My Dark Reflection - Umber888 (2024)

A few decades back, there was a prophecy.

Two twins, one with the power to save the world and one to destroy it. One good, one evil, destined to clash. It was handled by the Chief Interpreter of Prophecies, Dante, and he was eager to plan.

When the twins of destiny were born, the first had hair that shone like a halo, enchanting amber eyes, and little feathery golden wings. Angels were but creatures of legend, yet it seemed that they'd given birth to one. He was named Wilbur.

The parents did not bother to name the second child, born with batlike wings and horns and hooves. The prophecy said that the children had to clash. Therefore, just murdering the beast wouldn't work, according to Dante. He had to be kept alive.

But that left the question of who would do it. The little monster would be a corruptive influence on Wilbur, so it had to be sent away. Lord Billiam III volunteered, promising it would be properly beaten down and it wouldn't stand a chance in a fight with its brother.

-

The first time the monster met Kristin was when it was two.

When it was to be around others, its wings were to be bound and its horns filed down. It was too young to really understand what was happening, but Kristin read to the children of the servants.

And the monster. The monster came to quite like Kristin- she never hit it or called it names. In fact, she often let the monster sit on his lap, since the other children knew better than to hang around it.

Kristin taught all the children to read, taught them basic math, taught them about the world. The monster was always quiet (Billiam was far more tolerant of it when it was quiet) and it didn't occur to it that Kristin didn't know what it was.

When the monster was six, its routine changed. It was no longer allowed to go with the children (the servants made it very clear that the monster was not a child, it was a monster) and not allowed to see Kristin. It missed her.

-

Elsewhere, Wilbur was given everything he wanted practically from the moment he was born.

When he didn't like a tutor or a priest, all he had to do was approach his parents, give them his saddest look, and make up a story about how they had wronged him.

It was lots of fun, and Wilbur loved toeing the line of implausibility with his tales.

When he was five, his parents sat him down and told him about the prophecy, about the monster. The next day, Wilbur's combat training started.

The idea of killing his evil counterpart didn't bother him, of course. Wilbur’s drawings turned to images of him slaying the beast and he began sparring with his friends.

Once, he hit MD really hard and he didn't come back the next day. After that, his parents told him that he was no longer allowed to spar without adult supervision.

How dare they restrict him like that? Wilbur had made a small mistake, and now he had this stupid rule he had to follow? Wilbur screamed, he cried, he hit his parents. His mother tried to explain that he had hurt someone, but Wilbur didn't let her talk. Eventually, he got tired and fell asleep.

He apologized to his parents the next day, and his mother said that once he became a bit better at “knowing his own strength” (whatever that meant) he'd be allowed to spar as much as he wanted.

Wilbur was mildly satiated by this compromise. Everything went back to the way it was (minus MD’s presence) and that was that.

-

Billiam liked to make the monster do hard labor. It sucked, because the monster was always hungry and tired and thirsty and when it finished its chores it was usually punished for not doing them well enough and then sent to bed with a ration.

Today, it had to fill up an artificial pond in Billiam’s garden from a well on the edge of the forest. It was tiring, hard work, and the monster knew it wouldn't be able to finish before sundown, which meant it wouldn't get its ration.

It might not get its morning ration, either. The thought made the monster’s stomach cramp with hunger.

In some of the stories that Kristin had read to the monster and the children, people got food directly from the forest. But the monster didn't know what was edible, and knew that doing chores after eating something that it wasn't supposed felt awful. Plus, if anyone saw it slacking off, it would be punished. The monster hated being punished.

The bucket it hauled out of the well was heavy. The monster was eight, probably. Billiam hadn't mentioned its age in a while, and while it couldn't be certain that it hadn't been a full year since it had started being right, it hadn't been a full year since the first time Billiam mentioned the monster being eight. Probably.

Either way, it took the monster a while to get the bucket between the well and pond, especially when the bucket was full. Water would slosh everywhere, and the monster knew it wasn't supposed to have any but did anyways because the water was good and made it feel better, if only a little bit.

At around midday, the monster spotted a blond man with feathery black wings dressed in green at the well. It looked like he was looking for the bucket.

The monster froze. Had it done something it wasn't supposed to? Nobody had explicitly given it permission to use the bucket, but it was pretty sure that the task at hand was impossible otherwise.

It did its best to suppress the shaking of its hands as it returned to the well.

“Ah, so that's where that old thing was!!” The man exclaimed chipperly. The monster took a hesitant step back, before sucking up its fear and handing the bucket over to the man.

He smiled. He didn't chide the monster, or go to get someone who would.

Chances were, Billiam would still hear about it, and the monster would still get in trouble.

“Are you going to need this again when I'm done?” The man asked. The monster paused, then nodded. The man nodded back. “Alright, made. I'll just be a minute.”

And he was. The monster had no issues once the man left.

Somehow, Billiam never heard about the encounter. The monster only really managed to fill the pond a fifth or so of the way, so Billiam decided that the monster would be filling the pond until it was done. The monster wasn't looking forward to it.

-

Elsewhere, Wilbur was thriving.

His friends hung off of every word he said, always thrilled to chat with him and just generally be in the angel’s presence.

But one day, his friend, Niki, snapped.

“That's a pretty necklace,” he commented. Niki had reached up to the gem protectively.

“My mother sent it to me as a gift, since she missed my birthday. It means a lot to me,” she'd retorted. The pendant was a pale pink, a perfect pear with three drops on each side, the ones closer to the pendant being more saturated than the ones on the ends.

It was beautiful, and shined in the light. The silver of the chain complimented the stones beautifully, and it hung slightly oddly around Niki’s neck.

It would look much better on Wilbur. He knew how to pull a necklace off, unlike his friend.

“I want it,” Wilbur demanded.

“No,” Niki responded. She closed her eyes for a brief moment.

“I'm the angel of the prophecy. You have to give it to me,” Wilbur insisted. He wanted that necklace. Niki met his eyes, and Wilbur saw something cold that day that he'd never seen from anyone up to that point.

It was pure, unfiltered hatred.

“You always get exactly what you want, Wilbur. All you need to do is go whining to the nearest adult and they give it to you, no matter who it hurts. But you know what? A necklace isn't going to help you kill your twin. You're just a spoiled brat,” Niki snapped. Wilbur took a step back.

Nobody had ever spoken to him like that. How dare she?

“Excuse me?!” Wilbur shouted.

“You heard me,” Niki shouted back.

“I am not a spoiled brat!!” Wilbur exclaimed. Niki rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please. Do you hear yourself?” Niki sneered. “I'm leaving, and I'm not coming back.”

“Fine!!” Wilbur shrieked. “I don't need you anyways!!”

And on her way out the door, Niki turned to Wilbur one last time.

“Oh, and Wilbur? How do we even know that you're the good child of the prophecy?” And with that, she was gone.

Niki wasn't allowed near Wilbur after that, not that she seemed to care.

-

The monster ran into the man at the well again the next day. Its hands were hurting and it'd overslept and missed his morning rations.

The man was waiting at the well, and the monster cautiously approached him and offered him the bucket.

“Are you fetching water for your parents?” The man asked, lowering the bucket into the well. The monster shook its head. “Hm. What are you using it for, then?”

“I'm under orders to fill up a new pond in the Lord's garden,” the monster responded softly. The man paused.

“Oh. That seems like a lot of work, mate.”

The monster nodded. It was unsure as to whether it was appropriate to speak, so it stayed quiet. The man just stood there.

The monster really didn't want to nag the man. It needed to behave.

“Where are your parents?” The man asked, at long last.

“I- I don't have any, sir,” the monster replied. The man sighed.

“That's- alright. I'm Phil.” Phil stared at the monster for a minute, then two. It was starting to make the monster uncomfortable. Phil obviously hadn't realized what it was, so it wouldn't be a good idea to tell him.

The monster wouldn't be surprised if it got into huge trouble once Phil figured it out. Phil pulled the bucket out of the well.

“...right. I'll, uh, be back in a minute, mate.” He walked off with the bucket, and the monster sank to the ground, resting its head against the stone of the well.

Its wings hurt. It was tired. But it had work to do.

Phil was… weird. Part of it was that the monster had no idea how to interact with people who didn't know what he was. The closest he'd ever come was Kristin, and he hadn’t talked to her in years.

The monster ran a hand through its hair. Its horns were still adequately short, meaning it would hopefully be a while before they were filed again. Having them filed hurt.

But it would give the monster’s identity away if they started to poke out of its hair, which would get it in trouble. Phil was weird, but it was better that he was weird than angry.

Eventually, Phil returned with the bucket. He seemed hesitant to hand it over to the monster.

Somehow, he must've figured it out.

-

It happened a few days after Wilbur's half-birthday celebration. His ears began to hurt- like something was poking out of them.

“Feathers,” his father had whispered. “You're growing feathers.”

Well, Wilbur didn't like it, but his parents couldn't stop it this time. He just had to ride it out.

So he complained.

And complained.

And complained.

Vaguely, he remembered the time Niki called him a spoiled brat.

The pain died down, eventually, and Wilbur had white feathers on his ears. Everyone cooed over how angelic they made him look.

He disagreed.

Wilbur couldn't help but despise the little feathers. He thought they made him look animalistic, like some sort of overgrown bird.

Yet at the same time, he knew he couldn't voice that opinion. Wilbur simply made the quiet decision to grow his hair out, to make sure it covered his ears.

Nobody questioned it, and eventually, the comments about the pale feathers stopped. Wilbur couldn't help but feel proud of that- his perfect hair covering up a feature he couldn't stand.

-

The monster never got in trouble for his conversations with Phil. Upon seeing the blisters on its hands after the pond was filled, Billiam decided that it was on the monster to provide water for the entire estate.

That meant that all day, he was running to and from the well. The kitchen needed five buckets in the morning, two around noon, and five at night. Each lavatory needed three a day, but it didn't particularly matter when the monster got to them. The gardens insisted that they had another water source, so the monster didn't have to handle that, at least.

All day, he was hauling water. And once or twice a day, the monster would run into Phil.

The man remained nice, and usually shared some small anecdote while he was using the bucket.

“So, today, my son, Tommy, managed to climb onto the counter. I have no idea how he managed to do that. Toddlers are just like that,” Phil had shared one time.

“Today, someone tried to sell me a single apple for nine bronze pieces. That's almost a silver piece!! An apple is worth three, max,” he'd complained another time.

The monster liked talking to him. Sometimes, Phil brought the monster something to snack on. The monster made a point not to eat it too fast because the food Phil brought was good, and Phil always looked sad when he did.

But today, the monster was tired. Angry red streaks lined his arms because he'd messed something up yesterday (Billiam hadn't bothered to specify what) and they hurt. Usually, the monster didn't receive injuries on its arms, but Billiam was too angry to care about the monster staining something while working last night.

The monster had still been careless. It had rolled up its sleeves and forgotten to roll them back down when it approached Phil.

But when it arrived at the well, Phil's attention had immediately turned to the injuries.

“Mate, what happened?” He asked. The monster quickly rolled down its sleeves, as if that would reverse the damage done.

“N- nothing. I'm fine,” it lied. Phil obviously didn't believe it, so it had to come up with something fast. Sometimes, when the monster was pressed against something, red lines would show up on its arms. “I, uh, ran into the fence.”

“Mate, that doesn't look like you ran into a fence,” Phil replied.

“What, you've never run into a fence? They put up a pretty good fight,” the monster joked, holding out the bucket. Phil instead used the opportunity to grab the monster’s arm, rolling the sleeve up.

“Mate, some of these cuts are pretty deep. We should probably get them treated. Do you want to wait here while I grab some medical supplies, or come with me while I go grab them?” Phil asked, leaving no room for the monster to escape.

