Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be simple.

Angels are messengers, among other things. Techno has no thoughts or feelings over being sent down to Earth to deliver a message to a Saint. Nothing besides fulfillment over furthering humanity through his task.

It’s too bad that They brought Calamity upon Earth while Techno was still there.

So were billions of humans, and likely some other Angels as well. Maybe even some Demons. But as Techno forced himself to fly with only a single set of wings, barely more visible than a ray of light, a large gust of cold rose from the ground. With it, the air grew dense and his wings wobbled precariously.

Techno was confused, and though his curiosity is not something to be fostered, the change made flying more difficult than it should be. So he landed. And Earth was suddenly a wasteland.

It was as though Hell had reached up and swallowed everything. Not all at once, but well on the way, obviously. Already it was freezing, more so than Earth should be able to hold on a day like this. Though, looking up, clouds swelled and swirled over his head as the sun squirmed in place.

Strange. 

For a while, as Techno walked out of the clearing he landed in and into the trees, he wondered what could have caused this. Global warming maybe. Though it’s an odd way for it to manifest, Techno thinks. But the will of the planet is not necessarily for Techno to know beyond the science that humans can hold. An Angel is no God, and Techno knows his place.

So he walks instead of flies. The ground is like ice beneath his feet, but gusts of nearly painful cold burble out of it occasionally and send gusts upwards that would surely knock him down. Occasionally, he will have to hop as the ground right beneath his feet cracks and starts to split apart. 

It is… strange.

The forest stretches on for a long while before Techno, though there's not a lot of down time to really think anything through. There’s more to see than there usually would be. The beauty of life and the scenery, sure, but the bizarreness of the temperature seems to be spreading to everything else as well.  Great cries will occasionally break out above Techno, and when he looks, the sky goes dark with a shroud of birds. Animals run past him, panicked and quick, but still far too close. Even the plants seem to curl in on themselves. Sometimes, Techno swears he can hear creaking from the trees, like they’re folding up painfully.

Almost equally distracting is Techno himself. His image has not changed at all, of course . But when his chest rises and then falls, like it always does on Earth, a cloud grows around his face. It’s almost like a veil of light, but not quite. And anyway, he is almost certain that it is coming from his mouth and nose, wet and quickly chilled on his skin.

The feelings distract him. It makes him imagine butterfly wings, the little hairs all over them. Or maybe the skin of a fish? No, not a fish, a dolphin or whale! Techno has never touched any of these, but he can imagine them. Just from observing Earth, Techno can imagine it…

A sudden shriek, far more guttural than a bird could unleash, cracks through the air.

Immediately, Techno’s attention narrows. The sound had come from before him. Chancing the fall, Techno spreads his wide wings and takes off towards it.

It’s not hard to find, since the owner was running right in his direction. Techno drops to his feet again as he sees them, and they see him right after too. Though, their mouth just parts again as they let out another scream.

“Be not afraid,” Techno says levelly while holding up his palms.

Absently, Techno double checks that his limbs and wings and face are all correct for interacting with people. They seem fine though, but the person’s fear does not seem to fade as they trip over their own feet.

“N–no. No,” The person stutters.

“Be not afraid. I come with guidance,” Techno repeats, stepping closer.

The person screams so loud that their throat seems to split under it. It’s not exactly an unusual reaction, but Techno notices that hidden among their tan skin is streaks of something. Liquid. Tears? Or maybe even blood.

“Are you in need of aid?” Techno asks.

Techno can not exactly perform grand miracles, nothing close to Them. But humans are often simple and Techno must interact with them in order to give messages. Sometimes that goes beyond saying words.

Striding forwards, Techno snags the person’s arm, even as they continue to yell and kick at him. With a press of his palm to their face, light around them grows as Techno picks out the injuries on their skin and below. It is not much to knit the wounds together and try to push some energy back into their veins.

Well, it shouldn’t be a lot. The injuries are not bad, nothing that would last long term, especially with medical attention from another human even. But even so, Techno feels the glow heating his skin flicker for a second as he backs off. Air pushes out of his lips as he blinks quickly, confused, seemingly as much as the human before him. That was… strange.

“T-Thank you. Thank you, Angel,” The person stutters while staring up at him.

“Do you need guidance?” Techno asks.

They must not be far from civilization, but perhaps there is danger within the woods. Perhaps the human is lost. They would do better among humans.

“I…” Techno tilts his head. “Have you not forsaken us?”

Techno’s face twitches at that. If wings were still stuck there, they would have fluttered and puffed up alongside his eyes. What could they mean? Perhaps they have gone through grave hardship lately, even though they seem well aside from the recent injuries.

“I will guide you back to civilization.”

“N-no.” The person shakes their head quickly.

“The woods may not be safe.”

“It’s worse back there. I won’t go back!”

The words make Techno pause, and that’s all it takes for the person to rise and take off past him. Techno thinks about pulling them back, but decides against it. He has offered his aid and he shouldn’t force it further. He has a job to do regardless. With luck, they shall survive and return to their home after they calm.

It does make Techno pick up his pace though. If there is a human out here, they are probably close to other people. Hopefully, he is one step closer to the Saint and finishing his mission.

The idea is appealing. Usually, Techno is a bit… fond of his time on Earth. No more than in the Heavens of course, but it is always a time to behold and take in. But this time seems a bit off and it’s honestly making him want to return to the above quickly. 

As he breaks through the treeline, his wings give a few flaps to send him forwards faster. Though, as he takes in the sight before him, the tips of his feet dig into the ground till he stumbles to a quick stop. 

Because, it does look worse than the forest.

What is supposed to be a town is stretched out before him, quite visible where it lies in a valley. But gentle hands do not shield it. Large gouges are cut through the ground, as though fingers have spread open to let everything sink through. And fallen they have, as many of the buildings are little more than rubble tipped towards the rifts. Though, it may be even more odd that creeping out of the seemingly bottomless holes are jagged crystalline structures.

This is no natural occurrence, Techno is certain. And nothing man made either. Even if Techno has not seen much of the Earth during his time as a human, and he remembers even less, this is beyond imagination, even for an Angel. It’s something Unearthly.

A few more people are staggering towards the woods, similar to the one Techno had encountered. Techno thinks of helping them, since they seem so injured, but the land in the center of the town is still shaking and breaking. If the humans can move and run, they’re probably better off than those still in the middle of it. Without a second thought, Techno takes off into the air towards the center.

The cold air is worse here than in the woods. There’s not quite wind, but there are waves of absolute bitterness reaching up just as much as the shining pillars. As a sharp structure shoves itself from the ground right before Techno and he’s forced to recoil, he realizes that it must be ice. Even though it’s far more clear and blue than ice should be, the chill that reaches Techno over the space between them makes it obvious that it is.

Ice reaching up from the depths below. That doesn’t denote anything good. Could this be a ploy from the Demons? That doesn’t quite make sense, since this isn’t their domain nor common methods, but what else could it be? What else could splinter Hell up to Earth’s surface?

A yell from below has Techno tucking his wings to his body to drop down. It’s a purposefully quick drop, but a bit more than he expected. Usually, there’s a bit of a gentle descent sticking to him alongside the light, but gravity yanks him down like he’s a Human again. As his feet meet the ground, he crumples and lets out a sound more confused than hurt.

That was odd. Is the cold air affecting his powers outside of flight? That leans towards it being the Demons at least.

Shaking himself, Techno stands despite the strange sparking in his ankles before seeking out the shouting. It sounds like someone is hurt and in need of help. Hopefully this will be sorted out soon, but till then, Techno should help where he can.

As Techno rounds a corner, his eyes widen a bit in shock. There’s a person laying on the ground, seemingly trapped beneath part of a broken building. Pools of red surround them, almost looking like a deep expensive carpet. Though, the color gets smeared a bit from their obvious desperation to escape.

“Be not afraid,” Techno says as he quickly walks closer and crouches near by.

The human looks at him with blown wide eyes, shaking all over. 

“H-help me!”

Looking over the scene, Techno presses his palm to the person’s chest before pushing some light into their injuries. They’re numerous, and leave the hair on his arms rising as his knees hit the ground. The person screams loudly at the healing, forcing him to flinch back before he can finish. Perhaps it is for the best, with how the task feels far more difficult than it should.

“Let me aid you,” Techno says hesitantly.

He’s unsure what to do. Should he heal them more? It’s obvious that they are not well, but they are still just screaming wordlessly. Techno’s hand shakes slightly where it’s outstretched between them.

“You should probably take the building off them first.”

Whirling around so fast that his wings make a snapping noise, Techno blinks in surprise at the sight of a man standing casually nearby. Well, not a man . The horns sticking out of his hair and the tail sticking off his back gives that away. 

It’s a Demon.

Shifting slightly, Techno puts himself between the person and the Demon. For some reason, that makes the Demon smile. 

“What?” Techno asks after the silence pulls out uncomfortably.

“The building? On top of them? You’ve got to take it off if you want their organs to stop popping open and stuff.”

At the words the person lets out a strangled noise and starts wiggling more. Techno can only hover his hands over them, unsure what to do. Removing the rubble probably isn’t the worst idea. Their injuries do seem to have worsened again after he healed them.

Still keeping himself in the middle, Techno stands and grabs at the edge of the rubble. It shouldn’t be too difficult to do away with it and then quickly heal the wounds. Though, as Techno tightens his fingers and plants his toes into the ground, he’s surprised by how much he strains against the weight.

His wings fling out slightly as his arms pull straight. His muscles tingle slightly, the edge of uncomfortable. It almost makes him let go of the weight all together, but the human lets out a loud scream that shocks him back. Right, he needs to focus. Once again, Techno tries to lift the broken building.

Slowly, Techno manages to lift the rubble, inch by inch. All over, his body starts shaking a bit, more than before. It’s strange, like maybe he’s going to fall and join the rubble too. The wings give a few flaps on their own will, as if maybe that will help.

It doesn’t though, and after only a short distance, Techno is not able to lift debris anymore. He strains until his lungs let out a small noise, but it just won’t go up anymore. And the human has started to quiet and still.

Swinging his head around, Techno locks his glare onto the grinning Demon’s face.

“Come help me.”

“What?” The Demon asks, more amused than confused.

“Come help me lift the building. Hurry.”

“Can’t you just miracle it away, Angel?”

