back of the pendant.

“Should?” Ranboo asked.

I cannot guarantee it would work. The phoenix sighed. But it’s the best option, I believe, we have for now.

“Alright.” Sam stopped. “How would we test these things?”

“Hmm.” Ranboo thought for a few seconds. “Do you think that the Heart can, possibly, turn off the source of support and have a phoenix take her place instead?”

That is doable.

“Awesome.” Ranboo grinned. “I think that we might actually have a plan now.”

Sam shrugged. “Better to have something rather than nothing.”

~

Weeks went by. Everything seemed like it was getting better- because indeed, things were all getting much, much better. 

Wilbur and Tubbo were still protective of Tommy, but that was to be expected. Tommy jumping off cliffs and the occasional roof had forced them to allow him freedom, though, because the phoenix needs to relearn how to fly. 

That’s alright, though. Wilbur’s more than willing to reteach the techniques of flying to his little brother, and Tubbo’s fire magic, although not the strongest, is still enough of an example for Tommy to build off of. The fact that they’re soulmates, and can feel the pulsing power of each other’s fire magic, only makes the task easier. 

Companionship is developed. As annoyed as Finn is, when the other avariel in the City of Embers drag him out of the library to eat a proper meal or do the new round of testing for Sam’s new gadgets, he grows to appreciate them. Ranboo and Sam develop their own kind of friendship, from hours and hours of working in the same workshop, bouncing ideas off of each other. When he’s not subdued, Sam finds that the young half-Fallen has a brilliant and quick mind, rivalling Sam’s own.

It’s refreshing, to work with someone so adept.

Even during the worst nights, when Tommy wakes up, once again, gasping and out of breath and reliving the worst possible scenario, there is healing and love all around him. And hope grows by the day, especially when Sam’s pendants actually work for the first time, and Puffy can stand without the help of the Heart. 

“You can see the sky again, Sam.” She had whispered to Sam.

And as much as Ant and Velvet insisted that there was nothing left for them Above, that they didn’t need to leave the City of Embers, Sam saw the longing in their eyes whenever someone spoke of the stars, the endless sky, of the trees and birds and animals. 

Perhaps things will, actually, be okay for once. Not the weak semblance of serenity in those fourteen years, when there had still been regret.

Actual freedom and peace. For all of them.

Maybe. Just maybe.

Sam allowed himself, for the first time in a very long time, to hope.

~

This is really, really bad.

I don’t think I can accentuate this enough.

Foolish is dead.

We lost him.

Is Quackity next? I don’t think I could survive if Quackity was killed as well. We’re literally soulmates. It wouldn’t…

But Fundy, Eret and Foolish had died so easily. It’s too easy to steal life from a phoenix- I had thought it was hard, at first, back when I started this journal.

Sometimes I flip back to my earliest entries, and reread my optimistic outlook for the future, and how cheerfully I recount my visions- just to remember the better, old days.

I think our time is drawing to a close. Very soon.

I’ve exhausted most of the books in the magic section. There are only three or four more left that I can read. I don’t know what to do.

What if I don’t find what I need? What if the phoenixes are wiped out, and the Fallen are victorious- will they take over the land? Will Shady Oaks fall? 

What will happen?

I can’t let it. It is our job, as phoenixes. If we must die, and be massacred, with nothing else left- then at least we have to take down the Fallen with us. Permanently.

I’m going to scour the final few books. The Phoenix has been keeping me away from them, but I won’t let her. I need to find what will help us.

The library is still there, which I’m glad for. Even though all the historians of our race are now dead.

I don’t think we ever got to note down the translations from the common tongue to our own phoenix language.

Maybe we can’t save everything.

~

I found it.

I found the sacrifice needed to free her.

I know what to do.

I only regret that Quackity must pay such a price too, but he agreed. 

We’re going to do it. 

~

That was the last entry in the journal.

Finn stares, somewhat disbelievingly, at the next empty pages. And the ones after that. There were no more messy words, scrawled in ink. There was no signature. There was no name- no name that Finn could note down and remember. 

It seemed like this scryer would have to remain unknown for the rest of history to come.

As a historian, it makes Finn ache with sadness. 

There weren’t many other books for Finn to go through. That was it. 

The phoenix, however, had noted down the book that Finn had to look for, to find out what price they had to pay in order to free the Phoenix from her prison- to turn the magic of the Fallen against themselves. 

Finn’s not sure that he wants to know.

But for the safety of his kind, he must. 

If only for a last resort.

Finn stood up. The candle was burning dangerously low, and Finn frowned at it. He ran past the shelves, lined with books detailing every single detail possible about fire magic of the phoenixes and what it entails. He didn’t have time for that.

At the very end of the shelves, there was one- bound in gold, with letters written in black ink. It looked just like every other book in the library.

Finn squinted at the journal once again, in the dim light of the torches. Page 430.

He quickly flipped over to that page.

He scanned the contents.

Dropped the book.

~

“Did you notice something?”

Notice what?

Puffy narrowed her eyes at Velvet. “You know what I mean. The Fallen haven’t attacked. They haven’t attacked for two months, and you know they always come back at least twice per month, if not more.”

Velvet shrugged. Isn’t that a good thing? He signed. At least Tommy and Tubbo and Ranboo can relax. They deserve it. And Tommy’s flying nearly as well as before- surely you aren’t saying that you wish the Fallen were attacking.

“I’m not.” Puffy retorted, the Guardian side of her puffing up in indignation at the notion that she would want someone to attack a member of her personal flock. “I’m just saying- it’s quite odd. Do you think that war is coming?”

Velvet tilted his head. Hasn’t war always been coming?

“Well, yes…” Puffy trailed off. “But it worries me. If the Fallen are preparing themselves, throwing every single last resource at a kingdom, one at a time- without a proper support system, each of them would crumble, one by one. Even with the help of- let’s say eleven- phoenixes on their side, many of which are magic specialists, there are hundreds of Fallen, and they can be rebirthed far sooner than the phoenixes can.”

Velvet’s face scrunched up. I suppose that’s true. It’s unpleasant to think about, though.

“Of course it is.” Puffy looked at Tommy indignantly shouting at Ranboo, who had, once again, put spaghetti into his sandwich. Which, in all honesty, Puffy wasn’t sure how Ranboo had found so much pasta, especially down in the City of Embers- but they grow fruits and vegetables down here. Many things are possible with magic.

But in all honesty? Velvet moved his hands once more, forcing Puffy to pay attention. I don’t think worrying about it is going to fix anything. We enjoy what’s here, and do the necessary preparations when war inevitably comes. One day, we will all die. It’s a fact. Just a matter of when.

“Not necessarily a matter of when for phoenixes.” Puffy said.

Velvet’s lips quirked up. Maybe not. Maybe yes. A phoenix can burn too hot and fly too high as well.

“The story of Icarus.” Puffy nodded. “You know that door with Icarus on it? That’s where Tommy got his wings.”

Ironic, really. Velvet remarked. I find it amusing. To find your wings in a story where someone loses them.

Puffy sighed. 

~

“Hey, Phil.”

“Hey, Techno.”

The warrior opened the door to his father’s study. “What’s goin’ on now?”

In the candlelight, Phil looked far older than his years. A side-effect of being king of a nation in the middle of a war, no doubt, but it didn’t stop Techno from feeling a wave of… something, as he observed the bags beneath Phil’s eyes and the drawn shadows on the walls. “It’s nothing much, mate. You should go to sleep.”

“It’s past midnight, and you’re still working.” Techno retorted, sitting down beside him, folding his wings neatly. “Least I can do is help.”

Phil gave him a tired smile. All of Phil’s smiles seemed tired, lately. “Not much you can help with, Techno. Although I suppose I should expect for you to become king someday.”