Except there was. It meant that it would have to be more careful moving forwards so as to not run into Phil again, but it was possible.

“I'll stay here,” the monster whispered.

“Alright. I'll be back in just a moment, alright?”

The monster nodded, and Phil sprinted off into the woods.

Once he was out of view, it took a step back. It was going to miss him, but it wasn't worth getting in trouble.

The monster was destined to destroy the world if it was not stopped, and it knew it. It would inevitably kill Phil if it was left unchecked, and there was only one being in the world that could kill it.

Billiam was certain that it had to be an actual fight, not just the monster trying to get itself killed. The monster often found itself wondering how the fight would play out. Would its death be fast or slow, easy or painful? Would it ever stand a chance against its sacred sibling?

It was going to miss Phil, but it had to go. It turned back towards the estate.

The monster didn't want to move. It sighed. It had to. Billiam would be livid with it, but it couldn't live with Phil knowing the truth.

“Thanks for being so patient, mate,” Phil called, making the monster jump. It turned back to face the man, who approached him and set the box he was carrying on the edge of the well.

The man grabbed the monster's hands, rolling the sleeves of its shirt up as far as they would go before pausing.

“Mate, could you take your shirt off for me? I want to make sure I treat all of these.”

The monster shook its head vigorously. Phil sighed.

“Please, mate? I know it might be a bit uncomfortable for you to take your shirt off for someone you barely know, but I promise I won't do anything, I swear to the gods.”

The monster still couldn't do it and tried to pull away. Phil closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Okay. If I let you borrow the med kit, are you going to take care of these injuries?” He checked. The monster shook its head. “Well, thank you for being honest, at least.”

Phil pulled a bottle out of the box and began rubbing it on the monster’s right arm, near its wrist. It stung. It made sense that the monster was being punished, but it didn't want to cause trouble, so it didn't even flinch.

It was slightly proud of itself for enduring the pain without complaint.

“You're doing well, mate,” Phil told it as he moved closer to the monster's elbow. “Whenever I disinfect Tommy's cuts, he starts crying like I stabbed him. He's a little guy, but he's got some big lungs.”

Once Phil got above the monster’s elbow, he pulled some bandages out of the box. The man pulled bandages tightly yet gently around the limb. The monster's breath hitched as Phil retrieved a pair of scissors and snipped the bandage.

Come to think of it, why did he even bandage the injury? The monster's injuries all healed in due time and they were never treated. It had seen servants require medical care, but it had never needed it itself.

It didn't take long for Phil to finish bandaging the monster up. When he finished, he gave the monster a look that it couldn't decipher.

“Are you sure you're not willing to let me look at any other injuries you've got?” Phil pleaded. The monster paused.

If it removed its shirt, then Phil would see the wing binder. He'd inevitably ask about it, and the monster would have no choice but to reveal itself.

It was too late to run away and just avoid Phil forever, especially since the monster still needed access to the well. But it could show Phil the truth to make sure that he avoided it as much as possible.

The monster didn't want to, but it tugged its shirt up. Phil's eyes widened as he noted the binder.

“Gods, mate…” he trailed off. “They really don't go easy on you in there, do they?”

The monster shrank back, and Phil forced a smile.

“Hey, it's okay. Why don't we just get this off-” he paused to untie the bottom of the binder, loosening it until it slipped off. The pain in the monster's wings subsided, and they went limp. “-and we can take a look at those injuries?”

Phil was gentle, applying the stinging liquid and bandages. He moved around the monster's wings, not making any sort of comment about them. Finally, when it seemed that the man was finally done, he turned to the monster's wings.

“Wings are pretty tricky, mate. It's unhealthy to bind them for more than a few hours a week,” he warned. The monster nodded, but knew it couldn't take the man's advice. “Gods, your membranes look like they've seen hell. It's a miracle they've healed so well.”

It wasn't a miracle, it was magic. The monster had to be intact to clash with the hero. That was simply how it was.

“Try and take it easy with them, alright? I'm not sure how to treat wing injuries on wings like yours,” Phil admitted. The monster stared at him, confused.

Did he not realize that it was the monster of the prophecy?

Surely, he did. Surely, he was just being polite, so the monster didn't murder him.

But even if Phil was just being naive, he'd realize sooner or later.

-

Wilbur began training his magical abilities in private. It was exciting when he discovered them, the way he could make things hum with his power.

The issue was making that hum do anything.

He took to experimenting in his room. Wilbur had a lamp he wasn't particularly fond of, and practiced on that.

He let the hum build and build, and eventually, the lamp exploded.

Niki’s comment about him not being the good child rang in his ears when it happened. Besides, there was no way that ability would be useful until he fought the monster, and even then, that was only if there were things to charge with magic.

Instead, Wilbur worked on his control. He experimented with charging a few different things with the hum. Inanimate objects exploded, and servants didn't really seem to react much when Wilbur charged them. But if Wilbur charged himself? Oh, that one was fun.

He quickly came to realize that when he charged himself, people would become enthralled by his voice- especially if he was singing. Wilbur requested a music tutor, and was swiftly granted one.

But his music tutor taught him well. They were a talented bard named Mellohi, and taught Wilbur to play a wide variety of instruments ranging from the piano to the flute.

But the one that Wilbur really loved was the guitar. He could charge it without issue, the effect seemingly multiplying the effect of his singing.

It didn't take long for him to get good. Music was an easy task that made the hours fly by, and people needed less and less persuasion to let him spend the day strumming at his guitar.

But everyone wanted results, of course, so Wilbur had to perform in a concert.

Which led him to where he was now- stepping onto a concert stage with over a hundred people in the audience, all eager to see the prophesied hero perform.

His father had picked out a suit for him, his mother had done his hair and preened his wings. His guitar was in perfect condition, and had been tuned backstage.

When Wilbur reached center stage, the crowd burst into applause. He could see nothing but shining faces eager to be basking in his greatness.

Wilbur strummed the strings of his guitar, and began singing.

The exact lyrics didn't matter, but it was a song of victory, of triumph, of beating one’s enemies and spitting on their graves. The upbeat melody combined with the crude lyrics made for an excellent tune, but before long, the song finished.

That was fine. The concert was three tunes long, which led Wilbur into the second one.

His second song was a bit more melancholy. It was a song of confusion tinged with loneliness, of being unsure of how to proceed. Wilbur sang of high expectations and the fear of failure, before concluding it with a promise of success.

That left his final song- titled Niki’s ballad and written by Wilbur himself.

It was a song of bitterness and hurt feelings, of doubt and betrayal. It was not a ballad, like the name implied- it was much too angry and complex for that. It was filled with Wilbur's pain and anger towards the girl, but didn't truly address the issue.

When he finished, Wilbur bowed.

“Another!!” The crowd shouted. “We want another!!’

Wilbur assumed they would be satisfied with one more, so he agreed to play them one more tune.

He selected an easy, simple song he'd memorized early in his education. It was a song the entire audience was familiar with, and they began singing along. At the end, he stood up and bowed again.

“More!!” The crowd shouted. “Play another song!!”

The energy slightly unnerved Wilbur. He hadn't been charging his guitar very much, and hadn't charged his voice at all. But they insisted, so he hesitantly plucked out one more brief song on his guitar. It had no lyrics, but was the only thing Wilbur could think of to play.

Yet it still wasn't enough. When he finished, the audience erupted in anger.

“Keep going!!” They demanded.

“I- I've played all of the songs I've prepared, and more!!” Wilbur argued.

“We want more!!” The horde insisted. Wilbur felt… scared.

It didn't make sense. When he told people to stop, they stopped. Nobody was supposed to demand that he keep pushing himself the way the mob was.

“No!!” Wilbur declared. “I'm done. The concert is over.”

“You're not!! You have to play another song!!” The crowd roared. People began to move towards the stage. Wilbur stepped back, and began charging his voice with magic.

“Go home!!” He called.

And the people listened. Like zombies, they all filed out of the concert hall, leaving Wilbur alone, panting onstage.

When he went backstage, he found that his people had left, as well. Wilbur was forced to walk home alone, in the cold. He stuck out like a sore thumb- even in the upper class neighborhood the concert hall was in, most people weren't walking around in suits. That was before even considering the fact that there was a ring of light that emanated from Wilbur’s hair.

When he got home, he was praised for how well he did. The next morning, he fired Mellohi and demanded to have an hour of private time a day, where nobody could hear him, so he could practice the guitar.

He wasn't willing to repeat the concert incident unintentionally. But he could think of ways to weaponize it against the monster, when push came to shove.

The monster was likely discovering its own magic. Wilbur would need to get his under control before he could challenge it.

He could probably make an argument for why he should hunt down the beast once he had a bit more combat training. He just needed to be patient.

-

After the incident with the monster's injuries, Phil became a lot more attentive towards it. He was at the well more often, had more food for it, and heavily encouraged it to take more breaks. The monster got into the habit of lying to him about injuries, but Phil would find out anyway when he made the monster take off its binder.

Phil was a strange, strange man. The more time passed, the more certain the monster was that Phil was severely underinformed on the events of the world, because he never called out the monster for what it was.

In fact, he seemed convinced that the monster was an ordinary little boy.

And, well, the monster never told him. But its horns had gotten to the point where they poked through its hair and the man still said nothing.

Lately, things had gotten worse. Billiam was never satisfied anymore, and the monster had heard stories of some event that Billiam had attended with an angel that had gone horribly wrong.

He'd been reminding the monster of what it was, and it had tried to confess what was happening with Phil, but Billiam hadn't believed it. He had raged at the monster, leaving it limping slowly as it went through its tasks.

It wouldn't take long to heal. The monster's injuries never did. It kept calm, moving through its daily tasks.

Around midday, it saw Phil at the well. The man was carrying a basket and was milling around, waiting for the monster. He smiled when he initially saw it, but the smile dropped when he noticed the limp.

“Mate, what happened?” He asked. The monster looked away.

“Nothing,” it whispered. Phil took a deep breath, and released it.

“I know it's not nothing. Can you please tell me why you're limping?”

“I'm not limp- I mean, uh, I tripped over a fence,” the monster lied. Phil let out an exasperated sigh.

“I don't want to play this game again. Someone's been hurting you, and it doesn't look like they're going to stop. You're injured, and that injury is something that you need to let rest. Carrying water around all day is only going to make it worse,” he explained. The monster shrank back.

“It doesn't matter,” it murmured, so quietly that it thought the comment escaped Phil’s notice for a moment. Phil knelt down until he was at the monster's eye level.

“Mate, of course it matters.”

“It doesn't. I'm not- I'm not like your son,” it breathed.

“Of course you're not like Tommy. You're an older and more responsible kid than he is,” Phil replied, completely missing the point. The monster let out an annoyed huff. Its stomach hurt.

“I’m not a kid,” the monster responded. Phil paused.

“You're an adult?”

“N- no! I'm a monster,” the monster confessed. It let itself fall to the ground, but Phil caught it.

“No, you're not.”

“I'm- I'm the monster of- of the prophecy.”

“The prophecy?” Phil asked, puzzled. He really lived under a rock. The monster took a deep breath, making a futile attempt to stop its hands from shaking. Why were its hands shaking? It hadn't hurt them.

“Two twins. One- one good, one evil. Destined to- destined to clash. And if the evil one-” the monster cut itself off abruptly. It wanted to cry, but there was no use for its tears. It owed Phil an explanation. The monster closed its eyes, waiting for Phil to grow angry, to call it all the names that everyone else used for it.

Phil wrapped his arms around the monster, and lifted it up. He was going to drop it down the well. It wouldn't kill it, but it would make it a pain for the monster to do anything.