Techno glares harder. The puddle of blood has reached the bottoms of his feet. The warmth burns from how it contrasts with the cold all around.

“Please help me lift it.”

The Demon’s eyes flick upwards as he presses a finger to his chin, an obnoxious picture of thought. Techno’s knees shake and he swears the tips of his fingers are about to snap off.

“For something in return?” The Demon finally asks.

“Fine! Get over here!”

The Demon’s back to smiling, but he does come over. As his fingers hook under the edge of the debris, it’s only a second before the whole thing is lifting easily. Techno practically gets dragged along, before he lets go and drags the person away from it. There’s a thunk when the Demon lets go of the rubble behind them, but Techno’s a bit more focused on healing the person before him.

The wounds are bad and their life force is thready. Techno can feel small wings sprout from his temples as he focuses on the buzz of power and getting it into the person. There’s hardly time to care, not when it’s far more challenging for tissue to regrow and stitch together than it should be.

As Techno leans back, the weight of the wings on his back pull far too heavily and he has to wheel his arms to not fall over. There’s a snorting sound from behind him, but Techno doesn’t care. Instead he pushes past the dimness to check on the human.

Their eyelids are fluttering and a groan is passing through their lips. Better than the stillness. As their eyes open, they seem to stare up at Techno with something like awe.

Before anything more can happen, the ground gives a large shudder. Cracks snake out under them, small now, but growing larger. Surging forwards, Techno grabs the human by the arms and hoists them up.

“Run into the woods, right that way. There should be more people, and it’s safer,” Techno says urgently, while pointing the way.

The human stumbles for a moment, staring at Techno widely still. Techno just prods them further, even though it’s poor decorum. Finally, the person seems to snap back to themselves. A bit clumsily, they take off towards the forest. Techno watches till their back disappears.

“They’re going to die anyway.”

The Demon is standing closer now. Techno can’t help scowling up at them. At least they’re not smiling anymore. But it doesn’t make the words better.

“They shall fix it soon. More aid shall come,” Techno says. It’s supposed to be even, but it comes out heated.

“Fix it? It’s you all that are causing it!”

The smile is sharp now, pointed at Techno like a dagger. It makes Techno flinch, confused at the attack. 

“What are you talking about? Demons are terrorizing the Earth, of course They shall help.”

This is a waste of time. Techno should go help the other humans around while he can. Yet, he finds himself stuck in place.

“Not quite, Ninefold. The Demons hold no power to bring down a Calamity, you know that. Think it through.”

A frown tugs at Techno’s lips. He can feel feathers tickling at his cheeks, but tucking them away seems far too difficult at this point. Especially when his mind is running over itself. Because, this can’t be a Calamity, can it? They wouldn’t do this, right?

A sound like lightning splits the air. As Techno looks up, he can’t help gaping slightly at the sight of an icicle stretching tremendously to the sky. Rumblings radiate out towards him as he stares up at the spectacle, only being tossed from the revere by the ground beneath his feet starting to give. With a stumble, Techno starts walking away from the forest further.

“Hey! You still owe me a favor!”

Techno doesn’t bother turning at the call. There must be something more to this, right? Why would They send him down here with a task only to bring Calamity? That doesn’t make sense, right alongside the everything else. None of it makes sense.

Maybe there’s more. There must be! The message to the Saint, maybe it means something! This could all be part of something greater!

“I am busy.” Techno intones flatly when he hears the Demon’s footsteps following after.

“Too bad, you made a deal!” The Demon catches up to Techno, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to face him. “Do not turn your back on this, or I will make you pay.”

The Demon’s expression is darker than it’s been the entire time. It’s how Techno would expect Demons to look all the time. His wings tuck towards his back slightly even while he raises his chin.

“Trust me, you won’t have to worry about being busy then,” The Demon threatens further.

“I have a message to deliver. I can not stray from that,” Techno cuts out.

“Fine! I’m very flexible, we can work around that.” The Demon smiles, pointed teeth glistening.

Slowly, Techno turns and starts walking again, letting the Demon stick to his side. They pass through clumps of broken buildings and ice. But the town has fallen completely silent. Techno doesn’t bother looking for any more people. He’s not sure he would like what he sees.

“What do you want?" Techno asks.

“A little miracle for a couple people. We’ll see where you deliver us first and then get to it, hm?”

Techno shakes his head, but he lets the Demon follow along. As long as he can fulfill his task, it hardly matters. Perhaps after the Saint receives his message, things shall turn around swiftly enough that whatever the Demon has up his sleeve will not have time to come to fruition. One can hope. 

“Do you go by Angel or Seraph?” The Demon asks.

With a sigh, Techno gives one last glance at the shattered town behind him. There can’t be any more delays in his journey. Right now, that seems to involve playing nice with a Demon, if only so he isn’t physically held back.

“Technoblade.”

“Oh. You can call me Wilbur then.”

A normal name for a Demon. It shouldn’t be too shocking, but it is. Though, Wilbur is the first Demon Techno has ever met.

He hopes his naivety will not plunge the world into worse straits.

Chapter Text

Neither Angels nor Demons need to rest in the same way that humans do, which is fortunate when Techno has to travel so far. Especially since he can’t really fly right now. The air has only grown more torrential with chills, and of course, the Demon following him can’t fly.

There’s no way that Techno’s too weak to fly, but he can’t fly right now regardless of that.

Still, as night falls and then lightens and then falls again, Techno's feet tend to fall awkwardly upon the ground. Every step seems to be too big or too small. It makes him stagger more than walk, and the Demon has pulled up to his side instead of trailing a couple paces behind like he was for just about all of the journey so far. Honestly, Techno was hoping that the Demon would get bored and leave, but that doesn’t seem to be happening.

“Are your legs supposed to be shaking like feathers too?” Wilbur asks.

Techno glances at the Demon from the corner of his eyes, furrowing his lips in agitation. Letting out a huff, Techno purposefully forces his eyes forward and keeps walking. He can not let himself be distracted.

Though, as Techno’s trying to walk with purpose, a foot hooks around his ankle. Which certainly his balance corrects for immediately. But, the way that his wings snap out violently and his knees give in, well… 

Techno trips and falls flat onto his front.

“You’re not seeming very floaty and angelic right now, Angel.”

With a shove, Techno sits up and can’t help outright glaring at the Demon. 

“I only said I would fulfill your ‘favor’ if you let me fulfill my task,” Techno says.

“Well, those words weren’t exactly said,” Wilbur leans back on his heels with an annoying look. “But you're not exactly looking in flying shape. Or… walking shape.”

“I do not know what you mean.”

Techno struggles to stand. He stares down at his legs as he sways slightly. Because, well, his legs are shaking. It’s as though they’re nothing more than two willowy saplings, bending at even having to hold his weight. A small frown pulls at his lips.

“Ah, yeah. Like that,” Wilbur says unhelpfully.

“It is nothing,” Techno affirms, as he forces himself to stiffly start walking again.

“No offense, but if a tripping maneuver that my little brother pulled off when he was five took you down, I don’t think you’re exactly going to make it to your mission in this state.”

“They give me guidance. That is all I need.”

“Uh, great. Except that They have also guided beasts from the Underworld and Hell here as well. I’m quite certain they’ll do more than just trip you.”

Techno pauses. “Beasts?”

“Yeah, don’t they tell you about the man eating beasts and all that? Because if they don’t, that’s a pretty big missed opportunity on the propaganda front.”

The snark makes Techno roll his eyes, but he can’t help holding his hands out before him as well. Just as his legs, they are shaking too, though not as bad since they’re not subject to all of his weight. It is… bizarre.

But there are many strange occurrences on Earth. Perhaps it is related to that?

“Maybe you should rest,” Wilbur says casually.

“Rest?” Techno asks, voice a bit acrid. 

“Sure! There’s no fountain of youths or whatever, but you know. When on Earth, sleep like a human!”

“Demon’s have foolish sayings,” Techno mutters.

For some reason, that makes Wilbur laugh. It is ridiculous thought. An Angel sleeping. Like a human! If there was a need for rest, doing such a thing to get that is even more preposterous.

Techno clenches his hands into fists. It’s nothing to think upon. His task is too great to worry about confusing musings from Demons. 

As Techno starts walking again, he hears a sigh from behind him. But the steps still follow.

The forest around them has grown more distorted over time. Now, all the trees have lost their color and leaves. They look stained blue and gray, curled up and jagged and stretching towards the sky. No animals have run past in a long while.

As the trek continues onward, and Techno clenches his jaw tightly when he has to purposefully lock his knees, a strange sound begins to fill the air. It’s faint at first, not much more than the wind. But it grows louder, almost vibrating in Techno’s ears. Strangely, he finds himself wanting to raise his hands to cover them. He keeps them firmly at his sides, though the wings on his head do tuck down around his ears against his will.

“Do you know what that is?” Techno asks. Perhaps the Demon will refuse to answer or lie, but it can’t hurt to ask.

“No, but it doesn’t sound good. We’re probably nearing another settlement right about now.”

“Could it be humans?”

“Does that sound like humans to you?”

Not particularly. It sounds like the air is groaning or buzzing, but Techno also doesn’t think it’s quite that. Humans have many contraptions anyway. It's doubtful that it is them in this case though.

There’s not too long to ponder on it, as Wilbur turns out to be correct. Soon, they reach the edge of this chunk of forest. The area before them does not look like a town or city though. 

It looks like… Hell.

There are pieces of human buildings mixed up in the mess of ice and crystalline. But it’s mostly just a hazardous waste, cold and frozen jaws chewing on the entire piece of land. Somehow, the ground beneath Techno, slightly whitened, feels almost numbing.

“Your message receiver isn’t in there, right?” Wilbur asks.

Techno shakes his head silently. Even if the normal pull towards humans has been extinguished quite supremely, the urge of the task in Techno’s being is still strong. He can feel the Saint, existing and out there. Further than here.

“Let’s go around it then. Won’t be much more time, considering the destruction.”

And perhaps that is wise. Techno needs to deliver his message. If this Calamity-like event has gone on this long, it’s obvious that his completion is needed in some way. It’s important.

As if hearing his thoughts, the vibrations in the air pop and screams ring out. They’re guttural and broken. So pained that tears spring to Techno’s eyes. If he wasn’t distracted by the sound he might poke at the moisture, but as is, all he can do is gasp and straighten all over.