Techno shoved Phil lightly in the shoulder, to which Phil laughed. “None of that talk.” The warrior insisted. “Now, what’s going on? How are the other kingdoms faring?”

“No signs of attack. Not recently, anyway.” Phil said. “I’ve been going through the letters. There have been a few sightings of Fallen, just scattered around the place, but nothing major. Still doesn’t stop me from worrying, though.”

Techno ignored all of this, however. “Have you taken a break? You were sifting through the letters three hours ago.”

“Time waits for no man.” Phil replied breezily, though Techno could hear the yawn in his voice. “Especially not a king. If I receive something, I’m obligated to open it, in the case of an emergency.”

Techno frowned. “You know, I wonder why people say they want to become royalty and all that. Don’t they see the work you put into this? Don’t they see how tiring it is?”

“Mate, we all want what we can’t have.” Phil chuckled, poking at the golden crown that sat, ever present, on top of Techno’s pink hair. “I wish I could be an adventurer. Traversing worlds, building monuments, flying to my heart’s content. But duty calls.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Has life ever been fair for our family?” Phil counters.

“No.” Techno admits. “Least of all to Tommy.”

A few beats of silence followed the reminder of their youngest member.

“I haven’t seen him in so long.” Phil finally breaks the silence. “And I know we can trust Bad and Skeppy, and Wilbur is there- but it’s one matter to place your trust into someone’s word, and another to see it for yourself.”

“Yeah.” Techno’s eyes seemed far away, too. “Yeah, I’m aware.”

Apropos of nothing, Phil began reminiscing. “Do you remember that time Tommy nearly committed arson in the garden?”

“Man, that was so long ago.” Techno sighed, thinking of the true good old days- the days before Tommy’s kidnapping, even though Tommy didn’t have his wings during those eight years. “He wasn’t even a phoenix back then. No fire magic or anything, just a love of torches and fire. Maybe we should’ve seen it in him.”

Phil wheezed. “Maybe. Would’ve been interesting to see it happen. Just- Tommy standing in the middle of a burning garden, wings spread out, in all their red, orange and yellow, fiery glory. Makes for a sight to see.”

“The nerd would totally shove it in Wilbur’s face.” Techno added, amused. “Especially that young.”

“He still does it.” Phil laughs, fondly. “He may have been broken, but he hasn’t changed. Not really.”

And there it is- Techno can detect that note of pride in his father’s voice. 

He knew that, in a sense, Phil worked love very differently. As a king, it was hard to balance duties as a ruler and duties as a father. He does not hold any illusions that he has favorites, and neither does Techno. But Phil tries his best, and for Techno, Wilbur and Tommy, that’s enough. 

“Remember that apple orchard?” There was a tear in Phil’s eye, but Techno did not comment on it. “Remember that day, when Tommy was five? I don’t think he remembers it. You were doing apple-cutting tricks in front of him, though.”

“I remember that.” Techno allowed a faint smile to cross his face- a rare sight for anyone that wasn’t his closest family. “I think you’d just allowed me to use your sword- Benihime. The real deal. I was so proud of myself.”

Phil nodded. “And Wilbur got a proper lute- the one that he still has, up to now. The best make in the nation. I don’t know, I probably would’ve just settled for the most expensive one- I’m glad that Wil convinced me to allow him to pick on his own.”

“Yeah.” Techno agreed. “Wouldn’t do to have the musician not pick his own instrument.”

They shared another chuckle.

And it was peaceful, for the moment. The stars twinkled, able to be seen from Phil’s clear window. The candlelight bathed the room in a calming glow of orange, and for a moment, it was just father and son, sharing stories over a cup of tea- not the king and the prince, fulfilling their duties. 

But peace has never lasted quite long enough for them.

They’re interrupted, quite rudely, by a messenger, panting. “Your Majesty- I apologize, but there’s been an urgent message from the Comfy Kingdom, sir, they beg for assistance-”

Swiftly, Phil rose from his chair and strode to the door, taking the envelope with all the gracefulness of the king Techno knows. He scanned the contents, brows furrowing with every word he read.

“I understand.” He nodded at the messenger, then turned to Techno. “Get the guard. Every soldier we can spare, except for the necessary ones needed to defend the town, are required to come with me and you to the Comfy Kingdom. The phoenixes will have to get over there as well.”

Techno blinked, then nodded gravely, knowing that the situation was dire. “Is it that bad?”

“It’s that bad.” Phil opened a chest he kept in the corner, specifically for these purposes. Potions, swords and axes gleamed in the light. “We need all hands on deck. I have no doubt that Dream, Sapnap and George will come along with us, so don’t try to stop them. Ian is in charge until we get back.”

Techno nodded, once again. “I’ll be sure to inform him. Anything else?”

Phil paused in his preparations, mind racing. 

“Tell Bad to inform the City of Embers.”

~

“Tommy, I’m telling you, Ranboo’s lunches are just fine-”

“No they’re not! Big T, the spaghetti is an abomination- ”

“Hurtful.”

“Accurate.”

“Boys.” Puffy called out, tiredly. “Lunch is ready now. And Ranboo, you can have your spaghetti.”

Tommy glared. If Puffy didn’t know better, she would’ve been truly concerned for Ranboo’s safety. “Don’t feed his addiction! It’s a fucking terrible thing- Ranboo, what the fuck- ”

“Hey spaghetti is fine-”

“It is not, that is far too much, it’s a fucking abomination- ”

“Alright.” Finn chuckled as he tapped on the table to get their attention. “I know you boys like to tease each other to the end of eternity, but we do have to eat now.”

Ant whistled. “Look who’s talking.”

Finn scowled. “Shut up.”

Ant did nothing but grin.

Tommy grumbled as he sat down, followed by Tubbo, looking faintly relieved, and Ranboo, looking like he didn’t know whether or not he was supposed to act angry or exasperated.

Before long, everyone was seated at the table. It had been a long time since they were all able to eat together- all nine of them, having a meal as a flock. It brought warmth to Tommy’s chest, though he wouldn’t admit it.

“So!” Wilbur exclaimed. “How’s the pendant going?”

“It’s actually going very well.” Sam poked at his food before receiving a disapproving look from Puffy and eating it. “Ranboo and I were able to make twelve or thirteen replicates of the thing. With any luck, we’ll be able to move around all the time, in the Antarctic Empire. That is, if the Empire will have us.” Sam hurried to add, to which Wilbur waved off his concern.

“It’s absolutely fine.” The prince assured them. “You guys took care of Tommy while we couldn’t. That’s enough of a reason for us. I assure you that, if you want to stay, we will prepare accommodations for all four of you.”

Puffy smiled. “Thanks, Wilbur.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Wilbur said. “Tommy can be a handful to deal with, like the little shit he is.”

He then proceeded to yelp as Tommy’s foot connected with his shin. “Tommy, you little fucker- ”

“What? That wasn’t me-”

“Like it wasn’t-”

“Dickhead-”

“Child-”

“I am not a child-”

Welcome back.

Everyone froze as the voice of the Heart, once again, spoke in all of their minds.

“Welcome back?” Finn frowned. “But no one- wait. Fuck. ”

Immediately, the phoenix jumped up from his seat and ran to the entrance, where an out of breath phoenix was currently waiting, panting from exertion.

“Bad?” Finn ran up to his flock mate. “Bad, what? What happened-”

“The Comfy Kingdom.” Bad gasped out. “The Comfy Kingdom, they’re under attack- gods, Finn, we need to go, we need to go- ”

“Hold on-” Finn grabbed Bad by the shoulders and forced the elder to make eye contact with him. “Calm down. Deep breaths.”

Bad complied.

“Okay. Good. From the beginning. What happened?”

