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Go row the boat to safer grounds
But don't you know we're stronger now
My heart still beats and my skin still feels
My lungs still breathe, my mind still fears
But we're runnin' out of time (Time, ah)
All the echoes in my mind cry
Blood.
He craved it, he wanted to bathe in it, he wanted to coat his scarred skin with the crimson essence to truly feel the need to be satisfied, to drown the screaming in his thoughts. The brunette with a single white curl wants to drown in the red rain, spilling forth from the pale flesh his blade sliced through.
Cellbit enjoyed the bloodthirst because it suffocated all the overwhelming thoughts, waking up to its comforting numbness was something he began to look forward to. It dampened the thoughts that agonised him, stomach rolling and chest tightening like a vice remembering his son being crushed beneath those heavy blocks.
Shaking, he shoots upright from his sleeping bag, waking Baghera who slept beside him. Untangling their hands from where they had reached out in their sleep for one another in haste as he rubs his arms and tries not to dig his nails in just to feel something. Another nightmare to forget, throwing his head from side to side raking his trembling hand through his sweat soaked hair trying to shake the hold sorrow crushed his heart with.
Baghera hums a song under her breath, yawning as she rubs soothing circles into his back. Tossing his eyes full of the abyss at her own, seeing the tinge of red comforting him. Sure it had only showed up after they passed out and awoke craving murder, but that was a problem for another day.
Children of the eye, my Victors.
Baghera gives him another look as the commanding voice fills their heads, combing fingers through her blonde hair awaiting his orders. They must obey it, there was no question of disobedience as their father instructed them. After all he protected them , he let them feed their darkest instincts with blood spraying across surfaces including themselves, he saved them.
They must listen.
Greetings.
Victors.
It was a pleasure to find out you chose to remain here, within my domain. This island, it awoke a sadistic desire within each of you, didn't it? You saw how that vermin you once considered your friends turned on you. How they hurt you, tortured you. Made you experience death at their hands over and over and over again. But I can tell, none of you desire to be masochists. And I would be bored of torturing you that same way again.
Do you hate those people?
Do you hate how they made you powerless?
How they kept taking and taking like greedy rats?
You will never be above me, but you can be above that vermin. You have teeth, a blade, any weapon you may desire. You have a rage that must be felt by those below you. Those that hurt you. Those that might hurt you.
There are new contestants. Many new, some old. Go on. Kill them. Tear them apart, make them feel the pain you felt. Give them no chance to stand, to breathe. Break their spirits, until there is nothing left. And relish the power you have over them.
It is time they feel your wrath, your anger, your desperation after they fell you again and again. Night darkens the sky and I wish for their leaders to fall. So I command…
“So it shall be done.” Baghera and Cellbit finish the trailing sentence, an instinct deep within their soul calling for his praise.
Cellbit feels as his gracious presence pulls from his head, one last urge to face towards the middle of their sanctuary. A smile carves its way across his face, armour stands waiting with glowing protection and their signature masks their group were known for.
He must put it on.
Getting up slowly from where their sleeping bags lay, he helps Baghera stand with an extended hand as that bloody joy fills his soul. He feels the call of emotional freedom, of that embrace of apathy as the cold cartridges within the mask release. Letting him tune out everything beyond death and demise of those their father called for. The way those dying screams had become his lullaby of bloody peace, a soft edge as souls expired from the forms he released them from.
He had one objective.
Kill the leaders.
Woman and man approached the stands with a similar maddened expression filled with murderous intent, awe of their master crafting and gifting them such wonderful items. Helping one another strap the armour on, neither knew who began laughing first after the cave filled with chuckling with a dangerous edge, something so off about the sheer happiness from being allowed to release his deepest wants hidden behind many traumas. The power imbued in this hellish armour was overwhelming, nearly invincible and radiated off the pieces as they moved closer.
