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I heard the cries of an orphan
Mourning the passing of time
I felt pain
Seep from the blood's absolution
Bled once by wonders divine
Tonight, Tallulah died.
She was not supposed to. They did their fucking best to prevent it, and it still wasn’t enough.
The Angel of Death’s heart screamed to rip that binary monster asunder, number by number, until it felt true agony. To disassemble it until its matter was eviscerated, not leaving enough for it to even be remembered. Something on the depth to match the rage coursing through his blood, body trembling with adrenaline and spilled blood.
His fingers shook around the shimmering diamond sword he held, still dripping with the crimson of the accidental swing that was the killing blow on his sweet granddaughter.
Damnit, he was supposed to be her protector! Wilbur trusted him to keep her safe, and she lost a precious chance tonight. Ripped away forever by a fight that left even the ageless crow hybrid breathless in a way similar to when he fought entire battalions at the Blood God’s side.
Another sweet soul sliced away from his life’s tapestry, holding on by a few thin threads that even a dull knife would sever now. Already filled with many patches and holes of others forever out of his reach, most he still felt guilty about. For various reasons they were all removed from his life, and he grappled to put those ghosts to rest. It was a confusing din within his memories, all heavy with the knowledge he could change nothing about what transpired.
He knew tonight, the moment he lay down to sleep, the vicious play of watching Tallulah bleed out would be painted there in visceral detail. His thoughts taunting him, telling him what he could have done differently, torturing him until when dawn crept sunrays across the horizon.
Her butter-yellow sweater, far too similar to her father’s, stained in bright red essence that should remain within her flesh. Empty crimson eyes with no soul behind, slain at the hands of the powerful evil that roamed this server. Chocolate hair clumped with the blood pooling beneath her on the cold ground, a horrible and painful death for one too small.
Phil’s hand clamped painfully tight around the handle of his sword, flaring his night-black wings out and letting out a screech of outrage to the sky above. Shadows licked up his forest green robes as his powers awakened after a long slumber, feeling the drowning quietness demise promised that clung to every fibre of his being. Stained to the very depths of his soul, it practically dripped from his fingertips as anger fueled his emotional outburst.
Hundreds of crows flocked to him, the crow’s companions watching in shock as nether-dusted crows landed all around the tall blonde, awaiting commands from their conductor.
“I want you to track that binary bastard to where he came from, and then report it back to me. Some of you must warn the other people on this server to keep their children closer, if they are building a bunker to construct it faster. Things are getting worse and I fear we are not ready.”
His voice shook as he said his orders, various caws of assent followed as they took off in all directions, Fit and Forever watching with open mouths.
“I am done playing games, that fucker is going to die within the next moon cycle, I swear it.” He grinds out, looking towards both his scared children and his face softens.
“I am so sorry I wasn’t enough, my precious chicks.” Phil drops to his knees, letting the sword fall with a clang against the ground as the blonde and brunette dragon hybrids rush into his arms.
Wrapping his strong wings around the small children, he pressed a kiss to the top of each head between their horns, soft hair tickling his chin as he held them very close.
Phil’s ancient voice breathes out to only them, one more apology.
“I am so sorry, Wilbur.”
I am amazed
Left in the ruins of greatness
And I'll keep their nightmare alive
Lying beneath the cosmos on top of the wall he lived upon, Phil scans the sky while his mind picks apart the day in agonising detail. His wings lay pressed to the cold stone, aching with how quickly he flew back home with his dear ones after Fit and Forever promised they would go home safely.
Part of him wanted to go with just in case but they all agreed it was better for Phil to get his two home first instead. They were competent warriors anyways, the two men who had held their blades beside him, the Angel knew they were good for their word.
Though they were no Technoblade, they fought well tonight for as long as they did.
It wasn’t enough though.
Those four words felt engraved into his heart, slowly melting their way through his cracking soul. Taunting him with his failures, parading Tallulah’s demise in front of him. Pointing out what he could have done better, until tears rolled down his cheeks under the silent space above. Dripping to the cold stone below as his body felt weighed down with a thousand stones, helplessness an unwelcome companion tonight to his current spinning mind.
