Chapter Text
Phil was a broken man. Wallowing in his own grief, he never left the house, and randomly burst into pathetic fits of sobbing throughout the day. Every waking moment, his heart ached, and when he slept, his dreams were plagued with a life he yearned for. He had started to prefer them. It was better than the misery of reality.
Dreams were his only comfort. How could this field with every color of nature not be a dream? He was sitting in a beautiful meadow with blooming flowers and a gentle breeze pushing at his hair. For the first time in months, he wasn’t dreaming about his late wife. That’s usually where he was, living a simple life with his wife in their townhouse, cooking breakfast with her, reading with her…
Instead, he was alone under the blue sky, feeling simple contentment. He wasn’t particularly happy or sad; he was okay with sitting in the meadow alone. This dream felt more liberating than his others. A hint of sorrow tended to haunt his previous dreams, a soft yet blatant reminder that he was missing half of himself. He almost found himself missing the little nudge, but caught himself before falling into his own naivety.
That’s how this dream was different. There was nothing unrealistic about this dream. He could achieve this. Even as he dreamt, he began to plan; what he was going to do with their old house, where he was going to go, what he was going to do for money and food. Slowly, everything began to fall into place. His heart was free of its squeezing chains.
When he woke up, there was a gentle smile on his lips. He was used to waking up with tears welling in his eyes, looking to his left longingly and barely making it to the kitchen before he’d break down sobbing. Phil found it exhilarating to be released from that prison. He marched out his front door with determination and straight to his wife’s grave.
“My love,” Phil started as he kneeled down in front of the headstone. “I think I finally found a way to be happy again.”
He paused, and the phantom voice of his wife said, That’s amazing, Phil! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go this long without a shower. What is it?
“It’s going to be a little hard as I will no longer be able to visit you,” Phil continued, picking at the dandelions that started to grow. “Since I can’t go anywhere in town without thinking about you, I think I’m gonna travel.”
Oh! That’s amazing!
“You think?” Phil chuckled with a smile before sighing and standing up. “It’s decided then.” He could feel his wife’s loving support as he walked away and he knew he had made the right choice.
——————
One week later Phil stands at the doorstep of his home for the last time. A backpack of all he’ll ever need strapped to his back and a smile on his lips. He had a brand new pendant hanging around his neck, the delicate design of a crow carved into it—his wife’s favorite animal. If he couldn’t bring his wife’s grave, he would bring a memorial.
He rolled his shoulders back, sighed, and turned away. He walked from the home he made with his love. There was a mix of emotions swirling inside of him; joy and excitement for a new adventure, fear and gloom from leaving behind the place he and his wife laughed, cried, and made their memories. It was a bittersweet goodbye, but it was for the better.
Phil’s first week of traveling was both amazing and gut-wrenching. He found a meadow just like the one from his dream, he laid in the field for hours before finally moving on. Yet each night Phil would gently try and massage the ache out of his feet. Even if his feet screamed for rest, he still continued on the next day. He was determined to travel as far as he could.
He would only ever stop when he found another village, spending just a few days there. Rest his body and chat with the locals before moving on. Phil loved it. He loved all of the stories every single family had, the bright eyes of all the children, and the love each family held for each other. Distantly he wished he could have had a life like that.
Whenever he left the village they would give him food and tools to help with his travels. They would also tell him which forests were ruled by faes, which caves were haunted, and other places he should avoid. Every village seemed to have a fae forest as its counterpart. The bigger the village, the bigger the forest. For the first time he came across an exception.
Bloodopia grove was more than triple the size of its accompanying village, stretching across mountains and valleys. The local legend said that Bloodopia was another town's counterpart. A large city called L’manburg. The president and founder banished after caring for a fae was their ultimate downfall. A few weeks after he was gone, the ruler of the forest; the Blood God, reigned hell upon the city. Crushing it with an iron fist and claiming the land as his own.
It made sense why the grove was so big.
For the first time Phil had to avoid the forest in order to reach the next village. He could have avoided this particular town, Bloodopia completely surrounded it. He was given a detailed map, guiding him carefully to a safe resting point. It led through a small gap in the Bloodopia grove. A single trail, safe for travelers and traders, still, not many people used it.
Phil had never been so tempted to stray from the path before. He knew never to enter fae forests and he understood why. He knew the rules and he had always been careful. However, the little glimpses of gorgeous landscapes had him yearning to step off the trail. Maybe that’s why he got lost. He was so concerned with the beautiful peeks of nature that he didn’t pay attention to where he was going. He let the magic of the grove trick him. He was still on a worn path, but he couldn’t find where he was on the map.
