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Phil’s eyes widened as he saw the shrine.
He kicked wildly, catching his captors by surprise.
“Hold ‘im down!” One of them shouted. Phil tried to spread his great black wings, but was stopped by the iron bands around them.
“There you are, monster, calm now.” Another crowed.
Phil’s breath was coming quicker, his pupils dilated in fear.
The humans used the shackles around his wrists and ankles to bind him to the altar. He fought every inch of the way.
“I hope the goddess accepts this offering. He certainly is a feisty one.” The last of the voices called.
Phil’s eyes filled with tears and he let out a shrill cry.
“Shut it up!” Someone shouted, their hands covering their ears.
The cry was cut off by a pained chirp as Phil was struck by something hard and painful.
“Good work. Now we have to finish the job.”
“Why can’t we make it fun while we do it?” A voice chuckled.
Phil whimpered and flinched, taking the abuse.
He let his mind wander.
It had been only a couple hours since he had been selling potions and gapples in his shop.
Phil wasn’t even sure what line he had crossed. He was just doing what he did every day, making sure his customers were happy.
Sure, being ‘cursed’ didn’t always help his reliability but he made do. Phil had found out at a very early age that he had a knack for potion making.
His parents were very excited for what his future might hold.
Then he had been cursed with the weight of wings and inky talons. It wasn’t his fault… he had just woken up with these things, but it ruined his life.
His parents no longer looked at him with love and pride. Instead they looked at him with disgust and loathing.
And then they had died in an accident and Phil had turned to his talents in potion making to keep him alive on the streets.
He had built his life around his shop and suddenly he was being dragged away with iron around his wrists and his wings bound.
Maybe he had sold an unsatisfactory potion? Maybe a gapple had tasted bad?
The men wouldn’t answer him, and Phil had eventually shouted himself hoarse, and in the end was only able to make animal-like sounds.
“Stop!” A young voice cried.
Phil lifted his head, sweat and blood running down his face, to see a young boy running up and tugging at one of his assailants.
“Dad! Stop!” The brown-haired boy shouted again as the man raised the cane once more.
Instead of lashing out at Phil, the man hit the child with it. Phil shrieked, tugging at the chains that held him in place, wings trying desperately to free themselves.
“Oh, you don’t like this, monster? Too soft-hearted to see a little blood?” The father said cruelly.
“The only monster here is you,” Phil croaked, eyes blazing. The man looked scared for a second, then glanced at the chains.
The sight of the glinting metal seemed to toughen the man’s resolve.
“Bold words for a caged bird.” The man hissed, the other two men laughing along with him.
Phil ignored them, being more focused on the kid curled up on the ground.
He was shaking a little, but not as bad as Phil had expected, and he was already pushing himself to his feet.
Strong kid, Phil admired.
“I think your kid’s getting up.” One of the men said. The father turned and raised the cane again, only for it to be yanked from his hand by a slightly older, pink-haired boy.
“Shit.” The other man muttered, “Kid, go home.”
The pink-haired boy quietly helped the brunette to his feet and tried pulling him away from the angry men and the crowd
“Please, listen to them.” Phil whispered, begged, “Go home and stay out of this.”
The brunette looked back at him and frowned, pulling his arm away from his friend, causing Phil’s heart to break, then looked back at the three men and the slowly gathering crowd.
“What did he do to deserve this?” The brunette shouted.
“Wilbur, go home-” The first man muttered, subtly glancing at the people surrounding them.
“Give me one good reason why you did this first and maybe I’ll go.” Wilbur said loudly.
The crowd was starting to mutter.
“He’s cursed.” Another of the trio said.
“And what makes him cursed?” Wilbur argued. Phil could see the pink-haired kid looking around quickly, assessing the threats the people were posing to his friend. At the brunette’s words, he looked back and raised an eyebrow.
The statement was met with silence and blank expressions.
“Maybe it’s the harmless wings on his back? Or the way he makes life-saving potions?” Wilbur shouted, “Or maybe it’s the way he’s kinder towards your kids than you are with them-”
An angry shout broke through the silence and Wilbur was swept out of the way, along with the silent pink-haired kid.
The crowd seemed to suddenly rush at Phil.
He closed his eyes and welcomed death.
/\|/\
“Wake.”
