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The first thing he felt was anger.
The previous God of War, one of the smaller archetypes in the God Plane, cast down to the torturous mortal realm, felt pure rage.
Technoblade didn’t even care that he was now stuck here, forever seen as traitorous scum, just because of one little change.
He cares about the fact that his punishment was taking away all knowledge of his old friend. All the work that he did during his painfully long time as a god, alone, all gone to waste.
What he did was a promise. Changing fate, a supposed impossibility to a mere mortal, was almost as simple as tying a knot when you have the power. Which makes it so important not to mess with the strings of it. It was a rule among them.
All Phil wanted during his time as the God of Life was to create peace. So intertwined with the mortal’s will of war and death, it took a large toll on him.
Even then, the closest of gods knows that wasn’t why he was cast away so many decades ago. Not once did he try to change fate.
His downfall was falling in love.
Technoblade never knew what Phil’s curse ended up being when he was exiled. What he did know was that he was going to find him again. Going so far against the voices and will of the world, he attempted peace for his lost companion and searched for where he ended up. Everything he did was for his legacy.
And now, all of that was gone.
Honestly, he was amazed they even let him keep any of his memories as a god. Maybe it was supposed to be a punishment itself to know exactly what you lost. All the power he used to have over this world, just to be a part of it, is controlled by the will of gods he no longer knew.
Looking around, it looks like he was dropped in the middle of nowhere. A forest of tall, winding trees, unknown to any civilization nearby.
Nothing would have seemed out of place, but somehow, in the middle of a silent, snow-covered forest, there was a trail of daffodils, alive and thriving.
The pathway breathed a life he was familiar with, magic he used to hold, powered by the runes he could still read. He wonders which god is pitying him out here.
He has a hunch, the one god who is still mourning alongside him, a curse much worse than their exiled companion.
Yet, that wasn’t the only thing he noticed in these barren woods.
Somehow, the single crow that was perched and staring at him was weirder than the plant life.
The midnight bird gave out a caw, its beady eyes only leaving when it flew away in the opposite direction.
For some reason, Techno is taking it as a sign. With nothing else to do in a lifeless world, he might as well follow this crow out of here.
***
There was something he was always aware of in the mortal realm. They’re beliefs towards the gods are drastically different from the actual truth. However, they weren’t always so off.
The people were mainly aware of the primary gods, leaving the smaller ones to typically go unnoticed in their mythology. But one thing was always the same: the gods listened and gave you signs.
Some follow these signs greatly. Others find it a silly myth. They weren’t completely untrue, though. Certain gods had an animal companion that they were compared to. Techno was always akin to wolves, mirroring the previous God of Power.
Kristin, the Goddess of Death, always had a crow to follow her.
Originally, it was from Phil’s mythology of Life. Now, it serves almost as a haunting reminder of what once was.
It was shared between the two. The mortals found great wonder whenever they saw two crows. An already good omen, even truer in the sense that it gave hope for the future.
So, Techno shouldn’t have been so surprised when following this random bird led him to a small town. If he believed like a mortal, he would be grateful for the small help from a fellow god.
He rolled his shoulders and gave a deep hum. Unfortunately, he is a mortal now.
The village wasn’t advanced by any means, and it really didn’t help him in figuring out where he was in the first place. It was eerily calm, though. The town was comfortable, with no feeling of expected danger in sight.
It made him uncomfortable. Being fueled by mortals’ violence for so long, it was off-putting to say the least, especially without any weapon on him. His hand felt empty without the weight of a sword in reach. Mind, as calm as it never was up above.
He wasn’t sure if he liked the eerie quiet more than the voices that used to plague his mind.
Techno wasn’t exactly sure what he was searching for, the lonely crow now out of his sight. The sky was clouded over, and lanterns lit up the path. Children ran around with no care in the world. A woman sat on a porch sewing a blanket. A young boy ran around delivering papers. A tavern boomed with customers.
Despite the size, they were alive.
“You look like a wrongun.”
Snapped out of his thoughts, the ex-god looked down at a child with bright blue eyes and blond curls.
The familiarity burned in his chest.
“And you look like a child.”
“Am not!” Techno only rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time to argue with a child when he had larger issues on his hands. Or more notably, he just didn’t care. “Don’t walk away from me!”
He only sighed, trying to keep his gaze high, searching for some way out of this.
“You have the same markings as the other old man.” Immediately, his body froze.
With the fall to the mortal realm, he was left in the same clothes he was clad in. This left his back bare to the world, the symbol of his godhood and past legacy of his mentors.
They were different for every god, but the style was all the same. Techno’s burned with a vague image of a wolf and too many runes wrapping around his torso.
For it to be recognized, it was out of place. And an answer. “What old man?”
“He’s also a wrongun. But he’s nice and provides weird magical crops-”
“What old man?” Techno pushed, snapping at the young boy.
The blond only scrunched his face. “Geez, rude much? He’s the lonely one on the hill. Everyone knows him. Except you apparently. No wonder you’re a wrongun.”
Hope was dangerous as a god. And for once, he is letting it lead him blind.
***
Even with his memories gone, they dropped him here with all the pieces at his fingertips.
Either they didn’t know, or one of the gods was on his side.