A cold comfort for his mental torments, the shining lights above. Somewhere up there She watched, seeing just what Her Angel had done today.
He wondered what his love thought about it all, She was probably mourning with him. Youth was so precious, they taught you how to wonder again. How to find joy in the smallest moments when the choking darkness crept forth. The whimsy that surrounded the children here should be celebrated, not hidden away in the fortresses these things were forcing them all to build.
Taking a deep breath of the freezing air, he lets it out in a huff, as with that line of thoughts his mind dragged him right back to the torture it wanted to inflict upon him.
Raising his arm, the moonlight bathed his ageless forearm, highlighting the scars cut deep through his flesh. He had been through hundreds, if not thousands, of fights. Yet even with all that experience, it wasn’t enough. Phil couldn’t stave off the death’s of those around him, again, one even being by his own action tonight.
The next question is just how far was he going to go in pursuit of safety for those young ones in this world, to what extent would he burn the world in chase of those who attacked his group tonight.
Clenching his hand into a fist, his face turns sour as the burning anger that fueled his strategic mind roared to life.
Even if the demons from below rose up once more, he would laugh while it smouldered if it meant he saved those who weren’t able to protect themselves. If he had to sully their perception of him with the bloodthirst that ran just beneath his skin, he would. Anything for those in this world, he was tired of building graves for loved ones. After the thousands that lined the margins of his life, he was fucking done.
Fighting in vain
We are the fiends in the shadows
And I am the beast that survived
Rising to his feet, he let his wings stretch to their full span, cracks and pops sounding through his old feathers and bones.
So be it, if the binary monster wished for a competent fighter, it was about to be outmatched.
The Angel of Death was a heavy mantle to wear, but the weak he stood in front of made it bearable.
Feeling his sentimental adornments due their duty by bumping his neck and reminding him of the reason he rose each day, a gold gilded emerald hanging from one ear and a long braided length of blonde hair fell from behind his ear. Five beads clinked together at the end; rose pink, daffodil yellow, leaf green, blood red, and indigo purple encircling the woven together strands.
Rose pink for his ageless partner Technoblade, off in some battle Phil couldn’t reach, for now anyways. His stubbornness and dry humour floods Phil’s heart, his admiration of the piglin hybrid an aeons-old sentiment. Reminiscing on waking up to braid his lotus-pink hair he wore dramatically long, a god on the battlefield who was also quite vain. Something they always did whenever they ended up on the same server, a morning routine he dearly missed while they were separated. Though the stories spun about him spoke of a ruthless warrior, Philza knew it was a cover for the huge golden heart he had.
Daffodil yellow for his son he would do anything for, a tall curly haired musician with a silver tongue and a charm that would melt even the most obsidian walls around hearts. Wilbur had joined him upon this realm but was off entertaining the world, singing his songs for adoring people. Phil and Wilbur had a very tangled past; interwoven with the whole spectrum of emotions. The crow taught him guitar while they lived together in his hardcore world, many happy memories there.
On the world previous to this one, Philza stabbed him through the heart and killed him before he could even know who his blood grew up into. After Wilbur came back from the dead, shaky promises were made to leave it behind them. When they first awoke here, Phil thought he had been spared those times when Wilbur didn’t look at him with fear, only forgetfulness which was a bittersweet relief. All until his son started to remember and Phil was forced to tell him the whole story, murder, betrayals and all.
Leaf green for himself, nestled among the people who made the crow feel safe. The only souls he would ever be so transparent with, and willing to show such open affection with. His sanctuaries within their kind eyes, places he could take the mask off he wore around everyone else.
Blood red for the blue-eyed boy from the same realm where Phil killed his son, one with sunshine blonde hair and a sharp tongue. Someone who was devoted to the one he saw as his older brother, Wilbur. A loud boy named Tommy which most found annoying at first, but he grew upon Phil’s softening heart like a pest species of weed he didn’t have the desire to remove. He had a gift for making you see his way, usually through bantering until you gave in, yet he was an echo of Techno except far more obnoxious. Something his piglin partner always growled at when Phil pointed it out, the smallest upturn of his mouth about Tommy.