Phil gasped as he opened his eyes, light flooding his senses.
He looked around and found himself looking up at a face he had only seen in books and statues. Her face seemed to glow, creating the only light in the abyss.
“Hello Philza, Blessed one.” She whispered, her voice echoing across the void.
“My Lady, what happened? Where am I?” Phil asked, wings curling around his shoulders. He had been here only a couple times and each time had been more of a shock than the last.
“Safe, for now, in my domain.”
“Am I… dead?”
The goddess giggled. She gave the same response every time he asked.
“I think they’ll find it hard to kill one blessed by the gods. Don’t worry, Blessed one. They will pay. And you will be rewarded.”
“May I go back?” Phil asked quietly.
“I do suppose that would be ideal, as you aren’t really dead.” the goddess sighed.
“Could you tell me what happened, my lady.”
“The townsfolk were about to kill my Blessed one when I stepped in, bringing you here.” The goddess said, anger coloring her tone.
Phil blinked, unsure about how to feel about this unusual show of affection for him. It certainly was not something he was used to.
“You keep saying I’m blessed. Don’t you mean cursed?” Phil asked, wings uncurling from around his shoulders. Because I’m cursed, cursed, cursed…
They had certainly talked about this before as well, and Phil was determined that he was never going to let himself believe that he was truly blessed with anything.
“Oh my dear,” She laughed sadly, “You were never cursed. I chose ones of a pure heart and kind soul to be my blessed.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
There were so many things he wanted to add, like, why him? Did she realize that she might have ruined his life with this “blessing”?
What does she mean by ‘ones’?
The goddess smiled.
“Also ‘My Lady’ makes me sound pretentious. You may call me Kristen.”
Phil grinned back.
“And it’s time for you to wake up.”
/\|/\
“You have to stop getting in front of angry mobs.” Techno muttered as he wrapped Wilbur’s arm.
“It’s not my fault my father’s an ass.” Wilbur groaned, “And if I don’t stand up to him, nobody will.”
“That does not mean you need to take a beating for a perfect stranger.” Techno sighed.
“That man made a potion that saved my mother, when my father gave up on her. Probably why she still died…” Wilbur muttered.
“And you feel indebted, but you shouldn’t-”
“Techno, what if that had been somebody you cared about? What of it had been me? Or hell, even Toms?” Wilbur pleaded.
“The runt is two, nobody’s going to hurt him, much less his own father.” Techno said confidently, but Wilbur could see the realization play out in the minute motions of Techno’s face.
“You say that like the people we live with aren’t monsters,” Wilbur grumbled, crossing his arms and resting his chin on his knees.
“And I think we need to go home.” Techno interrupted, “who knows how pissed the baby-men are going to be when we get there.”
Wilbur nodded and stood shakily, holding back tears.
“And it’s my turn to check on the kid.” Techno called as he walked away from the brunette.
“Bye Tech.” He sighed.
Wilbur watched as his best friend disappeared around a corner.
He waited a sufficient amount of time before getting up and walking back to the square.
It was getting dark now and he found comfort in the falling night. He would be able to complete his plan without anybody stopping him.
He stole some food from the local bakery and pulled a couple bandages from his bag. He and Techno always carried them around. They could never know when an angry weapon might be pointed their way.
Wilbur quietly approached the dark winged figure tied to a pole in front of the altar.
“Hello?” He whispered, making sure he stayed just out of reach in case the prisoner decided to attack.
The shop owner looked up at him with sapphire eyes and Wilbur shuddered. This, Wilbur thought, this is cruel. Nobody should be treated like this. He could see blood slowly dripping down the man’s face.
“Hi mate,” The man rasped, flinching as more blood leaked out of the corner of his mouth.
“I have food and bandaids.” Wilbur declared, taking a cautionary step forward.
The man smiled kindly.
“You don’t need to bring me anything.” He whispered.
“It's unfair.” Wilbur interrupted, now only a couple steps away, “And I want to free you. But I'm scared that I’ll get in trouble.”
“That’s ok mate. I don’t really feel like going anywhere at the moment.” The man chuckled, then coughed harshly, “Ow.”
“Here.” Wilbur said, offering the shop owner a small potion bottle, “I can’t give it all to you, but I hope it’ll help.”