“No, wait—” Wilbur starts, but Techno’s already taken off right towards the miasma of ice before him. “Technoblade!”

The Demon is still trailing him, but Techno can’t care. Not when someone is screaming like that. Almost familiar, he knows those screams, right? Techno runs faster before forcing his feeble knees to bend before he takes off into the air.

His wings are just as clumsy as his legs and he nearly falls from the air before the cold waves even reach him. But he manages enough balance to keep flying, and that’s all that matters. The fact that he’s getting closer to the sound, as if it’s burrowing into his head.

As Techno soars into the once-settlement, he realizes just how large the haunted ice sculptures truly are. They appear to touch the Heavens over his head. Weaving around them is difficult, especially with how much cold seeps off of them. They nearly create their own wind streams. The reflective structure picks up his figure and reflect it back a dozen times on the surfaces, wings and eyes and limbs. If he had a second to stop, Techno would check to see if his form really had deteriorated so far.

Instead he flaps his wings harder, even as he jolts in the air awkwardly. It’s become harder, the further he goes. No matter his desperation, it doesn’t seem to be doing him too much good now. As a gust of cold goes through Techno, so hard that he thinks himself stabbed through with an icicle, his wings lock up profoundly till he starts to tumble.

A gasp breaks from Techno as he tries to get his wings to cooperate again. But they just writhe on his back uselessly. The air zipping past his ears comes fast enough that it almost drowns out the screams, just enough for him to think.

With all the force in his body, Techno strikes out and sinks his fingers and feet into the closest pillar near him. A pang seems to ring through him, as though he’s a struck bell. But his descent slows as he holds on tighter, trying to find resistance on the slippery ice.

Somehow, he manages to sink his fingers and toes into the surface enough to slow fully and stop. Hanging from the side of the glacier, limbs all quaking with exertion. He feels a bit like a bat hanging from a stalactite. Right as Techno reorients himself, the constant screeches cut off. It almost leaves him equally reeling with how gaping the silence feels. Still, there’s no relief when the ice Techno is clutching onto starts rumbling violently.

Even with Techno holding on so tightly that his bones are starting to push out of his joints, the movement sends him sliding slowly downwards again. No matter how much he grapples and flaps, it doesn’t do much. Especially when the earth right below Techno bursts open with a great crack. The ice explodes all around him, giant hail pummeling down.

Techno flips through the air, desperately trying to right himself. His wings snap out, but it really only lets him steady and slow slightly. Gravity becomes less of a concern when Techno looks down and sees that it wasn’t quite a sinkhole opening up. A squirming eel-like beast has sprung from the ground, open mouth showing off a million sharp teeth. The breath hissing at the back of its throat has the edge of a pained scream still sticking to it.

With his wings still thrashing against his back dumbly, Techno stifles a gasp before squinting his wide eyes. Steadying himself as much as he can, he reaches one of his hand towards his shoulders before centering himself. 

Heat swells within him, glowing hard enough that the frozen air around him grows a bit humid. Then, with a yank, Techno pulls the light into matter till it hardens in his hand. Then it sharpens.

With a burst of flames, Techno swings his sword downwards, ahead of his body. It cuts through the air faster than anything but light could. There’s almost no resistance when the blade slips into the body of the serpent beast. Not even the protruding bones stop it any, burning to liquid under the heat of the endless flames.

It’s not the beast that ends up stopping Techno. Instead, his elbows give the smallest bit of a wobble as his sword cuts through the thick spine. But that’s all it takes for the sword's blade to turn in his hands, arms bending from the force of it as his quick path downwards is torn off. The momentum jerks to a near stop, sending Techno’s shoulders nearly popping out of their sockets before his hands let go of the handle. There’s no time for him to recover from the shock and paralysis before he hits the ground, the air knocking out of his body with a thud.

The beast above Techno thrashes in the air, black fluid spraying from the deep wound he slashed through its body. Very nearly the thing is decapitated, but not quite. And it seems like the little sliver of tissue left is all it takes. 

Somehow, the beast is still screaming.

It sounds like a woman. A human. Screaming in an endless sort of agony. 

For a second, even the shaking all over Techno’s body pauses as he stares up in a sort of horror.

Neck snapping to the side, the beast suddenly reels back before shooting forwards towards Techno. If Techno was in his normal state, he should be able to leap to safety with one flap of his wings. Though, if he was in his normal state, decapitating the beast should have been simpler than breathing. Literally. As is, Techno finds his body flinching, unable to move much beyond the small action.

Eyes pinched shut, Techno only feels the sudden warmth and squeeze of something closing around him. There’s a pull, like he’s falling or moving very quickly. It’s confusing, especially when he feels nothing breaking his body like he expected. Tentatively, Techno opens his eyes and blinks up in confusion.

Crouched above him is Wilbur, scowl around his sharp teeth looking dangerous.

An angered noise rises up from the beast behind them as Wilbur drops Techno to the ground. Before Techno can find his head, the Demon is tugging him up by his arms. If Techno felt unsteady before, it’s nothing compared to now. His vision fully blacks over, as though something has covered his eyes. Before Techno can prod at his face, Wilbur is yanking him by his wrist, forcing him to stumble into a run.

It takes a few seconds for Techno’s vision to return, but when it does it’s not much easier to see. Blue and white and shimmering blurs past Techno as they sprint through the wrecked town. Against his will his eyes actually shut, blocking everything out. The screams slowly grow quieter behind them.

A seeping cold beneath Techno’s feet suddenly shifts to something soft and slightly less frozen. It makes him trip a bit, probably only kept upright by Wilbur’s hands. A glance around shows that they’ve broken the treeline of a forest. They barely pause before Wilbur is urging them deeper in with his tight hold on Techno’s wrist. At least they’re walking now.

“The whole… sword thing looked pretty badass. Till you fell on your ass, that is,” Wilbur says, barely even winded.

Techno can’t say the same for himself. It’s as though his entire form is wavering between existence and collapsing. His limbs have started to lose feeling, buzzing all over, that he almost expects to look down and find they’ve turned into light. But his hands are still there, clutched tight within Wilbur’s.

As Wilbur yanks him roughly around a tree, it’s as though his whole being blinks. As the black fades, Techno finds himself falling, legs limp like they’ve been snapped below him.

“Woah!” Wilbur exclaims, grabbing Techno’s arms. “No need to fall again.”

Perhaps Techno would respond, but his brain seems to be falling right alongside the rest of him. It even continues after Wilbur lowers him to the ground till he’s propped against a tree. For once, the smile has slid off his face.

A sound like “hhgh” leaves Techno’s chest as the back of his head hits the tree. It thunks hollowly, pain making him squint. The wings around his eyes flutter slightly till they rest on his cheeks. Wilbur chuckles around a frown.

“You look like a shit.”

Techno huffs and forces himself to keep his eyes open.

“Thanks. Must be the Hell on Earth.”

Wilbur laughs properly. 

“Okay, you should actually rest though. You look exhausted.”

Techno frowns. “I don’t need to rest .”

“You quite literally dropped to the floor. Can you stand unassisted right now? Last I checked, you need to move to do a task or whatever.”

It sounds a bit too much like scolding as Techno shifts. With much effort, he’s able to move his legs a bit. But they shake even against the ground and he can’t imagine putting any weight on them. Sitting up is starting to feel difficult.

But that’s impossible. Sure, being away from Heaven will eventually make his general power weaken slightly, but nothing like this. Angels don’t need to sleep or rest because they don’t get tired. They usually don’t become unable to fly or walk either though…

“It’s not safe here,” Techno objects weakly.

“We’re far enough from the town that no monsters will come out, and I’ll watch your back any way,” Wilbur says breezily.

Techno squints up at the Demon.

“That’s not a lot of insurance…”

“Look, I need you well and whole for my miracle when the time comes. It’s in my best interest that you don’t get eaten in your sleep, so.” Wilbur gives Techno a flat look.

Techno can’t help looking at him in disbelief. But there’s not many other options either. Every blink makes his eyelids feel heavier and he fears they may close without his say so soon. The thought fills his chest with something like… apprehension? Not fear, he has no reason to be afraid under Their guidance, but… 

Well, Techno’s never slept before. Not since he’s been an Angel at least.

The Demon sighs. “I could have let the beast eat you or killed you myself in your state. Just, make yourself less useless so I can get closer to my favor being fulfilled.”

The harsh words make Techno huff, but there is logic to them. And while Demons are not beings of logic necessarily, it seems like Wilbur really wants a miracle from Techno for some reason. If Techno’s form is destroyed, it’s not like he can do that.

Slowly, Techno lowers himself to the ground.

The dirt and half dead grass is chilling, engulfing his back and creeping over his shoulders immediately. The sky is dark gray above him, broken by cracks as though it too is a plane of ice chipping away. In fact, as Techno squints between the black points of the tree tops, there seems to be something drifting downwards.

Even though his eyelids are weighing down roughly, it feels more difficult to close them than it would to pull a sword from his soul again. At least Techno is used to that. Darkness cloaks around him, and despite the inherent knowledge and feeling of the Demon beside him, there is nothing else to see or take in around him. It's like being suspended in the air with no wings to hold him.

His wings come up and wrap around him slightly, feathers tickling against his skin. They’re a bit warm at least, though not very. Techno leans into them further as his mind grows fuzzy and slips away.

Chapter Text

There are voices floating around Techno.

For a second, that means nothing. It’s just a fact in the air, right beside the low temperature and the oxygen. But then Techno pulls in a breath and he feels his form around him. 

Eyes snapping open, Techno struggles to sit up and take in his surroundings through the confusion of his mind. It still feels a bit empty, even as he takes in Wilbur sitting nearby next to another person. There’s a fire between them, crackling lamely. Absently, Techno raises a hand and wipes at his eyes as he blinks at the two silent boys.

“Welcome back to the land of the living ,” Wilbur says with a sharp smile, waggling his fingers around the word ‘living.’

Before Techno can digest that, the boy beside Wilbur moves. And as Techno looks him over closer, he notices the two pointy little horns sticking out of his blond curls. Another Demon.

“Who is he?” Techno asks bluntly.

“Who are you ?” The blond Demon shoots back heatedly.

