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The night snow storm was intense, Phil was nursing a hot mug in his hands, he felt wery: something was wrong.
He moved from the couch to the window facing the entrance of his and Tecnho’s property, and he meticulously observed the falling diagonal snow, stronger than ever, hoping that, in the distance, those shadows would eventually move, and transform into the shape of a pigling, covered with a rad cape and a golden crown, able to shine against all odds.
The shape of a friend.
He waited, patiently, his eyes fixed on the treeline.
He remembered the tea he was drinking, took a sip, it was cold, how long he was waiting for? He took out his communicator, 03:10.
Upon checking the time his eyes fell on the messages that he had sent:
<Philza> Man, I read your message, if you have time, buy some terracotta, I need it for my next project. See ya
<Philza> Mate you said three days, you are not back yet, are you in trouble?
<Philza> Do you need help?
<Philza> I followed your tracks but they ended at the port. Where did you go?
<Philza> Techno, it’s been a week, where are you mate?
<Philza> Techno
<Philza> Dream doesn’t see you in the whitelist, but I can still write to you, why?
<Philza> Mate, if you are in danger just ask, I’ll fly to you
<Philza> Ranboo asked about you
<Philza> I’ll keep the light on at night for you mate
<Philza> I built a red beacon, do you see it?
The communication was silent, it was three weeks, and still no answer, maybe this time it was his friend who wrote down the wrong time, maybe he meant three weeks, not three days. Maybe it was a prank to punish him for that error.
Maybe.
He turned his head, the majority of his crows were awfully absent and the ones that were present were behaving not like themself.
One was at the window with him, eyes dark, like the rest of its body that mimics the shadows, watching outside, not moving a muscle, not ruffing a single feather, it was of stone.
Other two crows nested into the couch where he was before, but their posture was strange, like the world was just crumbling under them and they couldn't do anything about it. They seemed tired, no, not tired, something deeper, that made your bones chill and your mind go blind. Defeat.
Now that he thinks about it his crows were very strange since Techno departure: at first they were chatty, just like always, but in their voice there was something strange, they were buzzing with something. Anxiety perhaps? He didn’t pay it much attention at the times, none of them was in a life of death situation, so he wrote it off as his crows being his crows.
Then, a week after all went silent.
They stopped chirping away his ear, as they stopped flying in a large swarm with him. A lot of them positioned themselves on the trees surrounding the house, others on the fences and others on the roof, like they were waiting for something.
The wind blowing from a window brought Phil back to reality, he quickly turned, the window where a crow was in front of it was completely open, and there was no crow to be seen. The winged man used all his strength to close the window, to block the bone chilling weather but when he was successful he turned to the house and quickly re-light some of the lanterns that the wind blew off.
Then he heard the strangest of the sounds, a cry, half choked.
He turned around, no one on sight, just his strangely silent bird friend onto the couch. They couldn't possibly make that sound right? He patted one of the two, gentilly running his finger across its feathers, and the little creature responded with a brief look and returned to the position from before. What was that look? It was sad, malenconic, soul shaking… like he was mourning.
Philza shook his head, and ran to bed, sure that tomorrow was another day where he will meet his friend again.
The next morning was one no one on the server was ready for, no matter how stoic, careless or humorous they may be.
Phil woke up confused upon hearing a gentile voice singing.
Oh violence does call me, I’ve answered before
He quickly dressed and threw himself out of his cabin, seeking for the source of that melodic song. The first thing that he noticed was a black swarm of crows circling around the cabins, high in the sky. All his crows were there. No one is missing. They were calling him.
Between the harmonic voice and his crows he was quick to open his large wings and fly together with his black familiars. The voice seemed to come from far far away, echoing to all the lands and oceans. He noticed snow everywhere, not just in his biome. A white layer covered everything.
He made it to L'Manburg and his face became pale at what was in front of him.
And so I opened up my door
To the man who promised me blood and war
Oh woe to thee, ye people of order
I hope your homes continue to smolder
Waves of people, all united around the rubbles of a city, millions upon millions of stoic faces, millions upon millions of teary eyes.
Some of the DreamSMP citizens were already there, confused and amazed. His crows, without his orders, dived into the massive crowd and gentilly alighted on the shoulders of those strangers, showing affection cuddling with the most sad ones, receiving melancholic smiles in return.
Dream was fast behind him “Tell me you know what it’s happening”
Phil, stunned, slowly shook his head. The other man cursed and placed himself in front of the lead singer of that massive chorus.
For I craved violence, I crave to be free
From the people who wish to control me
Yes I believe in anarchy’s reign
I know that dictators only bring pain
With the new refrain the mass of people started to shift. The lead singer summoned a netherite sword, and Dream, a few feet in front of her, did the same, ready to fight.