“King Philza received a letter.” Bad said, still breathing heavily. “The Comfy Kingdom is asking for help. It seems like all of the Fallen have converged on the Comfy Kingdom. They’re been attacked from all sides, and they need reinforcements, fast. Hermitcraftia is already there. He asked me to inform you guys- Tommy, you have wings?"

The phoenix startled upon hearing his name. “Wait, yeah, that’s not- that’s not fucking important right now, what do you mean, the Fallen have converged on the Comfy Kingdom?”

“Language, you muffinhead.” Bad muttered. “It sounds exactly like what it is. We need to go, we need to help them-”

“Oh, fuck- okay.” Finn nodded. “Alright. Who’s going?”

“Me.” Tommy said immediately.

“Me.” Tubbo and Wilbur chorused right after. 

“Alright.” Finn scanned the other avariel. “Anyone else?”

Evidently, Tommy looked surprised. “You’re not going to- you’re not going to object?”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Tommy, as much as all of us would rather you stay safe, we know from past experience that you’re not going to do that. Might as well let you travel with us, where you’d be objectively more secure.”

“I’ll come, too.”

All heads whirled around to look at Ranboo. “Boo, what?” Tubbo asked, tentatively.

“I’m coming.” Ranboo said, a steely look on his face. “If only to ease my guilt.”

“No, Ranboo-” Tommy shook his head. “It’s not needed, trust me- I forgave you a long time ago, big man. You don’t need to do this.”

“I do, Tommy.” Ranboo said, gently. “For myself.”

He remembered the way Tommy had screamed, seeing his family fall at the hands of his own kin. He may only be half-Fallen, but that doesn’t make him not a Fallen, and a part of him is ashamed that others of his ilk have instilled such fear into Tommy’s bones. 

He remembered the way Tommy had flinched from him, the first time he had seen him. He remembered the talks he had with Puffy- despite her reassurances, Ranboo knows that he will never be accepted by either side.

At the very least, he can do something, to try to make it right before his time inevitably runs out. It won’t fix everything, but it will, hopefully, be a start. 

“The Fallen never live for too long.” Ranboo was quiet. “Our kind wanted Rebirth because we all died young. And something tells me, Tommy, that I do not have the same stolen power that the others of my kind do.”

Ranboo made direct eye contact with Tommy- something that he had never done before.

“Let me make the most of it.”

There was complete silence in the hall, with no sound to echo and bounce off the walls of the cavern. 

“Alright, big man.” Tommy relented. “Don’t die.”

Ranboo smirked. “I don’t plan to.”

Chapter Text

“Why the fuck is the Comfy Kingdom so far?”

“ Language- It’s not really all that far, Tommy!” Bad shouted over the wailing of the wind. Currently, their company of six was flying, all going as fast as possible and attempting to reach the attacked area before it was too late. “At least they got the message to Phil quickly enough!”

Tommy cursed as he dipped too far down, then righted himself again. Despite his month or so of practice, he still wasn’t quite as used to using his netherite wings as he’d hoped, but it would have to do for now. 

They heard the battle before they saw it. There was shouting- so much shouting, blades clanging against each other and the faint twang of bows if Tommy listened hard enough. When the battlefield finally came into view, Tommy had to do a double take.

It was exactly like the one in his dream- withered grass, burnt and trampled on, bodies littered on the ground- and Tommy noted, with rising horror, that none of the bodies had wings of black feathers. 

“Shit.” Wilbur breathed out, and for once, Bad did not give the avarial the language treatment. Tommy narrowed his eyes as they began to glide down, picking out allies and enemies alike. He could see Corpse, Sykkuno, Toast and Rae together, as a unit - the phoenixes, a few separated and others back to back, wielding dark swords wreathed with fire, and it did not escape Tommy that Bad straight up dove to the area where Skeppy was - Phil and Techno, back to back, covering each others’ blind spots - and others.

To put it quite fucking lightly, it was a massacre.

Their group began to split apart. Ranboo dove down following Wilbur, who was attempting to reach the rest of their family, Bad was already standing beside his soulmate, and Finn threw a blast of fire magic just in time to prevent a netherite blade from stabbing Harvey, who threw Finn a shaky nod before renewing his vigor. Tommy ignored the way Harvey’s arms shook.

Only Tubbo was still in the air with him.

Tubbo pulled on his sleeve, pointing towards his family- Dream, Sapnap and George, fighting just as smoothly together as the quartet from the Comfy Kingdom was. Tommy made to fly over to them before something, or rather someone, caught his eye.

That face. That stupid fucking face that he couldn’t shake from his nightmares, no matter how long it’s been- the doctor he thought he’d killed, that had been reborn from a stolen power, that Tommy hated with every fibre of his being.

Tubbo froze up beside him- it was only a moment, but Tommy caught it, and that only fueled his rage even more.

In a cruel twist, the doctor turned around, and his eye caught Tommy’s own. They were black- not the softer kind of black that he has seen others possess, but an unnatural kind of black, something that just felt wrong.

Evidently, that man was the leader of the fallen. He put his hand up, and the Fallen stopped fighting- curious, Tommy’s allies turned to him.

Tommy gritted his teeth. He’s done this before. Gripping Tubbo’s hand, tighter than he thought possible, he drew close to the ground, ignoring the hitch in Dream’s breathing pattern.

So the green bitch does care about me.

He shoved that thought aside, and locked eyes with the doctor. Defiant, unwavering- nothing like how he’d been only a year ago.

“Well.” The doctor drawled. “You just won’t die, will you?”

“You tried to make me Fall, not die.” Tommy shot back, with just as much venom. “You wanted me to become a part of you. You forget that you chose to fall.”

The doctor had the audacity to laugh. “Well, it was a pretty good experiment. If you Fell, then we gained a new member. If you died, well, there was no loss.” He eyed his new wings critically. “But it does seem that you have wings.”

“ Fuck you.” Tommy spat. “ You’re the one who cut them off.”

“So I was.” The doctor replied, and Tommy hated how easily he admitted to it. “A rather clean cut, if I say so myself.”

“I would’ve died.”

“That was the point.”

“Fuck you.”

The doctor tsked. “No manners, I see. Volatile. A far cry from the obedient little phoenix we had in our cell.”

Tommy could hear Tubbo bristle at the mere mention of that cell, but paid it no attention as he levelled his own sword at the man who had tortured him for years. “I’m not the same person. Not anymore. I’m not going to cower in front of you. ”

“So it seems.” He almost sounds disappointed as Tommy lights his sword on fire, and feels Tubbo do the same behind him. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He charged, along with four or five other Fallen, and just as quickly, the fighting started back up again. 

Tommy yelled and swung his sword.

~

“Kristin!” He screamed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this- why was it like this? He thought desperately as his sword cut through the bodies, a swath of death and blood tearing through their ranks.

He was not foolish, as young as he was. There was a reason the kingdom trusted him to be king- and yet, here he was, unable to defend the people he loved in his own castle. 

Phil was not blind. He knew that there were whispers when he was first crowned Emperor of the Antarctic Empire, doubt filling the minds of other rulers and plans being made, just in case he proved too young. After all, he was indeed quite young to be a ruler, with zero experience and no one to back him up.

He’d thought that those rumours died down as soon as he made pacts with Hermitcraftia and the Comfy Kingdom. He thought he’d proven himself as a king, that he’d been able to establish himself as someone who would eventually outlive the elder ones, who would see the new generation take their place and guide them.

Evidently, he was wrong.

“KRISTIN!” Phil screamed once more. His voice was raw, and bodies littered the hallways - he regretted that the portrait of his father was now stained, but that did not matter at the moment - and he ran and ran and ran, ignoring the reports from the other soldiers, informing him that the castle had been successfully cleared.

What did it matter, if she was dead?

When he found her body, he was not the Emperor of the Antarctic Empire. He was the same young Phil who had met Kristin in the flower gardens, the same one that softly asked her if she wanted a home, and the same one that vowed to make her his empress.

