"What are you doing?" Philza's voice echoed in the room, the air growing still as his presence was made clear. He stared across the room at his son, who faced a button carved right into the stone wall.

"Okay, I will admit..." Tommy began, turning around slowly. His classic shirt was faded, the bright red now a dull maroon, the white tanning with dirt and grime. Tears littered the cloth, bloodstains created small droplets against his skin. He looked tired, Phil saw. Bruises graced his cheeks while bags weighed heavily on his face, eyes dull and barely hanging onto their blue coloring. "Do you know what this button is?"

"Uh-huh," Phil confirmed with a nod. He heard rumors about this place, and he saw Wilbur's letters about how much TnT was primed to explode once that button was pressed.

"Have you heard this song on the walls? Before, have you heard this song?" Tommy said, ash covered hand reaching out to touch one of the wooden planks nailed to the wall, blank paint peeling off but managing to reveal the words once placed on its surface. "I was just saying that Wilbur made this big point, and it was poignant, and it was the- it's some- that there was a special place where men could go but there's no there anymore, you know? It's not."

"It is there. You've just won it back, Tom," Phil said, gesturing to the doorway. He had seen the battlefield as he came to find Tommy. Wilbur was leading the army to victory, celebrating their re-earned independence.

"Phil... Wilbur was always so close to pressing this button. I've seen him here like seven or eight times... he's been here seven or eight times," Tommy had tears in his eyes as his hand crossed the wood, leaving a gray trail of soot, to the button. "Oh, he's gonna come and join us."

Tommy turned around, stepping towards the doorway, leaning against it before shutting it with a sigh. He seemed so much older than 16, Phil thought. "Phil, he's been here so many times. They're fighting... they're fighting!"

"And you want to just blow it up?" Phil asked in disbelief. If Wil was the one coming here, why was Tommy the one here now? Phil wondered desperately what was going on, trying to understand what he couldn't possibly know.

"Dare, I do. I think... I-" Tommy cut himself off, passing Phil to step towards the button again.

"You fought so hard to get this- this land back. So hard," Phil said, reaching for his son with concerned eyes. He knew all about the war. He had several friends, and Wil and Techno sent plenty of letters, the former's more descriptive and the latter's straightforward. Phil hadn't seen the war but he knew so much about it.

"I don't even know if it works anymore. I don't even know if that works. I could- I could press it and it might..." Tommy seemed to look past the walls around them to a different time or place. Phil wished he knew what thoughts were running through Tommy's mind. What could he say to make this all stop?

"Do you really want to take that risk? There is a lot of TnT potentially connected to that button," Phil reasoned, hand grasping at Tommy's shoulder. Why was his skin so cold? Why was it so pale? Why did he look and feel like a corpse, barely eating or drinking? Phil knew resources were sparse for Pogtopia, but he didn't imagine he was this bad.

"Phil... there was a saying by a traitor... once part of L'Manberg... a traitor, I don't know if you've heard of Eret. He had a saying," Tommy pulled away from Phil. He turned to face his father, hand held at his forehead, stance straight and tense, ready for battle, just like a soldier. He raised his other hand to the button, fingers resting against the surface. "It was never meant to be." Tommy pressed the button.

Phil shot forwards, his wings wrapping around both himself and Tommy, who was in his arms. Explosions of smoke and ash and fire and sound burst from the wall and everything around them. Plants and animals were sent sky high while people cowered and panicked. Phil closed his eyes tightly as pain swirled in his wings, fire eating at his feathers.

Phil looked up, a huge crater of rocks laid out before him. Tommy turned to it, still encompassed in Phil's arms. "This was Wilbur's L'Manberg. His great unfinished symphony. I knew that if I let it live on, it would hurt Wilbur. He went insane and homicidal in Pogtopia. L'Manberg has too much power over him. I did this for Wil, y'know?"

Phil was left breathing heavily with thousands of thoughts and emotions fighting for control. Everything was silenced when Tommy pulled out his sword from its scabbard. "Now, all that's left is for you to kill me. I don't want to be made a martyr, so take my sword and murder me."

He sounded so heartbreaking. So resigned, so defeated but accepting. Phil's trembling hands grasped the grip of the sword, holding it tightly to his chest. Tommy continued, gesturing to the gathering group of Pogtopia allies who fought for the place Tommy destroyed. "Look, they all want you to."

"You're my son!" Phil yelled, tears crashing down his cheeks. "No matter what- no matter what..."

"Do it," Tommy raised the sword so the point was right at his heart. Phil gasped quietly. With a pained cry, Phil leaned forwards, pulling Tommy into a hug as the blade went cleanly into his heart. Tommy gasped, blood soaking both his and Philza's clothing. Tommy gave Phil a smile before his eyes slid shut, a breath frozen in his lungs now that he didn't have any more life in him.

"You couldn't just win," Phil whispered to his dead son as the body hit the floor, sword dripping with blood. Phil dropped the sword, wiping the tears from his eyes. He couldn't rest. He had to do something. Like his sons, Phil ran from his problems. He fought with creatures so he didn't have to fight his emotions. Phil jumped into the fray with the Withers Technoblade released, promising himself that he would bury Tommy's body later.

——
In the Server of Vale, a large settlement of villagers positioned themselves along a small tributary. The village was known mostly for its farming industry, serfs working on large plantations that were watched by keen eyed overseers. The poorer people worked sunrise to sunset while living in tents, while the richest were merchants in vacation homes or the wealthy plantation owners. The reason the village was so prosperous was the temple.

