Chapter Text
The first light of dawn spilled over the horizon, painting the world in gold and rose. The mountain air was cool, sharp with morning frost, and the quiet hum of life slowly waking filled the stillness. On the ridge just beyond the forest line, two boys stood with packs on their backs — Wilbur and Tommy — waving until their arms ached.
Wilbur was sixteen now, restless and bright-eyed, eager to see the world. Tommy, barely twelve, refused to be left behind. It felt only right. They’ve grown, just as they were meant to. Technoblade had never imagined he’d help raise children; even now, it felt unreal. He had always thought himself too bloodstained, too hardened by battle to belong in the quiet warmth of a home. And yet, for a time, he had.
Technoblade stood a few paces behind, the chill biting through his cloak, watching in silence as the boys eagerly took off into the world beyond their mother's forest.
Philza stood beside Technoblade, a proud smile on his face, the wind tugging at his feathers. “They’ll be fine, mate.” he said, though his voice trembled just a little. “They’ve got our stubbornness. That’ll keep them alive.”
Technoblade huffed. “That’s not as reassuring as you think, Phil.”
Philza laughed softly. “You’ll miss them.”
“Maybe,” Technoblade said, but his hand lingered a little too long in the air as the two boys disappeared into the horizon.
For a long while, they stood there in silence, watching the golden rays rise higher and higher, as the sky turns from the color of flame into brilliant blue. Then Philza turned to him. “You could come with me, y’know. After all this time cooped up, I’m going to stretch my wings again. Wouldn’t hurt to have company.”
Technoblade shook his head. “I’ve been wandering long enough. Think it’s time I went home.”
Philza studied him for a moment, the ancient weariness in his friend’s eyes, the quiet yearning he didn’t voice. Then he smiled. “Then I’ll write. Promise.”
They parted ways soon after.