Phil hated that he could not keep his promises, even as a ruler.

He’d mourned for days. Visiting her grave, if only to lay down fresher flowers, clutching her first gift to him - a heart pendant, with two engravings in it - as tightly as possible. 

But time waits for no man, especially not a king.

Phil knew that he’d have to become a ruler again - if not for his people, then for the sake of killing the Fallen, to take revenge for what they’d taken from him.

Because though he mourned for days, he hated for weeks, and would hate for years to come.

Especially when his youngest son was stolen, nearly fifteen years later, by the same kind of avariel. 

~

“They’re pushing in.” Techno grunted.

“What?” Phil asked, far too tired to think too much about it. They’ve been fighting for hours, and though Phil had been reassured that Tommy was still alive, the battle was still what would determine his fate. Phil hated that being a king didn’t give him the power to protect his own family.

Against his will, his mind had dragged up memories of a past. Years ago, when the Fallen had attacked the Antarctic Empire- not for the purpose of abduction, but for bloodshed- his own blood.

He shook himself once again, just for good measure, to pull him out of the past and to listen to Techno’s next words.

“They’re pushing in.” Techno repeated. “We don’t have enough people. Didn’t bring quite enough guards with us, and the Comfy Kingdom has been under siege for a longer time than we’ve been fighting.”

“We brought as many as we could, mate.” Phil said as he swung Benihime to decapitate one of the Fallen that had gotten just a little too close to Techno, watching with no little satisfaction as the avarial in question burst into ashes. He knew that they’d come back, in an hour or two, and the thought made him sick - but they had to do this. 

“I know, we can’t leave the Empire completely undefended.” Techno agreed, raising his shield to block an arrow aimed at Phil’s wings and promptly shooting a crossbow into the heart of that same Fallen. “But I’m just sayin’, it’s not enough. The Hermits are builders, not fighters. The Comfy Kingdom are fighters, but they are faltering- after all, they’re human. And Dream and I may be good-” Despite their situation, Phil had to hide a snort. “-but we’re only two people, and I hate to say it, but they’re respawnin’ too quickly for us to catch up on. The phoenixes need far more hours to respawn.”

“Yeah, I know.” Phil sighed, almost absentmindedly smashing a potion of strength down at their feet when he felt the buzz of the previous one wear off, then quickly rushed at yet another Fallen before moving, once again, in tandem with his eldest son. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

Though he couldn’t see him, Phil could imagine the tilt of Technoblade’s head. “Well, I wouldn’t say that. ‘Cause that would mean giving up and leavin’ the Comfy Kingdom to fall.”

“What-”

“Phil.” Techno’s tone was now a flat one of worry. “You know that you’re the Emperor. I’m not fit for king, and Wilbur’s not quite ready yet- we’re both younger than you were when you took the throne. We can’t do this.”

“That’s not-” Phil’s throat closed up. “Fuckin’ hell, Techno, you know that we both walked into this knowing that it was possible that we wouldn’t make it out of this alive.”

“ Wrong. ” Techno stabbed another Fallen, perhaps more harshly than needed. “One, Technoblade never dies. And two, I walked into here with the knowledge that you would survive. ”

“What the fuck-”

“ Phil. You’re a Leader. I’m a Warrior. There’s a key difference here. I know you’re thinking of making Tommy heir, and it’s for good reason- kid’s got the qualities of a good one. But Tommy is the furthest thing from ready, even if he will have a brother by his side.”

“ Two brothers, Techno-”

“Phil.” He’d never heard his son’s voice so harsh before. “You need to live. The kingdom needs you. Wilbur needs you. Tommy needs you. It’s just like what Rae said.”

Phil shook his head. “If one of us is going to die, it’s going to be me, Techno.”

“No, it will not. ” Technoblade asserted firmly, hissing as a blade grazed his arm. “It will be me, because I am a Warrior, and a Guardian of sorts - and this is my job, Phil. Let me do it.”

Phil said nothing. What was there to be said?

He ignored the tear that streaked down his face, glad that his son couldn’t see it, as he swiftly changed between sword to bow and shot four or five Fallen down, as gracefully as an eagle. 

He did not flinch when he heard the clang of Techno’s crown fall on the rocks, nor when he heard him curse. There’s no room to flinch when you’re fighting a battle, and when you know that you will be fighting it for a long time after.

But it was a near thing, and Phil pleaded to all the gods to not let history repeat itself.

~

There’s so many of them.

Rows upon rows, hundreds and thousands of Fallen. It’s even more than the siege of the Antarctic Empire, a battle that Skeppy thought couldn’t have gotten any worse.

And yet they’re here.

And yet they’re here.

Easily double the amount of Fallen that had attacked the Antarctic Empire. Bad knows it makes sense - their attack on the Empire and SMP had been a simple plan of revenge - one that had failed.

Mostly failed. Tommy’s new netherite - beautiful, but a far cry from the bright plumage that it used to be - wings are a constant reminder of their failure, to protect the youngest of their generation of phoenixes. 

But in the end, they had secured the city. The Fallen, as inept as they may be for battle, are not idiots when it comes to planning, and this time, they aim to conquer, not only hurt.

So as painful as it is, it makes sense.

Bad and Skeppy are back to back, much like the others that litter the fields - Techno and Phil, Finn and Harvey, among others. They’re both talented fighters in their own right, having trained for the years they spent in the cavern, but they are two against hundreds.

It’s this or nothing, though. And from the way Bad squares his shoulders from behind Skeppy, his sword flaring with raw power, he feels the same.

He remembers the first time he’d broken into a Fallen’s base - by pure accident and coincidence, he’d found Bad there, broken from years of experiments, wings dulled to a bloody crimson and quickly fading into black.

He remembers meeting his soulmate, seeing Bad’s form shake with fear and pain, and feeling the burn on his wrist. He remembers the soulmark on his wrist burning bright - a golden halo, a source of light in the dark and dingy cells, and remembers Bad’s own eyes going just as wide, raising his own wrist to find a duck, glowing the same hue.

He remembers the Fallen finding reinforcements, feeling trapped - the raw fear and panic that had climbed up his throat as he attempted to find an escape route, any escape route, anything that could get them out of that mess. He remembers his wings catching on fire, his own heart burning with a desire to protect his newest member of his flock.

He remembers asking himself why he was risking so much for a phoenix that he’d just met, and remembers feeling how right it was, to call Bad his soulmate, his flockmate, his family. He remembers raising his diamond sword against the iron blades of the Fallen.

He remembers pain.

He remembers Bad shaking his prone form, amid the ashes that make up the Fallen’s body, and remembers being dragged outside, his soulmate screaming for help, begging and pleading with any avariel that came across their path.

He remembers Bad, tired from so many years of sitting in that cell, unable to carry him for too far, and remembers him sobbing to himself, forcing himself to keep going, for both of their sakes. He remembers his blood pouring out, staunched at times but flowing free at others, and remembers getting colder and more feverish by the day.

He remembers Bad tripping, stumbling, pulling Skeppy along with him, flapping his wings desperately in an attempt to keep them both up in the air, despite the years that he has spent without exercising his wings or even spreading them out to their full wingspan.

He remembers falling. 

He remembers screaming.

He remembers heat - Red, orange, yellow.

He remembers waking up, slowly but surely, to a face he did not recognize, even after not expecting to wake up at all. The face that he will come to identify as one of his own flock members, a healer of sorts - Astelic, she’d introduced herself as, and she’d slowly become a part of his family.

He remembers seeing Bad again, physically healed, wings slightly brighter than before, and remembers his own joy at seeing those feathers more like his own - bright, glossy and a fiery kind of beautiful.

He remembers being told that there are others like him, that have run in fear of the Fallen and what they could do to him - being told that there are more phoenixes than he knows, and that there could be more as time wears on.

