The voices were incredibly loud that day. Technoblade struggled to trudge along the grassy lands, mushed and dampened by the continuous sputtering of the rain, Philza in his tow. He pressed on, battling against the harsh winds that pushed both of them the other way around. The blonde man drifted in and out of conciousness as he tried his best to give out the right directions to his son who was clutching him tightly. “Come on, Phil, stay with me!” Techno hissed out, but his voice got cancelled out by the loud contact of the rain hitting their already bruised and wounded backs. He looked at the older male, his lips pursed in a straight line that quivered ever so slightly in worry. Despite Philza being the Angel of Death, he had been heavily wounded by Dream’s army; and the amount of blood he lost kept increasing every stride Technoblade took.

Amidst the tall grasses planted firmly in the meadow, a quaint cottage with patches of various flowers aligning a straight path was revealed. The inside of the building held a golden glow that dimly lit the darkened skies. The nearer Technoblade got to the cottage, the more he caught a whiff of a saccharine scent coming from the building— pie? He asked himself, confused. “Phil, who—”

“An old friend of Kristin’s, their a healer.” Phil groaned, head dropping. Technoblade male didn’t even notice that they were already hovering over the cottage’s wooden porch until a door slowly swung open with a loud creak.

His attention snapped over to the figure in front of him, hiding behind the door and hesitantly stepping out. Technoblade brushed his unkempt locks away from his mask to take a closer look, his orbs meeting a pair of doe eyes with bright orbs swirling with the warm hues of the house’s lanterns.