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Phil will be the first to admit that as the centuries go by he finds himself forgetting lapses of time. Forgetting people who were, at some point, probably close to his heart. But he can never forget how it started.
~~~
At the beginning of his long, long life Phil was nothing more than a farmer. His father and mother were poor, but happy and they got by with what they had. Phil’s childhood was not an easy one, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything else.
Eventually, time’s turning made him a teen and his mother passed from a plague. Phil’s father was a strong man, but he crumbled under the weight of his wife’s death. He had no time for Phil and cared for naught but his beer for weeks. During that time Phil took up the slack, tending the fields and going to town.
Eventually, his father moved on and continued, but it was only a few years later, when Phil had barely reached his twenties that the man passed with Phil by his side.
Phil remembers grasping at his father’s chilling hand and holding back tears. He was alone, barely a man and all on his own on a lonely farm.
When he heard the sound of footsteps moving towards him, Phil looked up. A woman, in a long silken dress and a black veil over a broad brimmed hat.
“Who are you?” He demanded, tensing into a half stand, wondering how she’d gotten into the house.
The woman blinked at him from behind the veil. “I could ask the same of you, mortal. How is it that you can see Death?”
Phil couldn’t offer her an answer then, he still cannot now. There was no reason he should see her when most others could not.
That was the first time they’d met, and it would be a long time until Phil encountered her again. After taking his father’s soul to rest with his mother, the goddess gave Phil one last look before leaving.
~~~
Phil spent the next two years on his own, and he would like to say he coped well. He wasn’t completely deprived of human interaction; after all, he had to go to town to trade. There was no deeper bond though.
And then she appeared again, knocking on his door. She carried a small toddler with her, cradled awkwardly in her arms, as if she’d never held a child before.
“Lady Death,” Phil greeted, wondering why she was there.
Death nodded awkwardly “Philza Minecraft.” He did not ask how she knew his name. She was a goddess. Death thrust her arms out, the child hanging by his armpits. “Take it.”
Phil blinked, but did as instructed. Looking down he examined the child. Tufts of pink hair crew and stuck out at odd angles, and his eyes, when they peaked open, were a dark blue. “Who… is this? Where did you get him?” he hardly thought Lady Death would entrust her own child to him -- plus, the way she handled him alone suggested no prior experience with him or any other child.
“...His parents have passed,” Lady Death answered, already turning away. “I… could not leave him alone in good conscience, and you are the only one who can see me, Philza Minecraft.”
Phil blinked and she was gone.
He looked down at the child in his arms. “I s’pose it’s just you and me then mate.”
~~~
For the longest time Phil did not name the child. He called him mate, lad, troublemaker, but he did not name him. It felt too deep, too intimate when this was not his child. Not his tiny human to name.
But Phil can’t exactly put it off anymore when Death shows up again. With another child.
“More dead parents?” Phil asked.
This one looked to be around the now - by Phil’s estimates - 6 year old Death had dropped off last time. He had curly brown hair and brown eyes staring up at Phil cautiously.
Death nods. “Yes.” She gently pushes the boy away from his hiding place behind her and towards phil. She gave Phil a look. “His name is Wilbur, so don’t go around not calling him that like you do the other.”
Phil squawked indignantly, “Well, I don’t exactly know the lad’s name, now do I?”
“Then name him,” Death said as if it were obvious, as if she suddenly knew more about children and wasn’t pushing them all off on him.
Phil shifts, he didn’t know how to explain it to the primordial being before him, explain how the lad wasn’t his to name.
“Philza Minecraft, he is more yours than he was theirs.” Death spoke.She could read minds apparently.
“Fine,” Phil huffed out. He turned sound and found the boy staring at him curiously. He wondered how long the boy had been there, Phil had just put him down for bed when the knock had come.
He thought for a moment, and when he couldn’t think of something off the top of his head asked, “Hey lad, what would you like to call yourself?”
The boy’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head curiously. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I call you lad, and mate and all that, but that’s not your name. What do you want to be called, that’s exclusive to you?”
The boy blinked, and perhaps it was too much power to give a six year old. The child glanced around, and his eyes fell on a decorative sword hung above the mantle. It had been there since Phil was a child and had belonged to his grandfather.