He remembers meeting Finn - their historian, the phoenix that defied gender stereotypes and noted down everything that they knew, of their culture - the one that taught them how to properly wield magic and explained to them customs they never knew existed.

He remembers meeting Spifey, Vurb and Zelk - others, each with a story of their own, with their own quirks that perhaps Skeppy might never understand.

He remembers helping Bad relearn to fly again, with the help of Spifey - remembers his pride one day, when Bad is able to fly around the cavern without stopping and gliding down for a break.

He remembers Bad waking up one night, screaming, terrified by visions conjured by his past experiences, tormenting him and making him feel fear when he shouldn’t feel fear at all - not in this safe haven of a cavern, not deep in this home where the Fallen can’t find them.

He remembers comforting Bad, remembers entering their soulscape just to provide an escape for Bad in the case that he needs it.

He remembers seeing Mega fall down the crack, and Harvey not long after, and remembers gathering their unconscious bodies along with Bad to the healers’ area, saddened by the fates of those that they do not know are out there.

He remembers him and Bad meeting Tommy.

He remembers flying out for the first time in so many years, with Bad by his side, to see the trees, grass and sky again. Remembers Bad’s fear, which is not for no reason - but remembers overcoming that fear.

He remembers war. Remembers Bad flying in to take his place beside him. 

Each time, they’ve been back to back.

Each time, they’ve been back to back.

That much, at least, hasn’t changed at all.

He remembers dying for the first time, meeting death, waking up to his soulmate kneeling by his ashes, waiting for him to return.

He remembers dying for a second time, this time with Bad right beside him.

If they have to die again, then so be it.

“Together.” He whispers. It should be too quiet, drowned out by the shouts and sounds of battle assaulting their ears from all sides, but somehow, Bad catches it.

“Together.” His soulmate agrees, and Skeppy nods, lifting his tired head and fighting again.

If they’re going to die, if they’re going to live - whether it be temporary or permanent, they’re going to do it together.

~

“Sykkuno?”

Rae does not pay much attention to the call. It’s the four of them - it’s always been the four of them, something that has been a constant throughout their lives. A unit. A family. A flock of their own.

If one of them has fallen, then the gap in their defenses will be painfully obvious to all three of the remaining ones. But as it stands, Rae can feel the movement behind her, and she is reassured.

Corpse has always been slightly more protective, though.

“I’m good!” Comes the breathless response. “Just got a light graze, it’s not much. I’m just a little tired from all this.”

“I think we all are.” Toast answers, and even Rae can hear the fatigue in his voice. Toast is usually one of the most rigid of their team - a far too good imposter, able to lie and slip away from the worst situations, killing with no remorse when he finds the good chance to. To hear his own doubt colouring his voice is one of the most terrifying things Rae has ever heard.

The train of thought nearly costs her her life, and she brings up a shield just in time for an arrow to embed itself into the metal. She shakes herself, brings herself back into the present. They’ve come so far. They can’t fall now.

“You alright, Rae?” Sykkuno calls out, because of course he noticed. Despite his cheerful demeanor, Rae knows better than anyone how observant Sykkuno can be, and how dangerous those observations often turn out to be. She remembers the first time she’d done a round of Among Us with Sykkuno - she had been no stranger to the ruthlessness of others, but she’d been surprised at how perspicacious the man was.

And lethal, she adds absentmindedly as her claws come up to kill yet another Fallen, seeing Sykkuno’s own knives flash in tandem with her rhythm. “I’m fine. Got a little distracted.”

“Well, head in the game, then.” Corpse deadpans, his own knives coming up, in sync with Toast. Knives are a popular choice for imposters - small, deadly, easy to kill with. Perhaps it is an impractical choice to have the four of them fight a battle with knives, when they’re aiming for strength and not stealth - but each of them have a lethal kind of accuracy when it comes to throwing knives, and they’ve got shields and regular swords anyway. 

And Rae has her claws.

Another Fallen. Another bit of movement. Another knife. Another throw. Another dead body.

Rae has lost count.

Another one. Another one. Another one.

Another one.

Toast’s breaths were starting to become noticeable. 

Another one. Another one. 

Corpse swore as he got a particularly nasty cut on the throat - another inch, and it probably would’ve killed him. 

Another one.

Sykkuno fell.

He did not die, nor did he take any deadly blow - but one of the Fallen had recognized his fatigue, and swept out his legs underneath him, resulting in the man falling in a flurry of green feathers, prompting alarmed yells from the other three. Immediately, a gap opened up, and the Fallen pressed their advantage.

Do it. The voices whispered. Give in. Protect. Shed blood. Hunt. Kill.

Rae did not need the reflection of her blades to know that her eyes had just been lit with a crimson fire, matching her wings, nor did she need the memories to know what proceeded to happen as the other three scrambled to get back into position.

The red haze and freshly killed bodies around her were enough.

Blood for the blood god.

She delivered.

She lost her sister to them. These avariel, who chose a darker power, who chose to fall, who couldn’t live without their wings and instead answered to a power that twisted them, made them into something inherently evil. 

She still remembers her sister’s rapidly cooling body, bleeding out in her arms - remembers stumbling into the temple, three weeks - begging, pleading, and finally feeling the Blood God’s blessing run through her, filling her with a new purpose.

They took her family once.

She will not let them take them again. 

(Distantly, she registers the other three take their places again, but she does not need them - not when the raw power fuels her, takes over her mind for the sole purpose of defending her family. She ignores the others’ pleas - even Toast, who begs her to snap out of it, to not lose her mind, not like this, not over this, not for this - and she ignores them, because if she does bring herself out of her blood rage, she is not sure if the other three will be able to cover both her prone and exhausted form as well as themselves, when the Fallen inevitably attack again.)

Minutes later, the battlefield will be barren. Bodies will litter the ground around those four of the Inner Circle, evidence of a massacre. Arrowheads and shafts will be broken at her feet, the result of catching those projectiles and snapping them, letting them drop on the charred grass. The Fallen will keep their distance, being far smarter about how to rush in, so long as Rae’s eyes remain lit with her blood red fire, and so long as the Blood God’s blessing rushes through her veins. 

And that stalemate will last for as long as Rae’s mind is still intact.

Blood for the Blood God.

Valkyrae raises her head up and glares, a silent challenge that no one takes.

~

“That was…” Harvey breathed out heavily. They couldn’t afford to sit down, not yet, they couldn’t rest - Harvey wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get back up if he were to sit down. The four from the Comfy Kingdom were fairly close to them - he’d heard the shrieks from the Fallen, the tell-tale poof of an avarial bursting into ashes, remembered Rae’s brief conversation about the Blood God, and put two and two together.

“Something.” Finn agreed. It was just a little bit of respite - most of the Comfy Kingdom had managed to clear out the Fallen from this area, the front of the castle - and the Fallen had retreated, perhaps to press the back or another part of the large field where most of the phoenixes and royal families were.

They should probably help some people. But the four warriors of the Comfy Kingdom are already moving, on their feet, and they need someone to cover this area - and besides, Harvey’s pretty sure that they can take a break.

Surely.

Harvey doesn’t think that he’d be able to fight nonstop for much longer.

Finn must’ve gleaned something from his expression, because he sighed - heavy and long. “Do you know that there is a library down there? Down at the ancestral home of the phoenixes. Centuries, perhaps millennia of knowledge.”

Harvey laughed. It sounded tired, even to his own ears. “I can imagine. It would be a little dumb for the phoenixes to get wiped out without leaving anything behind, wouldn’t it?”

Finn cracked a grin. “So it would. Journals, history books, ways to use magic, customs, traditions, culture… it’s all down there. So many. I barely made it through a thousandth of that library.”