Opening the chest, they find their preferred instruments gleaming and at the ready. Baghera’s chainsaw was primed, several gas canisters beside for her to put within her inventory. Cellbit stands holding his with care, the glowberry light within that cavern glinting off the shining blade he slowly extracts from its sheath. Grinning as he runs his finger gently against the edge, giving the tool its first taste of blood testing its sharpness and being pleased with what he finds.
“My chainsaw is hungry, Cellbit.” Baghera chuckles, pulling the chain just a bit for the motor to roar to life.
“There is fresh meat waiting for us.” Putting the blade back, wrapping his finger quickly. Despite wanting to dig deeper, the Watcher would be happier with others' blood spilled instead of his own.
Coughing, his throat feels coated in sand as he looks back in the chest for more supplies. Finding nothing, he turns back to Baghera.
“There is no water, guess we will have to drink their blood.” Speaking it aloud, he felt the metallic substance and the way it had coated his mouth in his past.
“Indeed.” Baghera giggles, finishing adding the gas canisters to the glowing inventory at her fingertips.
They divide up the rest of the gear amongst the pair of them, water bottles also appearing in front of them.
Kill them.
The voice echoes once more through Cellbit’s thoughts meeting Baghera’s eyes as he pulls the mask over his face. A click sounds, then cooling air brushes across their faces as the canisters release. The numbing harmony of a drugged peace brushes over him and down his throat, his lungs settling as he relaxes into the burning hold of bloodlust.
Under the full moon, two broken people prepared to hunt their prey holding weapons crafted to rip and tear. One with a terrifying noise to echo forth as the other sneaks forward in silence, his movements only accompanied by screams when he wishes to hear them. One silent and one loud; the perfect, tragic individuals who chose to stay for their children and now suffered because of it. Guided on a path of gravesites to be becoming their only purpose, their only calm enacting pain upon others.
The blonde and brunette took one last look at each other and placed their hands against the waystone that appeared in front of them, letting the Watcher’s intentions guide them to their next location in a cloud of nether particles.
The first few kills barely give him that terrible euphoria he craved, going far too quickly and not being who they were told to murder. Their hit list included the heads of all the leaders, and so far they had only found lackeys.
Still, the tiniest bit of delight came feeling just how sharp this beautiful machete he had been given was, slicing through the flesh that contained the essence he wanted to coat himself in. Feeling that thrum of power over others that awoke a thirst within him he never indulged, but here the locks had been released. His only companion being Baghera who understood, he could let loose his most dangerous indulgences.
They had harmed him and those he cared about. He had been given the instruments of their deaths, and would have many more before this night was over. His symphony, their screams and his props, their flesh. Cellbit and his fellow composer would put on a play to please their Watcher. Give him the purgatory he wanted, he desired.
For he had kept them safe, they must return the favour. That was their purpose now; as a weapon of death to be deployed to those he called to perish and torment.
Numbness and crimson destruction caressed him like a loving embrace, and he no longer resisted their demands as he fell prey to instincts he long suppressed.
There's blood on your lies
The skies open wide
There is nowhere for you to hide
The hunter's moon is shinin'
“Is this where we want to spend the night?” Phil asks his two children, one blonde and one brunette looking around the small cave he found on this island they were exploring.
Chayanne nods, already setting up a campfire as Tallulah helps cover the space they just dug through for the protection the ground provided them. Walls of stone and dirt surrounded them, a natural embrace acting as a temporary haven against the horrors that awaited them outside.
Scoping out a new place to live after waking up here with nothing, they stumbled across this lovely land they were tempted to claim as their own after a long day of looting and resource gathering. Phil had been stressed out of his mind all day missing their usual weapons and armour, his paranoid instincts flaring to life after moons dormant as they wandered this new area.
When night’s blackness crept forth Phil did what he always did and put himself somewhere monsters couldn’t harm. Lighting the campfire with a flint and steel, Chayanne starts to put together a stew from the ingredients they had been gathering throughout their troubles. Tallulah fishes out her flute and raises an eyebrow at Phil while holding up the instrument, the crow smiling.