The boy had a way of worming into your good graces, he was always so unapologetically him. Phil missed him fiercely, seeing the same reckless traits in his newest charge, Chayanne.
The last bead on his braid was the newest addition, for now, indigo purple at the end of the strand. It represented a soul named Ranboo, someone himself and Techno took in when they were thrown from their own country after being outed as a traitor for picking people instead of sides. A nation Phil and Techno subsequently blew up then felt guilty they had uprooted so many, opening their commune for the enderman hybrid. Ranboo had one of the kindest hearts on that server, his endless questions an endearing quality to the ageless partners.
Someone who died in a horribly alike way to Tallulah, just out of reach of the crow.
Phil reminisced about others upon that server that felt tinged in sadness to the avian now, one more coming to mind he desperately missed. Rose-blonde hair and caramel eyes filled his mind, Niki’s fierce glare alighting upon his heart and challenging the way he was beating himself over things he could no longer change. Reminding him to keep pushing forward until the last breath left his body, fighting for those who couldn’t. Taking a deep breath he listens to her musical voice through memories calm him in meditations she walked himself and Techno through before, sharpening his focus to deadly aim.
The Angel of Death made two vows that night to the crescent moon above.
One; to end the binary monster’s life in a vicious fashion all here would tell the tales of his brutality in defence of the meek.
Two; carve three new beads to add to his braid. One for Niki, one for Tallulah and the final one for Chayanne.
Here come the Ravens
To take what is mine
Their watching eyes wait
For the rest of me to die
Here comes the Reaper
That hides from the light
Still hunting for the heart that's still beating inside
For these Ravens to find
Phil went to sleep with aching muscles, tossing and turning long into the night before slumber finally claimed him.
The Death Goddess awaited Her love in his dreams tonight, his heart dropping its guard after it wasn’t the nightmares Phil was expecting. His nights were wrought with them these days, the relief of seeing his beautiful wife’s ethereal face balmed his broken parts.
Until he thought of how disappointed She must be, her husband’s failures on plain display to the wise deity who treasured the young. The Death Goddess wept the most when cradling small bodies, often the victims of adult troubles. Phil wondered how She greeted Her granddaughter today, when preparing her to return to the Realm that killed her. Whether She held anger in Her heart when learning how Tallulah died, or just sorrow watching the jaded look infect her sweet gaze of knowing the true depths of evil.
“Hello Angel.” Her voice was a symphony of a thousand accents, woven through with the souls She claimed and brought home to Her.
“Good evening, beloved.” Phil reached her quickly, folding his forever love into his embrace with a tight grip as his thoughts crashed over him again.
“I saw dear one, it wasn’t your fault.” She mumbles into his chest, immediately guessing his concerns, Phil feeling his chest clench remembering the message that flashed across their communicator’s when Tallulah fell.
“No, it’s absolutely my fault.” He choked out, pulling back to gaze in her one nether-purple eye. One half of her face was exposed an onyx skull with a Wither Rose where her other orb should be, the other tanned flesh spider-webbed with flickering orange veins. “I was entrusted with her safety, and I swung the final blow.”
The Death Goddess pulls back, throwing her curtain-like hair behind her shoulder before planting her hands on the hips of her cosmos dress, narrowing her gaze. Stars shone out from the fabric, entire galaxies accenting her gown draped around her.
“Are you blaming yourself for this?”
Phil steadies his stance, looking back at Her. “I have too, I have no one else to do so. I was the one who buried my sword in her flesh. Just like her father, all those years ago. I am destined to slay my kin forevermore it seems.”
“You just spent several moments defending her and the other vulnerable children. You lasted much longer than anyone else down there.” The Death Goddess argues back, extending an accusing finger. “Where's that rage towards the binary monster you laid down to slumber with it taunting your thoughts? Is it being drowned by this unworthy self-blame?”