But she didn’t want to fight, the sword was placed horizontally, flat against her open hands, like he was touching something pure and sacred.
She started to walk, Dream wasn’t certally moving but she kept going, steps following the rhythm of the song. Then she passed right through him, like a spirit, and so did the others, following her lead. They aligned themselves in five rows, with the lead singer being at the front of the center row. One after the other all the people had something in their hands: the four side lines all had something small in their hands. Potatoes, one for each of them. The first people in the center were bringing others things.
Is this what you want, corruption and power?
Well I won’t stand for it, this is my hour!
Take on these beasts, I’m now friend to none
If you think you’re a hero, then die like one!
What was that? A parade of some sort? No, they were definitely too cerimonial for a simple parade. This was something important.
Then he decided to fly nearer the center line to see what they were bringing. Offering of some sort?
The breath died in his throat when he took a look at the flag that the second person of the centerline was proudly showing, gripping its flagpole. The Arctic Empire Flag.
He quickly shifted his gaze on the third person: they were holding with the utmost care a golden crown. He know that crown.
The fourth confirmed his suspicious: they were carrying a red cape, folded in a way so the white fur and the golden chain attached to it were visible.
No, he couldn't accept it.
But then came a message from my only friend
“Oh warrior hide, or else this is the end
They’ve bound up my wings and they hunt for your head
They promised me justice; but they’ll see you dead!”
He was the ‘friend’.
Phil was shaking, his vision became clouded and he understood that this whole thing was for Techno, and dread crawled his spine.
“WHERE IS TECHNO?!” he cried. No one responded. Other members of the DreamSMP turned to him and horror was crystal clear in their eyes.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?!” Phil tried again, attempting to stop someone in the crowd, but they were untouchable. He couldn’t do anything, he could only follow them.
But I did live, and I did flee
And I put my pick through the butcher’s teeth
He decided to walk with all these people, he took off his bucket hat, still shaken.
It was a funeral.
Techno was dead.
Techno will not return home.
During the walk he took Ranboo under his right wing. The ender was crying, almost unable to move. They needed to care for each other, especially at that moment. Tubbo was right at his husband's side.
Phil noticed that they returned in his biome, where he and Techno have home.
The singing crowd entered and crossed their little forest and they found themselves on the other side, in a vast white land. But there was something in the middle of it, and they were directed right there.
I gathered my hounds and made them devour
The allies I once knew; sweet friendships now sour
And let explosions rain from on high
And gladly bid my final goodbye
It was a smooth stone rectangle, with intricate patterns carved on it.
The lead singer went to the stone and slipped the sword vertically into a slit. Then she stepped on the other side of the shrine, continuing to sing.
The crown and the cape were hung to the sword handle and its cross-guard.
The flag was placed into the ground behind the sword.
A bell was put in front of the sword.
And millions upon millions of potatoes found their place at the foot of the little shrine.
Now leave me be for this is the end
The song ended, and there was silence.
The singer took a step forward “Today we are here, united more than ever, to mourn the loss of a legend, a king, a god and a friend. He didn’t die in battle. He died on a bed, while a disease was eating him from inside himself”
Her voice was cracking, and a few choked cries and uneven breath could be heard in the crowd, but she continued “I talk in the name of Techno’s Voices. We were his constant companions, we were always there for him, and he was always there for us. We talked so much, that now I think, it is just right to be quite in his death to truly respect him”
In the land grew silence once again.
But this silence was not perfect, there were a lot of faces soaked in sorrow, that, with tears flowing and lips trembling, were trying to suffer in silence, but a few choked cries could be heard from the Voices.
The real members of that world were not better, all the hoods were lifted, all the hats and headpieces were taken down and all the masks were put down, while they all mourn the end of someone priceless.
Then Phil spoke to the Voices “I don’t think he will want you to suffer in silence, crying can help” A few cries broked out but not all of them were convinced “But we chanted Blood for The Blood God so many times, we annoyed him every day, he couldn't take a brake for us, ever. At least where he is now we can’t bother him”
Phil shook his head “He cared for you, and you cared for him. He was very fond of his Voices. You can cry”
A screeching after the other and the whole land cried in unison as the pain was universal for all of them. Phil joined shortly after, too distraught to care for something that was not his pain; his heart ached for the loss of his best friend.
Then random Voices started to get near the grave to touch the stone, to stroke the cape or to ring the bell, one at the time, as a last goodbye, and they retreated to their original positions, just to vanish and leave behind a pinetree. At the beginning it didn’t make sense, why leve a tree? And then he understood: a taiga forest was being created around the grave, creating a magical and restful place for his friend.
He will not be forgotten.