“I like to think I know a thing or two about prophecies,” Phil started. “The buggers are rarely what they seem, I'll tell you that. There's an old prophecy about a mage destroying her city. Everyone was scared of the local mage academy, of what it would bring. The academy grew stricter, expelling students who weren't perfect little mages. Well, one girl had a great talent for magic, but a sharp tongue and a bad attitude. She was expelled, and proceeded to rework the entire system of the city to the point that even the name was changed. Do you understand what I'm getting at?”

The monster shook its head. Phil adjusted his hold on the monster, tucking its head under his chin.

“That's alright. She did destroy the city. She pushed a lot of bad people into less prominent positions and fixed a lot of problems. But by the time she was done, it wasn't the same place as when she started. Everything felt different. She didn't fly off the handle and start zapping people with her magic, but she changed it so much that it had practically nothing in common with when it started. You got that?” He asked. The monster nodded. “Prophecies are rarely as cut and dry as a good child and an evil child. This kind of prophecy tends to be the self-fulfilling kind.”

The monster didn't know what the self fulfilling kind was. It knew it probably shouldn't ask, but it still wanted to know.

“What does that mean?” It whispered. It instantly regretted it, tensing for some kind of reprimand-

“It means that the prophecy being there makes people do things that would make it come true. Like, if a king and queen had a baby, but a prophet warned them that the baby would grow up to kill them, they might toss the baby into the sea. The baby might then be picked up and raised by pirates who didn't like the queen and king, and the baby might grow up to decide that the way to make the people that adopted them proud was to kill the king and queen,” Phil explained.

The monster nodded.

“So I'm bad because people taught me to be bad?” It checked. Phil offered it a grim smile.

“Not quite. I don't think you're evil, mate. You're a sweet kid, but you're hurting. I think that you can only take so much before you snap, but you're not any more evil than that mage.”

The monster (or was it something else? What was it, if not a monster? There was a more neutral word for monster that it had heard somewhere, at some point) fought the lump in its throat. It buried its face into Phil's shirt.

“Let's get you home, mate,” Phil murmured, running a hand through the monster's hair. A quiet sob wracked its body as Phil began walking. The bucket was left alone at the well.

Later on, it would be found, and people would assume that the creature had jumped down the well in a desperate attempt to escape its life.

-

It took about two weeks for word to reach Wilbur of his counterpart’s escape. His people swore to him that once the monster was tracked down, it would be chained up until the time came for Wilbur to take it down.

He was excited. He'd been burning through trainers faster and faster, as he was excellent at pushing them to their limits. Wilbur was a talented young man, and he'd been growing better at pumping magic into his voice.

It was a form of charmspeak, he'd realized. He could use it to get almost anything he wanted.

Wilbur wanted to kill his twin, but that fool Billiam had lost the monster. It was especially frustrating since he was sure he could kill the thing between his charmspeak, magic, and general fighting skills.

Surely, the monster had no way of knowing the things Wilbur knew. So he went to interrogate the servants of Billiam's estate.

“Master Soot,” a butler greeted upon his arrival. “I'm afraid you're not allowed on the premises-”

“Oh, I assure you I am,” Wilbur replied, charmspeak in full effect. The butler nodded.

“Of course. What can I do for you, Master?”

“I need you to bring all of the servants who the prophesized monster interacted with on a daily basis. Try and make it quick,” Wilbur answered. The butler bowed, and made quick work of scurrying off.

It didn't take long for a pretty maid to arrive, tailed by several others.

“What is your relation to the monster?” Wilbur asked before the maid even had time to stop. She smiled.

“I ration water for the kitchen. The monster had been tasked with providing it for… about three months, I think, before his escape. Master Billiam would know the exact timing.”

“Do you know where it went?” Wilbur questioned.

“Down the well.”

Wilbur repeated the process with all the other servants. They came from all over the estate, each citing that the monster brought them water. Once they'd all proven themselves useless, he summoned Billiam.

“What do you need, Wilbur Soot?” Billiam asked. Wilbur paused.

“It's Master Soot to you. And I need to know about the monster.”

“We've been doing everything in our power to prevent it from growing strong enough to contest your power. It's fed twice a day, and does hard labor before being properly beaten down at the end of the day.”

“You make it do hard labor?!” Wilbur exclaimed. If the monster was building muscle, that could be a problem. “You idiot. It should be chained up, or locked in a cell at best.”

“When we find it, we will ensure that is what happens,” Billiam promised.

“No, you won't. You will alert me immediately, and bring me to kill it,” Wilbur ordered. “Where is it now?”

“The well. I've already sent men out to search it, but the monster hasn't turned up yet.”

Wilbur gritted his teeth. He didn't want to search a slimy old well. Perhaps it was destiny for them to meet down there.

A horrifying thought struck Wilbur. What if he was forced to make the well collapse and kill them both in the process? He shuddered.

“Why hasn't anyone found the monster yet?”

“The well leads into an aquifer. My men can't breathe underwater. Although,” Billiam paused. “Neither can the monster. It won't kill it, but its muscles will fail it, and it'll turn blue from lack of air. It won't kill it, but it will trap it.”

“So you think it's stuck?” Wilbur checked. Billiam nodded.

“This gives you more time to prepare. We will begin digging soon enough, and will rip the monster out of the aquifer. You should focus on your training, Master Soot,” he suggested. Wilbur paused.

He could follow the monster down the well, or he could let Billiam do the hard part, and deal with the consequences of losing the monster.

Wilbur wasn't dying today.

Technically, people could get hurt. Wilbur knew that. But he was unwilling to fight a battle where he could so easily lose everything.

“That sounds good,” Wilbur agreed.

-

The creature was allowed to cry until it fell asleep, and by the time it woke up, the sun had sunk below the horizon and risen once again. The monster felt terrible about it- Phil wasn't going to feel like he could send it back because he was terrified it would get hurt.

The monster was selfish. It should've told Phil about its enhanced healing. Its leg was already feeling good as new, and Phil had made it take off the binder the previous night, so its wings didn't hurt, either.

Of course, it stayed in the room it was left in when it woke up. It didn't want to scare Phil's wife or son. The monster could hear the whole family downstairs. It couldn't make out what they were saying. They were probably talking about it. It probably wasn't anything good.

The monster lay there for a while, soaking in the morning sun and appreciating the warm blankets while they lasted. Eventually a soft knock sounded on the door. The creature wasn't rude enough to ignore it. It swung the door open to reveal Kristin.

“Hello there, Phil's told me a lot about you. Could you tell me your name?” She asked. The creature glanced away. So she didn't remember it.

It opened its mouth to speak, but its voice died in its throat. It shook its head. Kristin offered him a sad smile.

“That's alright. My name is Kristin. Would you like to come downstairs and get something to eat? Phil told me you haven't had anything since yesterday.”

Hesitantly, the creature nodded. Kristin took its hand and guided it down, into the kitchen. It was a warm, cozy place. Tommy was sitting in a high chair, mashing blueberries with his tiny hands and beating his little wings. He was adorable.

Phil was cooking, and offered the monster a smile when it came in. He pulled out a chair and set a plate of food down in front of it, and Kristin guided the creature over to the food. Both of them sat down moments after to eat their food.

The monster stared at the plate. It had some blueberries, but also some eggs, and some brown substance it didn't recognize. Hesitantly, it poked at the brown stuff, before lifting it to its mouth.

It was good. The creature quickly went about shoveling the rest of the food into its mouth as quickly as possible, much to the dismay of Phil and Kristin. It shrank back in its seat when it was done, awaiting a punishment.

“We're going to have to teach him how to use utensils,” Kristin whispered.

“I'll add it to the list,” Phil whispered back. The monster slouched back in its chair, trying to hide its embarrassment. Its wings pressed uncomfortably against the back of it.

“We should probably see about giving him a bath, shouldn't we?” Phil suggested. Kristin nodded.

“I'll see about drawing the water and getting it ready if you're willing to wrangle him through the process.”

“Sounds good to me,” Phil agreed. Kristin gave him a peck on the cheek and scurried out of the kitchen. The creature stared up at Phil.

Baths, objectively, sucked. Nobody liked being scrubbed with a scratchy brush in water so cold they were left shivering, but they were a part of life, especially since the creature could admit that they helped with its smell.

“How are you feeling, mate?” Phil asked. The monster wrapped its arms around itself. It didn't really want to talk, but it was rude not to.

“Fine,” it breathed. Phil offered it a gentle smile.

“I know that this is probably pretty confusing right now, but I promise that you'll get used to it. We just want to see you happy, mate,” he promised. The creature paused.

“What if I'm never happy?” It asked. Phil chuckled.

“Almost everyone has something that makes them happy, and if they don't, there's usually something deeper going on. If that's the case with you, we'll help you through it.”

“Okay,” the creature agreed.

“Da!!” Tommy cried, flailing in his seat. Phil sighed.

“We're going to need to bathe the little guy once you're done. Tommy loves making a mess of himself. Hopefully he'll grow out of it in the next year or two.”

The monster just nodded. Phil sat there, staring at it. After a few minutes, he spoke up again.

“Those are the only clothes you have,” he noted. The creature nodded again. “When was the last time they were washed?”

“I dunno. I have a few different sets, but I'm not in charge of the laundry,” the creature explained. Phil stood up, approaching it. He gently pinched at the fabric of its shirt.

“It doesn't look particularly dirty… but this doesn't have slits for your wings, either. We'll have to see about getting you some things from town.”

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” The monster asked. Instantly, it regretted questioning Phil. “I- I mean, uh, people general- generally don't like me.”

“Don't worry, mate. Kristin and I can figure out your sizes beforehand, and then go in without you. Sound good?” Phil checked. The creature nodded timidly. A hand found itself on its shoulder, and it flinched. “Hey. You're our kid now, got that? That means that we're going to take care of you and protect you.”

The creature’s heart pounded in his chest. He had no idea how Phil and Kristin had gotten so attached to him so quickly, but something about it warmed his heart.

Phil looked like there was something else he wanted to say, but he didn't. The creature relaxed a bit. It was nice- being in Phil’s house, where he was actually welcome.

For some reason, Phil and Kristin seemed to like it. The creature feared that the kindness wasn't genuine, but soothed itself with the knowledge of how easy it would be to run.

After a few more minutes, Kristin returned.

“Hey, could you grab something for him to wear?” Phil asked. Kristin nodded. “Alright. Let's get you bathed, yeah?”

The monster nodded, and let Phil guide it to a side room. It contained a large tub filled with water and a door. Next to the tub were some shelves filled with several bottles.

“Do you… know how to take a bath?” Phil asked. The creature nodded. Phil stepped over to the shelves and grabbed a glass bottle. “Okay. This has soap, so you should rub it all over your skin. Don't put it on your face or-”

“I know where not to put soap,” the creature interrupted. It shouldn't have done that. Phil was going to be mad, and-

He grabbed another bottle.

“Alright, mate. This is shampoo. It goes in your hair. Rub it in until it gets all sudzy, and rinse it out. Once you're all clean, grab a towel.” He paused, signaling to a rack of towels right behind the creature. “Any of them will work. When you're done, either shout or come find me or Kristin, and we'll give you some new clothes.”

The creature gave a single nod, and with that, Phil passed it the bottle, grinned, and left. The monster sighed, and removed its clothes. It stepped into the water with a grimace, expecting it to be frigid, but instead it was pleasantly warm.

It cleaned itself quickly, getting all of the dirt and grime off of its body. It even picked the mud out of its hooves. It wanted to stay in the water, but instead it stepped out of the tub.

The creature grabbed a towel, bundling itself up in it. It was warm and fluffy, and helped it avoid shivering.