He helped tip some of the small bottle’s contents into the man’s mouth.
“Thanks.” The shop owner sighed, then closed his eyes, all the energy sapped out him.
“I also have some food.” WIlbur offered, pulling out the stolen bread.
“I- think I'm good, mate.” The man muttered, “Eat it yourself.”
Wilbur wilted and turned to go home.
“Are you ok?” The man asked, just barely loud enough to be heard.
Wilbur looked back and frowned.
“That was quite a hit you took.”
Wilbur blinked and nodded.
Then he ran off, oddly scared of the shop owner.
/\|/\
Phil kept an eye out for Wilbur and his pink haired friend over the next couple of days, but was disheartened when neither showed up, during the day or night.
He could understand why they didn’t come back.
He understood the fear in the kid’s eyes when he was shown even a small amount of human decency.
But… he wished he could just see them to make sure they were ok.
When he wasn’t looking out for the kids, he was trying to avoid the glares people liked to shoot him.
Phil sighed and rested his chin against his chest. He was exhausted and the potion Wilbur had given him, which he recognized as one of his own, hadn’t been enough to ease all of his injuries.
He closed his eyes against the harsh mid-noon sun and tried to catch some more sleep.
Phil was jolted awake by the feeling of a hand in his feathers. He blinked rapidly, trying to twist around and see who was touching him.
He found a small child with bright blue eyes and blonde hair smoothing out some of the barbs.
Phil blinked and quickly looked around for this kid’s parents. Surely they wouldn’t let a toddler near a monster.
“Hey kiddo.” Phil whispered softly, trying desperately to not scare the kid.
The child turned his wide blue eyes to look at him, thumb in his mouth.
“Uh- Where are your parents, kid?” Phil asked.
The bright blue eyes filled with tears as they looked around the busy square and Phil worried that the kid was going to start bawling.
Then the blue eyes were back on him and the tears were gone. Phil marveled at the quick mood swing, but was equally grateful that the child hadn’t turned into a water fountain.
But that also probably meant that this kid’s parents weren’t around.
Which was not good.
Phil puffed out his feathers as much as possible, catching the child’s interest and the small hand was back to touching them gently.
He smiled at the wholesome sight, enjoying it while it lasted.
But it didn’t last.
Phil’s head whipped up as he heard a scared voice shouting in the crowd.
“Tommy!”
Another one joined it a moment later.
“TOMMY!”
That was closer than before. And he recognized one of those voices.
The child looked up from Phil’s feathers, thumb still in his mouth, and blinked. Phil desperately looked around.
His eyes widened when he spotted the pink-haired kid and Wilbur wading through the crowds.
He debated whether or not he should draw attention to himself or not. On one hand, he could meet Wilbur and the other kid again. On the other, he would draw the attention of the entire square.
Well… there wasn’t much he could do to take care of the toddler next to him.
“HEY!” Phil shouted back, wings puffed out in a desperate attempt to catch the two’s attention.
The people in the square turned to look at him, but Phil was focused on Wilbur.
The brunette looked at him and furrowed his eyebrows, pulling the pink-haired kid behind him as he ran up to the chained man.
“Mate, is this the child you’re looking for?” Phil asked, moving his wing a bit so that the two could see the toddler behind it.
Wilbur’s eyes widened and he grinned.
“That would be the child.” the pink-haired kid deadpanned.
Tommy walked up to Wilbur and grabbed the elder’s pants, hugging tight.
“Sorry for that.” Wilbur said, picking the toddler up and holding him close, “We usually keep a closer eye on him-”
Phil blocked out the rest of the apology. He had seen something on Wilbur’s hand, which the kid was trying to hide behind Tommy’s hood. It looked familiar and he felt a rush of fear.
“Are you alright mate?” Phil asked, interrupting Wilbur. He needed to know- but how could he ask without seeming… creepy?
Wilbur blinked.
“He’s fine. Although…”
“Shut.” Wilbur hissed at the pink-haired boy, “I’m fine. H-Have a good day.”
Phil raised an eyebrow and glanced at the shackles around his wrists. Wilbur paled and the pink-haired boy chuckled.
Then the group ran off, startling Phil.
“Bye…”
And he was alone again.
/\|/\
Techno gave Wilbur a long look when they had finally reached their little clubhouse.