Harvey chuckled, even as the Fallen realized that Rae had left their area, and started coming back. “Lots of knowledge. The dream for you, wouldn’t it be?”

“It is. ” Finn said, lighthearted even as his sword lit on fire once again, Harvey mirroring his preparations. “I just hope that I’ll have the chance to get back there.”

He raised his sword up, and then came the clang of netherite against netherite, a sound that Harvey was unfortunately growing far too accustomed to. “Did it, by any chance, mention how to defeat the Fallen?”

Finn froze.

Harvey’s eyes widened. “Finn!”

Finn was too slow to dodge the attack that came for his wings.

Harvey was not too slow to take the brunt of it for him, and cursed as fresh crimson blood ran down his arm from the cut on his right shoulder. 

“ Fuck- ” Finn quickly dove back into action, watching the Fallen burst into ashes with no small amount of satisfaction. “Shit, Harvey-”

“I’m fine.” He hissed, even as a numbing sensation slowly crept through him. Poison, then. Hopefully it wasn’t deadly. He didn’t know if poison-coated netherite blades counted as a netherite kill, but he was not eager to find out. 

“You’re clearly not fine-” They were interrupted by another Fallen swooping down and bringing his dagger up to their chests. Finn cursed profusely as he covered for Harvey’s blind spots. The number of black-winged avariel were dwindling, thankfully, but there were still so many.

He began to see spots. That’s probably not a good sign.

Harvey blacked out just in time to hear an ear-piercing scream echo throughout the battlefield, and hear the panicked shouts of Finn, Dream, Sapnap… others?

He doesn't know. He’s so tired. 

Just a moment of rest.

~

“Drop your weapons.” The Fallen’s slimy voice hissed.

Dream’s heart pounded in his ears. He could feel Sapnap freeze similarly beside him, because there- there was George, a blade at his throat, his face an expression of terror. He felt himself clench his sword tighter.

He didn’t know where they’d gone wrong. One second, it was the three of them, fighting together whilst keeping an eye on the pair of young phoenix soulmates that were not so far from them, tired and collapsing but fighting and back to back - and then the next, George was disarmed with a cry, Sapnap and Dream were forced to fill in the blind spot, back hitting back, and the battlefield froze.

Even Tubbo and Tommy were staring in open-mouthed horror.

This-

This is not how it’s supposed to go.

“I said, drop them.” With those words came the blade, coming closer, drawing a line of red across George’s throat. Ironically, Dream’s hands tightened further on his sword.

This is not how it’s supposed to go. They’re supposed to fight, fight together, and either die or live together - as a family. The three of them. And loathe as Dream may be to leave Tubbo behind, Tubbo has Tommy. It’s fine. It was supposed to work that way.

Instead, there is a clear distance between the hostage and the king, and Dream is running through any and all possible fixes to the situation - all fruitless, he knows, but there’s got to be another way. There must be.

He knows how the story goes. 

“ Dream. ” George chokes out, and his masked face comes up to make eye contact with one of his oldest friends.  He knows how the story goes. He surrenders, and they spare - or kill - George, and the kingdoms fall, and the combined kingdom of the Antarctic Empire and the Dream SMP become, once more, only the Antarctic Empire - and the Fallen advance, and they wreak havoc on the lands, all because of his own mistake.

He can see the defiant look in George’s eyes.

“And if I ever get stuck in a situation where it’s me or the land, Dream, I want you to pick the SMP.”

Dream looked over at the young avarial, surprise written all over his features. “Um…”

“Trust me, Dream.” George gazed out at the skies, his face becoming pensive. “I… I can’t promise that I’ll stay safe. I’m sure Sapnap can’t either. With you becoming king, there’s bound to be enemies on the horizon, and - Dream, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if my life came at the cost of thousands of others.”

Dream swallowed dryly. “That shouldn’t ever happen. Not if I have a say in it.”

“I think the world has made it clear that mortals like us will never get much of a say in anything.” George rebukes, not ungently. His white feathers rustle, and Dream has to force himself from protesting, because he knows he’s right. 

“You may be king.” George continued. “But there are gods. Phoenixes. Life. Death. There will always be things that are beyond our grasp-”

“-and thus we live each moment like our last.” Dream finished hoarsely. “I promise, George.

His friend laughed. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

“That does technically remain to be seen-”

“Semantics. Come on, Sapnap’s right there. Makes a good spot for some dive bombing.”

Dream gasped theatrically. “To think you’d betray us just like that.”

“I would never.” George laughed, before sobering. “But really, Dream? Thank you.”

There are a million thoughts and a million words that pass between Dream and George in that single moment, and a thousand more between Dream and Sapnap in the breath right after. In the span of half a second, four things happen.

Dream and Sapnap charge in unison, blades pointed with every intent to kill.

Fire erupts from behind them as Tommy calls it up, a wall of flames pushing back the others, albeit only temporarily.

The Fallen’s eyes flash and he cuts George’s throat.

And Tubbo screams.

There are a million thoughts and a million words that pass between Dream and George in between the breaths that it takes for the blade to come close, too close - and for the life to leave George’s eyes. But above it all, it’s four words.

I’m sorry.

Thank you.

And there are a million thoughts and a million words that pass between Dream and Sapnap by their grief alone, as both scramble forward to cradle George’s lifeless and dead body in their arms. There are a thousand things that happen around them - Techno and Phil, Finn and Harvey, Tubbo and Tommy, among others - but it’s not anything that matters.

In a terrifying show of power, Tubbo has turned the rest of the Fallen to crumbling ash. What remains of the forces - too many, too many - are giving them a wide berth, eyes wary, but it doesn’t matter, because George is dead.

In the same moment it takes for the Fallen to wither away (but not permanently, never permanently- ), Harvey’s body bursts into the same fine dust, scattering in the wind as Finn grasps at them weakly.

There are a thousand events, a million thoughts, and a million words - but there is never enough time for all of them.

There has never been, and never will.

~

It’s approaching noon.

Finn knows what that means, but it’s hard to bring himself to stand up again, to brush the ashes- Harvey’s remains- from his armour and stand up, to tell them of their solution and force them to make a choice.

A part of him asks and demands why he’s so cruel, to withhold such crucial information until minutes before the decision must be made - but the larger part of him knows that this is the only way.

There are no other ways. 

It is hard to remind himself of that fact when he is painfully aware of the shouts and screams from all directions - and the underlying sounds of battle, reminders that it is never over.

You could’ve prevented this. A voice in him whispers. Had you told Harvey earlier, he wouldn’t have to sacrifice himself to save your distracted self. He would still be standing here, fighting.

He isn’t gone. Finn retorts, though he doesn’t believe it himself. The last blade that pierced Harvey’s body was netherite. It was poison that killed him, but netherite that delivered the blow. 

And great. He’s arguing with himself. He’s officially gone insane.

Find yourself, phoenix. A voice whispers in his mind, and Finn nearly does a double-take at the sound of Her speaking in his mind. It is not over yet. Do not lose hope.

Hope. Finn can’t help but think bitterly. What use is that? 

And what of the young ones? The hatchlings? You have a legacy to save, Finn.

...why is that my responsibility? Why now? Why do we have to do this? Why do we have to make these sacrifices?

He hears the sigh in his head. I would say that I wish you weren’t the generation that had to do this, but… someone had to. Eventually. 

Finn stares blankly at the ashes littering the ground. The fight rages around him.

Would Harvey want this?

...No.

You know what to do.

He breathes in deeply and stands up.

“Tubbo, Tommy… There’s a way we can destroy the Fallen.”

Finn tries not to look at the surprise and betrayal written all over their features as they turn around to look at him. “ What?! ”

“A solution. There’s a way.” Finn forces out, trying not to let the tears show. “There’s a way to reawaken Her, albeit temporarily. But… it should be enough to destroy the rebirth that they have stolen from us.”