From there, it paused. Phil said to either shout or come find him or Kristin.

It would probably be pretty weird for them to see a naked monster child running around their house, even one bundled up in a towel.

But the creature didn't like being loud. It was much more comfortable to stay in a safe, silent box.

But still, it swallowed its anxiety.

“Uh- I- I'm done!!” It shouted. It stepped back, waiting nervously for a response. It heard feet thumping through the house, and Kristin opened the door.

The monster would've preferred if it had been Phil. That was rude, though. It couldn't say that.

“Alright, I've got some clothes for you. They're going to be pretty big on you, but they should work for the time being. We'll get you some clothes of your own tomorrow,” she promised, passing a bundle of fabric into the monster's hands. It nodded, accepting the clothes. Kristin smiled, and shut the door.

The creature tugged on the oversized shirt and shorts she had left it. Predictably, they were very baggy, but they got the job done. When it finished, it opened the door.

Kristin was still waiting for it. She offered it another smile.

“You look adorable!! There's one more thing, though. Could you turn around for me?” She asked. The creature obliged silently, and Kristin reached into a slit in the shirt that it hadn't noticed and gently pulled out its wing. She repeated it with the other side. “There. That's a bit more comfortable, isn't it?”

The creature paused for a moment, then nodded. Kristin’s hand found its way to the monster's shoulder, and this time, it managed not to flinch.

“Do you feel like telling me your name yet?” She shot.

The creature blanched for a moment, struggling to come up with a response. Right. Kristin and Phil were convinced it was a child, and even if it didn't necessarily agree yet, they had sound reasoning.

And children had names, didn't they?

“Uh, Tech- no,” it paused for a moment. What was a normal name? Dave? It could go with that, couldn't it?

“Techno?” Kristin checked. Scratch that thought, it could run with her idea.

“Mm-hmm.” The creature nodded. “Techno- Technoblade.”

“Technoblade. Well, that's a unique name,” Kristin laughed. The creature winced.

“I can, uh-”

“No, no, it's a good name. It stands out, just like you do. In a good way,” she promised.

“Okay,” Technoblade agreed. “Can we go find Phil?”

-

Wilbur returned home frustrated. His parents couldn't do anything to console him, nor could his tutors or friends.

No, it seemed that the only person he wanted to see was the prophet Dante. Dante wasn't the one who came up with Wilbur’s prophecy, rather, he was the one who interpreted it. It was very convenient, because Wilbur could ask him for details.

Wilbur knew Dante resided in the prophet temple near the center of town. While anyone was allowed to practice divination under new legislation, it was still custom to send any child with a gift for it to be trained at the temple.

From there, they'd become a prophet, speaking prophecies for Dante and other interpreters to figure out.

Of course, Dante was the most important of these interpreters. He also ran the temple. All in all, Dante was a very important man.

“Hello,” Wilbur started as he approached one of the temple's guards. “I'd like to speak with Dante.”

“Wilbur Soot,” one of the guards grumbled. “He's been expecting you.”

The two let Wilbur in, but didn't offer to guide him. That was annoying.

The temple was all white marble columns and dramatic arches. There were a number of depictions of fulfilled prophecies in murals or carvings on the wall. Wilbur couldn't wait to join them.

A young prophet, only a year or two older than Wilbur, was standing in the middle of the room. Wilbur could tell because of the ugly white robes.

“Take me to Dante,” Wilbur ordered. The prophet bit their lip.

“Uh… I'm sorry, who are you? Dante doesn't take unannounced guests…” the prophet trailed off.

“I'm Wilbur Soot!!” Wilbur exclaimed. “The hero of the prophecy of the twins!!”

“Oh- uh, right this way, mis- uh, Master Soot,” the prophet stuttered, guiding Wilbur to a winding stairwell. The prophet led Wilbur to the third floor, and down a hallway.

The two passed several doors before the prophet knocked on one. It swung open. Dante was on the other end, looking fairly pissed.

“What excuse do you have for interrupting me?!” He snapped. The prophet shrank back.

“Um- apologies, Dante. I have- I have Wilbur Soot with me. He wants to talk to you,” they muttered, staring at the floor.

“Ah, Soot!!” Dante exclaimed, wrapping an arm around the boy. “Let's talk in my office.”

Wilbur was pulled into Dante's office and the door was shut behind him.

“So, what brings you to my office, Wilbur Soot?” Dante asked, signaling to an artistically designed stool in front of Dante’s desk. He slid into a much more comfortable chair behind it, and Wilbur had half a mind to ask to switch.

“I need more details on the monster. Where are we destined to clash? What powers does the monster have?” Wilbur asked. Dante leaned back, rubbing his hands together.

“The time for your fight is not now, nor is it near. It was inevitable that the monster would manage to gather some power before your clash, all we can hope is that Billiam's efforts have sufficiently disabled it.”

“I already talked to Billiam. He was useless. The monster wasn't injured in any way that would take long to heal, just underfed,” Wilbur scoffed.

“Being underfed when small can limit how big it'll grow,” Dante noted. “But it seemed like the monster had some kind of enhanced healing ability. I do worry that it'll weaponize that against you… but of course, there's only so much we can do when faced with destiny. We'll just have to ensure you're adequately prepared to face your opponent.”

“It doesn't change Billiam's failure,” Wilbur complained. Dante sighed.

“At the end of the day, destiny is destiny. The only sort of magical ability the monster has displayed thus far is its enhanced healing. I don't know when you're going to clash, but it's doubtful it'll be before you're fully grown.”

“But-”

“And it'll be a battle for the ages. Now, I trust I've given you some new insight. I have work to do, and so you should probably leave.”

It took Wilbur twenty minutes to realize that Dante had used charmspeak on him. No wonder he ran the prophet temple.

At first, he was angry. But eventually, he came to terms with the fact that Dante had to deal with his own Nikis, people who wanted to stand in his way.

If Dante mistook Wilbur for one of them again, he'd regret it, but Wilbur was willing to let the error go this time.

-

It was maybe two months after Technoblade started living with Phil and Kristin that it noticed the pain in his tailbone.

It was vaguely annoying, but Techno expected it to go away. Its injuries never lasted long, and Phil and Kristin always made such a big deal out of them.

Technoblade made a point to sit up straighter to avoid agitating the spot, but it just didn't get better.

It was frustrating, but Technoblade knew how to bite its tongue. Besides, Phil and Kristin were super nice. He didn't want to burden them. They already gave him his own room with a super comfy bed and more clothes than he could wear in a week.

Maybe that's how the scene one morning around three months after Technoblade moved in that struck the living room happened.

Technoblade himself had been sitting on the floor, reading a book, while Tommy ran around playing with his toys. Phil was technically supervising, but he was also reading.

Tommy was hanging out behind Techno, goofing around with Henry the cow. Suddenly, he turned to Techno.

“What's ‘at?” He asked, pointing at Techno's pants.

“What? My pants?” Techno checked. Tommy shook his head.

“Nooooo. ‘At.” He poked Techno's tailbone, and f*ck that hurt. Technoblade couldn't help sharp breath it sucked in, catching Phil's attention.

“Tommy, be gentle with your brother,” Phil chided.

“He's gotta tail!! Just ‘ike Henry!!” Tommy exclaimed, holding up the stuffed cow. Phil gently pushed the toy aside, meeting Tommy's eyes.

“What do you mean, he's got a tail?” Phil asked, standing up.

“I don't have a tail. Tommy's making stuff up!!” Techno exclaimed. He pressed his lips together. Tommy was just a stupid little kid with an overactive imagination.

“Techno, mate, could you stand up?” Phil requested. sh*t, Techno didn't want to deal with this. Still, he stood up, letting his book fall to his side.

Phil was gentler than Tommy was, but it still hurt when he poked at the creature’s tailbone.

“...huh,” Phil muttered after a moment. “It looks to me like you're growing a tail.”

“What?!” Technoblade shouted. He immediately regretted it. Thankfully, Kristin was out of the house, but he still startled Tommy.

“Yeah, it's not very long yet, but it looks like you're getting one,” Phil noted. Technoblade turned away from Phil and took a few steps back.

This couldn't be happening. It couldn't be growing more monstrous features, becoming even less human than it already was.

Its breathing was speeding up. After a moment, it took off towards its room. Technically, it wasn't even the monster's room- it was Phil and Kristin’s guest room, and it had invaded the space when it came into their home.

Billiam was right. It needed to head back to the estate as soon as possible, before it became worse than it already was. A door shut behind the monster, and it flinched at the sound. It was in trouble, wasn't it?

It couldn't breathe. Its eyes squeezed shut. It pressed itself against the wall, ignoring the protest from its wings.

A gentle knock sounded at the door.

“Techno? Mate? Can I come in?” Phil requested softly. There was a rule in place, because sometimes Technoblade just didn't want to talk, that if it didn't give Phil or Kristin some kind of signal to screw off then they could come in.

No sound was made, no hastily scrawled note was shoved under the door. Phil opened the door to see Technoblade curled into a ball in the corner. He could obviously tell that something had set the kid off, but Techno didn't want to deal with it.

“Hey, mate, what's got you upset?” Phil asked, dropping down to sit next to Techno. Yeah. Technoblade definitely didn't want to deal with it. It just wanted everything to be quiet and numb and leave it alone.

It didn't answer Phil. It leaned away from him.

“It's alright if you don't feel like talking right now,” he stated. “But something's got you in your head, and we both know what happens when we let that get out of hand.”

It was true. Technoblade had once sealed itself in a closet for eighteen hours after a particularly bad mental breakdown. That was when Kristin and Phil decided that its health needed to be prioritized over its privacy.

“So, I'm guessing that whatever is bugging you is related to the tail.” Phil paused to glance at Techno, who gave a subtle nod. “Honestly, I'm not surprised it's coming in now. I've heard stories of kids who were underfed by their parents immediately hitting a growth spurt once they got out of that situation. And you've grown quite a bit since Kristin and I first adopted you.”

Had he? Techno hadn't really been paying attention to its height. It had mainly been worried about handling Phil, Kristin, and Tommy, and reading every book in the house.

“But the point is that this doesn't change anything. You're still our son. You're not a monster, you're just growing up,” Phil promised. Against his better judgment, Techno hugged him. Phil was startled for a split second, but ultimately returned the gesture, blocking out the outside world with his wings. “You're okay, mate. I swear.”

Techno didn't respond, just clinging to him. It just rested on Phil, breathing slowly.

After a few minutes, it finally spoke up.

“Promise?”

“Of course,” Phil swore, and pulled him even closer.

-

Wilbur was convinced that the universe was working against him. It only made sense, seeing as he had a huge advantage over the monster, who was currently rotting in a well.

He'd been injured. Someone had been careless, and left five books on the floor. Wilbur had been trying to avoid getting caught spying on someone, and fell over them.

He broke his arm. Now, it was going to be in a cast for weeks.

Wilbur sat on his bed, waiting for dinner. His mother was going to bring it to him. He stared at the injury.

The monster had enhanced healing. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't he heal himself?

“Fix yourself,” he spat at his arm. Predictably, it did nothing. Wilbur groaned. He glanced over at his jewelry collection, and up at the canopy over his bed. Neither one of them could help him.

Some of the mages could heal, couldn't they? Wilbur would have to talk to them. Except Dante thought that was a bad idea, so it was heavily discouraged.

Well, Dante didn't tell Wilbur what to do.

“Wilbur?” Mother called. “May I come in?”

Wilbur gritted his teeth.

“Enter,” he replied. She came in with a bowl of beef stew and a plate with bread and cheese on it.

“Here's your dinner, Wilbur. Eat up,” she stated simply, turning and leaving as soon as the food had been delivered.