“Of course sweet girl, it should be fine.” Humming along as she begins to play, Chayanne looks content as his sister serenades them both.
Working together like clockwork, their dinner is prepared and just as Phil is serving the last portion a voice calls out overhead.
“Hello?” Someone he missed desperately, Phil returns his inquiry instantly with his own reply.
“Hey Cellbit! Down here!” Raising his volume, he breaks the dirt above them and Richas peers in, wild curls illuminated under the gentle light of the moon.
His handsome father joins him, the blonde instantly happier seeing the man he went through the last event with. “Is your house down there?”
“Nah mate, just a place to shelter for the night. Want to come in?” Phil is hoping he says yes, wanting to spend time with his friend.
“If you will have us.” Cellbit looks hesitant, his son the opposite leaping down to join them without waiting for an answer. Tallulah joins where the crow stands and the brunette man above them softens his resolve seeing the sweet brunette, following his son with a thud.
Picking himself back up, Phil initiates a hug after checking for Cellbit’s consent, needing to hold him close. Before Purgatory they were trusted allies, someone they both knew they could rely on in times of need. Always appreciated, Phil found himself wanting to spend more time in the smart brunette’s company but their schedules didn’t line up well.
Until they were tossed on a boat and sent to hell, teamed up together with a few other people he would come to trust with his life. Baghera, Jaiden, Foolish, Charlie Slimecicle and Carre to name some, they grew impossibly close through the adversity they faced. It was two weeks of death, competition and torment, all of them forever changed after the circumstances they lived through.
The crow always wore his heart on his sleeve, something Techno ribbed him for while doing the exact same thing. These kids who named him their leader were people whose memory would remain within his soul forever, joining the other youth who came to look up to the ancient crow warrior as a mentor. He got the moments he craved with Cellbit and everyone else from team BOLAS, painfully regretting watching them disappear into the horizon when some of the islanders fled to the yacht at the conclusion of the event.
Phil holds the taller man closer for a few seconds before letting him step back with a welcoming expression. “It’s not much but please feel free to stay here until daylight, I would rather you both were safe.”
“Thank you.” Cellbit opens his own glowing inventory to pull out some flowers before turning to Phil’s kids. “Tallulah, Chayanne, here!”
Giving Tallulah fireweed and Chayanne hyssop, Phil’s chest warms watching their delighted expressions. The brunette with a streak of white had such a way with children, this flower exchange one of the many ways he showed affection to each hatchling.
Both scrawling their thanks onto signs, Tallulah asks for her own hug from her tio which he accepts. Phil adds two more bowls to the stump ahead, scooping more stew out before replacing that pot with one filled with water. Drawing a satchel of tea bags from his inventory, he divides them up as Cellbit catches up with Chayanne and Tallulah.
The crow was patient, he knew their turn to speak would come soon. He glanced back over at the scene, Tallulah with a flower tucked behind her ear playing her flute as Chayanne and Richas were buttering the bread Cellbit had just provided them with giant smiles on their faces.
This was exactly what his heart had been craving, allowing himself to bring forth the guilt that still lay within his gut like a heavy stone. Phil had made plans with Richas even to return for those he left behind, only breaking his vow of never returning to Purgatory for his fellow BOLAS members. Now that Cellbit was in front of him, he wasn’t positive how to initiate discussing what happened in their time apart seeing the shadows that darkened his stormy eyes.
“How did you end up on this island, by the way?” Cellbit turns to the blonde man, coming to grab his own serving of food when it is ready.
“We were looking for places to live actually!”
“Oh same, the southern part of this isle is beautiful. We could be neighbours if you wanted the northern shore?” Cellbit offers, Phil nodding.
“That sounds lovely.”
Another thing Techno would roll his eyes at, allowing another to be so close. In worlds prior they lived together but far separated from anyone else, preferring the silence besides one another. Phil was breaking a lot of his own rules lately, he could blame it on his old age later.