“...blade,” the child muttered and then went quiet for a moment, before declaring, “Technoblade.” The boy nodded decisively, liking the sound of it.
Phil’s lip twitched to the side. Well, he didn’t really have anyone to blame but himself he supposed.
He turned and was surprised to find Death had lingered and was watching with what looked to be the human emotion of amusement. Wilbur stood there, quietly observing.
“Well, Wilbur meet Technoblade.”
~~~
Wilbur’s integration into Phil’s life was not as smooth as Techno’s. Where Techno had become, at first, another chore to add to the daily list and grown into a nice break, Wilbur made himself a bother.
Perhaps because he was old enough to remember his real parents and what had happened to them.
“Wilbur,” Phil sighed, “you can’t just release the cows into the woods. Tell me why you did it?”
The seven year old pouted and looked away, something angry hiding in his eyes. “I wanna go back home.” He answered.
Phil’s shoulders slumped. This was something Wilbur never seemed to get over or grasp in the early year he spent with Phil.
“Wil,” Phil spoke softly, “You can’t go home, I’m sorry. You’re parents can’t look after you anymore, so I am. I know you don’t… like me,” Phil admitted, though it pained him to admit. Because he liked the boy, Wilbur was a sweet child on the days he wasn’t trying to cause trouble in some attempt to get Phil to send him off. “But this is the best option until you’re old enough to take care of yourself, mate.”
Wilbur’s lip quivered and he sniffled. “I just… I just miss mom and dad.” Phil’s heart broke. “At home… mom and dad always played music and it was nice and I miss it. I miss them. I want music back, Phil.”
Phil didn’t know how to respond and Wilbur trudged back to the house after a moment of silence.
Phil didn’t know how to address it or bring the subject up again, but the next time he went to town he brought back a guitar and a music book for beginners and left it in Wilbur’s room.
~~~
Soon after, Death appeared for the third time.
“You know, I’m not an orphan daycare.” Phil told her, as he unquestioningly accepted the baby from her arms. This one was young, tufts of blonde hair nothing more than peach fuzz.
She looked down at the child, eyes going soft. “This will be the last one, Philza Minecraft,” she promised.
It is often Phil wonders if she knew the journey of fate, or if it had just influenced her enough to know these children needed protecting, and none would require Phil like these three. She says it was the latter, nothing more than a gut feeling.
“Right, well how about you name this one?”
Her lips quirk up. “I suppose he can hardly name himself.” She teased.
Phil let out a huff of surprise. He didn’t know when they became like this. Something like friends.
She stared down at the child, laser focused as if she could simply draw a name from his mind.
“Tommy,” She said slowly. “Name him Tommy.”
“Tommy it is.”
She did not leave right away, as she had in the past. Instead, staring past him and into the house, gaze almost tired, longing. Phil didn’t know it at the time, but she would later tell him that her’s was a lonely existence, and when she met him and the others it was such a nice reprieve, if only for a moment. She couldn’t really resist the pull to him.
“Would you like to come in for tea?” Phil asked, moving aside. “The boys should be out here in a bit.”
Death stared at him, and then entered the house.
~~~
The years that followed were peaceful.
Tommy, Wilbur and Techno grew and learned and lived. Techno took up the sword from watching the guards in town train while Phil was at market. Wilbur played the guitar, and Tommy was boisterous and loud. Phil loved them all.
Death would visit from time to time, when souls could wait a moment for her to come. Phil was pretty sure the boys thought she was secretly his lover.
Phil was content, with his sons and the goddess who would visit from time to time.
~~~
Phil was 37 when the knock came at the door in the middle of the night. He thought nothing of it, Lady Death would often stop by at the oddest of hours.
It was not her who stood there when he opened the door.
“Sir, By order of King Notch all young men as old as 12 are to report to the capitol. We are at war.”
Phil shifted, closing the door so only his body was in frame. As if he could block out the reality from reaching his sons that way. From reaching Wilbur and Techno, 18 and bickering in the kitchen. From reaching Tommy, 13 and sleeping up stairs. “Who? Who are we at war with?” Who would require the king to call upon children and civilians?