The thought suddenly occurred to Wilbur that he couldn't remember a conversation he'd had with his parents that had lasted more than a few minutes. They were present in his life, and they loved him, but they had extraordinarily little control over Wilbur.

It was good, he supposed. Less that his hated enemy could use against him.

Wilbur raised a spoonful of soup to his mouth. The meat practically melted in his mouth, and it was the perfect temperature. But the broth was a bit under salted, and could use some more pepper, too. He'd leave a note for his mother later.

He stared down at his cast, wishing he could use the arm. Hell, he wished he had telekinesis and could just make the food move with his mind.

But no, Wilbur had to break his arm. It was incredibly annoying.

How dare his arm break on him?

Without intending to, Wilbur began pumping magical energy into anything and everything around him. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair. Wilbur gritted his teeth. He deserved better. His food tipped over onto the floor, and everything in the room was shaking. The window broke, then his dresser. The bed snapped in two, and-

“Wilbur!!” Father exclaimed, staring at him. Father began to shake. “Wilbur!! Stop this!!”

“It's not fair,” Wilbur responded. The shaking began to subside from the rest of the room, focusing on father. “It's not fair!!!”

“Wilbur!!” He shouted. The man was shaking harder and harder, bones rattling. Father vomited all over Wilbur’s carpet, retching even after his stomach was completely emptied. Disgusting. Wilbur would need a new one, now.

After a few more moments, Father exploded like a giant blood balloon. His insides splattered all over the room, including on Wilbur.

Wilbur screamed.

-

It took a bit for Technoblade to get used to having the tail. Initially, it threw his balance off. The newfound clumsiness was pretty inconvenient. He would fall onto his ass at least twice a day once it became long enough to have any substantial mass.

Somehow, that gave Phil an idea that had nothing to do with the problem of Technoblade's tail.

“Do you know how to fly, mate?” He asked one day. Techno paused.

“No. Why would I want to fly?” Techno was kind of trying to keep a low profile, and soaring over the treetops wouldn't really help with that. Phil laughed.

“Well, it's fun. And it might be useful to have a way to maneuver yourself- outside, at least, without falling over every three steps.”

Ah. So Techno was causing problems again.

It understood.

“Alright,” Techno agreed. Phil beamed at it, and it fought the urge to shrink back.

“Let's go, mate,” Phil decided, leading Techno outside. It was a shame Kristin had today off. If she didn't, maybe Techno would be spared.

It was really f*cking selfish to think that.

The two went to a clearing not too far from the well where Techno and Phil first met. Phil stretched his wings, and Techno hesitantly followed suit.

“Alrighty, Techno. What do you know about flying so far?” Phil asked.

“It's… like, you need to get enough lift to get into the sky, right? And- and then you just need to ride the air currents?” Techno checked softly. Phil nodded.

“That's right, mate. You've just got to beat your wings hard enough to get up there.”

He demonstrated, leaping off the ground with a quick flap of his wings. From there, he beat them periodically to avoid falling.

“Once you get into the air, it's a very instinctual process to avoid falling. Don't overthink it- that's how you fall. But if you fall, I'll catch you,” Phil reassured Techno. Techno nodded, and lifted his wings. Phil gave him a compassionate smile, and Techno responded by beating the limbs once.

Nothing happened.

“C'mon, Techno, you're gonna have to try a bit harder than that,” Phil reasoned. Techno nodded numbly and flapped its wings quickly, several times in succession.

It still couldn't fly.

“You need a bit more lift!! Try jumping,” Phil advised.

What was that old saying- third time's the charm? Techno took a deep breath. He sprang off the ground, beating his wings quickly. It was more difficult than he was used to, and after a moment, he realized that he was actually staying in the air.

“There you go, mate!! Good job!!” Phil exclaimed. Techno beamed.

“I- uh, thanks,” he responded softly.

“Come on, follow me!! I want to show you some things from up here!!” Phil flew just above the treeline, and Technoblade followed him.

The day was incredibly fun, and Techno appreciated getting to fly around with his dad Phil.

-

Wilbur was shaking. He- he couldn't have actually killed his father, could he? It had to have been the monster. It had to. He was shaking and sobbing by the time his mother opened the door.

“Oh my-”

“It was the monster!!” Wilbur wailed. “I don't know how, or why, but it was that thing!!”

“Wilbur, wait here. I need to contact the authorities,” his mother replied. She didn't seem particularly upset- more defeated than anything else.

About ten minutes later, Dante came in, followed by several officers of the law.

“Investigate the room and take care of the corpse. Wilbur, come with me,” he ordered. Wilbur followed him wordlessly as Dante led him into his father’s study and locked the door.

Dante sat in his father's chair while Wilbur was left standing.

“So, Wilbur, what happened?” Dante asked. Wilbur paused.

“You dragged me all the way over here just to ask me that? You couldn't have let me clean myself off first?”

Dante narrowed his eyes. “No, I brought you here to perfect your story. Your little outburst with your mother was… tolerable, but we need a clear series of events if we want to pin the blame on your brother.”

“That thing,” Wilbur hissed, “is not my brother.”

“Say what you will. You shared a womb for nine months. Two twins, one good, one evil. It doesn't particularly matter to me which is which as long as everyone believes that the good one works for me,” Dante explained, leaning back. Wilbur recoiled.

“Are you calling me a monster?!”

“I'm not calling you anything. I'm saying that there's several prophecies in play at this very moment. One’s foretelling the fall of this city, one’s promising a period of prosperity. Yours is, by far, the vaguest. I don't think that much damage will come from it, but it could be a domino in a larger pattern.”

“What do you mean?” Wilbur checked. He glanced at the door. Dante grinned.

“You see, there's one Kristin Craft that's taken to being a thorn in my side. She keeps finding her way into positions of political power despite failing out of magic school, and she's passed a number of rather frustrating reforms. She's coming for me, Wilbur. Can you imagine the chaos if you could buy prophecies? If they didn't have proper interpreters to explain how they went?” Dante shook his head.

It was a horrifying thought. If anyone could get a prophecy, they wouldn't be special anymore. They'd be used on silly, frivolous things instead of things that mattered.

“It wouldn't be good,” Wilbur agreed. Dante smiled again.

“I knew you'd understand. But your prophecy going wrong? It could be Kristin’s way to tear the temple down.”

“She can't do that!!” Wilbur exclaimed. Dante dipped his head.

“You're right, she can't. Not without an excuse. So tell me, what happened? We'll workshop a better series of events.”

“Right. I was, uh, sitting on my bed, and everything started shaking. Mother has just delivered me lunch, and I was thinking about how unfair it was that the evil one got the super healing,” Wilbur grumbled. “Things started falling. That made my father rush in, and then it all focused on him. And he exploded.”

“I see. Did you happen to see the monster?” Dante checked. Wilbur shook his head.

“It had to be the monster, though. There's no other explanation.”

“Good. Keep that attitude, Wilbur. Here's what you need to say: over the past few weeks, you've been seeing glimpses of the monster. It startled you, and led you to break your arm.”

“Oh, clever,” Wilbur muttered. Dante glared at him.

“As I was saying, you were alone in your room when you saw a figure in the window. It startled you, and that's when the shaking began. Your father came in, and he walked in and exploded. Got it?” He checked. Wilbur nodded. “Good. Now go clean off. I'll have someone bring you your clothes, and then we'll release a statement to the public.”

“Alright, Dante,” Wilbur responded, unlocking the door. Stars above, he was twelve- He turned the doorknob to leave when Dante spoke up once again.

“And Wilbur? Don't f*ck this up, or there will be consequences,” Dante warned.

“What kind of consequences?” Wilbur asked nervously. He wasn't used to being threatened, and he could bluff his way out of this one.

“It doesn't matter which twin is evil, as long as I control you,” Dante stated. “Now quit dilly-dallying and go bathe. You're covered in blood, and are in no state to be giving a speech.”

Wilbur wordlessly left. Something about Dante made his skin crawl, but Dante was the only one in Wilbur’s corner, wasn't he? Nobody understood him or the pressure he was under.

If anyone knew what actually happened, everyone would think the wrong twin was chosen. The monster would replace Wilbur, and who knew what would happen? It could kill everyone Wilbur cared about.

He arrived at the bathrooms and pushed the door open.

Maybe if he told himself Dante’s version of events enough times, he'd believe it.

-

Techno had run out of books to read.

He knew, logically, that it wasn't the end of the world. Kristin visited the library every few days to pick up a bunch for him, and Techno was grateful!! He really was.

But he always ran out of them too quickly, and when that happened, he had nothing to do. Sure, he could play with Tommy, but Tommy was five. He liked knights, dragons, and royalty, but Techno… didn't.

It wasn't Tommy's fault. It really wasn't. But the dragons often reminded Techno of himself, so Techno would rather let him play by himself, and read him books instead.

Phil said that reading to Tommy was good for him. But Tommy was playing by himself, and Techno was staring dramatically out the window.

He could go flying, except he'd done that for most of yesterday in an effort to stretch his last two books out longer. It was terrible.

Phil had built a fence recently. Something about keeping wolves out. Techno thought the fence was pretty. In the picture books he read Tommy, people usually had some kind of bush or garden on the inside of the fence. Kristin and Phil had bought some seeds before the wolf problem started, and gone as far as setting up a flowerbed, but the problem meant that they couldn't plant anything while the thought was fresh. It was a shame- the flowerbed ran from the gate all the way around the left side of the house. Someone had to fill it with something.

Fortunately, Techno knew where the seeds were. He could kill two birds with one stone. But first, he needed permission.

Phil was just doing some laundry. It turned out that Kristin had a bucket with a charm on it that made it never empty, giving the family as much water as they needed. The charm just hadn't been working properly during the period the two met, meaning that he had to use the well.

Regardless, it made chores easier. Phil was humming a soft tune as he hung some clothes up on a clothesline behind the house when Techno approached him.

“Hey, mate, what's up?” Phil asked. Techno felt the urge to shrink back and apologize, but he ignored it. Phil was kind and wouldn't needlessly lash out at him.

“Uh, you still have the seeds from last month, right?”

“Yeah. Why?” Phil asked. Techno gave a half-hearted shrug.

“I dunno. I'm bored. Was thinking about planting a few of them.”

“You know what? Sure. I'm just about done with the laundry anyways. Will you grab the seeds and meet me on the other side of the house?” Phil requested.

“Sure. Will you grab the seeds, or should I?”

“I'll do it. There's other supplies we need for gardening, and I'll know what we need better than you will,” Phil replied. Techno nodded.

He walked around the side of the house. Phil took a few minutes to show up, but when he did, his arms were full of supplies- almost to the point of dropping some of them. He set almost everything on the ground.

“Alright, so first things first- gloves. You can borrow Kristin’s,” Phil instructed, passing Techno Kristin’s purple gloves. Techno slipped them on while Phil did the same with his own gloves. “Lots of sharp things involved in gardening, so we need some hand protection.”

“Got it. So how do we do this?” Techno asked. Phil smiled.

“Well, what do you want to plant?” He grabbed as many of the bags of seeds as he could find, and Techno examined them.

“...can we plant potatoes?” Techno requested. Phil grinned.

“Of course!! That's plenty for today. I'd say we have room for… about two rows? Anyways, grab a trowel, and let's get started.”

Techno did as Phil asked.

“Wait, where should I dig?” Techno checked. Phil paused.

“Well, they should be a few feet apart… give me a second.” Phil traced out two parallel lines with his trowel.

The two began digging, and it didn’t take long for Phil to get tired.

“I’m going to go check on Kristin and Tommy, alright? If you get tired, drag the tools back to the shed and we can pick it up again tomorrow,” he decided, standing up and stretching.