As they dig into their food Chayanne takes out four blooms and gives one to each person gathered, the crow glad his son took to asking for Rose’s protection so quickly. Cellbit wasn’t aware of the gift Chayanne offered, leaning down to allow the small blonde dragon to tuck it behind his ear with a gleeful expression.
As they are halfway done supper between light conversation Phil pours them all tea, Cellbit making a face while accepting the mug and sipping at it.
“Not a tea fan?”
“Not since Egg Island.” He shivers, Phil preparing for a heavier topic now that the door has been opened.
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the
“I was supposed to come get you but someone left without me.” Glaring at Richas, the small brunette with wild curls of chocolate.
“You were passed out on the floor Tio, Pomme and I had to take the opportunity to go while the Federation was busy.” Pulling out another sign, he continues. “We weren’t as smooth as I thought, still got fucking followed.”
“That’s fair mate, I was just worried.” Ruffling his hair, Richas manages to escape his grasp and the kids lapse into their own conversation using a notebook between them.
“How long were we gone?” Cellbit’s voice is tentative and soft.
“Round about two moons.” Phil moves closer to where Cellbit sits on the log. Placing down his own dishes out of harm’s way. “Want to talk about it?”
Cellbit is silent for a few breaths, before his shoulders fall. “At first, it was fun. We were given free reign to run the rivers of Egg Island red, paying back the torment we were subjected to. Seeing their eyes wide with fear while we held the blades of their demise, it was addicting. Bloodlust drowned every thought, it was the only thing I could stomach allowing as the guilt ripped me apart from not following you all.”
“We didn’t know our children lived.” Peering at the laughing Richas, Cellbit’s sorrow-tinged smile broke Phil’s heart. “So it became, well, fuck it then.”
“Awww mate…”
“Bags and I spent the time we weren’t numb talking, not having anything to come back to, not much else to do when you are trapped in a cave together only released to destroy lives.”
Phil shudders, knowing all too well how that feels in stories much older than most people here.
“I thought Roier would be better off without me.” Staring directly at the stone floor, Phil immediately responded.
“Dude, no! My Goddess, no.”
“What kind of husband and lifetime companion am I to have fallen to dangerous urges with glee? All I wanted to hear was the screams of the hunted, listening to their last breath leave their lungs as I sliced my machete through tender flesh.” Cellbit sighs heavily, wrapping his arms across his chest and digging his fingers into his own skin with white knuckles.
“Roier is fine anyways. A little sad but he’s better without me.”
Phil gently places his own fingers beneath the younger man’s, giving him a hand to hold instead of digging crescent-moon indents further into his biceps. Grabbing on like his life depended, Cellbit swallows heavily before he speaks again.
“Then…he grew bored when everyone from his second event escaped. We awoke with the expectation to kill only to be then told to turn that on each other.”
Cellbit’s gaze is a thousand blocks away as he stares at the fire, Phil watching his face with concern. This poor boy had been through so much, in a place Phil couldn’t reach. The old crow felt terrible with the burden shared across both their shoulders, bowing them closer together.
“We refused.” The most certain he had been in several moments. “He then teleported us to that arena where you and Tubbo fought on your final day and he kept bringing these weird Federation workers that only have one eye?”
Nodding, he forges forth. “Conjuring endless waves, Baghera and I fought back to back for I don’t know how long. We couldn’t sleep or eat except in very short bursts, honestly I might have taken a bite out of a few of our enemies which surprised the Watcher.”
Phil chuckled as Cellbit smirked, the crow was hardly surprised given the rumours he heard about the brunette’s history in desperate times. “The basics we were told is we were supposed to kill each other and the surviving one would come back. We refused, and just kept killing what he threw at us, and he got more and more enraged. Days, nights, weeks, I had no idea how long we were there.”
Phil wraps an aching wing around the trembling man, drawing him closer as he shakes like a leaf hanging by a thread in a windstorm. “It all began to blend together and we became delirious. I am honestly not sure how we survived, reduced to primal instincts as we fought to keep our lives.”