“The gods.”
~~~
The boys were not happy. Phil was not either. The time spent in the capitol was difficult. Only Techno took to the training easily, having already been trained in the sword. They are separated, grouped based on age and experience, but they are allowed meals together and Phil’s heart ached for his boys.
For Tommy, too young, who would slump into Wilbur’s chest, exhausted and seeking comfort. For Wilbur, tired and not fit for combat with his guitar, who’d wrap an arm around Tommy and hold him close. For Techno, good with a sword and soldiers already praising him for his skill, who’d crack small jokes but already looked older than his age.
And Phil was tired and a little bitter, so when he spotted the black veil rounding a corner on his way to training, he couldn’t stop himself from chasing.
He followed her to an ally, and then she turned. “I knew you would find me.” She sounded more exhausted than Phil had ever heard her, and looked the part too. Her dress was crumpled and ripped in some places, and her hat was missing a piece of the brim.
“Why?” Phil questioned. “Why go to war with us?”
Death sighed. “It’s not me, Phil.” She’d dropped his full name a few years prior. “I am on your side, not that there is much I can do.”
Phil paused. “Then… who are we fighting?” Beyond that general statement the first night, Phil had never figured out which gods, exactly, they were up against. He’d only assumed it was all of them.
“The god of victory and blood, the god of insanity and creativity, and the god of betrayal and luck.” Kristin answered.
“So, we’re really not fighting you?” Phil checked.
She shook her head. “No, Phil.”
“Good,” Phil nodded, heart feeling just a tad lighter. The goddess who had gifted him so much over the years was still who he thought she was. “That’s good.” He turned to leave, not wanting to be late.
“Philza,” She spoke up and Phil looked back at her. “I swear I’ll do what I can to help in your efforts. I’ll find a way to kill them.”
Phil had faith she would.
~~~
The battles began, and many died. The younger ones were not sent out to fight just yet, which Phil was grateful for. But he, Techno and Wilbur did not escape them.
They were bloody, and so many died. Phil only managed to survive his first by being smart, by going after the summoned beasts instead of the gods themselves. He was fighting that way, and could not get in trouble for cowardice. He passed the knowledge to his sons, who followed his example.
Death was at every battle, Wilbur and Techno reported seeing her when Phil asked. There was never a chance to speak, but Phil had been content with the glimpses he’d catch of her on the battlefield.
The war continued.
~~~
Four months into the war, the army was almost entirely gone. Only the young ones, who had not seen as much combat and were mostly all still alive, and about one fourth of both the older teens and adults remained.
The night before what the commanders declared would be the final battle, Death appeared in their room. With the smaller numbers, the families that remained were allowed to room together.
“Lady Death,” Phil breathed. “What a surprise.”
Death stared at him, something sorrowful in her eyes, before she used her arm to push her veil over her hat, revealing her face. She had never done that before. Her hair fell over her shoulders like satin night, and her eyes were a rich brown. “My name is Kristin, Philza Minecraft. You… should know that much, with the news I bring.”
Phil’s breath catches and he glanced behind him to make sure the boys were still asleep. Tommy tossed and turned; he’d not been sleeping soundly since the battle last week, but he was asleep. Phil’s other boys were… most likely not sleeping, based on the careful stillness of their forms, different from the natural one that came when they slept. Phil couldn’t see that harm in letting them hear whatever Kristin had to say. They were old enough compared to Tommy.
“Only two things can kill a god,” Kristin started. “Another god or a vessel, channeling the power of a god.” She paused, adn Phil knew where the conversation was going. “Philza, just know that a vessel of Death cannot die by natural causes.”
And that was how Philza became Death’s Angel. The process was a bit more complicated. There was a ritual, Phil had to drink some of Kristin’s midnight blue ichor, but in that moment he became the Angel of Death.
~~~
The battle was over.
Phil removed his sword from the god of blood, finally defeated.
He turned, and was faced with a sea of fallen bodies. Phil stumbled forward, leg bleeding and heart caught in his throat.
