You can't even control your fears…

She never knew she would be caught up in all of this…

The soft flowers beneath her fingertips were soon replaced by the firm handle of a sword and the thin string of a bow. It at times reminded her of how much she had to give up, how much she had lost and how, despite this being her own choice, she had no other options.

The serenity of the mountains and flower fields that carried so much history under their surface was replaced by a battlefield that wrote that same history in front of her own eyes. The sharp blade, held deep in her hand, tightly, as if it was her lifeline, her only hope of survival, was slashing through the crowds of people before her - all of them storming in rage and pain to kill as many of her allies as they could. The deep snow drenched in blood as lifeless bodies fell to the ground, like taking their space on the field, knowing that they would stay there, waiting for the snow and dirt to cover their bodies, forever stuck in the moment that would one day be called 'history' - but they themselves would be just a single body, one that none knew about and none remembered.

There were many moments like these. She could never rest. She could not take a deep breath of relief knowing that it was all over, because it never was. As one war ended, another one came in its place, reminding her that there would never be peace in the world.

However, many out there liked to believe in naive promises of a better life, promises that would give them hope of a peaceful place where everyone could feel that they were safe. There were countless such promises to be found in the world, but the one that came first and promised the most was a nation called L'Manburg. Its founder, erased from history, promised these people a safe and prosperous land where no one would fight and would have to worry, and all would be at peace. It had strict rules, but nevertheless, it gave what it promised - after a brutal war of liberation liberty.

But it was just that. A foolish hope, a naive promise, a lie that people clung to with their dear life. Despite the founder bringing what he had promised to the people, keeping his word, he was still no more than that: the nation's founder, so desperate to not be questioned by anyone. And so, he decided to host an election - an election that he lost.

And that's how she met Schlatt - a man who, to everyone's surprise, was elected as the president of L'Manburg. No, not as its president - rather as a dictator. Despite this, when he asked her to be by his side, to help him with utilizing his newly acquired power, she found no reason to object - she had been a part of many battles and stood by many powerful men, so who was she to judge?

It was never free of charge, of course. Everything she did was for a price - riches, power, anything that she wanted or needed at the time. And so, Schlatt offered her a book. One of pure power, a book that could revive the dead no matter how long ago they had passed and by whatever means. She couldn't refuse. So many had died by her hand, so many more would fall to the same fate. Some of them had been evil, to be sure, but most were innocents, dragged into the battlefield without knowing why, nor imagining their fate - but that was not the reason for her agreement.

This whole journey had started with one person - one single being that was so dear to her that even after all of these years, she could not let go. She wanted to see them smile at her once more as they stood in a flower field, admiring the beauty that had once carried so much grief all around them. She wanted to make them laugh, make them cry, hear their voice, a voice that had always reminded her that everything was okay no matter how cruel the world was.

Schlatt had given that hope back to her, so when it was once more taken away from her, and by him of all people, she had found herself overwhelmed with emotion. Anger, betrayal, maybe a slight bit of fear — that all made her pull out her crossbow, pointing the sharp arrow square at his forehead.

"What, are you turning on me now, too? You bitch," he spat, barely standing up even with an arm pushed against a nearby chest for support. He had certainly seen better days - his clothes hung loosely over his body like a windswept clothesline, his hair a mess of dark, disorderly locks. He reeked of alcohol more than usual, and had clearly not washed himself for days.

The sight of him disgusted her. So many men she stood by, none of them had fallen this low, not with her around. When she met him, even if he was an alcoholic, even if he had been a horrid man with the worst intentions in mind, intentions that went against everything she had once believed in, despite all of these things he had managed to earn her respect.

Not anymore.

However, he wasn't wrong. Everyone had turned on him, but it wasn't their fault, or hers - it was his, and his alone. He had ruined the dream he had so proudly proclaimed for all to hear and made enemies of people he should never have crossed. But now he had fallen so low that no one wished to follow his lead, all of them chose their own wants over his. That's why, from where she stood before him now, she could hear screaming and shouting, explosives and the shrill shriek of arrows in the distance closing in on where they stood - a pathetic excuse of a van which was once at the heart of L'Manburg.

"I should have expected this," he stated, pulling out a bottle of unlabeled booze, tucked deep in one of the chests. The clang of glass against glass echoing through the van gave away that there were more, just waiting for him to finish them all. "I should have known from the moment you came into my office. After I had found it in my heart to invite you into my lands, to help me, to do as I say and not act like the rest of those lunatics, that you would stab me in the back. I shoulda fucking known."