“If you told him he would help you.” he stated bluntly.
Wilbur frowned and rocked a sleepy Tommy in his arms.
“I’ll ask when I need help. I don’t need help.” Wilbur hissed quietly.
Techno huffed and tugged at Wilbur’s wrist.
The brunette had come to him about the slowly spreading black on his fingertips a couple days ago.
It was spreading up his fingers now and Techno frowned. It was getting worse, but Wilbur didn’t seem to be in any pain, so it probably wasn’t an illness.
Nothing in the textbooks described anything like this.
“What?” Wilbur asked, fear and exasperation in his voice.
“Are you positive you didn't spill ink on your hands, nerd?” Techno teased.
Wilbur barred his teeth and yanked his hand away, the action waking Tommy up a bit. The two of them froze, waiting for the toddler to fall back asleep.
Tommy settled back in Wilbur’s arms and Techno breathed a sigh of relief. Tommy didn’t like taking naps and it was difficult to get him to sleep on a good day.
This was one of the rare times the child ever fell asleep of his own volition. And he never slept around his parents.
“Can we stop talking about my little problem, please?” Wilbur pleaded, sitting down on the small pool of blankets the three used as a bed sometimes.
“Sure, we can stop talking about the ink… only if you tell me what ink you spilled. Because I want to know which one it was. It hasn't faded at all-” Techno grinned, breaking his emotionless mask now that he felt comfortable.
Techno had a slight problem where he couldn’t always show emotion around others. Sometimes he just couldn’t talk to others.
His parents hated it. Hated him for it.
Wilbur didn’t.
And Tommy… Well, he was two. He didn’t give a single shit.
Wilbur groaned dramatically and flopped down completely on the blanket bed. Tommy was held tightly to his chest in order to not wake him.
Techno laughed and Wilbur turned away from him.
“I despise you.” Wilbur grumbled playfully. Techno snorted.
“No you don’t.”
Because if you did, I’d be alone.
“I don’t,” Wilbur sighed, giving in.
Techno smiled and grabbed a loaf of bread from his bag, breaking it in thirds, one piece for each of them.
He tossed a piece at Wilbur and held on to the other one for when the toddler woke up.
They ate in peace for a couple minutes.
The peace was shattered in a moment by Tommy’s wail as he startled himself awake.
Techno flinched and ducked his head as Wilbur rubbed at Tommy’s back soothingly, whispering comforting words.
“What happened?” Techno asked as Tommy slowly calmed down. Wilbur shrugged and Techno walked over, kneeling at the edge of the pile of blankets.
Tommy hiccuped and blinked tears out of his big eyes, reaching for Techno. He took the child in his arms and hugged him close.
“What were you dreaming of, Theseus?” Techno whispered into the toddler’s ear. Tommy hiccuped again and whispered back brokenly, “Kristen.”
Techno looked at Wilbur with wide eyes.
“What’d he say?” Wilbur asked, seeing Techno’s reaction.
“Do you know a Kristen?”
Wilbur shook his head and frowned, but Techno could see the lie in his face.
Tommy tugged at Techno’s shirt.
“Yes runt?”
“Lady Death.”
Techno was seriously freaking out now. How the hell did Tommy know anything about Lady Death?! He couldn’t read the altar the winged man was tied in front of, and his parents weren’t religious.
“And who’s Kristen, buddy?” Wilbur asked, seeming unfazed.
“Kirsten is Lady Death.”
Techno blinked as he noticed something on Tommy’s fingers.
“Hey Wil? Did you get ink on Tommy too?”
“How many times do I have to tell you! It’s not fucking ink!” Wilbur yelled, glaring at Techno.
Tommy started to cry and Wilbur’s face softened.
“Here you take him-” Techno muttered, handing the child off to Wilbur. Wilbur took him and shushed him, rubbing his back soothingly.
“Shhh, it’s ok Sunshine, I wasn’t yelling at you…” Wilbur muttered as Tommy hiccuped.
“What do you think it is? It’s not ink and it only showed up after we met the man in the square.” Techno recalled, “Maybe he’s got some kind of illness that he spread to us? It kind of looks like somethi-”
“They wouldn’t have put him in the middle of a public space if he was sick. It has to be something else-” Wilbur argued.