“Tommy,” Wilbur answers with an eye roll. “My brother.”

Oh. That’s, oh.

Demons having siblings is an interesting concept, though not surprising. Techno never thought about it is all. Not like he spent a lot of time thinking about Demons before now, but still.

“Why is he here?” Techno asks.

Wilbur snorts as Tommy fluffs up. 

“Rude, bitch! I’d ask why you’re here, but it’s obvious that you’re wrecking up the planet with the rest of your Angel buddies.”

Confusion riddles Techno’s brain as he tries to sift through all that. Eventually, he just shakes his head. It doesn’t make sense, but all the Demons must be in on the same story. Or perhaps Wilbur has just told Tommy what he’s said so that they can both mess with Techno. Demons shouldn’t be listened to too closely, they like creating strife and confusion.

With another shake of his head, Techno glances towards the fire. The flames are struggling over some strange looking branches. Not much heat is wafting off the thing, but Techno can’t help leaning closer to it. His joints feel kind of stiff and almost achy, seemingly from the cold that’s taken him over.

“You were shaking in your sleep,” Tommy says suddenly.

“What?” Techno asks.

“Shaking. In your sleep,” Tommy repeats.

“... I wasn’t sleeping,” Techno mumbles. Tommy gives him a strange look as Techno huffs and turns to Wilbur. “Did you bring more Demons here for a reason? I’m only giving you the favor.”

“Yeah, yeah, favor’s not changing don’t worry,” Wilbur flaps his hand. “And I just wanted to visit with my dearest family during the end times, you know how it is.”

“You’re really giving him a favor then?” Tommy asks, looking skeptical.

“Yes,” Techno says.

For some reason, that makes Tommy laugh. Wilbur snorts too. Demons sure are something. Even the children are rotten…

“You do not look very pleased to be spreading miracles,” Tommy giggles.

Techno smooths out his totally not a scowl before deciding that he really should stand and start moving. The only miracles he should be worrying about are those that he’s giving to humans. Who knows what the world is like at this point? He needs to deliver his message already.

It takes a bit of support from a tree and his legs wobble a bit, but Techno manages to stand and stay upright. He does feel steadier than yesterday, but there’s almost a pull in all his muscles, like they’re worn out. It’s odd and he can’t help testing them out with perplexity.

“You move funny. Not elegant like I’d think Angels would,” Tommy comments.

With a pointed look, Techno turns to the fire and sets about covering it with dirt. It’s a bit of a shame how it seems to grow colder immediately. A small shiver runs through Techno, but he pushes through. The last thing the forest needs is a fire.

“Aw man, that took fucking forever to start,” Tommy mumbles.

“Do all Demon children curse?” Techno can’t help asking, judgement heavy in his tone.

“Just the bad ones, like Tommy. Damned straight to Hell, the poor bastard,” Wilbur says as he stands, tugging his scowling brother along.

“What? Loser Angels don’t curse? Heaven sounds lame as Hell—er, well, not Hell,” Tommy says.

“The Cherubs don’t,” Techno mutters. 

Though, he doesn’t add that no one in Heaven really curses, at least not like Tommy does. It’s quite indecent and makes Techno feel like the glow has returned to his face. There’s no point bringing it up and sharing with Demons. Obviously, that’s why Techno doesn’t tell. Not any worry for lameness, of course.

“ Cherubs ,” Tommy mutters derisively. “What even is a cherub ?”

“Baby Angels,” Techno says.

“Angels can have babies?!” Tommy looks perplexed. His pointed tail sticks straight out at his back, as if it too is feeling confusion. It’s kind of funny.

“No,” Techno can’t help rolling his eyes. “Angels that used to be babies.”

“Isn’t that all Angels?” Wilbur asks, smiling. “You know, dead children and adults used to be alive babies.”

“Just the dead babies that died as babies.” Techno’s tone turns a bit exasperated.

“Is it true that all dead babies become Angels?” Tommy asks.

“No.” The flat answer makes both of the Demons laugh for some reason. “You should know that anyway.”

The last part is directed at Tommy, at which the boy looks offended. 

“What? Why? I’ve never met a dead baby.”

Displeasure pulls at Techno’s face. “You’re a child.”

“Am not! I’m a big man! Died well and grown up, like all the good people do!”

The statement is so morbid Techno actually trips over his feet a bit. 

“Plus, Tommy’s a grand example of how children can be far too disgraceful and classless to be an Angel,” Wilbur adds, covering his mouth in a mocking sort of scandal. It makes Tommy laugh.

Techno scoffs as he rolls his eyes. “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

The correction does nothing to tamper the Demons’ good spirits. Of course, to them things like being damned from Heaven must not be grave topics. They lived through it themselves to become Demons. Though they’re not Angels either—never were, obviously—so perhaps some of their lack of knowledge is true. It’s obviously being pointed at Techno for their own amusement though. 

How crass. Techno’s ears almost burn against the air, somehow.

“How much longer do we have to walk?” Tommy asks, conversation flipping like a dime.

Looking at the boy through the corner of his eye, Techno contemplates answering before shrugging.

“I’m not quite sure. A while.”

Tommy huffs. “How don’t you know?”

The whining brings a frown to Techno’s face. Not quite out of annoyance—or at least not yet, since Tommy seems like a grating little bat—but just…

Well, perhaps Techno should know. Just like he should be able to fly and fight a beast with ease.

“Can you not feel them? Or, do whatever you do to find your audience?” Wilbur asks.

The older Demon looks more serious, no longer smiling like is usual for his face. It makes Techno’s insides clam up slightly. He really shouldn’t be sharing anything with these Demons. And even so, Techno forces his frown to straighten out.

“It is fine. I will complete my task just fine.”

Wilbur groans. “Unless you die or something.”

That only earns the Demon a head shake. Techno won’t die, not with Their guidance. It is enough for him and it will be enough for the Saint when they are found. Then all this will be solved. Techno can still feel that they’re alive and a pull towards them. That’s enough.

As a full body shake runs through Techno, he can’t help wrapping his wings around himself again. The cold in the air feels sharp, like there’s physical shards of ice floating about and attacking him. It’s not totally inaccurate, since small fluffs of ice and ashy snow are drifting downwards. But that doesn’t explain why it’s making him… hurt.

It shouldn’t be painful. Techno can’t feel pain in his body, not like a human. And certainly he isn’t actually feeling anything like a human. But the discomfort is difficult to escape when its wriggling beneath his skin and bones.

More forcibly, Techno’s wings tighten around him. His fingers grab the edges of the feathers, tugging them closer. It doesn’t help much though, not when they feel just as chilled as the rest of him.

“You’re still shaking,” Tommy points out. Unhelpfully.

Techno doesn’t bother answering, continuing forwards. The ice and powder covering the ground catch on the tips of his feet, as if the very earth is trying to slow him down. Or make him trip on his face. Demons and un-nature conspiring against him.

“Are you cold?” Tommy bounces up beside him. “The fire made you stop shaking earlier.”

“I’m not cold,” Techno denies. The words are a bit clouded by his teeth clicking together.

“You look cold! Just like a human dropped straight down to Hell for the first time, all shivering and junk.”

The words make Techno drop his wings and swing around, glaring slightly. The little Demon boy only smiles up at him, teeth seeming sharper and whiter than ever before. It makes his features seem to bend, just a bit, and it reminds Techno that just as much as his current form is something of a facade, so are the Demons’.

“Not as much crying and begging, but it looks like that’ll be soon too.”

Like a piece of tinder among a blaze, Techno’s face burns hotly in the snap of a second. It floods through the rest of his body a bit too, making his skin tingle with the strange change in temperatures. Though, the shaking in his limbs suddenly grows far more intense.

“Tommy,” Wilbur says firmly, stepping forwards and pushing himself between them.

It doesn’t matter. Techno was hardly seeing the boy around the churning within him at the scandal of it all. It’s absurd and ridiculous and, and— blasphemous! Or, something!

“Let’s just keep walking. He doesn’t mean anything by it.” Wilbur holds out his palm towards Techno.

It makes him notice that they’ve paused. They should keep going. Or at least Techno should. His mission is far more important than any of this nonsense. But it just feels so, so… Feels .

As quickly as the heat rushed through him, Techno is chilled to the bone. 

Through the dawning dread, Techno notices that the pale light of the strangely cloudy sky is starting to fade. He tips his head upwards, staring almost mesmerized at how he can see in real time the way that the expanse of gray is splitting apart. The dark sky beneath it seems to be absorbing the chunks that once held snow and ash. Like the top of a frozen lake was shattered and all the ice is getting sucked down to the void below.

“That’s interesting,” Wilbur says unhelpfully, obviously seeing the same sight as him.

“Isn’t it daytime? Why’s the sky dark?” Tommy adds.

No one has an answer to his questions, so they sit there lamely.

Slowly, Techno shoves his chin downwards and keeps walking. This is all bigger than him. Bigger than anyone. Whatever illogical emotions or feelings or whatever that he is feeling need to be ignored. They’re just leftovers of someone else anyway.

Before they can really restart the journey, a crumbly bush near them explodes in a burst of shattered leaves. Automatically, Techno flinches backwards, confused and shocked by the movement.

It’s only compounded when he blinks his eyes open and catches sight of a goat a few feet before him.

“What the Hell?” Tommy asks.

Seems that the Demons are confused by the sight too. Though, the goat looks far more at home in the Hell-like wasteland they’re walking through now than if it was in a normal forest. When Techno looks closer, he realizes that its face is covered in horns and eyeballs, far too many for any animal.

The goat seems to lock eyes with Techno before turning and bounding off. Somehow, it’s Techno’s first impulse to follow after. The animal is the first living thing he’s seen in a long while, even if it seems slightly off. Before he can take more than a couple steps, a tight hand is closing around his wrist.

“Woah! Didn’t we learn our lesson about running after strange murderous beasts?” Wilbur asks, tugging Techno back.

“I don’t think—”

Tommy cuts him off. “Do goats in Heaven have fucked up faces like that?”

With a sharp scowl, Techno yanks his hand free. “No. Do the ones in Hell?”

Which is to say, there are no goats in Heaven. Or animals of any kind really.

“Basically,” Tommy grins.

“I’m not sure exactly what it is, but it’s probably some sort of trick or danger. I haven’t seen a proper animal in a while,” Wilbur says with an eye roll towards Tommy.

