Chapter Text
In the beginning, the earth was dark. The lands were swallowed by the endless nights and monsters roamed freely to kill and ravage any spark of life. The was no hope, no love, only death, and destruction.
And from all that death and all that destruction two gods, were given life by their creators. The first was neither a man nor a monster, only an entity that craved destruction and blood but also sought balance and equality. He sought for a world without rulers, He sought for a world where monsters and the lifeforms they had been snuffing out for millennia could coexist. Perhaps not in harmony but in equal standing with another so the fight could be fair.
And so the world’s first anarchist was born, The Blood God. And from his shadows, a sister, a twin bloomed from him. Her hair was dark as the age-old night and with eyes red as the blood her brother spilled at her feet. Her name was Death. The Goddess of Death.
While her brother roused the humans from their caves and hastily built shacks, she quickly got to work evening out the playing field. Day in day out, as the higher gods worked to bring the sun into existence she slaughtered every monster and beast that dared step near her. However, even given her immense power, she alone was not enough to cut down millions of mobs without her brother, who at the time was already waging his first war.
So she asked the high gods, “Please, send me a helper, an angel to stand by my side and fight with me.”
The gods obliged.
Death watched as he floated down gracefully from the sky, swooping over her head and performing flips and spins with his newly created wings. The raven-haired goddess watched with a gentle smile as her angel sought to impress her with his newborn eagerness. Eventually, she held out her hands and waited patiently for the man to land. Death took the time to notice exactly what type of wings their creators had made for him. Crow wings. Dark as the night that had encrusted over the planet for so long, and befitting to work alongside someone like her due to their stigma as a species.
Reputation aside, Death thought her angel was beautiful. His hair shone a golden halo of blond and his eyes were as blue as the newly lit sky. Though it appeared the angel thought her to be much more lovely. With flushed cheeks, the man tipped his striped hat at her and spoke passionately, “My Goddess, I am the most honored to be at your side. My life is yours.”
“Did they give you a name, my angel?” Death asked gently placing the tip of her nail under his chin to lift his head up. His blue eyes peered into hers and for the first time in her short life, she saw no fear in the eyes of man. Of this man. Her angel.
“Philza, my goddess.”
“Well, I must say, Philza. That’s a much better name than the one I was given.” Death chuckled, gently tipping his hat. Philza laughed, a bit nervously, with her, in awe that her laugh was just as exquisite as the rest of her. He fixed his hat and stood as tall as he could in the palm of her hand.
“My goddess, you deserve to have a name befitting of your wonder. Why do you not change it?” Philza asked. Death paused at that. Never once in her life did she think that even a possibility, and yet this man. Philza. Not ten minutes old was already showing her ideas she never dared dream of.
“I’m quite embarrassed to say I never thought about it. I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what to pick. Do you have any suggestions?”
Philza went beet red and Death had to contain herself from laughing at his rather cute expression. He quickly composed himself and then stammered, “Y-You want me to…? Me?!“
“Who else would I ask? You’re my first and only friend. My brother is more preoccupied with wreaking havoc and spilling blood to pay attention to me.”
“Then he is a fool to do so, pardon me if I am being too blunt. Any being, god or not would have to be brain-dead to not pay attention to you.” Philza said passionately, and this time Death was the one blushing.
“You’re a kind man, Phil. And I can already tell that we will get along quite well. Now, any thoughts on a name? Death doesn’t quite roll off the tongue, you know?”
The angel stayed silent for a long time, deep in thought, for this was the most important answer of his newfound life. The goddess waited patiently for Philza to respond and finally, he did,
“How about…Kristin?” The angel said sheepishly and the goddess felt her heart soar for the first time.
“Yes. Yes, I think Kristin will do quite nicely. But for my sake and yours, only you can call me that for now.”
“Yes, my goddess.”
Death raised an eyebrow at him and Philza once again went red in the face, “Yes…Kristin.”
She smiled the second time in her life, unbeknownst to either of them, this would be the second of millions of times Philza would make her smile.
Together the two fought fiercely at one another’s side for hundreds of years until the people grew strong enough to fight with them. And while normal humans were unable to see the Goddess of Death, they could see Phil. The humans proclaimed the angel as their leader and after many great and glorious battles that spanned over many generations, they made it to the End.
However, instead of bringing his entire army into the dangers of the End, he proclaimed that he would go alone. Philza promised that once the dragon had been slain there would be a new era of peace and with it a new generation of people. And while the people that Philza and Kristin cared for so dearly could not understand what the last part of his statement meant they wished him with tearful expression an honorable fight and for triumphant victory.