Realistically, most would believe they were in the right place, a path as worn as this one couldn’t have been found in a fae forest where no one would travel. Yet many forget the forest could fabricate its own path to fool the people.
Phil knew that had to be the case. He hadn’t seen any of the carefully placed trail markers for some time. He sighed but didn’t panic, he knew the rules when dealing with fae. As long as he followed those he would have no problem.
There was no point in trying to keep track of where he was, forests like these shifted the closer you got to the exit. Phil let himself get lost in the winding woods, gasping and gawking at everything he saw. That came to a stop when Phil came across three separate fae rings.
Now that was something unheard of. Faes were possessive, especially over their forests. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion and he took a hesitant step back.
“Hello there,” a melodic voice rang from behind him.
Phil whipped around, coming face to face with an angelic being, too perfect to be human. The first sign of a fae was the pointed ears. The second was a beauty that couldn’t be compared to humans. The man in front of him fit that description with pointed ears peeking out from his brown hair. His cheekbones and jawline were at the perfect angle and his complexion immaculate. He had honey-brown eyes to match his hair, his bangs fell over an eye as the fae cocked his head. He watched Phil like a predator would watch prey.
“What’s an old man like you doing here?” the fae asked, voice thicker than the honey hidden in his eyes.
Phil didn’t let the fear grip his heart, “Funny that you of all people would call me old.”
A smile spread over the fae’s face, “Touché.” The brunet took a gentle step to the side, continuing to do so as if he was circling Phil like a vulture. Finally he made his way to the fae rings, sitting down on the soft moss of one.
“What brings you here, human?” he said, crossing his legs and placing his chin in his hands.
“I got lost,” Phil explained, keeping his eyes trained on the fae. “I only meant to pass through, but I got distracted.”
“By what?” the fae encouraged with a raised eyebrow.
Phil wasn’t sure if the other would believe him, but either way, he told the truth, “The beauty of your grove.”
There was a pause before humming laughter rang out, mimicking the buzz of a hive, “Thank you for the flattery, but this is not mine. Besides-” The light-hearted air around them shifted into something dark. “-how do I know you’re not lying? Humans are disgustingly deceitful.”
A small seed of fear was planted in Phil’s heart, “What reason do I have to lie?”
“What reason do you have to tell the truth?” he snapped back, nostrils flaring in anger.
“You already seem pretty set in your mind that I’m lying. What could I say to convince you?” Phil asked, trying to keep up his air of confidence.
A smile twitched at the fae’s lips, “You could step into my circle.”
Phil forced a laugh, hoping it sounded genuine, “Nice try, mate.”
“You said you were lost, why were you near here?”
“I’m traveling.”
“Why?”
Phil paused, “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“You want me to trust you, right?” the fae cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Tell me why you’re traveling.”
“I don’t care if you trust me or not,” Phil admitted. “I would just like a safe passage through.”
“Tell me why you’re traveling and I’ll grant you passage.”
“Do you mean that? No tricks or loopholes. You’ll let me leave this forest.”
“I mean it.”
“You really want to know why I’m traveling that bad?”
“I do.”
“Fine. I’m traveling because it's the only way I know how to be happy. My wife has passed and I couldn’t stay in our home anymore. If I try settling down in a new village, I feel like I’m betraying her. Yet I’ve found joy in traveling.”
“Quite a sob story.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Oh?”
“It’s just life, mate,” he said with a shrug, “we’ve all lost someone.”
“True, but that doesn’t mean we don’t miss them. Don’t you want your love back?”
“Of course.”
“Then make a deal with me!” Honeycomb danced in the fae’s eyes, “I can bring your wife back in return for a favor.”
Phil’s heart soared at the idea, but that twinge of sorrow followed quickly after, “...I don’t think she would like that. She always believed in fate, no matter how trying and horrible it was.”
“Are you sure? Maybe she’s changed her mind since being separated from you.”
“No, she’s rather stubborn about her opinions. Not even death could change them.”
The fae paused for a minute, sizing Phil up for a bright smile flashed across his face, “I like you. You’re different from the other humans.”
The fae closed his eyes and waved his hand, four paths revealing behind him, “I’ll grant you passage, the far-right path will take you to the north exit, the next will take you to the east, then south, and the far left will take you to the west.”
“That’s all?”
The fae opened his eyes again, shining with more honey than before, “Yes, I would also like to invite you back tomorrow. I won’t try to trick you or loop you into a deal. You intrigue me. Just walk into the grove and you’ll be guided to me.”