Trick or treat, what would it be?
I walk alone, I'm everything
My ears can hear and my mouth can speak
My spirit talks, I know my soul believes
But we're runnin' out of time (Time, ah)
All the echoes in my mind cry
Raising his gaze for the first time, he looks where his son has rolled out his red bedroll for the night beside the crow’s son and daughter. They were yawning more, Tallulah’s eyelids heavy as she leans against Chay’s shoulder. The children weren’t far from slumber, Phil is glad of this fact as they needed the rest.
“Then there was this giant explosion and that little guy showed up with Pomme and some Federation workers. It’s a blur past this point; we were running and then we were on a boat. Some time after we passed out, we woke up here without a damn thing to our names.”
“Glad you are okay, man.” Genuine to a fault, Phil’s worries showed in the tremor within his response. “I’ve been concerned every day we were apart after I watched you fade into the distance. I was so close to joining that rescue mission.”
Cellbit finally leans more weight into Phil’s gentle embrace, finishing his mug of tea. “Sounds like you have been through hell and back.”
Cellbit’s face falls, shrugging the smallest amount. “We all have.”
Silence grows for a few moments beyond the crackling of the fire and scribbling on a page as the children spoke, Cellbit meeting Phil’s gaze once more.
“At least we have a second chance here, a fresh slate. I could do focusing on something beyond what myself and Bags went through. I’ve barely seen her since we have been here, I should send her a message tomorrow if she is awake.”
Thinking fondly of the outspoken blonde duck hybrid with a wild streak, his heart attempts to spin this blame onto himself. After all, he was responsible for them as their leader, and he failed when they stayed on those sandy shores. A valiant show of honour, not being able to leave your children. Something the crow now felt he was missing, the smallest portion of him wishing he stood beside them watching the boat sail away.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more, Cellbit. We were making active plans to leave when I got tossed in prison.” Cellbit looks confused at that statement. “We can get into that later, for now I just want to apologize I wasn’t there for you both. I should have been as your leader, I failed you.”
Cellbit extracts himself from the crow’s hug at that point, standing up quickly to take a few steps away holding himself close again. It seemed he couldn’t speak the next sentence to Phil’s face, voice softer than ever as it bounced off the stone walls. “It was better I think, that you didn’t see us at our lowest.”
A few heartbeats pass before he finishes by saying. “I think you would have been disappointed.”
Phil follows the brunette over to where he stands, turning him around with a hand on his shoulder. Waiting for Cellbit to acknowledge his presence, their faces meet once more as Phil levels his voice to show just how much he means the next words he utters. “I could never be disappointed in you.”
“We fell so far–”
“BOLAS is already in the ground, mate.” Phil chuckles, pulling Cellbit back over to the log. “Boy, if you think what you did was despicable I’m buried in the world’s core.”
He looks confused by that statement, their children joining them by the fire once more when Phil waves them over. “Story time kids, come on!”
Chayanne and Tallulah cuddle up next to each other, Richas joining the pile leaning against the wall with his head in Chay’s lap as Lulah leans against his shoulder. Cellbit’s face is full of love seeing all three together before his attention returns to the blonde.
“There are not many people on this island who know these tales I am about to explain so I would appreciate it if we keep it between us.” Phil waits for Cellbit and their kids to agree, before clearing his throat. “First of all, I am much older than I appear. My lifespan is across several thousand years.”
Cellbit opens his mouth to question before shutting it, mumbling something about asking questions later. Chayanne and Tallulah heard this before so their faces don’t match Richas’s shocked one.
“It’s a long story as to how I ended up in this position so we can dig into those details another date. For now though, I want to reassure you that what you did on that island is nothing I haven’t heard before and participated in myself.