He fell to his knees before his sons. Tommy had fallen first, and Wilbur not long after, trying to defend his brother’s body. Techno had lasted longer, but his son’s loyalty had always been his downfall, and when he noticed his brothers were no longer fighting he’d stopped thinking rationally.
“Phil,” Kristin’s voice was soft when she appeared.
“Kristin,” his voice was hoarse and cracked with exertion. “Please. Please, you… there has to be something you can do.”
She was quiet for a moment. “There… might be something. But I would argue it is a fate worse than death. For you and for them.”
Three gods had fallen that day, the universe out of balance when their power had nowhere to call home. Phil had lost three sons that day.
By no means could Kristin make them gods, but she could tie their souls to the power of the fallen ones and make them something as close to them as possible.
~~~
Their first next life was as peaceful as it could get. Phil found them again one by one - Kristin warned him that while they would not have direct access to their powers in every life they would still always affect them. Blood and Victory. Insanity and creativity. Luck and betrayal. Disaster was sure to follow his boys. It made it so they were often orphaned, and wound up easily in Phil’s care, and he could not deny it made him feel relieved to have them with him again.
The powers were manageable in that life - things came a bit easier to Techno, Wilbur’s ideas were a bit more outlandish, and Tommy went through bouts of amazing and terrible luck. It was a good life.
~~~
In others, Phil couldn’t help much at all. He found Techno. He found Wilbur. He found Tommy. But he couldn’t stop the powers within from tormenting them.
He watched Techno go to war and get lost in battle and bloodshed.
He watched Wilbur slowly lose his mind in multiple ways - sometimes dementia, sometimes schizophrenia, sometimes in other ways - it’s hard to manage in the earlier lives but as they go on and technology and knowledge advances it gets easier, but it never gets easier to watch.
He watched Tommy, in many lives, get hurt by friends or family, and watched the darker side of luck take its toll on his son.
But most importantly, he learned of the voices. The prayers and callings of the followers of the fallen gods, both past and present. They were not present in every life and never to all of them in one, but when they appeared nothing good ever happened.
~~~
In one life, Phil did not find them when they were young or find them in time to save them. They went by different names, in this life.
Tommy, Theseus. Savior of his city, betrayed and exiled.
Wilbur, Orpheus. Lost to his desperation to save a lover from Kristin by the time Phil found him, only to fail.
Techno, Achilles. A warrior thought to be invincible, fallen only because his anchor to the world outside of bloodshed died and victory and revenge became the only thing of importance.
~~~
In another, he doesn’t find them young again, but their powers have been merciful.
He found Techno in the arctic, and they created an empire.
He learned of Wilbur later, after taking over the world and causing an international meeting. He’d become quite the politician, leading his own country and seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. Phil heard he’d taken up music again.
And Tommy, the boy who started a small country and killed a god. He had loyal friends, and was respectfully feared for the achievements he made. There only seemed to be one stroke of bad luck and betrayal in that life, the betrayal of a friend to join Techno and Phil. But Whisp liked Tommy enough to tell Phil some stories.
He missed his sons, but this was the best life where he didn’t find them as children.
~~~
This life is not a good one.
Phil found his sons, but he did not get to raise them. Techno received the Voices young, and they were too strong at that age for it to be safe for the Blood God to be around his brothers. So Phil took Techno to learn to manage the voices, and left Tommy in Wilbur’s hands.
When they returned Wilbur and Tommy returned, and Phil only gained a hint of their location when they called for Techno’s help.
Phil doesn’t know if he is to blame or Schlatt or if it was simply Wilbur’s powers, but that doesn’t stop him from blaming himself for what happened to Wilbur.
The ghost was something new, and it gives Phil more than a hint that there is something different about the Dream SMP; he’ll ask Kristin next time he sees her, along with this revive book he’s hearing of.
Wilbur is back now, and Phil cannot tell what state of mind his son currently holds.
And Tommy… the good luck never balances the bad luck in this life, and Phil hurts for his son, but Tommy does not trust him or Techno anymore, and Phil cannot blame him.
This life is far from their best, and Phil knows he is to blame for much of what’s gone wrong. If only he’d been there to stop Wilbur and Tommy from leaving.
He’ll do better in the next.