As he headed climbed the staircase to overlook the portal, he turned to his people, suddenly filled with a sense of dread that told him he would not be back for a while. A boy, no older than fifteen looked at him with sad eyes. He’s too young. Too young to be here.
“I promise all of you, that one day I will return to this land and lead it into a golden age of peace. For now, take care of one another, live your lives, and band together. But be kind to those who are different from you, after all just because someone looks to be a monster doesn’t mean that they are one.”
Phil reached the top step and with arms outstretched he fell into the portal. Time seemed to freeze as he freefalls into the End. His body grows cold quickly and ice forms against his wings, making flight impossible. His teeth chatter sending out puffs of cold air into the black abyss. But while his body freezes his mind races.
He feels time break apart and with that, he begins to see shapes and colors radiate around him. He begins to see people, happily chattering amongst themselves, the sun shines high in the sky and their world appears to be at peace. In the background, Philza can see a magnificent castle built atop the side of a large mountain. At the very top, the angel spots patches of freshly fallen snow upon the ground.
At the base of the mountain, is a kingdom, a town bustling with daily life. Children dance in the town square and Phil faintly can hear the angry shouting of a baker who appears to have burnt his hand against the hot oven.
The fantasy shifts and a blurry image appears before him.
A portrait, hanging in a large hall filled with tall windows that let in the golden sunlight.
Philza turned to look at the portrait and can partially make out a golden-haired man with a crown atop his head. His large dark wings are extended outwards and lightly wrap around the shoulders of two children. One of the boys appears to have long pink hair while the other has curly brown hair with pink roots barely peaking out. A crown rests atop both of their heads. Suddenly, Philza catches another figure in the painting. Sitting in the arms of the king is a small infant, maybe six or seven months old. His hair is a golden blonde, just like his.
What. What is this?
And then his feet hit the ground. And time starts once more.
“Philza. Phil, can you hear me?” He hears her whispering to him as he swims back to consciousness. His eyes open immediately at the sound of her voice and he sits up prematurely.
Black spots form precariously in his vision and Phil almost immediately falls back down his head swimming. She laughs apologetically and gently helps him to his feet.
As his vision clears he takes in the sight of his goddess. It appeared that she had shrunk down to her human form, a form she would rarely take due to the strain it put on her powers. Her long black hair flowed down to her knees. Entwined into her curly locks were several black roses with purple tips. Two braids with purple ribbons entwined in them wrapped around her head creating the appearance of a crown. She wore a long black dress with flowing sleeves. The dress was shoulder-less but there was a shimmering mesh that trailed up to her golden necklace. It was accentuated by gold and on the bodice of the dress, a golden heart was embroidered in the center. Philza felt his own heart stutter in his chest, she looked magnificent.
Kristin beamed at him, her hands clasped together in excitement, “Did you see, my angel? Did you see them?”
Philza picks up his hat from the ground and nods, “I saw…a portrait in a large hall. It was me, I think. And there were three boys in the painting with me.”
Kristin nodded excitedly, her hands fluttering as she spoke, “The gods showed you a glimpse of the future. Your future. Our future. You have proven to them that you are worthy just by entering this portal and they have decided to bless you.”
Philza’s head spun with confusion, “They want...They want me? To be a father? I-…My goddess, my life is yours and yours alone. I have made my vow to stay at your side for as long as you’ll have me. These children… can’t possibly be mine. I would never…I could never lo…” The man bit his tongue quickly as his sentence cut off. He can already tell his face is a vibrant shade of red. Gentle cold hands come to rest against his cheeks and the goddess spoke softly,
“My love, I know you would never betray me that way. These children, they will be ours. Perhaps not in the traditional way but they will still be ours.“
Philza looks at his goddess with all the love in this world, “I have no idea what you mean by that.”
Kristin threw her head back and laughed and Phil found himself chuckling too. She pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek and said, “It doesn’t make sense now, but it will in due time. Once you defeat the dragon, everything will be different from the world you once knew. Make me proud Phil, defeat the beast and free this world.”
And with that, his goddess faded from view.
Philza sat there in silence for a long moment. Everything will be different. The man smiled as he fixed his hat securely onto his golden hair, he readied himself checking over his equipment one last time, and headed out to face the beast.
Do they think themselves above us?
Are we merely ants waiting to be quashed under their boot. Maybe they think us beneath them while they fly so high in the sky.
Send me out, master. I will destroy them all.
It is too early, boy. We must be patient. The Angel is slaying our guardian as we speak, an unspeakable tragedy no doubt.
I could do it, XD. I could kill him right now. Lend me the dreamons and I’ll make quick work of it.
Be patient, child. HD’s reincarnate is not ready yet and you are far too eager.
What must I do, master?