“Blessing.” Tommy whispered and Wilbur froze. Tht word seemed to have set something off inside Wilbur.
“Wil? What’s going through your head right now?” Techno asked, seeing the shutdown coming.
“I-I have to go home. You take Toms back a-and I’ll- bye.” Wilbur stammered, putting Tommy down and backing away.
“Wait, Wilbur, you can talk to me. I won’t tease you anymore, I promise.” Techno said, eyes wide as he stared at his friend.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Wilbur said sternly, a voice he adopted from his dad. Techno blinked and picked Tommy up.
He knew when to just let Wilbur go.
Techno sighed and looked down at Tommy, who was resting his head against Techno’s chest with his thumb in his mouth.
“Let’s get you home, little man.” Techno whispered, following Wilbur out of the clubhouse and down the dusk lit road to Tommy’s home.
The thing was old and trashed, but the child’s parents refused to move or put any amount of money into upkeep.
It was an awful place to raise a kid, but Techno wasn't old enough to even think about adopting the toddler, so this would have to do for now.
“There you go, runt.” Techno muttered in Tommy’s ear as he opened the door and walked up to Tommy’s room.
The room was the cleanest of the house, but that was only because Techno had done it himself.
He put Tommy in his crib and let him eat the piece of bread he had kept.
Tommy yawned as soon as he had finished and fell asleep.
“Good night Theseus.” Techno whispered as he left the room.
He walked straight into Tommy’s dad.
“Uh… hello sir.” He muttered, looking down at his feet.
“You think I don’t take care of my kid, don’t you?” The man in front of him growled.
He’s drunk. Techno could smell the alcohol on the man’s breath.
“No sir.” Techno muttered, still looking at his feet.
“Good. Now get the fuck out of my house, welp.” Tommy’s dad hissed.
Techno nodded and ran.
He didn’t stop until he got to his own house. He took a couple seconds to catch his breath before he was faced with his own monsters of parents.
He quietly opened the door and shot up to his room, making sure his mother didn’t see or hear him to avoid conflict.
He was lucky this time.
He hung up his bag and got under the covers. He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.
/\|/\
“Hello Technoblade.”
Techno opened his eyes and blinked, trying to see through the bright light of this dreamland.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, my little star.”
He looked up on instinct and saw the face of Lady Death.
Techno opened his mouth but the goddess held up her hand.
“No my star, you are not dead, as your brethren have assumed. I brought you here because I have a message for you.”
Techno blinked again and Lady Death giggled.
“You may speak.”
“My brethren? You don’t mean my-”
“Your parents? No, no. The only time they’ll ever see me is when they die a painful death. My sister was an idiot for gifting them anything.” The goddess said venomously, “No, I mean the ones touched with my mark.”
Me? A gift? Ha!
“And who would that be?” Techno asked.
“Your friends and my angel.” the goddess replied, smiling softly.
“You mean Wilbur and Tommy? What did you do to them?” Techno yelled, anger rising, “You gave them some disease didn’t you!”
Lady Death gave the teen a soft look.
“My star, the black you see isn’t a disease. You have much knowledge on the matter, I know. But this is what happens when you are blessed by Death.”
“You’re not selling the whole ‘Death’s blessing’ thing very well.” Techno deadpanned, crossing his arms and frowning.
The goddess laughed.
“No, I don’t suppose I am.”
“Well then, I don’t want it.” Techno said.
“My little, precious star… I’m not asking.” Lady Death whispered softly.
Techno opened his mouth and screamed as the goddess grabbed his hands.
They burned faintly and he watched as black started to creep up his fingertips.
“I’m sorry, my star, but you’ll understand. I promise. I’ll keep you safe now.” the goddess whispered as she hugged the teen close, “Kristen’s got you, little star, I’ve got you.”
Techno whimpered as the burning got worse.
“Stop fighting it.” Kristen whispered, running her hands through Techno’s long hair.
“P-Please-” He cried.
“It’s ok to not fight, just this once.” Kristen muttered, “I’ll protect you.”
“I swear, I will never let anything hurt you ever again, my little star.”
Except for you, right?
/\|/\
Wilbur groaned as he rolled out of bed, deciding that he was not going to sleep so there was no point in trying anymore.