As he ventured further away from the small village, voices and laughter got softer as he made his way to the quaint house on the hill. Someone was there, whistling a tune as they tended a garden.
Only when Techno got closer did the familiarity strike him strongly.
Long blonde hair got longer, more unkempt. The dark green fabric wrapping around his torso kept the tattoo bare, dark wings outlined on his back in black ink. It felt like such a cruel twist, leaving the wings he once soared with as permanent ink instead. Techno could barely recognize the God of Life mark behind it all; the runes faded beyond belief.
Despite the differences, that was most definitely Phil in all his glory.
Now that he was right behind him, the man finally heard his steps, turning around to look up at the former god.
And that wasn’t a face he remembered.
It was Phil, that was obvious. Techno’s hope was correct. But it was just off.
He didn’t look like he had aged a day, despite there definitely being a couple of decades since he fell. Most of all, he looked bright.
Phil’s eyes were a bright blue, his face warm and calm, and his demeanor relaxed.
Time has certainly changed him.
“Can I help you, mate?” The blond smiled, still crouched on the ground, abandoning the flowers behind him.
Daffodils, Techno recognizes.
Soon, his mind caught up to his senses, managing to sputter out, “Phil?”
Who knew the God of War’s weakness was right in front of him?
When his companion’s face instead contorted to confusion, dread started to pool in his stomach.
“Yes?” When Techno didn’t form an answer fast enough, he continued. “Did someone in town send you?”
His head shook, now starkly aware of the long hair falling on his shoulders. He never noticed the braid coming undone back in the woods.
Phil instead stood up, finally, height just under his, just like old times. Up close, he is now all too aware of the differences.
He didn’t like those blue eyes trying to search his deep red ones, all too lost. Uncertain.
Life was never uncertain of War.
“Are you alright?”
“Phil.” He pushed instead. Somewhere, he had to be somewhere in those eyes.
Slowly, the blond nodded. In the same way, he would assess any situation in the god realm. Carefully, he spoke, “And, you are?”
That wasn’t him. In no way could the god who walked through wars with him forget. The very god who didn’t believe that humanity would fail and would share the same sorrow as death. Who, despite every violent nature in Techno’s soul, would counter that in a heartbeat with ease.
That wasn’t him.
Techno could only stare, eyes almost wild as he tried to search. What for? He wasn’t exactly sure.
Oh, but he knew. The same person in front of him was the god changed by war. In every disagreement, he still stood alongside him, sharing the same sentiment. Yet, what once held vindication in his eyes was replaced with a tenderness that wasn’t there before.
The other only looked up when the crow from earlier let out a caw, flying closer to land on his shoulder. Phil only laughed fondly, petting the bird with a curled finger.
Somehow, it was as if the crow was looking at him sadly.
“You-” A sigh. How the hell is he supposed to respond? “Don’t you remember anything?”
The other perked up. “Of what?”
“The gods. The war.” Him. Rather, anything would do.
“Oh, the town talks of the gods a lot. They seem to greatly compare me to them.” While he smiled at the sentiment, it was almost strained.
How could a mere mortal remember more than the very god in front of him? “Don’t you wonder about anything? Those markings on your back, even?” Something had to be there.
The man only shrugged at him. “It's curious that I don’t know where I got the tattoos, but I think they’re quite fitting, the wings. Many of the children like to see them.” He spoke with a smile.
Over and over, Techno just seemed to shake his head more. In disagreement or disbelief, he couldn’t tell. As an answer, he turned just enough to show his own markings, making the other tilt his head.
He looked almost in awe, walking around to look further. “That’s amazing. The writing looks almost similar-”
“They’re the same, Phil.”
Those damn eyes only scrunched together. “I don’t follow-”
“You were a god.”
Silence. Then he just laughed at him.
“I get the stories they say, but I’m certainly not a god.”
Techno could only stare.
No. No. “You were the God of Life, Philza.” Nothing seemed to shine in those eyes. “You helped me in every war, despite hating the bloodshed of it all. You craved for peace in the unlikeliest of places.”
No matter how many words he spewed, none of them seemed to spark anything. “I was the God of War. I am Technoblade. You were my friend throughout the centuries.” Phil only seemed to stare blankly.
He was the one who joined in every victory won, every battle cry, every barren whisper, and every exposed secret.
“You accompanied the Goddess of Death. You loved Kristin.” That is when those blue eyes widened.
Hope was dangerous as a god. Especially when it wasn’t true.
“Truly, I don’t-”
Techno raised his arms, which would’ve looked like an attack anytime else, but let them fall to hold the other’s shoulders. He forced his blood red eyes to meet the other’s sky blue. "I followed the twisting threads of fate to find you. Don't tell me you're not the same person."
Phil sputtered, unsure.
“Please.”
Within the silence, the crow hopped onto his arm, giving a soft nudge when it got closer.
When Phil finally opened his mouth to respond, he could only hang his head, unwanting to see the face he once knew say the words he dreaded to hear.
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t want to admit it, but deep down, Techno knew.
The mortal world didn’t change him.
The gods did.
He did.
The God of War, this powerful entity, never faltering in the frontlines of a fight, crumbled.
Oh, the irony that the one god who saw this side of him would witness his torn soul once more.
In a broken whisper, Techno could only reply with the same statement.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”