Phil couldn’t say anything else before the fae was gone in a blink of an eye. Phil floundered for a minute, gears turning in his head as he thought of what the fae said. He was invited to come back. Some part of him wanted to come back. He knew it wasn’t a wise decision, but he couldn’t decide. With a sigh Phil headed to the far left path, to the west exit.
Soon he found himself leaving the grove, a village just on the horizon.
——————
There was something so enchanting about the forest, especially during the winter. When all of the luscious greens were replaced with blinding whites. The chirping bird no longer sung through the air and instead there was a silence engulfing the forest. He loved it. It was his favorite season.
He would spend all of his free time out in the snow covered forest, relaxed and happy. He wouldn’t do much, usually just read. It was no different than if he was at home, yet the winter cold just made it better. He really didn’t understand why the village hated the season so much. Sure, the crops shriveled up and died, but they had other means of living. It wasn’t hard to survive the winter.
Everyone else still hated it when the weather was cold enough to freeze the rain as it fell.
It was strange seeing the usually pure white snow covered in blood. His hand fell to the gushing wound in his side, cupping the crimson liquid that poured from his body. What had he done to deserve this?
Nothing. He knew he didn't deserve death.
Yet the villagers took it upon themselves to serve false justice. They claimed many outrageous lies, but to sum it up–they said it was a fae. Turned by spending too much time in a cursed forest. He wanted to scoff, tell them they were just jealous of the joy he had during winter. However he couldn’t say a thing before an arrow drove straight through his side.
He stared down at it, the crimson slowly staining more and more snow.
“That’s what you get, you cursed monster,” the old blacksmith gritted out in anger. It made him look up in disbelief, he had known this man most of his life yet here he was trying to kill him.
“I haven’t done anything ,” he insisted, looking up at them. The sorrow and fear inside of him began to melt away. It got replaced with anger. It was like bubbling lava in his chest, festering and growing with each passing second.
“Not yet, but we need to think of our children. Creatures like you always prey on the children,” someone else yelled from the crowd.
“You’re going to crucify me for something I haven’t done?! For something I’ll never do ?!” The anger seeped into his voice, but it was weaker. He hadn’t noticed how much blood he had lost. The crimson stain is now much larger and his skin changing to match the snow he knelt in. Colors began to blur together, motion becoming hard to track. His chest heaved for air yet it felt strange, almost as if it was passing right through him.
His eyelids drooped against his will and when he opened them again the world was horizontal. It took him a minute to realize he fell over. The ground didn’t even feel cold against his bare shoulder.
There was a laugh above him, it was distorted like the laugh itself was from a demon, “Who knew it would be this easy to kill a monster?!” He wanted to fight whoever was talking, the hatred still boiling in his chest despite how tired he was. Even if he wanted to stand up, his body seemed to have the opposite plan in mind. His eyes slipped shut yet again and this time he couldn’t open them.
Suddenly there was a strong, roaring wind.
We bless you.
A new vigorous strength coursed through him like a fire in a forest. He felt a shift in his body, like his blood was burning only to be replaced with more. When he opened his eyes again everything was so much more vibrant. The snow on the ground blinded him and the shadows were even brighter than before. He slowly sat up, blinking as his eyes adjusted. When he was finally able to see again, he came face to face with a familiar man. The blacksmith. The same one who shot him with a bow and stabbed him in the back.
The rage was back in a second.
Kill him. Chimed in the back of his head. Who was he to deny it?
He rushed forward in the blink of an eye, slamming the blacksmith into a stone wall. There were screams from around him but he didn’t care. He threaded his fingers around the human’s throat, and with his newfound strength tightened his hold. Fingers clawed at his hands, desperately trying to pry the choking hold off. After a minute the pulse beneath his palm stopped.
Blood.
His body moved on its own, dashing to the closest human. He picked up a sword on his way and with a single, fluid movement, thrusted the sword into someone’s side.
Blood.
He did it again, cutting someone’s head clean off.
For.
He cut a leg from a body and stabbed through a chest.
The.
The sword was thrown from his grasp and instead he twisted their head around to face the opposite direction.
Blood.
Bodies were dropping to the ground around him and snowy ground soaked up the blood.
God.
Only after days did he realize what had happened, why he couldn’t find his old village, and why the world seemed so different to him.
He had changed, his very soul changed. He was no longer human, his veins coursing with magic. He could hear the trees whisper with the wind and the forest talk to him.
Technoblade didn’t regret a thing.