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"Kill me Phil! Do it!" Wilbur screamed, a desperate look in his eyes and the smile of a broken man driven mad stretched across his face.
Philza's grip tightened on the sword's handle, his palms sweating and body trembling.
"I-I can't, you're my son!" he half screamed back, but his words fell on deaf ears as Wilbur took a step closer.
"They all want you to!" he urged, standing so close the blade was practically pushing against his chest, over his heart, "Kill me! Killza! Killza, Killza!"
Phil's heart was racing, his breathing quickening as he struggled to stay calm while facing the state that his son was in.
He should have come sooner, he should have…
His eyes met Wilbur's, and he froze.
There was so much desperation in those eyes, begging for an end to his suffering.
Philza gripped the sword and plunged or into his son's chest.
He woke up with a short scream, finding himself sat up in bed and panting hard, straw coloured hair fell into his eyes and stuck to his face with sweat.
Philza sighed and fell back against his pillows, staring at the ceiling, dimly lit by the bluish early morning hue.
That dream again, of all the wars and destruction he'd faced, that one hurt the most.
He pushed himself up, quickly dressing in his usual black and green attire before silently leaving the house, so not to wake the still sleeping Technoblade.
The mornings were brisk here, a fresh layer of snow lay still and mostly undisturbed as far as he could see - aside from a few fox and enderman footprints.
The early morning light had already begun to burn away at the usual mobs, so the trip was a fairly smooth one.
The snow gave way to grass, and eventually gravel, and he found himself staring at the rebuilt town of L'manburg, sitting on stilts atop the crater that still haunted its residents, as well as himself.
Speaking of haunting, he could spot the familiar yellow jumpered figure drifting absently across the wooden platforms that Philza himself had helped build, followed as usual by the blue sheep.
"Oh, good morning Phil!" GhostBur greeted as usual, his voice soft and holding a sort of absent cheerfulness, as if he were pushing past a deep sadness in order to appear happy.
"Hello Wil- GhostBur.." he returned, this wasn't the same Wilbur he'd known before, even GhostBur himself didn't remember the man he once was..
"It's a nice morning, isn't it?" GhostBur continued, "I think today will be good,"
Philza said nothing, he couldn't agree or disagree, he didn't have the right to when his and Techno's plans sat unfinished at home.
He looked down at the crater beneath them as the ghost of his son went on about his plans for the day, as if he wasn't standing above his own destruction.
But Philza couldn't hound him for it, the boy didn't even remember what had happened.
GhostBur had told him that he only remembered the happy times in his life, which Philza guessed was a good thing.. Except….
"I remember you killing me, Phil. Everyone says you're a hero for it."
A hero… for killing his own son…
"You look sad, Phil," GhostBur interrupted his thoughts, his translucent hand appearing in front of him to offer a wad of blue wool.
"would you like some blue? To take away your sadness?"
Philza gave a light smile, so not to worry the ghost, "I don't think it's that simple.." he muttered, but accepted the wool anyway.
GhostBur watched him for a moment, his pale eyes studying him and Philza felt a spark of both fear and hope that he was remembering something.
But then he turned away and carried on rambling in his usual ghostly way, and Philza's shoulders slouched slightly.
Part of him longed for his Wilbur back, but he was also terrified for the boy.
"Hey, Wilbur I-" he began, only to pause when those ghostly brown eyes looked up at him.
"Wilbur?" GhostBur echoed, blinking slowly, "are you okay, Phil?"
Philza swallowed back the lump in his throat that those eyes brought, reminding him of the last time he'd looked into his sons eyes.
"Don't worry about it, mate," he said instead, forcing a smile, "my mistake."
Once again the ghost went back to his usual rambling.
As the sun began to break over the horizon, GhostBur bid his farewell, and Philza slowly made his way back home, feeling the soft blue wool beneath his fingers, and a heaviness in his chest.