He had seen the sun come up for gods’ sake.
He tugged off his nightshirt and looked at his hands, and swallowed down a gasp. The black had spread past his hands and was now halfway up his arms.
The black was also very itchy and slightly spiky to the touch. Wilbur’s nails were starting to sharpen into points and his fingertips felt calloused.
He sighed as he pulled on gloves, adding this to the growing pile of things he was hiding from his dad. He would hate that he was anything like the man in the square.
The man in the square.
Wilbur blinked and remembered how the shop owner had put his own safety, his tactic of going unnoticed, to help them find Tommy in that busy square.
He has a kind heart.
So why the fuck would they tie him up in the square?
Wilbur snuck out of his quiet house, making sure he avoided his patterns, and sprinted to the clubhouse.
Maybe he could sleep on the blankets there. That way he would be able to catch up on his sleep.
And he fully intended to live up to the idea, but he got distracted by shouting from the square.
Again.
He ran closer, making sure to hide himself in the crowds as he saw another angry mob surrounding the poor shopkeeper in the square.
The guy was starting to look thinner than what seemed entirely healthy, but he still seemed to be pretty alive.
He couldn’t quite figure out what the crowd was angry about, but he did catch some words like “monster” or “demon”. The winged man just took the abuse and Wilbur could see the defiance in his eyes.
It was like a fire that refused to go out, no matter what the people in the square did to him. Wilbur admired that about him.
He was about to turn away again, to get away and hopefully meet techno and Tommy at the clubhouse before they went looking for him, but a shattering glass made him whirl around.
A bottle lay broken at the shopkeeper's feet and swirls of potion floated off into the early morning sky.
Blood was running down the man’s face again and he wilted, the only thing holding him up being the ropes that bound him to the pole.
Wilbur shook with anger and he saw red as he ran through the crowd before coming to stand in front of the man.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Wilbur shouted angrily. His voice cracked a little, and he died a little inside.
“Get away from him kid, he’s bad news.” Somebody in the crowd yelled. Probably the man that threw the weakness potion in the first place. Wilbur just hoped he didn’t have any more.
“How so?” Wilbur asked, eyes narrowed at the crowd.
“Honey… he’s different.” A kindly older woman whispered in a tone that wasn't as secretive as she assumed.
“So?” Wilbur asked, “he never hurt anyone! He’s actually helped us! A lot!”
The mob whispered among themselves and Wilbur saw a couple people actually peel away and head home.
Good. That means it’s working.
“Dude, you have no idea what you’re talkin’ about. Those wings are a symbol of the devil. You see the altar behind him? It shows an army of winged people destroying everything in their path! It’s a prophecy!” The same voice from the crowd yelled.
The dude pushed to the front and Wilbur was met with a kid barely older than Techno.
“Squid, you have no idea what you’re talking about.” Wilbur smirked. Of course Squid would be here.
“Yeah? You tell me what the altar says.” Squid hissed. Wilbur looked down at him with a raised eyebrow.
The crowd around them had practically dispersed and the shopkeeper was starting to shake off the effects of the potion.
“Wilbur-” He rasped, but was cut off by another splash potion breaking, but this time over Wilbur.
Squid had pulled out another potion, a basically ineffective weakness one, and threw it down angrily.
Wilbur coughed and Squid laughed as he ran away, taking the last remains of the mob with him.
“Wilbur, mate- are you ok?” The man asked as Wilbur shakily turned towards him and pulled out a couple bandages to cover the bleeding spots.
When he was done, he pulled out his breakfast, a single slice of bread and gave it to the man before running off.
Maybe he should have stayed to ask the man his name, but Wilbur really just wanted to sleep now.
When he finally crawled into the clubhouse, which they had built on top of one of the flat roofed houses in the town, he was met with Techno trying to sooth a wailing Tommy.
“What happened?” Wilbur yelped as he grabbed Tommy from a stricken Techno’s arms and rubbed a hand over his back to calm the two year old.
Tommy hiccuped and whined.
“He says his back hurts.” Techno muttered as he twisted his hands into his sleeves. Wilbur nodded and pulled up the toddler’s shirt to get a better look at his back.
Nothing looked particularly wrong.