We must wait our turn for destruction. For in one thousand years when the golden phoenix enters our world.
And then, once the boy has matured enough, then the war will begin.
And what of the boy? What should become of him?
Break his body and bring me his wings. If you can do that, then I will make you a god among gods.
Once you have that power, nothing will stand in your way.
:)
It was one hell of a fight. The angry guardian of the End definitely had lived up to its legacy. But as Phil fought to whittle the last of the dragon’s health down to naught, the beast cried out.
“Mercy, angel. Grant thee mercy!”
The arrow tightly strung in his bow and aimed with deadly precision towards the dragon’s heart loosened and Philza tilted his head with confusion. He watched as the beast wobbled unbalanced in the sky before finally nosediving uncontrollably towards the ground. He let out a yelp and barely managed to fly up in time to dodge it. The dragon plowed into the ground, making its final resting place in the endstone.
Phil pivoted in the air and landed beside the dragon. He was careful to maintain his distance, as he stalked up the side of the dragon and took note of just how much damage he’d inflicted on the beast.
“You ask for mercy, yet you struck first? Give me a reason not to cut you down where you rest.” Philza demanded and drew his katana, pointing the blade at the dragon’s neck.
The dragon hissed, “I know my life nears its end, fool. I’m not begging for my own life.”
“Then for whom do you plead mercy for?” Philza asked quizzically.
The dragon’s right-wing lifted with great exertion and beneath the black scales and torn skin, Philza saw something small shimmering in one of the beast’s claws.
He peered closer and waited for the beast to open her paw. In it, he found a large egg that glowed purple and had a shell hard as obsidian.
“Will this angel not hear out a mother’s final request?” said the Enderdragon, a lilt of irony to her dying voice.
Shame and guilt burned deep inside Phil’s chest and the man sank to his knees holding the egg in his hands like it would crumble to dust at any moment.
“Why did you not say anything? Why did you not stop the fight?” Philza cried, his sword clattering to the ground.
“The time has come for the End to be free, and the prince of this world with it.” The mother’s eyes fluttered drowsily and her breathing became shallow, “Do not look so worried, Angel. My son will not hatch for a very long time. You do not need to concern yourself with watching over him. Just make sure my child makes it to the Overworld.”
“You want me to let loose a dragon into the Overworld?” Philza asked, raising a brow.
“He is only half-dragon.” Philza chose to ignore the implications of that statement. The dragon continued, “He will not be a threat to you.”
Philza nodded in understanding and gently placed the egg into his satchel.
“Now go. It won’t be long before I draw my final breath and the portal is opened. I ask of you one more thing, Angel.”
Philza quirked his head in an almost birdlike motion, “What is it?”
“Once the portal is opened and you have made it through. Keep the portal guarded and prevent those who are unworthy from entering. Though a few of my people wish to leave the End, most would rather stay here. But without me, this place will be left unguarded and defenseless. All I ask is that you is that you become our new defender.”
Philza tilted his hat towards the dragon and swore, “I promise you. I’ll protect this land and its inhabitants. I’ll guard the stronghold from now until my dying day.”
The Enderdragon let out a pleased hum and her eyes fluttered shut for the last time.
A loud gong-like sound echoed across the End and the Overworld alike, signaling to every creature, mob, and higher being of Philza’s deed. All the enderman around him lowered their eyes in respect and as he turned around he saw that the portal had been opened.
Eager to get back to Kristin, Philza tipped his hat to the Enderman and rushed to the portal. He looked down into the void-like abyss and he felt the egg in his satchel shutter.
“You and me both, kid.” And with that, he took a brave step forward and fell into nothingness.
And just like last time, his vision clouded over with bright colors and he was once again given a glimpse into his future.
He’s back inside the hallway of windows again, but this time only moonlight shone through its expensive and intricate panes. He stood by one of the windows and caught his own reflection.
It was him, definitely. But Philza appeared older, his youth not entirely faded but it was clear many years had passed. He had a small beard and small wrinkles appeared when he crinkled his eyes. While his physique was mostly unchanged, he appeared wiser and more mature.
How strange given the fact that I’m almost four hundred years old and don’t look a day past twenty. And yet I look almost thirty here.
“Papa?” A small voice from the other side of the hall pulled his eyes away from his own reflection. A shuttered gasp left him and tears welled up in his eyes.
His heart softened at the sight of what had to be one of his and Kristin’s sons.
A boy, no older than four with a stuffed bear clenched in his fist clumsily ran his way up to the angel, arms outstretched. The child bunched a piece of his cloak in his fist and tugged on the fabric.
Golden blond curls and blue eyes that mirrored his own peered up at him for a moment before the toddler buried his face into Phil’s side.