"No, you stabbed yourself in the back after you refused to keep the promise you made!" She scoffed, still holding the crossbow that fit snugly in her hand like a glove, still aimed above the bridge of his nose. "I could have brought their heads to you on a silver platter, you know that. You've done this to yourself."

"Yeah, well, so did you!" he replied, pointing an accusatory finger at me, nearly dropping the bottle from his swaying hand. "You made the choice to trust me yourself! You should have known better! But sure, if you think you're so much better than me…"

The man spread his arms wide, then patted himself on the chest with a vigorous thud. "Do it! Kill me!"

She wanted to do just that more than anything, and yet in that moment she froze in her spot. She'd been so sure about taking Schlatt's life right then and there like she'd taken so many before, and yet now of all times she faltered. Was he wrong? Or, maybe it was her? If she were to take this man now, to kill him without a duel or trial, what would those eager revolutionaries now gathering outside the van do with her?

But her thoughts were cut short as the cacophony outside became louder, threatening to cave in the walls at any moment. The man finally fell on the floor, pressing his back against the chest he had used for balance, the thud once more accompanied by countless clinking bottles. He started sobbing, taking deep breaths, he hissed and coughed while somehow still ignorant of his surroundings. He was drunk, and completely out of his mind.

She knew that if she didn't kill him they would, for all he had done, and she sure as hell knew he deserved it, but… so did she. The one person who had always stood by his side was none other than her, and no matter his choices or how cruel he was, she didn't say anything about it, agreeing to everything he had asked of her. Most didn't know of her involvement, most didn't even know she existed, but not all, never all. Those who knew were on the side of their enemies, now, so there was no doubt in her mind that if she was to be found, then that was the end of her, too.

Despite the urge to take her revenge, she had no time. In a snap, she decided to flee - flying out of the hole in the van's roof with her dark wings, a glistening, black shade that people swore seemed like the night sky in a snowy tundra. They would kill him. He would meet his fate, and justice would be had - this was her earnest belief.

That's how she ended up in that long and aimless travel - going anywhere and everywhere without dwelling on the thought of it. The promise of a war was gone as she moved from city to city, trying to find a place where no one could possibly find her. She had grown fond of the peace the wilderness had to offer with its forests and rivers, and hillocks and valleys. She met the world's people, saw the lands and natural wonders to be found in them, learned about its myths and the stories, ones of gods and great warriors. One of these stories was of a man that proudly stood by the Blood God's side, with soft and caring eyes that hid just how ruthless he actually was. The angel of death.

Phil.

She did not know what drew her to look for Phil again. Maybe the fond memories of the short time she had spent with him. His smile and caring expression had always made her feel at home. She could still remember that first night, forever etched in her memory.

Tucked between pillows and blankets, she had sat on the wooden floor, holding a cup of tea with her small, shivering hands.

Her clothes, body and face were painted a deep red, and no matter how hard she rubbed at her skin until it burned, there was no way to get off the last of the dried blood - something that had made her wake up in a cold sweat, shaking. While she would get used to this crimson substance that would cover her limbs in battle, as though intentionally hiding her true self under a facade of sanguine horror, back then it terrified her, too. The memories of how the blood had found itself on her flesh, flashing in front of her every time she blinked, or took a deep breath to calm herself - reminders of whose blood it had been.

Cold winds howled relentlessly outside the cabin, and yet it felt so small when compared with the cozy sound of firewood cracking in the flames. There was a delightful scent to this house - the calming smell of a riverbed, the faint fragrance of lavender and a small sprinkle of mud made her feel like she was home, despite the mix of aromas not being close to how her own house had ever smelled like. The cabin was filled with chests that were cluttered with essential items for farming, fighting, mining and so on; there were a lot of plants and carpets that, alongside the fireplace, gave the home an aura of tranquility; but the strangest part of the house were the feathers that were laying all around, as though intentionally scattered - some sat on the chests, some had been caught in the carpet, some tangled in blankets and others still in the vines that stretched across the ceiling.

Her attention was drawn by the sound of a heavy step, as Phil made his way into the house, brushing off the snow that was clinging to his shirt and coat from the snowstorm that was picking up outside. As soon as his eyes met hers, a soft smile appeared on his lips as he placed all of his tools in the corner of the room, taking his place next to her on the carpet, basking in the warmth of the fireplace. His hands were gentle and careful as he pulled out a damp piece of cloth and carefully wiped the red stains from her pale face. It was cold, and it felt even colder compared to the warm fire right next to them, making Eris flinch back from the touch at first.