Techno can’t help staring after where it ran off. Something within him is urging him forwards, after it. It feels suspiciously like the pull bringing him towards the saint he’s meant to deliver the message to. Perhaps because it’s a living being.

“Let’s go a bit around,” Wilbur says.

“No. I’m going this way,” Techno decides, not running but still following the path left behind by it.

He can hear Wilbur groaning behind him, and Tommy giggling. Both of them catch up quickly though, Wilbur practically putting himself in front of Techno with a defensive sort of stance. 

Regardless of all that, Techno’s busy with his eyeballs dancing around the area. They seem to refuse to sit still on anything, searching for movement or the goat or anything. The smear of images and jittering reminds him of having far more eyes than the two he currently has.

Setting his hands on his cheeks to check that there are no unwanted features, he finds himself pondering that. Maybe the goat is from Heaven in some sort of way. After all, typically Angels are the only beings with many eyes. Not all Angels of course, but some of them. Could it be related? Could the goat even be here for Techno?

Techno nearly trips over his frozen numb feet as he picks up his pace.

“Hey, be more cautious. You nearly died yesterday,” Wilbur scolds.

Ignoring such a thought, Techno keeps his pace quick.

“I think it’s a sign.”

“A sign? ” Tommy sounds a bit derisive.

“From Them.”

The Demons make noises, amused or scoffing, Techno doesn’t care. He’s too busy flapping his wings and gliding through a large bundle of trees and shrubbery. When he pushes through, the goat is standing calmly within a clearing. It’s staring back at him, as if waiting.

“Hello?” Techno says, holding his hands up on reflex and stepping closer.

The goat is standing right before the opening of a cave that seems to dip far into the earth, though there’s plenty of rock protruding towards the sky as well. It’s odd that he didn’t see it before getting out of the clump of woods. Obscured by the leaves despite being taller.

“What did you—”

Techno starts to question the goat further as he draws near. All of its eyes are shining up at him. Bright yellow, more so than the sun or wild flowers. They practically draw Techno in, so much so that he barely see the figures hidden within the shadows of the cave—

“Watch out!”

Arms close around Techno, dragging him backwards roughly. They both hit the ground with the force of it, Wilbur breaking most of the fall with his spindly body. But Techno’s thoroughly distracted by the sight before him to even notice.

Because a chunk just fell out of the sky and smashed right into where the goat was once standing.

“Wilbur? What’s happening?” Tommy's voice comes, distant within Techno’s ears.

With shaky limbs, Techno shifts forward. Though he doesn’t even try to stand yet. All of him feels wilted and shocked to almost nothing. He can’t help crawling a bit closer, reaching out as if he could pull the animal out from beneath the giant nearly see-through asteroid.

It’s obviously for nothing though, since his fingers barely grace the side of the thing before he makes out the red burbling up around the edges where it’s embedded into the ground.

With a garbled gasp, Techno jerks backwards. Mostly from the surprise and disgust. But also from the cold creeping up the tips of his fingers.

Holding his hand to his chest, he briefly glances downward and finds that his skin is already starting to turn red. They’re physically cold as he holds them. So much so that they almost feel like the skin is being peeled off with a blade.

“Technoblade?” A hand presses faintly against his shoulder. Techno can only glance back at Wilbur’s face, blinking wide eyed and dumbly. “We should get out of here. More are falling.”

“What?” Techno asks. His brain feels empty and stupid, stupid, stupid.

He follows Wilbur’s eyes to look up to the sky. And—

The utter expanse of darkness and nothing is now dotted with a few slightly glowing spheres. They’re very quickly growing. Not growing in size though. Just, growing closer. Falling.

“Are they— stars?” Techno asks.

“Does that look like a fucking star?!” Tommy shouts, pointing at the things a few feet away from Techno which he has been trying to avoid seeing.

But he can’t really now, so he looks back down and right at it. With a bit more of a critical eye, it almost looks like ice. Or at least the ice that has been sprouting up from the ground. Though it is slightly illuminated, with white smoke drifting away from it. Bringing a chill that wraps around them that sets a shiver in his bones and make-believe organs.

Techno suddenly gasps and jerks upright. Because— He had seen people inside the cave. And now—

“Don’t go near it!” Wilbur shrieks, but Techno just ignores him.

All he’s focused on is looping around the tiny iceberg, trying to make out where the cave entrance is. If there were humans inside the cave, they might have gotten hurt! Or scared by such a sight! 

As he skids around the side of the thing, Techno comes to a pause, mouth slightly agape. Because he can’t even see the cave entrance anymore, not really. The block of ice covers it completely.

“There were humans inside,” Techno says, pointing.

“What?” Wilbur asks, running up beside him.

“The cave… There were humans inside, I just saw them.”

“I don’t think—”

Wilbur’s voice is cut off by a scream. Not because of the volume. No, the scream is very quiet from how it is muffled beneath pounds and pounds of rock and ice. But it was audible, and is soon joined by new screams.

Starting forwards, Techno sinks his fingers back into the blockage. He should be able to peel it away, to let the humans escape their cage.

Instead it’s like he plunged his hands right into fire, hotter than even a flaming sword or chariot. All of his skin feels like it’s eaten by it. 

It feels like touching a star.

A pained gasp escapes him, but Techno just keeps pulling. After all, if it hurts him then the humans must be suffering. They might even die, and Techno can’t let that happen! Not any more, not any more. All of his body quakes with the force of his pulling.

“Techn— Fuck! That’s cold as Hell! Literally!” Wilbur shouts after touching the thing himself.

A glance shows that his hand is not marred by the small touch. Techno can’t say the same for himself. Through the fog, he can make out tendrils of irritated red and pink snaking up his wrists and arms. Techno pinches his eyes shut and keeps pulling.

“Help them, please,” Techno begs. It’s shameful and pitiful and a million other horrid things. But the screams are getting quieter and less already. “Help me.”

With a huff, Wilbur leans closer and grabs onto the edge of the icy star and yanks on it. A small cracking noise sounds out, but it’s overshadowed by a far louder cracking noise a little ways away. The ground shakes with it. Another star hitting the ground.

“Wilbur,” Tommy calls out, sounding hesitant.

“Come help!” Wilbur says back, and Techno would cry in relief if his mind wasn’t engulfed in fire and ice and pain and the sounds of human anguish.

The smaller Demon does come over and starts yanking on the thing too. There’s a shudder with the force of all three celestial beings clawing at it. Something within Techno’s chest screams, just as desperate as the humans’ awful noise. With a wet noise that bends Techno over, another set of wings peel out of his back. When they straighten, his muscles seem to grow stronger, for just a second.

There’s a shattering sound, and Techno half thinks it’s his arms.

But then the top half of the boulder if ice splits off from the bottom. There’s a great gust of smoke and vapor. It knocks Techno back with the force, falling and landing on the writhing mess of feathers below him. Like the first time he ever stepped foot on Earth and he could hardly hold his being together.

The star gives off a grand veil light, every ounce of it colder than space and Hell. All of Techno feels so frozen with it that every inch of him stops moving. All he can do is lay down and stare.

The chunk of ice falls to pieces, letting a puff of smoke escape from the previously blocked cave. A terribly human hand stretches out of the maw, as if they’re stretching. But then the rest of the body falls after it, heavy with gravity and limpness. 

Their face is towards Techno in how they fall. It’s blue and red all over. Half frozen. Half burnt. All dead.

Techno closes his eyes and lets himself go limp too.

“Hey, hey, we helped you, you’re not allowed to die,” Wilbur hisses.

He doesn’t bother saying that he’s not dead. Opening his eyes or his mouth or moving at all seems impossible. Or maybe just too much to handle right now. He might have to see the dead human again, and they’re stuck behind his eyelids enough.

Hands wrap around Techno’s shoulders and pull him upright. They half drag, half carry him somewhere. Away from the dead humans and the broken star. He can tell because the freezing fog doesn’t cling to his skin anymore. The chill left behind is still there.

“His lips are turning blue,” Tommy’s voice points out.

“I can see,” Wilbur grunts.

“I don’t think that’s good,” Tommy adds.

“I know,” Wilbur says, sounding even more frustrated.

With a flapping noise, something is tossed over Techno’s body. It burns, different from the smoking ice, but almost as painful. It reminds him of something he can’t remember. Reddened hands and steaming water…

Techno’s hands aren’t meant to be red. They’re supposed to be unflawed and pale, like a smooth marble statue.

Slowly, his eyes peel open. He finds himself still now, body propped against something warm and slightly soft and moving. Glancing through his bangs shows that it’s Wilbur, far too close to him. All he can do is look away, watching as Tommy putters around something a bit before them.

With a few puffs of sparks, a flash of light goes up between Tommy’s hands. Techno can’t help squinting at the sight, wanting to blink such brightness out of his eyes forever. But when he opens his eyes, the small flames are yellow and orange, none of the unbearable white and blue.

A breath leaves Techno against his will, seemingly unleashing his muscles and letting them return to their full body shaking.

“Still alive?” Wilbur asks.

Techno thinks about answering how he should. Denying the idea of him dying, of being anything less than unable to. But somehow it’s like he doesn’t have the words within him to bother.

As Wilbur shifts, something slides down on Techno’s shoulders. He looks down at it, finding brown cloth laying over his body. It looks like… Wilbur’s coat.

“Heh?” Techno tries to ask, sitting up with a sway and grabbing at the thing.

It’s not totally successful. He nearly overturns until Wilbur grabs his elbow and holds him upright. And Techno’s fingers just don’t answer at all. As he raises his hand from beneath the cloth, it is stained a deep, painful red. Nearly purple in some spots. The fingers can do little more than twitch, and pain laces up every faux nerve in his body when he does.

“Yeah, almost froze yourself to death. Maybe stop doing shit I say will kill you,” Wilbur says with an eye roll, yanking the coat back up around him.

Techno wants to shrug away from the clothing. It’s weird. To need something like that to do what his being just should. The plain white drapery he’s wearing isn’t quite real clothing, nothing more than an extension of his being in a way. The areas of his skin without it shouldn’t be upset at being exposed.

Shouldn’t be cold. Shouldn’t be pained.