On top of a hill, refracting sunlight at all times of the day, was the sturdily built white stone temple to the Prime Gods. This specific temple paid homage to the goddess of the grind, who brought resilience and prosperity to the people she protected. In the temple, the priests and prophetesses worked diligently to bring the goddess' will to fruition. That will included the servitude of two young maidens.

Clementine and Clara. Two peas in a pod, inseparable since the day they washed up on the banks of the tributary. They were found my the priestess who took pity on their bloodied bodies soaked in water. While Clementine and Clara were treated for injury, the prophetess foresaw the two girls being exceptional paladins. When the two woke up, they were commissioned by the temple for service.

The two were a lively pair. They didn't stir up trouble, per say, but they were a chaotic mess. They played tricks on the wealthy people coming for 'repentance'. They were never far apart, always one with the other. However, for all their childish nature, they two were incredible on the battlefield.

Clementine was the avatar of destruction, the killer of monsters who struck fear in the hearts of titans by name alone. Clementine was brought to the village with the clothes on her back and a sword in hand, Laevatien, slayer of the beloved. Many had witnessed the annihilation of mobs at her hand.

Clara was a demon of the mind, the traitor you never knew. She could lie and cheat her way out of any situation, her skill for charming others and convincing them her ways was unparalleled. What she lacked in swordsmanship, she made up for in words. She could convince the enemy to off themselves instead of doing the dirty work herself. As a bonus, she had a natural affinity for hunting and exploring. She was a sea farer better than men who spent their entire lives at sea, and could name all the stars and their stories.

Separately, they were a force to be reckoned with. Together, they could bring about the fall of empires, crumbling the integrity of the outer walls and the leaders protected by those wall. That's why the temple kept the girls, nurturing their abilities for the good of the world and saving those who would cross paths with the teenagers from their combined wrath.

Today, Clara was sat on top of a roof, some merchant who had shut himself up the moment Clara gave a glare. She was running a hand through her pearly white curls, smoothing out the wavy ends with her fingers. With eyes the color of the moon on a misty night, Clara watched the sun sink down past the horizon. In moments, someone had plopped down beside Clara.

With bright blonde hair that were slightly brown at the roots and azure blue eyes, Clementine didn't look all that threatening. Her hair was pulled back into a high but loose ponytail, several strands falling around her face. Clementine swung her legs off the roof while Clara reached to play with her hair. Clara felt the silky strands brush against her skin, smoothing out the uncontrollable curls that Clementine possessed.

"You're so clingy," Clementine muttered as she leaned into the touch. Clara took this as a sign to continue. Her hand pulled down the rubber band, letting it slip down to her wrist. Clara helped poof out the hair, fingers untangling some of the thin strands that got tangled. Clara continued playing with the locks, coiling them around her fingers or trying to weave them together. "I've been thinking."

"That's never good," Clara responded instantly, a giggle on her lips as she heard Clementine's huffing. This would have been more offensive if Clementine wasn't melting underneath Clara's care and attention.

"We should go somewhere. Do something. I don't want to be a Nun for the rest of my life, y'know?" Clementine continued as if Clara hadn't spoken at all.

"What do you want to do, my nebula?" Clara asked, tucking her legs underneath her as she started twisting the hair into a braid for a fancy updo.

"Stop calling me that! I am a big woman, biggest of women, and I will not be patronized by sentimentally given nicknames!" Clementine said immediately. Clara had given Clementine several nicknames, not all of them accepted. "Anyways, I saw a flyer for a different Server- one where actually shit happens! We could go have fun! Meet new people, start a few wars, cause overall chaos but worm our ways into people's hearts!"

"What is it with you and war?" Clara laughed, as Clementine lightly slapped her wrist because of the comment. "Okay, okay! Yeah, that sounds like it's be fun. I've been wanting to learn the higher forms of Enchanting anyways. Maybe I'll find someone to teach me about potions."

"I told you I would teach you potions. I am the best at it. That's not cockiness talking, that's skill flaunting," Clementine made the distinction.

"I'm trying to be better than you at potions. Why would I learn from you?" Clara said hugging her friend from behind. When Clementine looked at her, Clara could smell it on her breath. Clara shot back with a disappointed frown. "I told you to stop taking those drugs."

"I didn't-" Clementine started but cut herself off when she saw Clara's deepening glare. "I know you disapprove, Clara, but it helps get me through the night. It isn't like it does anything bad for my body. It literally just makes me crash for like ten hours."

"I don't want you taking not prescribed, self made medication for your night terrors. We should go see a doctor before you decide that it doesn't have any health consequences," Clara reprimanded with a fierce look in her eyes as she held Clementine by the shoulders.

"I'm not going to see a shrink. The potion does what it's supposed to, and I'm at the healthiest I've ever been because I can actually sleep at night," Clementine argued back, shaking off Clara's hands. She turned her entire body away from her friend, looking out onto the sunset.

Clara sighed dishearteningly, shuffling closer to Clementine. She lifted Clementine's arm around her body, leaning into the other's shoulder. "I won't stop you from taking it, but promise me you won't take it unless I'm there. If something does happen, I need to know that I had a chance to save you, if nothing else."

"I'm not gonna die, clingy," Clementine swore, resting her head on top of Clara's. "How about we leave tomorrow for the new Server?"

"I'd go anywhere with you."