"Could I have the honor of knowing your name?" he asked, trying desperately not to make eye contact with her again, understanding her apprehension. He knew she was scared, terrified, and he did everything in his power to accommodate her.

After a moment of silence between the two, he had given up on her answering his questions, content with cleaning the blood from her in silence. However, a weak response did come out of her soon after: "It's Eris…"

"Are you able to tell me what happened?" he asked quietly, trying to match her own soft tone of voice, not wanting to startle her, like a father hushing his own child.

He had found her in the middle of the forest not too far from his cabin. She was laying in the woods as the blood covering her body was staining the ground beneath her, making a beautiful crimson rose all around her, spreading further as the snow melted beneath her still-warm body. She was hard not to spot even if the snow was blazing all around, making her skin feel like ice and her breath as hot as lava. If he had found her a moment later, he was sure she would have had some serious complications, perhaps losing the limb or even her life.

She scanned the floor, as if looking for something, and for a moment Phill thought maybe he had asked too soon, maybe he had rushed in too fast with the questions, judging from how quickly her eyes moved from the floor to the walls, to him, and then back to the floor, circling around in almost a panic. He pressed his hand against her back, forcing her eyes to stop on him as she took in a deep breath, holding onto it for a long moment as though it was the last breath she'd ever take, the heavy weight upon her shoulder falling down with the exhale like a rock from a cliff.

She hesitated a bit, "I think-" she started with a shaky breath, trying to collect everything that had happened just a few hours ago "I think we got attacked by wolves. I… I left my friend… dead, out there."

Phil didn't know what to say. He knew that something like that for a kid, no, for anyone, was traumatizing. Maybe this was good enough, for now. He had a feeling he shouldn't push this conversation any further.

So they stayed in silence.

Despite the list of things that he had to do running through his mind, he made the choice to stay by her side. He didn't want this poor girl to be alone, not now. Her staggered breath, slowing down over time, her shaking body and the eyes that shot around the room to make sure no danger was approaching reminded him of how fragile the human body really was, especially at her age. She was woefully unprepared for the world.

He thought the silence would last, but after a long while, which could have minutes or hours for all he knew, Eris's voice broke out, wanting to shatter the silence either to distract herself - or just out of pure curiosity, he didn't really know.

"Why do you stay in such a cold place?" she inquire, not facing him, as if worried she would offend him with the sudden question.

''Pardon?''

''Elytrians, like me and you. We don't like the cold, right? It makes it harder to fly; the sharp snow and the cold air make flight unbearable, so why live here?" she clarified, finally looking up at him. She looked for any indication of him being offended or hurt by the question, but instead he gave her a smile, scooting a bit closer to her.

"It's gonna be a story you wouldn't believe," he started, but this statement only piqued the child's curiosity. She may have had an awful experience mere moments ago, but she still was a kid that enjoyed wondrous stories that could be true, their validity a mystery to all but the storyteller. So, she looked up with the fire reflecting in her eyes, or maybe it was the light of the innocence still within her - Phil didn't really know.

"Alright," he sighed in defeat, but with a smile. This was a story he didn't get to tell often, despite how much he loved to tell it.. "A long time ago, I met a beautiful woman. Clearly, something about me must have intrigued her as well, because after knowing each other for a while, we fell in love." He started, Eris being drawn in more with every word, wondering how this story could connect with the serious question she had asked prior.

"Later I found out she was the Goddess of Death, if you can believe that, meaning that I could see her less often, but that didn't really change anything. We soared through the sky together, enjoying each other's company, but with time, I got to see her less and less. Now, we barely see each other, but she still makes sure to let me know that she still loves me and thinks about me because every night-" he paused, trying to gauge if she still was curious, and the sparkle in her eyes showed that she most certainly was, "every night, she shines the aurora in the sky just for me, and what better place to see it than the snowy tundra?"

She did not know if she could believe him, of course. She believed in gods, but something about one of them choosing to be with a mere mortal confused her. That thought led her to scan Phill, noticing how old he truly looked. Scars littered his body, dark circles decorated his bright green eyes which bore a tinge of gray, and the rugged stubble on his chin was clearly noticeable. He clearly was much older than one could judge from the energetic personality he carried with him, so she would come to wonder if the Goddess had granted him immortality, or granted him extra years to live his life, but she wasn't going to let her wonder get the better of her and introduce on the more private parts of his story, and she chose to keep the question to herself.