“I’ve had close friends who made massive rivers run red with blood guided by olden battle cries as swords carved through tender flesh. Entire cities have fallen under my guidance and strategies, both for good and power-hungry intentions. My closest companion throughout my life is known in various histories as the Blood God, myself being the Angel of Death.” As that ancient mantle was spoken on this new portion of their world a crow cawed in the distance, apt for the conversation topic. “I’ve trusted people with silver tongues with my back and have watched their fall after that came back to drag them down to hell.
“You and Baghera may think I would be upset by your actions but I could never be. I am proud of you for surviving and fighting like fucking hell to return to us. The determination to fight through endless waves of enemies instead of taking the quick way out, trusting your companion to do the same, is exactly what I wanted from team BOLAS.
“You could go out there tomorrow and murder every single soul here and at the end of it if you came to me begging forgiveness I’d grant it because I know you must have your reasons. I’ve been in your shoes, before my best friend, and he always reached his hand out to help pull me back to standing. You are made stronger by every situation you have lived through, taking that experience into future decisions is the best use of those leftover emotions.”
Cellbit is biting his lip, his cheeks shining from the tears spilling forth as Phil makes a show of kneeling before the brunette and clasping his hands, eyeing the white tresses that brushed his forehead before meeting his eyes once more. “Cellbit, I know your heart. I grew to appreciate it more throughout our time spent together, you must trust me that despite what you are telling me I still care for you. I know your soul, I know your past, I hear you, yet I accept your concerns and encourage you to be at my side.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Phil searched his tentative expression, offering a supportive smile. “Those dark sides of you, you think they might scare me but they don’t because everyone has them. It's a matter of if you perform them for joy or out of desperation. At the end of it all, if you regret it, I trust your conscience. Because you still have enough humanity to care for the suffering of others, and that’s why I will always listen to your woes.”
“Purgatory was a special kind of hell.” Cellbit finally remarks, before offering the first smile he wore in a while. “But I am grateful for it because through that hell we spent more time together.”
“Same to you, friend. I am here for whatever you need. Whether that be a listening ear or a killing blade, I am there.” Phil vows, standing slowly after Cellbit nods. “Now, we should get the kids to bed, it's awfully late.”
There's blood on your lies
The skies open wide
There is nowhere for you to hide
The hunter's moon is shinin'
Their children are quick to fall asleep after the two parents tuck them in, joining each other by the nearly burnt-out fire once more but instead leaning against the wall. Tucking their sleeping bags beneath them they continue to speak, boiling another pot of tea.
As the night grew longer Cellbit began to grow more tired, after many hours of talking long past their own kids falling asleep when the scarred brunette does too. His head is tucked into the crook of Phil’s neck, half-healed crow-feather wing holding the poor man close as the blaze burns down to ashes in the circle of stones before them. Philza recognised the signs of finally relaxing your guard and the trust of being vulnerable with another, allowing himself to appreciate the gift of Cellbit’s trust.
Phil peers down at his face, eyes running across rough new scars and heavy bags beneath his eyes. The poor boy was exhausted, and some of those wounds were far too new since the last time the crow laid eyes on this treasured member of his flock from Purgatory. He had a long way to heal, his internal wounds showing in the worries Phil would be upset with him.
Another soul far too worried about this old crow’s opinion, not understanding how many being’s he guided down the path of forgiveness, himself included.
He wondered just what bullshit the Watcher had put both Cellbit and Baghera through, recognising the fact Cellbit was trying to brush off his feelings surrounding his extended stay earlier.
Phil's heart ached watching yet another person he loved shoulder the burden of not putting themself first and only hoping they could force horrifying choices they made during events of high emotional duress into a box to never think of again. The crow could relate, not that it was a healthy practice.
This old crow had cradled far too many youth as they made the same mistake he prepared to watch Cellbit put himself through, only hoping he'd be there to pick up the pieces when he eventually crumbled.
One cannot shove back torment, for it returns tenfold and often harms those you hold dear through harsh actions and worse words exchanged as it shatters your soul.