“Get closer to the fire, you’re shaking again!” Tommy shouts, making Techno jump from his mind. “I don’t know how long I can keep it going.”

Waves of heat emanate off of the flames, snaking beneath his strands of hair and feathers. Techno clumsily shifts closer, holding his trembling hand out towards it. 

It hurts worse, as though plunged right back into the center of the star. All of Techno shakes and shakes as he curls into the coat. 

“It’s getting colder, even out here. You probably need some proper clothes. At least some fucking shoes,” Wilbur says, creeping closer as well.

“I don’t,” Techno croaks.

He doesn’t need clothes. Or shoes. Never has he ever walked and had an injury befall his bare feet. Not when he stepped through glass or rocks or a field full of corpses and discarded weapons.

“Obviously you fucking do. Look at your hands,” Tommy points.

Literally, he points with his hand. Which isn’t even the smallest amount dusky or paled from touching the star just a short bit ago. A glance towards Wilbur shows that he is the same.

His face twists up at the sight. Why? It doesn’t make sense. Not at all.

The sets of wings on his back hang down, limp and too heavy.

“I don’t know,” Techno finally says.

Because he doesn’t. It feels like he knows nothing. It’s a sort of helplessness he hasn’t felt before, not as an Angel. He shouldn’t be feeling it now, but…

“We’ll find some somewhere,” Wilbur huffs, running his fingers through his brown bangs in exasperation. “Rest near the fire. I’ll watch for any more stars.”

And all Techno can do is listen and obey. Beneath the heavy cloak and wings, beside the crackling flames. Techno’s always been good at listening, but now it feels like the biggest flaw imaginable.

Chapter Text

Techno awakens, curled up next to a piddly little flame barely clinging to sticks, and with a pile of clothes discarded beside him like a dead animal, deposited by a cat.

As he starts to straighten up, an involuntary noise leaves his mouth. It’s so unexpected, something between a whine and a hiss, that he doesn’t recognize it as leaving himself until the cold air invades his mouth. It puffs back out with a visible cloud of fog.

“Oh, good,” A tired, young voice comes from above Techno. “These sticks are doing nothing.”

He glances up in time to find Tommy dropping an armful of wood onto the ground nearby. The fire seems to flinch at it, growing smaller if at all possible. Said boy looks a bit worse for wear. Not quite physically, but his shoulders are drooping and his hair looks less curly and springy than it did yesterday. Yesterday? Must've been.

Absently, Techno rubs at his eyes. Though the smallest touch releases another grinding noise from within him. Bursts of agony shoot up his fingers angrily. The coloration of his skin is not quite so intense as it was just after touching the star, but it’s almost worse now. It’s as though the skin is… peeling away.

Like an injury. Like his skin is damaged and wounded.

Almost mystified, Techno runs the tips of his fingers over a strange red splotchy patch where the edge of his skin is raised up. Instantly, it sends electricity all throughout him, his offending hand jumping back as all of his body stiffens. The trail from the curdling, angry injury right up to his spine is almost traceable, a strange burning throughout where nerves would be.

“You fucked yourself up real good,” Tommy says, apparently having been watching.

“I don’t…” Techno says faintly, before he shakes his head roughly.

“You should put those clothes on. Wilbur went out and found them. I don’t know how much longer I can keep the fire going.”

The pile of clothes stands out like a corpse. Honestly, they resemble a collapsed human quite closely. Techno wonders where Wilbur could have found them. Were they on some sort of human, dead and frozen and stiff with unlife.

A shudder runs through Techno. Though the cold is as much of a physical attack as any of his prodding at the open skin. That area in particular is very raw, screaming underneath the chill. Maybe that’s why his arms are shaking so much. Are they more cold?

As he goes to pick up the clothes, Techno pauses. How is he meant to go about that when his hands are… disposed? How is he meant to do anything for his mission?

The tension building within Techno rises up, pulling lines down his face and forcing his eyebrows together.

“Oh, here.” Tommy leans forward and plucks up two small pieces of cloth.

They seem to be gloves. Putting them on sounds dreadful, but it would likely make touching things easier. Which is a horrifying thought. Nothing should break his skin to begin with. Let alone him needing some sort of covering to protect it.

As Tommy holds the glove out, opening pointed in his direction to help Techno put it on, a very shaky sigh leaves him before he complies.

“Is the fire your doing?” Techno grits out as Tommy helps him slide the gloves on his flayed hands.

“Obviously,” The sharp toothed boy snarks.

“I meant… Your magic?”

“Oh. Yeah, mostly. The sticks are all shit. It’s too cold.”

“Oh.” Techno recalls Tommy saying that he can’t keep it up. Perhaps his magic is drained. “I’m sorry.”

Tommy huffs. “I’m not bad off like you. Plus, Wilbur says we have to keep you alive and from what I’ve seen, you obviously need the help.”

It’s offensive, though Techno’s too busy trying not to let out any more noises as Tommy slides the gloves onto his hands. Obviously the boy is trying to be gentle and not touch the broken skin, which is equal parts strange, kind, and ineffective. But it hardly works, every little brush is a stab of pain anew.

“I didn’t think Angels were so weak.”

The words mirror things Tommy has said before. But he sounds more contemplative now. Less like he’s picking Techno’s flaws apart through his flawed eyes. Though the defensiveness still bubbles up.

“I’m not…” Techno’s not quite sure what he’s trying to defend. Himself or the other Angels or just… Them maybe. He’s not sure.

After a couple seconds of agony with the gloves on, the pain in his hands dulls. Enough that he can touch the clothes without much problem. Though he still can’t help hesitating to put them on.

“Would you hurry it up before you freeze to death? We have shit to do,” Tommy says firmly.

It’s almost amusing, a child with his arms crossed and such a serious look on his face. But really it just makes Techno feel… feel. Too much. More than he should.

With shaking hands, he struggles the clothes on top of his drapery.

They lay on his body heavily, far more than the not-quite-real clothing he usually wears. Though the worst of his wounds are covered up, his entire body feels cut open now. The touch of cloth on his skin, it practically burns. His body shivers roughly, even his limp wings.

Tommy harrumphs a little distance away, stomping his foot like a little bratty child that’s meant to be endearing. Humans would probably find him endearing. Techno wonders if the boy used his appearance and disposition to trick and torment them…

“Where’s Wilbur?” Techno asks, for want of something to do. And because the Demon’s absence feels very present.

Vaguely, Tommy points off in a direction. Techno looks, though he's obviously not right there.

“Will he be back soon?” Techno asks, slightly more heavily.

“Yeah, yeah, should be. Hold your horses, you already slept forever,” Tommy says back. His pointed tail twists with the words.

Awkwardly, Techno crosses his arms in front of himself. The clothes rub on his skin strangely. Like an extra layer of skin, foreign around him. His hands still burn and ache, so he can’t determine what type of textile is around him, rubbing on him. Leather or wool.

Like a human taking from an animal to put onto themselves. To sustain them. Too imperfect to do it alone.

Nervously, Techno wraps his wings around himself too, forcing his feathers to get within his eyesight. They still look pure white, if a tad bedraggled. Not darkened or dyed pitch. Not burnt up.

He breathes out heavily, watching the fog fizzle around his face.

“You’re still cold?” Tommy asks, leaning against a tree and raising an eyebrow at him.

So animated and boyish.

“No,” Techno says simply. 

His bones ache under the chill, but it is simply the layer of Hell leeching onto him. Not into him, but it just hurts. That’s… That’s normal. He can take it.

“If you say so, Angel,” Tommy murmurs.

Shaking his head, Techno joins him in looking around for Wilbur.

It feels odd to be waiting for a Demon instead of continuing with his duty. Well, waiting for him to help with the task. But that’s just as wrong, arguably. He should just turn around and continue on, on his own. Should be able to.

Looking down at himself, the clothes and two pairs of wings peeking around him, another around his face. Nothing like an Angel on earth should look. One part too pathetic, one part too frightening.

Instead of having to face his need to depend on a Demon, a crunching noise draws up between the trees. Tommy perks up, stepping right beside Techno and squinting in the direction. His arm is held out slightly in front of Techno, tail stiff and squinting. Ironic on a multitude.

Wilbur tromps out from between a few trees, hair sticking up almost as much as his horns, and something that looks like soot rubbed across his face. There’s a scowl tugging on his features. A black bow wrapping up a chunk of wood masquerading as a present. With burnt up, scraggly edges.

The second he sees them, his shoulders drop slightly. The air that comes out of his mouth even has a little fog sticking to it from the force of the sigh.

“Oh good, I was starting to worry that you’d slipped into a coma or some shit,” Wilbur says, looking over the pair of them. His eyes linger on the clothes for another second. “Here, an extra gift.”

Something is chucked before Techno, bouncing in the dirt, nearly onto his toes. He glances down at them, squinting a tad.

They’re boots.

Dirty, a little old and worn, obviously. A pair of socks are peaking out of the top, right at home among the fraying threads.

“Shoes?” Techno asks, voice slightly too shrill.

“Yes, shoes. We need to walk, your feet are starting to look close to your hands,” Wilbur says.

There’s mud slathered over his feet, slightly odd for him, but not too much. He has physical form, surely a bit of dirt flecking on to it isn’t strange in a bad way. Beneath the mess, cuts and bruises are reaching upwards like cloying hands, towards his ankles. As though they too had been torn by a star.

Except they haven't been. He's just been walking.

“His hands looked real bad beneath the gloves,” Tommy chirps, sounding like a tattling child. “Like they’ve been plunged into boiling water and are about to peel off.”

Techno’s nose wrinkles at the description. The motion makes him realize that his nose was already wrinkled up, just from staring upon the shoes.

“Yeah, well…” Wilbur trails off, looking at Techno’s covered hands. “The gloves will help. Probably.”

“Hopefully the oh-so holy task doesn’t use fingies,” Tommy says.

Wilbur snorts. Then, he walks over and taps Techno’s elbow with his own.

“What’s the hold up? Can’t tie laces?”

Techno looks up finally, meeting the Demon’s eyes. Purposefully, he breathes through his nose. His mouth doesn't shake. His hands do, but that’s the grating pain eating into the spaces where nerves would be if he was human.

Wilbur raises an eyebrow. “Do you really need me to tie them for you? Cause I will. Whatever makes the plates turn gold and the waters flow.”