"She sounds so sweet," Eris claimed, taking a sip from her cup that was sitting in her hands for far too long, now lukewarm at best. She realized that the story and Phil's presence really did calm her down.

"She really is," he confirmed. "What are you planning to do now?"

Silence settled in once more as she considered his question, the memory of what had happened crashing down on her once more. "I don't know…" she muttered, hoping to find any sort of idea popping into her head, but all she saw in turn was a featureless void staring back at her.

"You could stay here with us," said Phil without skipping a beat.

And that was that. She had found a new place to call home out of pure luck. Those years she spent in the snowy tundra with Phil and Kristin were some of the best she ever had, but she knew at some point she had to leave and when she did, she had been convinced she would never see Phil again.

But here she was, standing in the snowy tundra once more, looking at two lodgings that were connected by a bridge - different tundra, different cabins. She wasn't sure if this was the right place, since all she had to go off of were just stories she gathered from weary travelers in scattered taverns, telling their tales to all who would listen - and she would. They called him the Angel of Death, claiming that he had killed his own son and chosen to stand by a tyrant's side, but Eris knew Phil chose to ally himself only to those worthy of his respect. All the stories that had been spat at her of him being evil, a demon, a horrid man - they didn't affect her.

Eris stood just a few steps away from the cabins, her heart beating out of line at the mere thought of going up to that door and seeing Phil after all these years. Would he be mad? Would he be hurt that she had left? Happy to see her return? She did not know what to expect. She did tell him she was leaving, all those years ago, but he had been far from thrilled about it.

Compared to the other places she had been around - L'Manburg, the taverns and inns she had the displeasure of staying in, cities and countries, and kingdoms she visited - this place seemed so peaceful, so beautiful. The sharp beam of purple light between the cabins, the stone foundation and the beautiful spruce cabins themselves with walls of white, unblemished concrete. It was obvious Phil was living here from how well built and beautiful the houses were alone, while the snowy tundra hid the place away from any strangers that might pass by.

The aura of the place rushed all the memories of her time with Phil back to her and hesitation struck her heart, but just as she was about to run away, just as she stepped back to take her journey further from this quiet abode that she felt like wasn't made for her soiled heart, she heard her name being called out.

There he was in all of his glory, wings tucked tight behind his back and a face that seemed to not have changed or aged by a day. His eyes lit up as he rushed over to her, pulling her in for a tight hug without warning. The smell of lavender, rain, and mud hit her hard, bringing her even further into the memories they both shared, the day when they met repeating itself in her mind just like time and time before.

"Ah, I've missed you so much," he said while pulling away from the hug to look her up and down.

She looked much different than what he remembered. Just the same way as him, her whole body was littered with scars, now. Her hair had grown so long that even in a braid it was reaching the back of her knees, but her eyes still had that bright, ocean blue color that could lead men into trance, and her hands were still stained black - a small quirk she possessed from her elytrian blood.

"You've changed a lot."

"Yea, well, a lot of things happened while I was away," she stated, looking down, either in defeat or regret. He couldn't tell, and neither could she.

Phill took a step back and hinted at her to follow him, something she hesitated to do, feeling like she didn't belong there, but the man persisted and she had no choice but to give in. He led her to the bridge between the two houses - its flooring was made of barrels of all things, which Eris found a weird design choice - they seemed perfectly usable in their own right. Out of the two cabins, from where she stood, the right one was Phills. Decorated with some dead coral and skeleton skulls, despite being similar to its twin before it, the cabin seemed fancier, making Eris think that she was a fool for not realizing this sooner. Phil had a special sense of style after all.

But before they could enter and Phill would be able to treat Eris to his usual brew of tea and show her around his cozy home, the door that led inside to the other cabin burst open, startling her to the point where she almost darted off into the sky.

In the doorway now stood a man who towered over her in his height. His pink hair tangled, barely holding onto a loose ponytail as strands fell onto his forehead, the hair in its messy state parted and tucked back on either side, displaying two pointy ears riddled with gold chains and earrings. The man was holding himself up against the doorframe, letting his linen shirt loosely cover his muscular body, riddled in scars much like her own and Phil's, some of them even fresh and healing. He yawned, showing off his impressive tusks, and then looked over at both of them, his blood red eyes bearing clear signs of his drowsy state.