But he did find little black specks sprayed across his shoulder blades and up his neck. Wilbur held his breath as he touched one of the bigger spots, finding it as spikey as his arms.
“Do you have any idea what this is, Tech?” Wilbur asked Techno as he pulled Tommy’s shirt back down and rocked the sniffling child back and forth to try and lull him to sleep.
“It’s not an illness.” Techno sighed, turning and falling onto the pile of blankets.
Wilbur followed and rested his head on Techno’s outstretched arm, feeling the rest of the weakness potion finally fade as he closed his overtired eyes.
Then he felt the same prickly feeling on Techno’s skin as his own arms and Tommy’s back.
“Techno?” Wilbur asked, sitting up suddenly and startling Tommy awake.
Techno cracked open an eye and stared balefully at Wilbur.
“Did you have a dream last night?”
Techno’s eyes widened and he pulled his arms to his chest.
Which was a nonverbal yes to Wilbur, and he laid back down too.
“It’s ok. I had a dream before my hands got all black too and I was scared to tell you before.” he muttered, pulling one of Techno’s hands away from his chest and smoothing out the fist.
“I’m sorry for teasing you.” Techno mumbled, and Wilbur nodded.
Tommy babbled something and smacked his own blackened hand down over Techno’s and laughed.
Who didn’t love having an intelligently above average toddler with weird back pains and trauma. Especially when said toddler wasn’t even your own?
Wilbur smiled and pressed a kiss into Tommy’s head, earning a delighted giggled.
But seriously, now that all three had this ‘mark’ or whatever, they should probably get some help. Gods only know what was going to happen now.
/\|/\
Phil groaned.
It was not funny how his bones seemed to ache with tiredness and his stomach pleaded for food.
He was grateful that Wilbur had stood up for him, given him food, but he really just wanted to fade away at this point.
He was fucking exhausted and his feathers felt disgusting. He hadn’t been able to even try to straighten them in weeks now.
His dreams, when he did manage to drift off, were filled with flying glass and Kristen looming over the small village, her hands slowly closing over the buildings.
He wasn’t sure what it meant, but he was uneasy.
So he tried to sleep as little as possible.
And with the lack of sleep came the animal sounds. Phil’s transformation had included a period of having an intense sore throat that changed his vocal cords to include the ability to make chirping sounds.
Whatever thing Kristen had done had turned him into a fucking bird.
It was kind of funny at first, but now he couldn't stop the stupid sounds from tumbling out of his mouth throughout the nights he’s been here.
Phil watched the moon with half lidded eyes as he chirped quietly to himself.
He was going insane.
Literally.
He was so absorbed with the glowing object in the sky that he didn’t notice a small group of people slowly getting closer.
He finally noticed them when they were a couple steps away and he shivered in fear, not knowing what to expect now. He tried to make himself smaller as the people got closer.
“Uh…” The tallest one breathed, “W-we need help.”
Wait- he knew that voice.
“Techno?” Phil tried, pulling the name for the pink-haired boy from his memory.
“You know his name?” That was Wilbur’s voice, which probably means their little toddler, Tommy Phil thinks, can’t be very far.
“What do you need help with?” Phil asked, focusing on the fact that the boys, who seem nearly entirely independent, were asking him for help.
“We- uh… need to know if you know a… Kristen?” Wilbur asked. Phil could hear his feet shuffling distantly as he was shoved back into the memory of the dream years ago that started this all.
“I do. Please tell me you haven't met her, mate.” Phil pleads, knowing they wouldn’t be asking if they didn’t.
“Um… she did. All of us. And now we have spreading black on our hands and now we don’t know what to do because Tomy’s back is hurting and the black is prickly and itchy-” Wilbur paused to take a breath and Phil was reeling.
“Sir?” Techno asked, stepping closer and holding a hand out, the one not holding Tommy, and resting it against Phil’s chest.
The touch pulled him out of his head and he could feel the pricks of baby feathers starting to grow.
They really have been touched by Kristen.
“I see.” Phil said, more calmly than he truly felt, “You guys need to get somewhere safe. Preferably somewhere with a bit of soundproofing.”
“Why-” Wilbur started, his voice shaky as he also stepped closer to Phil.
“Because you guys are already starting the transformation process. Techno’s already growing feathers. The wings are next. And it’s painful and it’s safer that people don’t know until you can defend yourself. And you won’t be able to until your eyes are done developing.” Phil sighed.