“I can’t wear shoes,” Techno says, taking a small step back.

“This again,” Tommy sighs. Then he waggles a finger at Techno. “You’re gonna turn into a popsicle if you keep fucking around.”

“I’m not— I can’t—” Techno stutters stupidly.

“You’ve gotta just force it on him. I’ll jump on his back—!” Tommy starts running towards Techno, obviously prepared to leap on him.

All three pairs of wings stuck to Techno jerk up defensively. It’s far faster than his twitching arms, but he gets those up too after a moment. Luckily, Wilbur has grabbed the little imp by the collar of his shirt, yanking him back firmly.

“We’re trying to keep him uninjured,” Wilbur says.

The man shakes Tommy a couple times before setting him back down. It’s obvious from the look in his eyes that he’s still thinking about accosting Techno. His wings do not relax even when Tommy crosses his arms once more. Just as well it could be a ruse for the troubling creature.

Wilbur turns to Techno when he at least thinks that Tommy has given up.

“Look, you need them to fulfill your mission, so wearing them isn’t going to taint your pure spirit or whatever the fuck you’re worried about. It’s necessary to do what… They want you to.”

Techno frowns harder, but he does look back down at the shoes. There is some point behind what Wilbur is saying. That shouldn’t mean much, he’s a Demon, they’re supposed to be good at talking pretty to lead astray. But it makes sense no matter how Techno looks at it.

Except the little part of him that can’t remove the fact that these shoes almost certainly were taken off of a dead human out of his mind. There’s no blood, but he just knows.

If he wants to stop more humans from dying, then he needs to complete his task. That’s the only way he can look about it. About this entire situation.

Carefully, Techno crouches and begins pulling on the socks and then the shoes.

“Wow, I totally didn’t think that shit would work,” Tommy says.

“Shove it, asshole.” Wilbur pushes Tommy’s shoulder. “You just wanted to jump on him.”

“His wings do look fluffy.”

Techno looks up, shoes pulled on and utterly foreign around his limbs. All of concrete or chains weighing him down, even while he’s still sitting with them skewed akimbo. He levels Tommy with a flat face, not impressed.

“What?” Tommy shrugs innocently.

Techno just sighs and shakes his head. Talking such ways about heavenly appendages… He’s not sure why Demons surprise him.

“Need some help with those laces now, then?” Wilbur asks, a pointed smile crossing his lips when Techno looks up.

Glaring, Techno ties both shoes into big knots, stands resolutely, and starts stomping away.

Do not be affected. Do not be moved by such beings. It is their job, and his is only to help…

Snorting laughter follows after him, even as he ignores it. It is very difficult to ignore it.

The shoes make it hard to walk.

That could be the cause for the laughter. It’s completely inappropriate to laugh about something involving a dead human in any sort of way. Regardless of how his wings keep splaying out and he keeps nearly tripping, and how he walks as though stuck knee deep in thick mud.

Techno tries to walk faster, hoping to outpace the stupid Demons.

He does not fall on his face. His wings and arms stop him.

“Okay, okay, sheesh, ask for help,” Wilbur says, walking up beside him.

“I don’t need your help,” Techno says.

His palms burn where they’re holding him up from the ground. Fire. Ice. On the whispers of nerves.

“Yeah, you do. That’s why we’re fucking stuck with you to begin with,” Wilbur snorts.

His hand wraps around Techno’s elbow, pulling him up. Sheets hanging off of a clothes line, his wings and body get hefted up. Propped back up like a thing in those boots. It shouldn’t still be so odd for him, but weight is wrong in his skin. Like the corpse that was in them first.

Techno’s breath wants to quicken. He tries to keep it steady, as Wilbur does the same to his body with a firm hand.

Tommy skips up next to them, sandwiching beside him. Then he makes a move like he’s going to grab onto Techno’s other arm too. Turn him into a true prison on a death walk.

Lips soured, Techno pulls his arm away before it can be leeched onto by the little Demon. But Tommy simply smiles up at him, sweet as always, and grabs on unimpeded. It ends up with slightly smaller hands wrapped around his gloved hand and a smug look leveled at him.

“What’s your purpose?” Techno murmurs.

“Just helping you, man,” Tommy says. “Damn. Isn’t gratitude a virtue?”

“No,” Techno says bluntly.

Both Tommy and Wilbur giggle at him.

When Techno’s face scrunches in pain at Tommy’s grip on his fingers, the boy loosens it. He does not mention it. Neither of them.

Such is well.

For the most part, they walk in silence. Techno’s limping steps, clomping terribly, and two quick footed Demons. The crunching ground turns softer and the trees sparser over the hours.

The slightest air of hesitance wells on Techno’s tongue at what sight will greet them. The pull towards his task in his chest is still steady, aching like a raw thing. But he’s not too sure if he’s close. Truly though, this may not be a new consequence of the Demons’ take over. Rarely has he needed to know such matters with such detail.

He still believes he’ll complete it, that he must and it is set. But uncertainty coats him, just around the edges. A terrible thing, but he won’t let him sway him any way. 

Still, if it is nearing, then what? Or is it another settlement of freeze boiled humans—?  

Such musings are pointless. As they crest the final hill, the purpose of the clearing past the forest becomes clear. Before them, in a facsimile to eternity, is an endless stretch of water.

An ocean.

“Your task doesn’t happen to be on the coastline, does it?” Wilbur asks, voice snark and vinegar.

Techno lifts a hand, still half held onto by Tommy, and points silently, straight across the ocean.

“Of course,” Wilbur sighs.

“Can you fly all that way? You look like a sad, floppy bird,” Tommy says.

“You don’t even have wings,” Techno says back. His wings pull towards his back, acknowledging the words. Perhaps slighted.

“Well we’re not Angels,” Tommy says derisively.

“I wouldn’t even need—”

“Alright, alright,” Wilbur cuts Techno off. “Let’s see if we even need to worry about if Angels can sink or swim first.”

Wilbur lets go of him and slides down the hill, tromping over the rocky shoreline. Techno follows with less grace, refusing to look at Tommy as the boy fully grabs onto his elbow and pushes at him. At least he's pushing upwards for the most part. It helps a little.

They break forcibly as they reach the level ground. And, although tiny pebbles are wobbly as anything to plant feet upon, it is flat enough for him to manage. As well, old seawater has frozen where it lapped upon them at some point, startlingly clear ice filling the gaps between the rocks. Wretched stability.

Closing the distancing to Wilbur, Techno manages to hear a sound from the Demon. Not triumph or sorrow. Neutral, nearly. Acknowledgement.

The second he sets his eyes on the water, it is obvious what it is aimed at. Because there is no water filling the ocean.

It’s ice.

“Well, that’s fucking something,” Wilbur says.

“I suppose it makes sense,” Techno says.

Freezing cold enough to turn ground to ice, water is a logical to have fallen to it as well.

“Woah!” Obviously the thought hasn’t crossed Tommy’s head. “Does it go all the way down?”

Instead of opening the door for discussion, Tommy takes it as an action suggestion. Made by himself. Unsurprising, the kid bows to no one but himself, extremely obviously. 

In this case, it means that Tommy takes off running right for the ice. Wilbur, nor Techno, manage to grab him before he leaps right onto the plain of ice. Both of them cringe, held out hands curdling, at the massive cracking sound. Though it is simply Tommy’s feet clashing with the ice. Whatever the soles of his shoes are made of, likely illusion in the same way that his body technically is, are hard against the frozen water. Yet, there does not seem to be a hint of a crack below him.

Tommy peeks down himself, eyes slightly wide. Almost like he expected to fall through the ice.

“Tommy, damn it! Don’t trust shit here, it’s not safe like home,” Wilbur scolds, striding closer. “You’re stupid and stupidly luckily.”

Tommy simply smiles and giggles, only his pointy teeth peaking out.

“Home? Safe?” Techno asks, quiet and doubtful. 

Wilbur turns towards him, eyes particularly shiny. Though it only serves to remind Techno that although Wilbur’s eyes are brown, a very good fake of humanity, there is a red overtone. A layer that can't quite be hidden.

“Don’t worry about it, Ninefold. It seems fine to walk on.” He extends a hand to him.

There is nothing to do but continue on, and follow.

Techno steps onto the ice. The shoes make the crystalline blue below him less of a perfect orb to walk on, but barely. Just enough traction to stay upright. His foot slips a tad, and he takes the hand. The curdling and acid that presses in serves well enough.

There are no trees around them. No brush or dead grass to pretend with. The ice is plain and flat, the sky pitch black.

Techno only lets himself look upon the space where the heaven and ocean meet. A thin line.

“What type of Angel are you?” Tommy asks, breaking the tapping silence.

A tiny scolding noise leaves Wilbur as Techno’s lips scrunch up. He eyes the boy, just scantly, before turning back to the gone horizon.

“What? I just want to know if he can even perform the stupid miracle.”

“Any Angel can. Don’t worry about it,” Wilbur says.

Right. The reason they are here.

“What even do you want?” Techno asks, fearing the answer more than he wants it.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing that even you wouldn’t want to perform. It’ll just take some from you,” Wilbur says.

Too vague. Probably untrue.

Though could Techno turn it down after all this? After it helps bring this end to an end, as surely his task must? Any wrongs that might be wrought by whatever the Demons want, it can be fixed when the Hells are put back where they’re supposed to be.

And if Techno needs taken from to fix that, he would deserve it. That will be okay, when earth is made okay again.

“You’re a cherub,” Tommy accuses.

“Why would you think that?” Techno asks, the edge of paper folding.

“Well, you said that cherubs are dead kids. You look like a child,” Tommy says.

He’s a step and a half ahead, tail swishing within sight. The red of it is very vibrant, just like his horns among a nest of golden curls.

Techno hardly notices when a curve of red begins to rise over the edge of the ice. A single drop in the empty sky. He frowns at it. The moon?

“Only infants can be cherubs.”

“You’re practically an infant,” Wilbur jokes. “Bet you were an orphan too. Tragic and pure.”

“Angels are not orphans.” In all the ways that matter. Techno can not remember. He almost thinks that… “Though I’m sure the two of you are.”

“Woof, your tongue wounds,” Tommy laughs. “What? So now Demons are orphans?”

“In all the ways that matter,” Techno says.