"Who are you talkin' to Phil?" he asked, letting out a deep voice - Eris presumed it was deeper than his usual one, given that it seemed like he had just woken up.

He was clearly a piglin hybrid and while they were not that common, Eris still knew a few and what to expect from their kind. But the ones she had met carried themselves differently compared to him. There was some sort of air about him that she couldn't put her finger on. Something about him called her in, while screaming at her to keep her distance and stay that way. It confused her and intrigued her all the same.

"This is Eris; I have told you about her, Tech. Sorry that we were so loud, I forgot you wanted to sleep in today," he said with an awkward smile. Not forced or uncomfortable, but rather plainly embarrassed.

"It's fine, won't be that difficult for me to fall asleep anyways," he blurted out under his breath and she heard a thud as the man walked back into his house, almost stumbling over his own half-awoken body.

Eris looked back at Phill with a puzzled look on her face, but he hardly noted it as he opened the door to let her in. The inside of the house wasn't much different from the one he had made his home those years before, except for the fact that the living space was much more narrow and the room was filled with only chests and bare essentials, nothing for comfort, no couch, no rug. She took it upon herself to take a seat on the table, one cluttered with brewing stands and a mix of ingredients both for potion making and regular old cooking.

While Phill was busy making the tea, Eris noticed another difference between the house he had before and this one - a small balcony that was left covered by chests and furnaces.

"How is Kristin doing?" she inquired in an excited tone. When staying with Phil, she loved looking up at the aurora that was a gift from his lover. It reminded her that, despite the cruelty in the world, there was some good in it as well. But Phil didn't answer as quickly as she had hoped, remembering how happy he had always been to talk about her. It almost made her feel like they had broken up, if such a thing was even possible.

"I don't know. Haven't seen her in a long time."

"H-how come?" she couldn't help the stutter as she feared that something had happened between them, but once Phil spread open his wings, it all became clear to her. One of them, beautiful as it was, had been ripped up with burn marks scattered amidst the feathers. She knew how much Phill enjoyed flying, but she knew his enjoyment alone was not the problem. Without flying, he couldn't see his lover, and soar up to the sky to ever meet her. If that was on the line, then being unable to fly suddenly gained more meaning than just the action itself.

"The aurora is still there at night and she, as always, can still hear me, but I can never hear what she has to say," Phil uttered under his breath, loud enough for Eris to hear. She didn't really know what to say, and thought it would be best if the silence just settled over them as he continued to make the tea.

After a minute or two, he handed her the cup of tea: she noticed it was the same cup loved by her back when she lived with him. It made a small, sad smile break through her lips. Just like back then, the scent, Phil's presence and the cozy house in the tundra made her feel calm and secure, almost making her forget all the harsh times she had gone through over these years. She allowed herself to sink into this feeling, to flow back into the memories of better, simpler times, but the moment was short as she once again heard the door outside burst open, followed by harsh, heavy footsteps that faded into the distance soon after.

"So, what? You replaced me?" Eris said with a grin, earning a giggle from Phil who, too, was quickly pulled out of his thoughts by the sounds outside and her teasing.

"We moved in like this pretty recently. I lived in L'Manburg for a bit, before they forced my hand and I had to run away," he explained while grabbing his own cup and taking a long sip. "Speaking of which, I have a request to ask from you."

"Yea, what is it?"

"I want you to stay here with us," he blurted out, catching Eris by surprise. Her plan was only to visit, to see how Phill was doing and to make sure that he was safe, given that she had heard all the rumors about him in her travels. She had never planned to stay, considering that her past demanded her to always be on the move, to not put herself and anyone else in danger.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"It's not a good idea. It's… not safe," she whispered in defeat. She wanted to stay, she really did, but the thought of putting Phil in danger, even if he was strong enough to take care of himself, was a hassle that wasn't worth the time, nor the worry.

"You know that I don't care about how safe it is, Eris," he grabbed her hand, rubbing circles upon it with his thumb, just like he did when she was a kid. When it felt like the whole world was falling apart and the only comfort, the only thing holding her grounded was his touch, that was all it took to assure her that everything was okay. "Right now I think it's best if you stay and take a breather. Alright?"

And just like back then, just like always, Phil convinced her with just one motion, just a few words and a calming sensation that settled between them, almost convincing her that it's all going to turn out alright. That this was the right call to make.

"Okay. I'll stay."