“Alright,” Techno agreed, not paying him much mind. He had planting potatoes down to an art. All you had to do was dig some holes and put the seeds in them. It wasn't half bad.

Techno worked for ages after Phil left, not paying even a scrap of attention to the world around him. Eventually, the two rows of seeds were filled, and Techno had to clean up.

That was a brief process. Afterwards, he went inside and took a bath. Predictably, he was a mess after hours of gardening. There was a point in time where that would've upset Techno, but since he had access to hot water, it was fine. Techno dried himself off and went to go see what Tommy, Phil, and Kristin were up to.

Phil was in the kitchen, working on dinner.

“Ah! Techno, there you are. I was just about to check on you, mate!! You certainly spent a while out there.”

“Did I?” Techno muttered. It had only been, what, three hours since he decided to start gardening?

“Yep. We started at, like, one, I think? It's just about time for dinner.”

“Oh,” Techno replied.

“How many potatoes did you plant, anyways?” Phil asked. Techno shrugged.

“I just went until I ran out of room.”

“Like, at the corner of the flowerbed?”

“Uh, yeah. From the gate to the point where it stopped.”

Phil turned to face Techno, and he glanced away.

“Techno. Did you fill that entire thing with potatoes?” Phil checked. Techno nodded sheepishly.

“You didn't tell me not to…”

“I- it's fine, mate, I just wasn't expecting that. Well, you plan on taking care of them, right?” Phil asked. Techno nodded.

“Yeah, of course!!”

Hey, Kristin!!” Phil called.

“Yeah?!” Kristin shouted back from the other room.

“Next time you're in town, pick Techno up some books on potatoes!! He filled that entire flower bed with them!!”

“Will do!”

Somehow, being responsible for the potatoes didn't sound like it would be any sort of problem. In fact, Techno was kind of looking forward to it.

-

In the year since his father's death, Wilbur had found himself around Dante more and more. The man often set up shop in Wilbur's home, and took up more and more of Wilbur's free time with “initiatives” to stop the monster.

There had been several other attacks around the city. None of them involved shaking or people exploding like balloons filled with blood- rather, everyone was just shanked. An entire factory was slaughtered during a normal workday.

Needless to say, while Wilbur was the person who appeared to be spearheading the efforts to track down the monster, Dante was really running everything from behind the scenes.

Wilbur's once colorful wardrobe had been restricted to tones of gray and black “out of respect for his late father”. There were vague plans for another concert in a year or three, despite Wilbur’s protests. His friends had all been pushed away from Wilbur to make sure he was focusing on what was important. Wilbur's hair had even been cut to show off his ugly ear feathers.

Wilbur was used to getting what he wanted. Now, nobody seemed to give a damn about his opinions. It was incredibly frustrating. Even his mother was too busy to chat with him about everything.

Today, Wilbur was dressed in a black undershirt and an ugly gray waistcoat that looked and felt like a cage around his ribs with barely enough room for his wings. His shoes were pointy-toed and uncomfortable, but he had to be dressed to the nines because he was meeting with Dante about something important.

What was “something important”? Dante didn't say. Just that Wilbur had to look perfect.

Despite his frustration, Wilbur knocked on the door to Dante's office, schooling his expression into something neutral.

“Enter,” Dante called. Wilbur was getting really sick of that attitude.

“Hello, Dante. What did you wish to speak with me about?” Wilbur asked.

“I think it's about high time we discussed your magic, Wilbur,” Dante replied just a bit too cheerily for comfort. Wilbur took a seat in the chair across from Dante.

“Alright, well, it's not healing.”

“No, it seems to have something to do with the shaking,” Dante responded. Wilbur glanced away from him.

“I thought that we agreed the shaking was the monster.”

“We did. It was the monster utilizing your powers against you,” Dante purred. “But the shaking doesn't line up with the monster's known abilities. So it had to be hijacking your powers.”

“Yeah, I guess. Although the biggest thing that's happened with them is that one concert-”

“And if you can learn to control them, they'd work perfectly in another one,” Dante insisted.

“Yes, I'm sure attracting civilians in the middle of a fight would stop a monster with no regard for life,” Wilbur snapped. Dante stood up, staring down at Wilbur. Wilbur instinctually shrank back.

“Watch your tone, Wilbur. And no, I think you might be able to repel them. To evacuate them. Maybe if you listened for once, you'd realize that I’m right,” Dante hissed. Wilbur fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Of course, Dante. Apologies.” Gods above, Dante was so full of himself. Even if he was right, he didn't have to be such a dick about it.

“We are going to start training your charmspeak and vibration abilities. I know a few mages who can help… I'll send for them. They'll have to be adequately secretive…” Dante trailed off. Wilbur forced a smile.

“Is that all you need me for, Dante?” He asked.

“No,” Dante retorted. “This discussion isn't quite over. Say, you still have free time in the afternoons on Tuesdays and Thursdays, correct?”

“Correct,” Wilbur admitted. It was the best time he had to hang out with Fundy and Eret.

“Well, in that case, that's when you'll be meeting with your new magic tutors. Gods know how you've been wasting that time,” Dante chuckled. Wilbur narrowed his eyes.

“If you're worried about wasted time, why don't you cut my history of prophecy lessons? Gods know I spend more than enough time around you to have learnt it all tenfold,” Wilbur purred. Dante shook his head.

“See, that attitude tells me that you haven't actually learned anything from them. You can repeat the prophecies back, but you're still too dense to understand them.”

“You certainly seem very interested in the system you're in charge of. Doesn't Kristin whatsherface want to get rid of it all? What are you going to do if she succeeds?” Wilbur asked.

“I think you should be more worried about what you'll do if she succeeds. You're dismissed, Wilbur,” Dante announced.

Wilbur stood up wordlessly and left. To think he had sought out that patronizing man as an equal.

-

There was a new house in the forest.

It was still pretty far away from Techno’s, but it still made him nervous. He didn't want to be found. He'd probably be sent to his brother immediately, and from what Techno had heard from Kristin, Wilbur wouldn't hesitate to kill him.

Technoblade didn't exactly want to die, so it was important that he didn't run into his new neighbors.

He more or less hid inside for the first month, never straying further than the garden. Techno assumed that was how long it would take for them to settle in.

After that first month, he decided to learn their schedules. That process would take another month, but it would be worth it to stay safe. He wasn't particularly keen on the whole stalking thing, but it wasn't like he had a better option.

The first week went by without much of an issue. A man, a woman, and a girl around Techno's age lived in the house. The woman left around six, the man around seven, and had the weekends off. It seemed they both worked in Manberg, but the girl didn't.

She mostly hung around the house. It was worth noting that she never went outside while her family was home. But she was growing more and more adventurous with exploring the woods, which was concerning.

Today, she was hanging out under the big oak near the clearing where Techno had first learned to fly, giving him a perfect chance to examine her. She had pink hair that was a few shades lighter than Techno's, and a slender build. She also wasn't really dressed for traipsing around the woods, wearing a long dress that she'd had to tie up to prevent it from dragging along the forest floor.

The girl was poking at some mushrooms. They weren't edible- Techno had checked. Several times. After a moment, she moved on, circling the tree while glancing just above her eye level.

About three quarters of the way around the tree, she jumped, grabbing onto a branch. She hoisted herself up, clinging to the tree’s trunk as she found the next branch she would climb to.

Techno needed to go. But the girl was working her way around the tree, slowly moving up. If Techno left, he'd inevitably rustle some leaves and make her look up, where he'd be fully visible.

But Techno could go higher, and wait for her to leave. Besides, it might give him insight as to why she was in the woods to begin with.

The girl worked her way higher and higher, glancing around as she went. Eventually, she seemed satisfied, and just sat on a branch, staring out at the forest. After a moment, she began examining her skirt.

“sh*t, this is pretty dirty,” she murmured. She glanced up at the sky. “Well, I have a while until Mom and Dad get back. I'll clean it later.”

Ah. That would explain why the girl didn't go out when her parents were around. They were neat freaks. The girl would likely be adverse to getting dirty as a result.

The girl sat there for a few minutes before finally deciding to climb down. She was eleven feet or so off the ground, so she wasn't going to be jumping. Instead, she shifted back to a branch she'd been on previously, and worked her way back down the tree.

After a few minutes, she was finally in a position to jump down. But she looked up, and met Techno's eyes.

sh*t.

“You're the- you're Wilbur Soot’s twin,” the girl stammered. Techno appreciated her avoidance of the word monster. He spread his wings, ready to take flight at any moment.

“Yeah. What's it to you?” He snarled. The girl shifted around the tree, obscuring her face a bit.

“What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” Techno snapped. “You're the one who came into my space, not the other way around.” Gods, he sounded like an angry child. It would be very nice if he didn't have to be in this mess.

“How long have you been here?” The girl asked.

“How long do you think?”

“Two months?” She paused, thinking it over. “No. Three. That's how long it's been since the last attack.”

“What attack?” Techno asked. “I've been here for five years.”

“Five years…” the girl breathed. “People were looking for you. The only people who live here are the Craft family.”

Techno couldn't incriminate Phil and Kristin for hiding him. Their lives would be ruined, and that was not an option. But how else could he prove he was telling the truth.

“Either you're lying, or the Craft family was hiding you.”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” Techno spat.

“If you were lying, you'd pin it on the Crafts,” the girl accused. “They've been hiding you.”

“They're not,” Techno insisted. He knew it was a losing battle, but he had to try to defend them. The girl sighed.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name's Niki. What's yours?” Silence stretched out between the two for an awkward amount of time before Techno finally responded.

“Technoblade. What do you want?” He hissed. The girl shrugged.

“I was just looking for something to do. You're the one who was watching me.”

“Because you're in my forest, and I was hoping to figure out the best method to avoid you,” Techno grunted.

“So you decided to follow me?” Niki checked.

“Better that than let you sneak up on me.” Techno and Niki stared at each other for a moment.

“Why are you afraid of me?” Niki asked.

“Why shouldn't I be?”

“You could literally just kill me,” Niki deadpanned. Techno blinked.

“What?”

“Don't tell me you didn't even think of it-”

“Murder is not a solution,” Techno retorted. Niki sighed.

“You're… not what I expected.”

“Uh… thanks?” Techno responded. He hesitantly fluttered down a few branches to get a bit closer to her. The corners of Niki’s mouth turned upwards.

“You know, I used to be friends with your brother.”

“Oh.” Techno didn't really know what to make of that, but he was sure that he was slandered to hell and back.

“Wilbur… he was an asshole kid, I guess. An asshole kid with too much power. You seem different from him.”

“Well, when I was a kid, I didn't really have what I would call power. And I don't really have a lot of experience with asshole kids,” Techno replied. Niki grinned, and jumped out of the tree.

“Well, want me to tell you about them?” She offered.

Niki…

She seemed nice enough. There was no reason for Techno to believe she was lying, and sue him, it might be nice to have a friend his age.

“Sure,” he agreed, jumping after her.

-

Wilbur wasn't sure whether he loved or hated Dante. Honestly, it depended on the hour.

The concert was a bad idea. He knew it was a bad idea, but Dante insisted. It was the third anniversary of his father's death, and there had been massacres both years following it. Wilbur didn't really care about the date. He would've preferred to spend the day with Eret and Fundy, but Dante insisted that the concert was necessary for publicity.

So here Wilbur was, dressed to the nines in every shade of black Dante’s people could find. He held a sleek acoustic guitar and walked into the center of the empty stage. The crowd stared up at him with awe- the angel of the prophecy was going to perform for them, to share their grief.

He began singing and playing. The first tune wasn't even one he found. Dante had it commissioned for him because this was the one that was supposed to be all meaningful about his dead father.