“But she said that she was going to protect us, not let anything else happen to us.” Techno whispered, like a child who wants to believe their parents still love them.
Phil wonders where he's heard that tone before… not.
“We don’t have anywhere safe to go.” Wilbur said, his voice sounding like he was on the verge of tears.
Phil narrowed his eyes for a long moment, thinking.
He was the only one that knew what was going to happen and he was the only one that could protect the kids.
So his mind was made up.
“If you free me, I’ll take you three to a house I built deep in the woods a while back. It’s far enough where nobody would hear anything and nobody would even want to try and trek through the foliage.” Phil said, lifting his head and looking at the boys in front of him.
Wilbur was shuffling his feet, moving rocks.
Techno still had a hand on Phil’s chest and was shaking slightly.
Tommy was sleeping.
“Can you give us your name first?” Wilbur asked.
Phil chuckled a little.
“I’m Phil.”
“Can you take us to your house Phil?” Wilbur asked.
Phil nodded and Techno used a small blade to pry the chains apart and Wilbur stood ready to catch Phil if he fell.
Which he did. He had to lean heavily on Wilbur for a long moment before feeling returned to his limbs.
He shook out his cramped wings and some feathers fluttered to the ground.
“Thanks boys. Let’s go before the townspeople wake up.” Phil said, wings held out to usher the kids to the woods on the outskirts of the village.
The next morning, the townspeople woke to the chains in the square broken and only a couple black feathers to show that they had even had a prisoner to begin with.
/\|/\
A couple years later
Tommy grinned a gap-toothed smile as he flapped his little wings and cheeped happily. Wilbur lay face down in the grass and Techno roared in laughter from the picnic bench in the shade of a tree a little distance away.
Wilbur was attempting to help Tommy learn to fly, but had ultimately become a landing pad for the kid after he finally got airborne.
Phil smiled fondly as he continued to whittle another post for the fence around the clearing of his house.
It had been about two years since Phil had met and adopted the boys and a year and a half after they had finally finished their transformations.
Phil remembered the nights he spent watching over the boys, the amount of tea he had to make them to soothe their sore throats, the wails of pain as their wings broke through.
Thank god all three didn’t grow them at the same time, or Phil would have exploded with anxiety and panic.
Tommy’s wings had come out first, followed by Wilbur’s. Techno’s hadn’t come out for a couple weeks after, and Phil spent a lot of time convincing him to let it happen.
It was calming to see his boys happy and pain free after everything.
Maybe Kristen did do good by them, giving Phil a family and rescuing the boys from their terrible arrangements.
Phil did sometimes check on the town while the boys were asleep. It wasn’t doing too well.
The streets were a mess and crows plagued the town’s crops.
Maybe that’s what that altar had been predicting, which had been destroyed a year ago in a freak lighting phenomena.
Either way, his sons never asked about the town and they never seemed to want to go back.
He was proud of them.
“Phil!” Wilbur yelled as Tommy landed on him again after only a couple seconds of flight.
“Tommy, stop landing on your brother, mate. Remember what I told you about wings?” Phil called, catching the four-year-old’s attention.
“That they are fra-grill and that you have to be careful with them.” Tommy recited guiltily.
“Exactly, now help Wilbur up and you can practice flying with me.” Phil said, setting his knife and the block of wood aside. He’ll get it later.
Tommy nodded and tried to pull Wilbur to his feet, but the teen was purposefully trying to be deadweight, and Phil rolled his eyes.
“Do you boys want to go flying with me?” Phil asked.
It was almost comical at how fast Wilbur looked up and Techno jumped up to run over.
Tommy bounced excitedly on his toes as Phil picked him up and techno stretched his wings. Wilbur was already hovering over the grass and Phil followed suit.
And then they were soaring high above their forest home, safe and sound, away from the abuse of the humans that hated anything that was different from them.
And Kristen smiled as she watched her precious blessed angels fly free.
Admittedly, she didn’t know her blessing was going to be so… hated by the people of the world.
It was a foresight she hadn’t considered in her excitement at finding pure souls that the higher gods had let her have, to protect.
But they were safe now.
Death’s Blesséd Angel.