“And why, ” Tommy stalks towards him, “did you not think to tell us sooner?”

“I had no choice!” He raises his hands in surrender. “If I’d given you the options, did you really think you’d be able to focus on battle until the moment came for the optimal ritual time?”

“And when is that?” Tubbo asks, far calmer than his soulmate, yet all the more dangerous.

Finn looks away. “Noon.”

As one, their heads turn to the sky. The sun is approaching its zenith.

“What’s the price?” Dream asks, his tone measured and as always far, far too intelligent for his own good.

Finn swallows the lump in his throat.

He tries to get the words out, and can’t.

Finn.

“A bond between soulmates.” He says. 

The space between them is deathly silent, even though the Fallen are prowling around them like a pack of wolves and the shouts of avariel continue around them.

“...just the bond, right?” Tubbo asks awkwardly, quickly holding out a hand to turn yet another Fallen into ash before Sapnap can turn and slash at the poorly-planned ambush. “Just… the bond?”

“The consequence of the bond’s sacrifice is the two souls that it used to bind.” Finn informs them, trying, yet again, not to stutter. “Soul bonds are formed in a phoenix’s darkest hour. During the hour when the pair of phoenixes’ souls are so close to breaking, they find a way to bind to each other and save each other as a result. It allows the phoenixes to live another day, but… once that soul bond is destroyed, their souls can no longer survive on their own, having become too dependent on the other. In other words…” Finn meets their eyes. “The destruction of the soulbond precedes the disintegration of their souls.”

He can already see Tubbo and Tommy preparing to speak as one. 

Sapnap beats them to it. “No. There has to be another way. We aren’t sacrificing anyone else.”

“There is no other way.” Finn tells them, already tearing his eyes away and surveying the Fallen, slowly but surely closing in. “We’re running out of time.”

The family of avariel dissolves into an argument as Finn scans the bodies and ashes, silently counting for himself how many others he could kill to avenge his friend.

Unbeknownst to many of them, another pair of phoenixes has heard the exchange, and are preparing the plan of their own.

~

“We’re going to do it, and there’s nothing you can do to stop us.” Tommy declares angrily. He’s grateful that Phil, Techno and Wilbur aren’t here - it would make everything a shitton harder - but they’re speaking with Dream and Sapnap, and those two are even more protective now that their third is gone. 

“You’re as sure as hell not. ” Dream snaps in response, even as Tubbo begins to protest. “There has to be another way. We’re not going to lose you two.”

“What other way is there?” Tubbo shouts amid the clashing of blades as they are, once again, engaged in battle. “Finn is right. If he hadn’t given us the deadline of merely a few minutes, then we would’ve spent this entire time arguing over who would do it. There’s no choice.”

“There is always a choice.” Sapnap responds, his blades cutting into bodies in tandem with Dream. “We just have to find-”

Before he can get another word in, Tommy takes Tubbo’s hand and sprints toward the gate of the kingdom, pushing past soldiers who have yet to fall and ignoring the screams of Tubbo’s family as they are blocked by the Fallen.

“Are you sure about this, Tubbo?” Tommy asks him very seriously, looking into his soulmate’s eyes. “Are you sure? ”

“More sure than you are, big man.” The other phoenix nudges him despite the circumstances, and cracks a small grin. “Are you sure about this?”

Tommy scoffs, but there are unshed tears in his eyes. “Fuck it if I’m not. We’re doing this, right?”

Tubbo nods. “Right.”

Tommy laces his fingers with Tubbo’s. “No turning back, big T.”

“No regrets.” Tubbo squeezes his hand just as tightly. “None. I promise.”

“Good.” Tommy pauses, just the slightest bit of hesitation simmering in himself, but he pushes it down.

This is it. All of this- this will be over.

Just one more incantation.

He prepares himself to initiate the ritual-

And then-

“ Bad? Skeppy?? ”

Tubbo’s exclamation causes Tommy’s will to falter, and he snaps his eyes to the other pair of soulmates, who have already started to glow a shimmering gold. “What the fuck- What are you two doing here?”

Skeppy turns at them to smile, but the smile is bittersweet. “Doing what needs to be done.”

No.

“No, what the fuck, no-” Tommy runs towards them, but is blown back by a burst of fiery energy, courtesy of the other of the pair.

“It’s alright.” Bad reassures them, his fingers intertwined with Skeppy’s, just like Tommy and Tubbo were moments before, just like how they’re supposed to, and Bad and Skeppy shouldn’t make this choice no no no-

“We’ve seen enough of this world.” Skeppy echoes, turning back to smile at Bad. “You two still have much to live for, don’t you?”

“ No! ” Tubbo screams, but it’s already too late.

Skeppy and Bad speak as one.

You granted us rebirth and mended our souls when we were broken beyond repair.
To you, we repay this favor.

Skeppy and Bad fall as one.

Just like they promised.

Together.

There is a powerful blast of energy, and Tubbo and Tommy are thrown back even further and far away from each other. 

The sky is illuminated with fire.

It’s beautiful, in the most terrible of ways.

Tommy can’t help but look up at the sky as it rains fire, and for the briefest moment, sees Her in all her glory - flaming wings, golden feathers and crimson eyes, and thinks of what a shame it was that her transient freedom has to come at such a price.

The effects are instantaneous.

In seconds, the Fallen start crumbling, the pieces of their stolen rebirth ripped away from them, just like it should’ve been thousands of years ago. It’s a quick matter.

Unfortunately, it’s not nearly quick enough to prevent the doctor-

That same, fucking doctor-

From shooting an arrow to Tubbo, in a last, desperate act of spite.

Tommy does not need to see the glint to know that it is netherite, and he is too far, too far, he’ll be too late and Tubbo is only now turning around and has his mouth open in a silent scream-

There is a flash of red.

“RAE!”

Tommy is too late, but Valkyrae is not, and he can do nothing as he watches the warrior fall, her red wings (almost a mockery of Tubbo’s) doing nothing to stop the impact. 

The arrow is stained with blood.

Of the three other members, Toast is the one who reaches her first, and the only one who reaches her in time to cradle her body before she loses breath. “Why?” He demands. “ Why? ”

Rae has a smile on her face despite her labored breathing. “No more little phoenixes… should have to die by the Fallen.” She breathes out, just loud enough for Toast to hear, and her chest goes still, her eyes no longer lit with crimson and staring unseeingly into the fiery sky. 

~

On the other side of the battlefield, Ranboo is dying.

Philza and Technoblade are kneeling around him. He’d known that it would happen, but gods, he didn’t know that it would hurt this much-

“Mate? Ranboo?” Phil tries, but Ranboo knows it’s futile. This is the price of his birthright. This is what he must pay for his sin as a Fallen, though he may only be half one. 

“Well, this is unfortunate.” He tries to make light of the situation, but from Technoblade’s devastated face, he does not quite succeed.

Perhaps, in another life, they could’ve been friends.

“Tell… tell Tommy that this was my choice, okay?” Ranboo says, and he can feel his eyelids closing.

“Kid, you’re going to tell him yourself.”

“Unlikely.” The half-Fallen laughs, as strained as it is. “Don’t worry. We had a talk about it. It’s okay.”

Phil squeezes his arm, an attempt at giving a kid he’d never managed to get to know some semblance of comfort and camaraderie in his final moments.

“Tell him…” Ranboo breathes out.

“You know the consequence of the destruction of your kin.”

“I do.”

“Are you willing to pay the price?”

“I am.”

“...I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. Just bad luck, I suppose.”

“I assure you that the avarial side of you will grant you another life. In another world, if necessary… but you will live again.”

“That’s… reassuring, I guess.”

“You’re sure about this.”

“There’s no other way. It’s okay.”

