"Do you have to go?"

Phil looked up from his satchel, his wife standing in the doorway with little Wilbur perched on her hip. She was pale and sallow, dark lines marring her under-eyes, hair hanging limp and lifeless.

"We need potions, love," Phil said. "We don't have the money to buy them and you need them."

Kristen bit her lip. It wasn't uncommon for women as powerful as herself to develop health problems after childbirth, especially after bearing a child with someone as powerful as her husband.

She just didn't think it'd get this bad.

They estimated she had a week before she succumbed to the effects of having so much magic inside her body for nine months being forcefully removed in the span of a few hours.

"I'll be quick, I promise," Phil held his hands out and Kristen came toward him, pressing herself to his chest and relaxing as Phil wrapped his arms around her. "It won't be more than two or three days."

Kristen squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself not to cry. Wilbur squirmed against his parents and Phil pulled back, chuckling.

"Someone's impatient," Phil cooed, tickling the baby under the chin.

He pressed a kiss to Kristen's forehead. "I'll be back soon."

He picked the satchel up and said goodbye to Wilbur, gave his wife one last smile,

and left.

The Nether was hot. Hot enough to combust discarded fabrics and wooden tools.

Phil hated it.

His feathers hung in clumps off his wings, and though they were fire-proof with ancient magic, they still felt as though they were on fire with every little shudder.

Harvesting the gold needed to trade with the piglins took forever, considering it was only in small veins and patched around. Major mines had taken over in the past few years, leaving only scraps behind for the wandering travelers.

Luckily for Phil, he didn't have to wear any hot, heavy armor—his golden hair made the piglins love him.

Unluckily for him, they still traded hard.

It took a day to harvest the needed materials, and another to trade enough for potions.

Day three left Phil stumbling and exhausted, fingers blistered and head heavy from lack of sleep and food. His wife had packed him bread and apples, but he had slipped it back out of the bag.

She needed it more than him.

Phil was not expecting to see a child curled up next to the portal.

He almost missed him, he was so small, but the small grunt nearly scared him half to death.

Phil blinked down at the child, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.

What he was feeling.

There was something residing in the child, something powerful-

It sent chills up his spine despite the Nether heat encasing him.

"Hey mate," Phil knelt down next to the little kid. "Where's your tribe?"

The kid blinked slowly and uncurled a bit, ragged clothes hanging loosely.

Immediately, Phil saw exactly why he didn't have a tribe

Ears too round to be piglin, nose too narrow and fingers too long.

He was half human.

Phil gritted his teeth. Piglins were known for ambushing Overworld caravans and stealing whatever they wanted—including spouses. If the child that came from such horrific events closely enough resembled piglins, they were kept.

If they resembled their human parent, however—

Phil swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.

Whoever had thrown this child away had made a grave mistake. A very, very big mistake.

Phil's wings were literally vibrating with the magic that was rolling off this kid.

"What's your name, kiddo?" Phil asked, adjusting so he was sitting on the hot ground.

The kid blinked again, and shifted around so he was braced against the portal. "Technoblade."

A piglin name. One of his parents had bother to name him then before abandoning him.

Fantastic.

"Do you know who you are?" Phil asked tentatively, wondering if the boy knew.

Techno pinched his eyebrows together. "Technoblade."

Apparently not.

"Where's your family?"

A scowl, and the kid muttered something punctuated with little squeals and grunts.

He couldn't speak Common then. But he obviously understood it.

"Are they coming back for you?"

Techno's face grew sad and angry at the same time, shaking his head 'no.'

Phil sighed, reaching forward. "C'mere—"

Techno lunged, and Phil wrenched his hand back, cursing under his breath. A little bite mark on his hand began to well up blood.

"Well then, I deserved that," Phil mumbled, wiping the blood off. Definitely human, with shark canines and blunt side teeth.

The heat was getting to him. His head hurt and he was becoming severely dehydrated.

He knew the kid had to be just as bad.

"Look kid, I'm sorry—" Phil darted forward, catching the kid by the back of his neck. The kid shrieked and he tried to claw his way free, but he had flat human nails.

Phil forced him to his chest, holding him secure.

Wondering what he had done to deserve this, he stepped through the portal.

Techno didn't like Phil's house.

Techno didn't like Wilbur.

Techno liked Kristen.

Kristen gave her husband a self-satisfied smirk as Techno slept on her chest, snoring lightly.

"I found that brat," Phil muttered, bouncing Wilbur to keep the baby avian asleep.

"And I gave him sweet-potato cookies," Kristen whispered smugly.

Phil rolled his eyes at the mention of Techno's seeming obsession with potatoes.

He got lost in his own thoughts as Kristen began to sing, warm and soft.

With Techno—all was not lost.

He could try again, try to save everything that had been lost before. Techno opened doors Phil had thought been closed, opened all sorts of opportunities Phil needed.

He just needed to contact some friends—a few people owed him favors. The Endlantians hadn't disbanded, had they?

Phil needed to write some letters.

The beginning of the end was nigh again.