Phil takes a deep breath, admitting simply. “Yes.”
“My Angel, you did it completely by accident. Your hand wouldn’t have been forced in such a way if that creature didn’t attack you.”
“I failed.”
“You survived.” She responds firmly, reaching out Her hand to clasp his. “Tallulah is being protected by the best right now, she has another chance yet.”
“What if I am the cause of the second time?”
“Make sure you aren’t because that hasn’t happened yet.” She scolds his internally-decimating intentions, confidence filling Her expression. “You are my Angel of Death; someone whose history is much longer than the others there by several times over. You rode at the side of the Blood God into losing battles before and turned the tides, what’s to stop you from doing the same here?”
“What if I am not enough?”
“Then find others like Fit and Forever who are willing to face down the impossible with you. Fates are constantly changing and evolving, you know this. Even I cannot predict every outcome but I have watched more than one be changed by the companionship forged in the depths of depravity and evil.” The Death Goddess releases his hand and reaches up to cup his jaw, pulling their faces close.
“Many years ago you asked me to choose you to protect the meek along with Techno, your sword has grown dull in the time since your last true battle. Sharpen it upon the bones of those who cross you and the evil who wish to slay children, and show them just who the Angel of Death I chose is.”
Pressing their lips together in a long kiss, She pulls back to whisper one more thing.
“I will love you forever.”
“To the end of time.” Phil mumbles back, his heart taking those words She gave freely and engraving their new battlecry.
Tossed in the well and forgotten
A duty I had to fulfil
I can't remember
Why I became a lost dreamer
For vengeance, or for the next kill?
The Angel of Death woke the next morning more refreshed, his wife’s words echoing as he rose. The sun was just peeking over the horizon of the new day as he stretched, expanding his cramping wings and massaging his muscles near his shoulders.
Anger funnelled his thoughts into how to prepare for the coming war, making the resolution to himself that another child would not fall under his care.
Making a list in his head of reaching out to the others he shared air with here to gather them for a meeting on how to best prepare to care for their vulnerable. He should also go on a raiding outing to the various structures and airships around for loot to protect his own.
Tallulah’s sweet melody broke through his planning, Phil’s face lightening up, giving thanks that she lived another day to give him the sweet gift of song. That meant Chayanne wasn’t far behind and knowing his boy, he would be even more sore after today with the fighting techniques the blonde child is going to want to learn.
They had spent several hot hours running drills at the boy's insistence under the bright sun, the blonde dragon child wanting to master the sword Phil gave him the first night they were together.
The Angel appreciated all the child wanted to learn about combat but ideally, after he was done absolutely decimating the monsters of this world, his Chayanne would never have to put it into practice.
Nor would his Tallulah be put in mortal danger again, free to practise her music to impress her father with when he returned from giving his own songs to the world.
Loud knocks break Phil from his thoughts, the blonde man chuckling as he opens his door to be bowled over by the excited kids he cared for. Both boy and girl wave signs asking for food, Phil ruffling their hair where he lay under them as he laughs.
“I know, I know, but I can’t cook food when I am under you two.” Phil gently sits up, giving the two kids enough time to scramble in front of him with wide eyes. “Alright, do you want avocado toast for breakfast?”
Tallulah excitedly nods as Chayanne rolls his mischievous eyes, raising an eyebrow before scribbling words in his notebook he faces towards the crow.
“Again? Yes Chayanne, again, it's one of the best food sources here! Come on, if you eat it I will teach you a new sword move.” Bargaining his way into acceptance, the children allow him to lead them over to the food preparation area.
Quickly crafting together three servings, all sit down to eat under the rustling leaves of the tree that provided the fruit they were eating. Phil drapes his huge wings around the small bodies near him, pulling them in close as he drops his voice softer.
“Are you two okay? I’m sorry, I know yesterday was scary.”
Watching both children’s eyes cloud his heart stutters, regretting he had to bring up such painful things but he just wanted to know their thoughts about it.
Tallulah takes a few more bites as Chayanne furiously scrawls an answer, tossing the open notebook into Phil’s lap to read aloud.