History is forever doomed to repeat, the immortal crow thought, pulling a blanket out instead as their sleeping bags were tucked beneath them still. Settling in for the night after checking their three chicks were still asleep, the blonde yawns as he slowly arranges himself and the brunette he cradled. Cuddled together nearby, Phil arranges his wings into a more comfortable position gently as to not awaken the unconscious being beside him.
Phil was exhausted being an immortal warrior who recalls his memories of times from worlds prior. Never the forefront or the hero, simply one who has seen, regretted, and persists to guide those after him. Always and for eternity, placed on the sidelines because it was never his fate to be a hero.
Only a teacher, an archivist, and as his Goddess's weapon holding Her heart close as he protects those souls She wishes to help succeed.
Forevermore doomed to be separated from those he loves, he guides those whose lifespans are blinks for him to treasure those times, dark and light. The moments often overlooked are ones he teaches them to hold close because in reality, their lives are so short they need to find our humanity in the small moments or they lose the purpose of everything.
Just as he has always done. And will always do.
Doomed to be the teacher, never the hero. Forced to chronical each student that falls under his mentorship, using that knowledge for his own bittersweet future. Holding the memories of those he left behind close, he puts one foot in front of the other until he finds his new motivation in the bright eyes of someone who trusts him.
Mentally preparing himself for what is to come, Phil refreshes his resolve on the joy he once saw upon Cellbit's handsome face. Vowing to be at his side no matter what as he heals from whatever the fuck the Watcher put them through, Phil plots said bastard's demise if he ever chose to step foot upon this Island.
This blonde was deadly protective of those he deemed his, ecstatic to have the ones he thought lost to him back; he allows the rage to fester remembering the words Cellbit spoke to him earlier.
One day, he would have his revenge. Until then, Phil promised the slumbering soul beside him to always support him, praying to his beloved to protect them both as he allowed slumber to steal him away too.
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
The morning sun rises above the cave where all five slumbered, dawn painting their masterpiece upon the blue sky. Unseen by those below, a crow with nether-purple eyes and dancing particles waving through its nightsky feathers landed on a tree nearby.
Observing as they make their way above ground, watching the blonde crow assure the brunette once more he doesn’t think any different of him. The blonde then turns to the boy with the wild curls and tells him to take care of his father, waving them off with his two children at his side as they head south.
Feeling the tug of Her demands, the crow follows its new objective.
Somewhere else, a similar thing is happening with a blonde duckling except this crow is perched on the roof of the house she was constructing. Unseen by either who now had the Angel of Death’s protection, She listens to Her husband’s prayers and promises to keep an eye on them going forth.
Both hurt people spent the day with their children, catching up with friends they hadn’t seen in moons. The Angel himself came to visit both with his kids in tow, checking in on those he still held regrets over not saving.
The Death Goddess gives an affectionate sigh from where She watches, glad Her beloved cared for these mortal souls but begged him to stop taking their conflicts as his own. Dependable and protective to a fault, She admired his giving heart but mourned every time with him when he lost them to the ravages of time.
For now though, he would enjoy these memories. Helping the youth is what Phil was best at and the reason he woke up each morning. Echoes of his past forever haunted his present, yet the crow forged forth with each one and gave them the compassion and empathy they deserved.
The most human immortal in fact, allowing himself to feel the love of friends only for them to be taken from him eventually.
Philza, Angel of Death, was a unique man in many ways. The Death Goddess only hoped those he was protecting now would heed his words and allow joy to fill their hearts once more, sharing the warmth with Her husband and allowing him to care for them. By now the crow should have been jaded to the world, yet somehow he never lost his love for humanity.
And that was the trait the Death Goddess treasured the most.
A gift, a curse
They track and hurt
Say, can you dream
In nightmares seams?
A million voices, silent dreams
Where hope is left so incomplete
(Oh, oh)
I'm running with the (Oh)
I'm running with the wolves (Oh)
I'm running with the (Oh)
I'm running with the (Oh)
I'm running with the (Oh)
I'm running with the wolves (Oh)
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the wolves tonight
I'm running with the wolves
I'm running with the