In reality, Wilbur had hardly known his father. He had always been distant and reverent of his son, even when Wilbur was just a little kid. His mother was the same way- never really engaging with him that much.

It was fine. Wilbur knew what most parents were like, and he didn't need their overbearing nature.

The song concluded, and the crowd burst into applause. Wilbur took a bow, and read off a speech stuck to the back of his guitar about how sad he was about the events of the past few years.

Of course, once he finished the mourning part, he added his own thoughts in. Dante wouldn't like that Wilbur went off script, but he'd understand.

“I promise that I will bring you all the monster’s head. It won't get away with everything it has taken from us,” Wilbur swore. The crowd began cheering again, and Wilbur continued the concert.

He played another two songs, one being some hopeful bullsh*t he'd picked out and one being a more somber tune Dante had selected. The crowd loved them. As the concert concluded, Wilbur was a bit nervous.

“...thank you so much for coming. Remember: if you see anything related to the monster, report it!! The last thing we want is more deaths. The sooner we can hunt it down, the better,” Wilbur warned. He strolled offstage, and the crowd left without issue. As soon as he was fully backstage, Dante grabbed Wilbur by the collar of his shirt.

“What were you thinking,” he hissed. Wilbur paused.

“About what, exactly?”

“You went off script!!” Dante exclaimed. Wilbur sighed.

“Dante. It’s fine. I added a few personal touches, so what?”

“So what?!” Dante seethed. “That script was carefully designed to have as few opportunities for things to go off the rails as possible. But you just had to be immature and just say whatever the f*ck you felt like!!”

“Dante, I-”

“No, no, but my opinion doesn’t matter, does it? It’s all about what the amazing Wilbur Soot, hero of the billionth prophecy has to say about the situation. It’s your concert and your words, so whatever happens is going to be your consequence,” Dante snapped. Wilbur looked away.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. Dante smacked him across the face.

“You should be. Now go get ready, we have an afterparty at Lord Schlatt’s in an hour. Be on your best behavior, Wilbur,” Dante warned. Wilbur nodded, and Dante stormed off like the force of nature he was.

Wilbur entered the nearest dressing room and immediately began washing off his stage makeup. It was fine. Dante was just a bit of an asshole sometimes. He had a lot on his plate and he would take it out on whoever was nearest. Wilbur hadn’t said anything crazy, just what people were already thinking. He was doing his best.

Besides, he was fifteen!! Fifteen year olds were allowed to make mistakes.

Even fifteen year olds with a big destiny that involved saving the world from a powerful evil. No big deal. Wilbur would hunt the monster down and slaughter it. Once he had an idea of where to look, it would be a piece of cake.

Besides, everyone loved Wilbur. Worst case scenario, someone made his life a bit easier and died in the process.

-

Techno saw Niki in the forest a few times a week after they first met. They were friendly, and would chat now and again. Techno didn’t have a tremendous amount of faith in her, but Phil insisted she was harmless and Tommy actively wanted to meet her.

But Tommy had school and Phil didn’t control who Techno did or didn’t trust, so Techno took things slow. One day, Techno was tending to his potatoes when he saw Niki. This was a surprise as Niki had never come near Techno’s house before.

“Niki. What brings you here?” Techno asked, setting his watering can down and crossing his arms. Niki shrugged.

“I was just exploring a bit. I was hoping I’d run into you,” she replied. Techno sighed.

“Right. Well, why were you hoping to run into me?”

“...to talk?” Niki answered. “I’m not sure if you realize, but I don’t have a ton going on at home right now.”

“Right. Shouldn’t you be in school or whatever?” Techno checked. Niki shook her head.

“I… don’t really have the best reputation in Manberg. Your brother kind of went nuclear after I stood up to him some years back. I’m not welcome there.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Techno scoffed. “Plus, if that’s true, why do you live right next to Manberg?”

“Manberg is changing. There’s also opportunities available for my parents that aren’t available elsewhere. My parents also travel a lot, so I’m going to be brought on those trips.”

“Right.” There was something Techno was supposed to be doing, wasn’t there? Oh. “Do you, uh, want to come inside?”

“Sure,” Niki agreed, moving towards the gate. Techno stayed put. This whole socializing thing was incredibly annoying. After a moment, he ambled towards the front door.

It opened with a click, and Techno guided Niki into the sitting room. Niki took a seat on the couch, and Techno sat in an armchair across the room from her.

“So… uh… have you found anything interesting in the woods yet?” Techno asked in a weak attempt to make conversation. Gods, he had no idea what he was doing.

“Not really. They're just woods, aren't they? I'd almost rather be in Manberg,” Niki joked. Techno snorted.

“Yeah, but there's a lot of things once you look for ‘em. Like there's a pack of wolves. I bet you haven't seen them, but the last time I saw one of them, the leading female was pregnant.”

“You mean the alpha?” Niki checked. Techno paused.

“Alpha?”

“Yeah, like the leader.”

“Wolf packs are run by a mating pair,” Techno replied. “There is no one wolf in charge. Believe me, I'd know I'd there was.”

Niki nodded. “That makes sense, I guess. You’d know these wolves better than I would.”

“Yeah, they're interesting. Annoying, though. Killed one of the rabbits that lived in my potato patch.”

Niki paused. “Wait, isn't it a good thing? Fewer rabbits eating your potatoes.”

“I guess,” Techno muttered, glancing out the window at his potatoes. “But the rabbits were cute.”

“Were?”

“Yeah, they all found better places to burrow,” Techno explained. Niki nodded.

“Everything here seems so… mundane.”

“Are you really that used to political drama?” Techno asked. Niki snickered.

“Not political drama. More… other kids complaining about their teachers and partners and stuff like that. Social drama.”

“Well, out here, it's just me, Tommy, and his parents. Not much to talk about.”

“Yeah, I guess not,” Niki muttered. She glanced at the door. Techno stared at her for a moment.

“...what was my brother like? Other than the time he went nuclear,” he asked. Niki’s head snapped around and she sighed.

“Wilbur Soot was selfish, egotistical, and brilliant. He charmed everyone around him with a beautiful, albeit inaccurate, version of himself. He had this princely way of speaking and presenting himself and you just generally felt lucky to be around him,” Niki explained.

“So he was a liar,” Techno replied thoughtfully. It made sense. In theory, Techno and Wilbur's lives would parallel each other to best fulfill the prophecy. Everyone had assumed Techno was a liar when he was young, and he had deluded himself into believing the lies they told him. Niki shook her head.

“He didn't lie. He took what he wanted, he guilted you into doing what he wanted, and he cried to the nearest adult whenever he was told no. But he didn't lie, not to us. I loved him when I first met him and gradually came to hate him, but looking back on it, we were both dumb kids.”

“But power corrupts,” Techno replied. Niki sighed.

“I guess. Maybe he was just born like that. There always was that prophecy… the only thing is that I would've expected the evil one to be less charming and the good one to be less socially inept. No offense.”

“None taken,” Techno muttered. Of course he sucked at talking to people, he grew up in a cabin in the woods because if he went into town, people would throw him in prison. “What do you think he's up to, nowadays?”

“No clue,” Niki answered. “He was eight when we last spoke. It's been seven years since then. I'd guess he's looking for you, since the big idea was that he'd hunt you down someday.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Techno responded, standing up. “Not sure what I'll do when he finds me. We're destined to fight, but that's not really my thing.”

“Well, if anyone comes around asking about you, I'll cover for you,” Niki promised. Techno chuckled.

“Sure. Say, do you want to check out my potatoes?” He offered, eager to not think about the possibility of him dying.

“Sure,” Niki agreed.

-

The first incident was easy enough to blow under the rug. The man had thrown himself down the well because he was mentally unwell. There was nothing that could've been done to save him.

When another concert attendee met a similar fate, her death was ruled as an accident and a tragedy.

When a third person died, that was when whispers began to spread.

And Billiam, the useless f*cker, was the fourth on the list. That was when the rumors really took off.

Needless to say, Wilbur was having a bad time. Thankfully, Dante was finally stepping in. He was to give a speech in the middle of town in the middle of the day. Wilbur usually grew annoyed with Dante’s preaching, but today, he hoped it lasted for hours. Anything to clear his name.

Technically, Wilbur wasn't supposed to attend the speech. He was supposed to be at home meeting with some guard candidates, but Wilbur was over interviewing guards. The speech was far more interesting.

Blending in with the crowd was a hassle, but Wilbur managed. It only took the ugliest cloak he owned, but he did it. Nobody seemed to notice him.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure you all know why I'm here today,” Dante started. “There has been a series of tragic deaths in this community. They all seem to be involving a well. A well that is known for being the place a monster escaped to several years back.”

Whispers began to spread amongst the crowd.

“I heard that the hero of the prophecy paid the poor victims off to go explore the area and the monster got them.”

“No, the monster has the ability to lure people in!! And it still lives there.”

“Come on, clearly, the good child was corrupted by some force.”

The whole mess made Wilbur rather nervous. He stared at Dante, waiting for the man to continue. Dante observed the crowd with a detached smirk.

“I'm terribly sorry to announce that the events of recent have been in relation to the concert two weeks ago.”

Gasps sounded from all around Wilbur. He took a deep breath. There was no reason to panic, not yet. He was certain that Dante would spin some story of an evil doppelganger or an illusion or something.

“Fifteen years ago, we made a decision. We took a prophecy at face value, and it was a mistake.” Dante steadied himself, staring at everyone who had come to see him speak with a grave expression on his face. “We chose the wrong child. Every murder in these past few years has been the work of one Wilbur Soot.”

Wilbur's hands balled into fists.

“How dare you?!” He hissed. Somehow, nobody seemed to notice his outburst. And it was fortunate, because this was a bad place to lose his composure.

How could Wilbur be so naive? Of course Dante betrayed him. He was meant to be interviewing guards- people who could easily turn on him given the chance.

Hell, Dante had been working against him since the beginning, hadn't he? That was why Wilbur's father died. Dante had meddled as some kind of consequence for daring to bother him.

The devil himself finally continued his speech.

“As we speak, Wilbur Soot is being apprehended. I've hired a number of men to take him down and lock him up until we can locate the other child of prophecy. Hopefully, it will be easier now that the other child isn't in any direct danger anymore.”

Lies, lies, all of it!! The monster wasn't a child, it was a monster.

Wilbur needed to take it down before it hurt anyone else. He took a deep breath, and began fighting his way through the crowd. Wilbur wouldn't be able to retrieve any of his weapons, but it was fine. Wilbur had his magic.

“And, remember: if you see anything relating to the monster known as Wilbur Soot, report it. The sooner we can get that thing into custody, the better,” Dante finished.

His treachery truly knew no bounds.

-

Something was off.

Maybe Techno was overreacting- he had been spending a lot of time with Niki recently, and it had just hit the point in the year where most of the leaves on the trees were no longer green and there was a constant layer of clouds covering the sky.

All the reds, oranges, and browns could easily contribute to an ominous environment.

Regardless, Techno was watching Tommy while Phil and Kristin handled business in town. One of Kristin’s enemies, a man named Dante, was trying to distance himself from one of his mistakes. Kristin wanted to stop him.

“Techno!! Techno!! Look!! I made you a leaf bouquet!!” Tommy exclaimed, beaming. He thrust a cluster of leaves into Techno’s hands. Most of the leaves were red, but there were a few oranges and yellows here and there.

“Thank you, Tommy,” Techno drawled. Tommy’s smile only grew bigger as he bounded off to go look for more leaves.

But then Niki burst from the treeline.

“Techno. You are not going to believe what happened today.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe,” Techno replied. Tommy nodded.