“I’m just mad I couldn’t save Tallulah from that binary bastard.”
Phil looks to his charge with that wild blonde hair, shaking his head gently. “Chayanne, I couldn’t even injure him, he would have slaughtered you if you didn’t stay back like you did. Allow us old fuckers to fight the bloodthirsty enemies that spawn from the bowels of this world, you only have to be prepared to be the last line of defence.”
Taking a deep breath, Phil feels his self-blame start to release its draining grip on his soul, coaching the small one through the same line of thinking his wife forced him through last night. “You did all you could and I am so proud of you for doing as much as you did.”
Chayanne’s sky blue eyes switch between Phil’s stormy grey-blue, looking for any spot of deceit yet finding none. Taking the notebook back, he scribbles. “Really?”
“Yes, my brave dragon, you did so well.”
Tallulah’s sniffles draw his attention back to the weeping brunette girl, Chayanne tossing his plate down with a grating noise before scrambling to her side.
“What’s wrong, lullaby?” A nickname Phil had for her slipped out, feeling terrible for the small crimson-winged child.
“I’m scared, abuelito.” She clumsily writes in the same notebook when Chayanne gives it to her, watery rose eyes looking up at the crow. “What if the binary monster comes back?”
“Oh my dearest one, if it does then I will defeat it. I will fight that thing for hours, days even, if I have to, until only I remain standing.” Phil vows, his voice serious. “That’s why you and Chayanne must stay safe while I go hunting for this bastard. I refuse to let it have another chance to surprise us, this time I want to swing first.”
“But it’s so powerful.” Chayanne adds to her arguments, Phil letting out a confident chuckle.
“Today, while we attend to our tasks, I shall tell you both the tale of the Angel of Death and his partner, the Blood God, to calm your worries.” As the monikers slipped into the open air after many years unspoken, a crow cawed in the distance.
Phil peers around for the avian, holding out a finger for the bird to land upon which it does with particles trailing behind and dripping through its night-shaded feathers. Cocking its head so one nether-purple eye observes the children, it gives its message in a nearly-dead language only the crow hybrid understood.
Telling of tracking the binary energy back to the computer at Luzu’s house, Phil files that information away for later before it flies away.
Returning his focus to the two kids looking up at him, Phil clears his throat. “Shall we attend to the potatoes while I think of where to start this grand story?”
Both dragon children jump up at that, sharing a similar love for the stories from Phil’s past. Some he shuddered to remember, others brought the most fond laughter to his tongue, all moulded him into what he was now.
The Angel of Death let his moniker fall upon his brow once more, intending to put his sword through his enemy before the moon’s next cycle. Shaking out his wings as he stood with a light-hearted groan, he let the two small hands drag him to the vegetables that made him think of Technoblade. Though he was missing his Blood God partner, Phil knew with the friendships he gathered here they would see this through one way or another.
If he has his way, which his will intended, that monster would be slain by vengeful hands soon. For now, he would immerse himself in how lucky he was to be a part of two more small lives. As he relived times from his past, he made plans for the future to come.
The Angel of Death wished to spill blood, and that he shall. In defence of those he felt affection for, he would fight until the last drop of crimson drained from his ancient flesh. Nothing was too heavy of a price if they breathed another day, his very soul being payment in the worst outcome.
But with a little good fate, he would come out the other side of this with his enemy felled by his hand. With the last words it heard the names of those it hurt, before a sword was impaled through its evil heart.
Philza promised a painful demise to the binary monster, sending a prayer to his wife when those words crossed his thoughts, and the Angel would do his damnedest to make that vow a reality. It angered the wrong ageless being last night, for you didn’t live aeons without obsidian determination being beaten into you.
The Angel of Death had awoken once more in a world unknowing of his history, but he intended to change that by making an example of the cause of his granddaughter’s demise. It would know true agony before the sweet release of the eternal sleep it was destined for, never to harm another precious child again.
Weep for the master that made me
And the Raven that heard my last breath
Long have the Hunters pursued me
And tonight I'm your Angel of Death