“None of it matters,” Wilbur dismisses.

A small frown tugs on Techno’s lips. He watches the red moon break from the horizon line, drawing up into the sky proper. It soars across so easily, a thread, in and out, towards the peak of the cloth. Velvet, crushed. Nothing to slow or stop it.

Perhaps the heavens are not up there. Not the ones holding it.

“Do not be silly,” Techno says, shaking his head. “In the end, it all matters.”

“You sure sound certain for a guy being held up by Demons and wearing dead human shoes,” Tommy snickers.

Techno closes his eyes while Wilbur scolds quietly. Though it’s just for the show, the making nice. Techno doesn’t need nice to perform miracles, maybe even for Demons. Two orphans.

“It always matters,” Techno says.

He opens his eyes. The red moon has reached it’s peak.

Then it stays a moment.

Then, like a thread snipped, the palmed orb begins to drop straight down.

That there nearly looked like the Heaven’s doing.

“What the fuck?” Wilbur says, gasping in a sort of horror.

Strangely, Wilbur only takes two running steps before he slows again. Back to the labored walk that Techno initiated and can’t quite stop. The aching pull in his chest feels just like the shape of the moon, wouldn’t one know?

Their necks are craned back as they watch it fall and fall, growing like a drop of blood right into the pupil. The endless black is easily undone, it turns out, by the right thing. Red.

And the endless ocean too.

The moon hits the plane of ice, somewhere far off, to the left, in the corner of their eyes. Truly, it seems just as small as when it was but a saucer in the sky. And that’s all it is, until thwipping fills the air.

It’s high up, pitched strangely. A whip hitting something, or, or, elastic twine singing inwards.

Louder and closer. Until finally, it is far more obvious what the sound actually is.

Cracking.

True cracking and not just little Demon feet stomping. The icy ground begins to shake with the approach. Finally, their slipping feet force them to stop their forwards droning. 

When the cracking becomes visible heading right towards them, then they properly start to run.

There’s nowhere truly to go. The cracks bite through the ice deep and wide, splitting it apart so the slate coloring crushes upwards. It's heading at them from the side, but as far as the eye can see in front and behind them. No where to turn away from it. Small pulls yank on both his arms, uncertain about which way to go.

But in the end, it doesn’t matter. It’s just running, because they have to run. The pull forwards.

As the cracks reach their feet, Tommy screams and they all leap forwards. They land upon a rumbling piece of ice, moving with vibrations and shifting, on top of their running forwards. They might as well be stepping on water itself with the lack of stability.

Techno’s wings pop out, trying to beat him upwards. It helps with the running, keeping him ahead and letting him make the jumps between the chunks of ice. It’s not enough to truly pull him into the air though. Just lightens his feet a little.

The breaking passes them, but doesn’t slow or calm any. Now, they’re just surrounded on all sides.

“There!” Wilbur shouts.

His finger splits through the thrashing darkness. A small strip of ice, perhaps an inch closer to staying in one piece than where they are right now. A buoy in the sea, which is truly a churning tide now.

All of them take off towards it at the same time.

The pieces of ice are small as it breaks up and sinks. They let go of each other, forced to find anywhere that will fit a single footfall. At least Techno can worry about trying to put more force into his wings without the others around him. Very nearly, as he leaps with the beating of two pairs of wings, he almost feels as weightless as he should be, dancing between the pillars.

Which is good, since jets of dark water spurt upwards in the biggest gaps now. They grab like insistent hands, begging, pleading, yanking on him desperately. Techno swears that the movement of the water sounds like cries.

From the little snippets that he sees, the two Demons are about level with him. No wings, but they haven’t been so stifled by the Hells pulling on them. In fact, as a twinge goes through Techno’s smaller wings, his knee bends too much on the next touchdown and the others even pull ahead.

Among the icy death, heat swells beneath the quick moving feathers. Exertion liking a striking match, over and over. It’s such an odd juxtaposition. A slap to the face on a winter’s day. What was it that he had done?

Oh, right. Slipped.

“Motherfuck—”

His body tumbles between two widening planes of ice. There’s a whipping about in front of him, and then a hand closes around his tight, pulling.

Techno manages to take in half an eyeful of Wilbur’s tight face before the pain hits his hand. A brace, pulverizing bone, the brightest of fires, nerves really there, they truly must be!

He gasps and jerks his hand backwards, flinching with his entire being.

The water grabs the edges of his wings and pulls.

His body hits the water. And plummets.

There’s cold in the air, but it’s nothing compared to water. Techno was right, there is crying down there. A million tears trapped within ice and invading him with grieving fury. The salt burns his skin, his wounds, beneath his feathers.

He sucks in a breath and then his insides freeze too.

As belated as he is, Techno tries to fight the forces moving around him. All of his wings flapping and his limbs clawing upwards. Though there is no up and down, only between the panes of ice. And even that is not so clean a line.

The ice moves with a rumble, slipping through the water and slamming into his back. He cries out, water leaving his nose and more sinking back down his esophagus.

Techno tries to grab at the flame within him. Still there, just so much smaller than it should be. To pull something from his soul, the thing that puts his existence into being. More strength, power, a flaming damned sword to cut him free. Anything, anything.

He twitches, jerks, and then sluggishly stills.

No wonder foolish children get slapped.

Arms close around him, quick and tight. Though it’s only noticeable because of the tied down warmth getting wrapped around him. The touch is familiar, in a strange way. Surely he’s never felt this before, not as him…

A needle hits the water, popping the muffling about him. The air hits his skin, and oh, it can be even colder too. It doesn’t make sense, no logic or belief within it. And yet, it is.

It always is.

“Wilbur!” A high pitched yell splits through the rumbling.

“Help me,” Wilbur grits back, right into his ear.

Techno is tossed with the breeze, the waves, the arms around him. Choking, his eyes part to the even darker darkness around him. He wants to close his eyes once more. The wings around his head slip over his eyes for him.

More hands grapple around his limbs, tiny, pinpricks of nails raking over skin. Ice pushes on his wings once more, pulling creaking from his mouth. Water pops up from his lungs, forcing him to jerk as the black scratches out of him.

“Fuck, are you—?”

“I’m fine,” Wilbur cuts Tommy off. “Fuck, you don’t need to breathe, do you?”

Hands close in around Techno's face. The palms are thin, smooth, warm despite being water-wicked. Techno flinches, more water escaping his nose. But his face is just pushed to the side, only rough when the knuckles lower to his ribs and rub against them. The organs beneath writhe.

More and more water, it spills forth out of his lips. Between the white feathers and pink eyelashes, he takes in the oil slick across the ice. It streaks towards the edge of the bobbing platform, trying to rejoin the toil.

“Are you alright? Shit,” Wilbur says.

His hand sneaks below his shoulders, pulling him upright. At least until the digits brush against his wings and he cries out, writhing away. His wings try to pop out to force him further from the pain, but that just makes the agony wreck higher. Bones made blades. Cutting him, in and out.

“Hey, no.”

Tommy grabs him and holds him down, despite his wordless protests. But Wilbur grabs him and holds him still too. Their scowls are sharp laced, faces framed with warped horns. Longer, reaching.

“Please,” Techno begs, eyes reaching higher.

It’s not just the washing of the water around, but Techno’s brain is bobbing. Another drop of oil among the water. He can't grab at anything.

It slicks up his eyelids until they dance, but the snippets he catches never have anything.

“He’s freezing.”

“I know.” Then: “I don’t know.”

“Why does it matter? He’s an Angel, he can’t d—”

The tide giggles, cries. Something in between.

Is the moon still up there?

“ —but Phil’s still safe.”

“We need him alive. I can’t help you without him, no matter where Phil is.”

“Make him do it now!”

“I can’t. He probably can’t even.” A sigh so steady that Techno can almost breathe again sounds. “I’m doing it.”

Tommy’s claws dig into him once more as Wilbur shifts away. The pain and the cold— Though the cold is almost starting not to feel so much anymore. His body was tremoring with shivers before, but they’re disappearing now.

Has his form finally remembered that it’s not meant to do such things? To copy humans so?

Pain cracks in his throat with a bubble. It tastes of saline.

The whispers, which have been pervasive, suddenly grow louder in the middle of a sentence. Though as Techno’s face twitches slightly, he realizes that they’re in his ears now. And, they aren’t the same ones at all. He could almost hold these.

And it almost sounds like Wilbur, though not quite the same. Did he always hiss around his words?

Hardly seems—

Wind buffets him and the cracking is back

“Phil!” Tommy’s voice cries right over him, grasp on him slipping. Techno’s head wants to fuzz away at it. Loose leash.

“Wilbur, fuck, why didn’t you summon me until now?! And Tommy—”

This voice is new, completely and totally. Lilting, not too deep, could almost sound human. Doesn’t everything on earth with the power to make it happen?

Techno’s limbs feel shaped wrong.

“Cause now you’re stuck too,” Wilbur sighs. “But we need you.”

There’s a pause, and it’s so polite that even the crashing ocean listens. Or maybe it had calmed naturally, Techno doesn’t know. Can’t remember. Didn’t notice. Is it now?

His eyes peel slightly, mismatched and wishing to break from the wrong form.

“A little Angel.”

The being stands over him, shaded by something on its back. Like a deliverer, it kneels, leaning close.

Techno makes out features, soft and slightly wrinkled, framed in golden locks. Blue eyes that are true, but not like the terrible ice. There’s concern between its brows and light sticking to every inch. Heat— No. 

Radiance.

“We need him,” Tommy prods.

“Oh dear,” The light being murmurs.

Then, his hand slips forward and on his face. It’s warm and singing. 

Techno knows this feeling and he could weep for it. He knew it, he knew it, he swears he never doubted. They must know, and he’d put a blade upon himself to ensure it!

More words pass between, but Techno’s slipping from reach. Not right, he shouldn’t. But it will be sorted and he can take whatever it is that ensures it. He’s made mistakes, but he’s held true and continued with the main mission, that which is needed to save all upon earth. Every human still left, the rest can fall upon him.

And They must know, because the Angel pulls him to its chest and unfurls its own wings. Proper and still full of light, the soaring is nearly enough to make his stomach plummet. Right and true, must be.

The arms card around him tight as they fly, and it’s enough to bat off any cold. Nothing touches him but the blessed warmth.