“Tell him that it was never his fault.” Ranboo whispers, and exhales just as the rest of his form fades away, leaving no trace of his existence but a single feather, split evenly along the shaft.

Phil picks it up.

Perhaps, in another life, fate would have been kinder to them.

~

Harvey’s burial happens quickly.

Finn stays at the site of his death for hours, even days- but there is no sign of his rebirth, and he is eventually convinced by the rest of the phoenixes to leave and accept the consequence of his mistake.

None of them blame him. He certainly feels like blaming himself - moreso for the death of two other phoenixes, soulmates who never truly got to see the world around them without fear of dying, day-by-day. The funeral for the three phoenixes is a family matter, and no one is invited but their flockmates, and other members of the phoenixes’ flock. 

As phoenix tradition would have it, the decorations made of their age feathers are what they bury in place of their bodies. Or, rather, for Harvey, anyway. As a result of their sacrifice, Bad and Skeppy haven’t disintegrated… and thus they wrap theirs around them, around each other, trying to provide some semblance of unity to replace the one that had been broken.

It’s quiet that night.

~

George’s burial, on the other hand, is done with honor. He is recognized as one of Dream’s most trusted advisors and a dear friend who sacrificed himself for the sake of the SMP, and his is not much different from Valkyrae’s all the way across the land, at the Comfy Kingdom. 

Different traditions, but equal honor and equal fanfare, as much as Dream and Corpse alike want to keep it personal. 

There are eulogies, ceremonies, and both kingdoms go into mourning. They don’t drape black, too reminiscent of the Fallen - instead, they blanket the city with pure and unblemished white. If nothing else, then to remember the way George’s feathers were. 

They give it a week, and then the kingdoms are back to normal. But they will remember them for years to come, and they will tell stories of their deeds - about how one chose death to prevent another from making a worse choice, and how another sacrificed herself to prevent the fate that befell her little sister from falling upon another.

There will always be fresh yellow roses at their statues. 

~

Almost no one knows of Ranboo’s funeral.

There is Tommy, Tubbo, Puffy, Sam, Velvet, Ant, and no one else. 

The kingdom does not wish to mourn for a half-Fallen, even if it was never his fault. 

Tommy sighs as he places the evenly split feather at the foot of the grave. Perhaps history will never know who this was. Far in the future, when the carvings are weathered and the stones have crumbled, when the names are illegible and the dirt upturned, historians will wonder: to whom did the black-and-white feather belong?

No one will know.

But Finn will record Ranboo’s history in his notes. Tommy and Tubbo will be sure to tell his story, in a time when the Fallen are nothing but an enemy of the past. Puffy, Sam, Velvet and Ant - guardians, no longer needed - they will, for as long as they can, guard what remains of his legacy. 

And one day.

One day, they will know.

~

But with loss comes joy, and eventually, it makes itself known.

The four Guardians, aptly named, are finally out in the world with all their senses for the first time in over a decade. Sam gets to see the green grass and the blue sky. Puffy gets to walk on beaches. And Ant and Velvet are able to fly out with the help of the contraptions devised, and they take joy in the way the wind feels in their hair, through their feathers, under their wings. 

There are tearful reunions of families, because it’s been so long since they’ve seen each other. A battlefield is no place for a first meeting after months, and Tubbo will forever regret not getting to say something to George before he passed… but he will be grateful that Dream and Sapnap are still here with him, and ready to lead him into his role as king of the SMP. 

The remaining phoenixes mourn the most, perhaps, but they celebrate - especially when rumours start circulating of more and more phoenixes, popping up, no longer in hiding and no longer in fear of the ash-coloured winged avariel. They take up their mantles once again. Finn teaches history, Spifey teaches flight - and in place of Skeppy, Technoblade himself mentors the youth in their combat abilities, and Astelic shows the control of fire just as well as Bad had before. 

There is revitalization of a culture once-lost, and the growing number of rebirthed phoenixes celebrate this every day.

A heart in the depths of the earth pulsates with the same light as ever, welcoming her kin whenever they go down, always accompanied by one of the former residents, to visit her. Books are transcribed, languages decoded, and slowly but surely, the lands are being restored to their former, full glory. 

There are still bad days. Days when the weight of memories of war is too heavy for many to bear, days when none of the phoenixes wish to fly, days when they huddle around the hearth, murmuring to each other, mourning and taking comfort in the mere presence of others. 

Yet slowly but surely, they heal and they rise, just like newborn flames from the ashes of death and destruction. 

~

“Tommy?”

Phil is standing at the door. 

“...Hey, Phil. Anything you want?”

“Just checking in, mate.”

Tommy sighs, absentmindedly running his fingers through his netherite wings. “I’m fine. Mostly. Definitely.”

“You aren’t. I wouldn’t be, after a war. I still am not.” Phil refutes gently.

They are silent for two, three moments.

“How is Techno doing?” Tommy eventually brings himself to ask. He’d been worried for a while - not that he’d admit it - and seeing Phil pace back and forth and Wilbur muttering under his breath certainly hasn’t helped.

“He’s getting better.” Phil replies. “Hates being cooped up, but none of us will hear of it. He took a lot more than usual, the idiot.” He said fondly.

Tommy lets go of a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “That’s good.”

Two more beats. 

“Look, Tommy…” Phil swallows dryly. “I know you’re feeling guilty over everything that has happened. But for what it’s worth… I’m grateful that you’re alive.”

Tommy looks up. 

“I’m grateful that you, that Wilbur, that Techno, that Tubbo, that everyone who lived is alive.” Phil continues. “The dead made their choice, Tommy. They would want us to accept it and live life to its fullest.”

The phoenix stares at his father, then breaks into chuckles. Small ones, but… but they’re there nonetheless. “What was that saying Dream, Sapnap and-” He pauses. “-George, were always fond of?”

“‘There will always be things that are beyond our grasp, and thus we live each moment like our last.’” Phil recites. “It’s a good one.”

“They may be bitches, but they got this one right.” Tommy snorts, and Phil has to hold himself back from laughing. 

“But yeah.” The phoenix says, sobering, staring up at the moonlight filtering in from his window. “We’ll work our way around it. Just like we always have.”

Phil grins at him. “I’m sure we will, mate.”

~

There once was an empire built on prosperity and promises of a better future.

There once was a young prince, wingless yet, who stared out the window of his room and willed the world to go in his favor.

There once were two brothers and a father who despaired in the death of their youngest.

There once was a young boy, and in his bloodline lay that of the Phoenix - and when he gained his wings, they burned with the same fire that shriveled in his heart as he lay in his cell, listening to the captors who lay on the other side of the thin bars.

There once was a grown-up prince, a kid no longer, whose fire was long burnt out, whose hope had long vanished with that of his kin. Who sat in his cell and listened to Death’s calls as his feathers turned to dust around him.

There once was another boy, another prince - another half.

There once was a tattoo of a bee that shone golden on his wrist and dreams of laughter that rung in his ears of people long forgotten.

There once was a boy who spoke a tale of golden words and fluttered phrases. That tale passed through the mouths of others, who spoke of his heroism and his love with a faraway look in their eyes. 

His enemies found the story. Saw the love the people had for this boy - remembered who he had been to them, what he had done. Remembered how he had once knelt before them and begged for freedom. They vowed to take him down. 

And with those actions, the boy fell once more.

But he rose again.

There once were many who died, decades and centuries and millennia ago.

There once were four Guardians, cast away, who found purpose in protecting the legacy of an ancient civilization.

There were eleven avariel, gifted with rebirth, who fought for the people and the lands they loved.

There was a heart. 

There was a phoenix. 

He was Reborn far too many times to count. He Relived, and he Repeated it once more. He Resolved to Revitalize and Rise, but he fell anyway.

But in the end, he Retook, he Retaliated, and finally, he could Rejoice. 

This is that story.