The infant from the portrait. The youngest.
He bent down and scooped his son up into his arms. Phil stared at him for a long moment making sure to memorize each and every detail of the child’s face down to the faint freckles that dusted his nose. He knew that Kristin would want to hear all about him later.
“What’s the matter, mate? It’s late, you should be asleep.” Phil asked, feeling a bit awkward that he didn’t know the name of his own son.
“I had a bad dream, Papa.” The toddler cried and hid his face into the crook of his shoulder. He felt dampness against his cloak from the spot the boy had his face buried into. Phil's heart ached at the sight.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” asked the angel, slowly beginning to walk down the dark hall that the child had emerged from.
His unruly curls fell into his eyes as the little prince nodded, “There was a scary man with smile…and he said he was going to take my wings. I told him my wings aren’t grown in yet and…he smiled wider and said, ”Don’t worry. I’ll keep you locked up until they do.“
Phil’s heart dropped and he hugged the child tightly to his chest, rubbing his back gently as the toddler cried into his shirt.
“Don’t worry, my son. I’ll never let anyone take you from me.” Philza swore. The boy lifted his head and his bottom lip trembled as he whimpered, “But what if he gets me anyway? What if you can’t stop him?”
“Even if that somehow happened…I’d never stop looking for you. I’d tear this world to shreds until I found you. And I know your brothers would never stop looking for you either.”
His youngest son nodded and let his head rest back against his shoulder. They walked down the fancy-looking hallway for what felt like hours until he eventually, he came across a door that was half-open.
Peering inside to what looked like a large nursery he saw three beds, two sat on the left side of the room while a smaller bed with guard rails was pressed against the right wall. Looking at the bed closest to the locked balcony he saw two heads peeking out from under the covers, one was a boy with pink hair while the other had curly brown hair with outgrown roots.
The twins. His eldest sons. He set his youngest onto the floor and was about to enter when a hand on his shoulder caused him to spin around.
Philza’s blood ran cold at the sight.
It was the youngest prince again, but now much older, maybe fifteen or sixteen. He couldn’t see his face, it was like looking into a void where it was almost as if he could see his features but they were blurred and nonsensical to him. Completely unrecognizable. Perhaps the vision was trying to hide what the boy might look like in the future. It was a thought that deeply frustrated and terrified Phil all at the same time. A stream of blood began trickling down his chin. Looking down at the floor he could see a long trail of blood that followed the path that he and the child version of his son had followed back to his room. As if he'd been walking just a few feet behind them the entire way back.
Philza gently grabbed his shoulders and looked around for where the bleed was coming from. His eyes widened in horror as he looked at the back of his scapula. And right where two wings might emerge were two deep and jagged gashes that went down to his spine. It looked as if someone had quite literally ripped the wings out of his child’s back.
His stomach turned nauseously and he swallowed back bile.
“No no no no no…I can fix this. You’ll be okay kid, I promise.” He pulled back and his son’s head lolled at the movement. His movements were sluggish and sloppy, clearly, he was delirious from the astounding amount of blood he’d lost already. It had already seeped through his shirt and had trailed all the way down to his feet.
He swayed for a moment before he looked up at him, his face still shadowed by darkness.
“Dad…you lied.” The boy spoke and his knees buckled sending the two crashing to the ground. Philza pulled the boy’s head into his lap and took off his cloak. He lifted up the teen’s arms wrapped the fabric around his torso, tying it off with a tight knot in the front.
It did little to stop the bleeding, no matter how hard Phil tried to staunch the blood it, the puddle beneath the two kept growing.
“Help me! Somebody help me! Please!” Philza cried, his voice echoing uselessly down the dimly lit hall. He pressed a palm against his son’s face as he leaned over him.
Phil looked down at the boy curled up on the floor whose face was white as a sheet and let out a wail. His son. He didn’t even know his name, the thought made Philza want to scream. He was completely helpless, there was no way to save him. There was nothing he could do except watch the life drain away from a face he was unable to see.
“Dad…” The teen called out weakly and Phil looked up. The teen spoke urgently and one of his hands came up to feebly grab at Philza’s cloak.
“Mom says it’s time to wake up. Don’t let this become my future, okay? Don't break your promise.”
Philza nodded his head with tears sliding down his cheeks and against the prince’s pale face. He gripped the boy’s hand tightly in his own, “It won’t. I promise. I’ll protect you. I’ll protect all three of you.”
“Theseus.” His voice was barely audible and his chest rattled as he struggled for air.
“What?”
He smiled as blood began to seep from his nose as well, “You named me, Theseus.”
Theseus wheezed out one final exhale before his chest fell still.