“Yeah!! Nothing catches the Blade off guard!!”

“This one might. There's currently a hunt for Wilbur Soot, and you've been exonerated.”

“Exonerated?” Tommy asked. Techno glanced down at his little brother.

“Found to be fully innocent or to have committed no wrongdoing.”

“Oh. That's good, right?” Tommy responded. Niki grinned, nodding. Techno sighed.

“It is, technically. But we're going to need to talk some things over with Mom before anything changes.”

“Why?” Tommy asked. Techno did not want to explain Dante to Tommy, or any of the other people who would love to take advantage of a child of prophecy.

“It's complicated. Mom and Dad would be worried if they came home and we weren't there, especially since I'm sure there's chaos in town,” Techno explained.

“Yeah, you never know what-” Niki was cut off by a shout from a brown-haired boy with wings and a halo flying over Techno.

“You!!!!” He roared. Techno jumped out of the way as the boy attempted to dive bomb him.

“What the f*ck!!!” Tommy shrieked. Niki took a step back, then another, and then she was disappearing into the trees.

“You RUINED MY LIFE!!!” The boy screamed, taking a swing at Techno. Techno ducked.

“Really? I don't remember doing that. Who are you?” He asked.

“I am your enemy, the one prophesied to bring about your fall. My name is Wilbur Soot,” he hissed, shifting a chunk of hair back into place.

“So you're Wilbur Soot. Mine is Te-”

“You have no name, you're a monster!!!” Wilbur howled, attacking again. His fist barely missed Techno's forehead.

“Look, man, I don't want to fight. Why don't you just go home, say you killed me, and we can both go our merry ways?” Techno suggested.

“Like I would let a foul creature like you live,” Wilbur sneered, springing into the air and attempting another divebomb.

“Of course not,” Techno groaned, springing out of the way. “Tommy, go home.”

“But I want to help you!” Tommy argued.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but someone needs to be there in case you-know-who can you-know-what.”

Tommy's eyes lit up in recognition, and he began to run.

“Not a chance,” Wilbur spat. “Come back. Help me fight the monster.”

The bastard’s voice took on a melodic tone that reverberated with a great deal of power through the forest.

Much to Techno's horror, Tommy turned around, eyes glassy. He dashed forwards, beating his wings to gain momentum, and punched Wilbur.

“No, attack it, not me!!” Wilbur shrieked. Tommy spin kicked a tree. That was enough. Techno turned around, spotting a fairly large stone. Wilbur's attention was still on Tommy.

Techno grabbed the stone. In an instant, he hucked it at Wilbur. It struck his wing, making Wilbur whirl around.

“That's enough,” Techno snarled. “Leave my brother alone.”

“Aww, you care about him?” Wilbur sneered. Tommy seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and ran. He looked back for a fraction of a second, eyes locking with Techno’s. Finally, Tommy ran.

“I'm sure you have someone you care about back home. We've fought. You can go back to them and tell them you killed me, and this whole mess can be over. Prophecy fulfilled,” Techno retorted. Wilbur laughed. He was clearly unhinged, and not looking for mercy. Techno took a few steps back.

“You think I'd leave you alive? After all the people you've hurt?” Wilbur snarled, lunging at him. Techno leapt into the air, flying into a nearby tree.

“I literally have no idea what you're talking about,” Techno stated, glaring down at him. Wilbur sprang into the air, flying above Techno. He launched a rock at Techno, and Techno dove out of the tree to avoid it. He needed a plan.

Techno’s best bet was to lead Wilbur back to town. If Niki was right, hopefully Wilbur would give up before they got there. If not, the townspeople would likely handle him.

…But then again, people were terrible. Case and point: Wilbur.

Techno sighed. It wasn't like there was a better option. He launched himself into the sky, fleeing as Wilbur gave chase.

-

The monster was every bit as vile as Wilbur had believed.

It had even found lackeys to carry out its dirty work, and had granted them some kind of immunity to Wilbur's voice. Disgusting.

Of course, it was easy to see how they shared an origin. The monster also tried to use words to fool others into giving it what it wanted. But Wilbur wasn't naive. He saw right through the beast’s lies. It knew it couldn't beat him, which was why it pleaded for mercy and began to flee.

Part of the way through the final desperate maneuver the monster would carry out, a crossbow bolt struck Wilbur's wing. It didn't come from below, Wilbur was keeping an eye on what was happening in the forest below.

No, it was from above. Wilbur's eyes shot up, locking with some blond avian. They locked eyes as Wilbur spiraled towards the ground, desperately beating his wings to regain stability. He had trained in so many things, but being sneak attacked while flying was not on that list. How was Wilbur supposed to know that the monster was a coward?

He crashed into a tree. Branches scraped up his arms and wings as he tumbled to the ground. A set of hooves landed on the ground, shortly followed by a pair of boots.

“Techno. You should go,” the asshole avian warned.

“But-”

“Niki told me what happened. He's not going to react well to you, it's better if I try to reason with him. Go home.”

“Alright.” The monster began to retreat, and Wilbur lunged into action. The avian grabbed his wing, dragging him back.

“Not so fast, mate. You and I need to have a little talk, yeah?”

“You're a traitor,” Wilbur spat. The man co*cked his head.

“A traitor to what, exactly?”

“The city of Manberg!!” Wilbur exclaimed. The man shook his head, so Wilbur continued. “You are assisting, and likely harboring, the greatest threat to our glorious city.”

“Techno isn't a threat. He's a teenager who lives in the woods. And I'd like to believe that you're not a threat, either, just misguided.” The avian offered Wilbur his hand. “The name’s Phil. What's yours?”

“Wilbur Soot,” Wilbur replied, taking Phil's hand. Phil had claws, while Wilbur did not. It would be an unfair fight.

But Phil was dumb enough to carry a dagger on his belt. If Wilbur could grab that, he'd be set. Phil would be cut down, and Wilbur would be good to go.

“I wish we could've met under better circ*mstances, Wilbur. I'd like to think you're a nice young man who just wants to look out for your home, yeah?”

“Yep,” Wilbur confirmed.

“Good. I'm glad that this is all just a misunderstanding. Techno doesn't mean anyone harm, mate,” Phil explained. He continued to ramble on as Wilbur slowly inched forwards, shifting his arm to get closer to the knife.

He didn't dare tear his eyes away from Phil, which was why his plan didn't work. Wilbur swiped at the weapon, but missed. Phil jumped back, eyes narrowing.

“You think you're clever, don't you?” He muttered. “Well, you're not. You're predictable. That is the oldest fake out in the book.”

“Yet you nearly fell for it,” Wilbur sneered.

“I want to believe that you're capable of change, but right now, you don't seem like you're willing to. And I'm not going to let you hurt my family,” Phil insisted. Wilbur rolled his eyes. Could this man get any more sappy and cliche?

“You're not going to stop me from saving my city from that monst-”

“Don't talk about my son like that,” Phil snapped. Wilbur laughed, circling Phil. Phil kept his eyes pinned on Wilbur.

“What, that monster? Don't tell me you don't know about its… extracurricular activities.”

“Something tells me you have no clue what you're talking about,” Phil growled. Wilbur grinned.

“The murders, Phil. All over Manberg. On each anniversary of my father's death. I've never killed anyone, but I'll happily change that to save my people.”

“That's awfully funny considering who was recently implicated as being involved in those murders…” Phil trailed off. Wilbur took a step back.

“I didn't kill anyone.”

“I didn't say you killed anyone. Dante, on the other hand…”

“Dante was framed!!” Wilbur spat. “He wants what's best for Manberg!!”

Phil’s eyes softened.

“I can't blame you for thinking that, mate, but it's wrong. Dante only cares about power. It's why he's the head interpreter of all prophecies in Manberg.”

“He's done more for Manberg than you could ever dream of,” Wilbur retorted bitterly. Phil shook his head.

“Somehow, I doubt that. My wife, Kristin, has been enacting all kinds of reforms-”

“Your wife is Kristin Craft, isn't she?” Wilbur sneered. Phil said nothing, only nodding. “I should've guessed. Only someone blinded by rose-colored glasses would actually think she's helping people.”

“Watch your tongue, mate. I don't take kindly to people insulting my wife,” Phil warned. Wilbur rolled his eyes.

“Please. Your wife and so-called son are the greatest evils Manberg has ever faced.”

“We're not getting anywhere. I'm not turning against my wife or son, and you're not turning against Dante.”

“We aren't,” Wilbur agreed. He stepped closer to Phil, who stepped back in response.

“I'm going to ask one last time. Please, just take a bit to get to know Technoblade. I'm certain that you two could be friends. Techno's a good kid, and I want to think that you are, too,” Phil pleaded. Wilbur glanced away.

“Maybe…” he trailed off. “I've always wanted a brother.”

Phil beamed.

“Well, now you have a chance to have one. Come on, mate.” Phil wrapped his arm around Wilbur's shoulder, notably keeping him on the side that didn't have the dagger.

The two walked back towards Phil's house, with Wilbur very, very slowly inching towards Phil's dagger. Wilbur hadn't noticed how close the house was to Billiam’s estate until they reached the notorious well, and that was when Wilbur finally was able to snatch the dagger.

He whirled around, opening a gash in Phil’s chest. The man screamed like a toddler, and Wilbur adjusted his grip, going for the heart. At the last moment, Phil slashed at Wilbur, sending him falling backwards. Wilbur bumped his head against the side of the well, and blacked out for a few seconds.

But by the time he awoke, he was underwater. Wilbur swam to the surface, where he could just barely make out Phil’s stony expression staring down at him.

Bastard.

-

Techno had initially been sad after the prophecy had come to pass.

He had hoped that Wilbur could be reasoned with, that they could be brothers.

But as he grew older and became more experienced with dealing with people, he realized that Wilbur was never someone to be saved. He had centered his whole life around destroying Technoblade, and didn’t care about the suffering of those around him. It was always about Wilbur- what benefited him and what hurt him.

Maybe, in another world, he hadn’t been so stubborn. Maybe, in another world, he was willing to change.

But this was not that world.

Techno might've seen him one final time after the skirmish. He couldn't be sure it was Wilbur, but it was possible. He'd picked up a job as a guard, and sometimes, that meant hanging around the busiest areas of Manberg, keeping an eye out for any incidents.

That day, he'd been in the market during a particularly busy day, prepared to intervene if any incidents were to happen. Of course, the mere presence of guards was often enough to prevent anyone from trying anything. That didn't mean that Techno's hand wasn't planted firmly on the hilt of his sword, though.

A man in a hooded coat was sitting between two stalls, tuning a guitar. He had unruly brown hair that covered most of his face, but an amber eye met Techno’s. The man immediately jerked his head down, focusing on his guitar.

That on its own wasn't unusual. Techno was very aware that his appearance could be a bit… unnerving, especially to those who weren't familiar with that stupid old prophecy.

The guitarist finished tuning his guitar, and began to strum. He didn't sing, but he hummed a countermelody to accompany what he played.

The voice sounded familiar, although Techno couldn't place where he had heard it before. That wasn't unusual, either. Manberg had a good number of buskers, and even though Techno was usually able to get out of market duty, there was a decent chance he had heard this particular guitarist before.

But the busker’s eyes kept flicking up to Techno. Techno made a point to ignore him. The guitarist played through song after song, likely getting a good bit of money for his trouble. But eventually, the sun began to set, and the merchants began to pack up their wares. The guitarist finished his song and sprang to his feet, sending one final glare towards Techno. He swiftly exited the marketplace. Techno found himself staring at the spot where the busker had been performing all day.

In his wake, there was a single golden feather lying on the ground.

Techno made sure to steer clear of that marketplace after the incident.