BLIND | DreamSMP

XXXVII - Retribution

The fire raged against the dark navy sky. It sputtered and hissed at the few stars visible, clawing upwards at the bright orbs, reaching out to join the family of flame to which it belonged. It knew instinctually the stars were kin, that they shared substance beyond a human understanding, yet while it was exiled to the earthen realm, its brothers lived in the heavens, dancing to the fiddles of comets and supping the wine of the moon. 

So it held resentment, and hungered for the music and drink it was denied, and the cold resentment fermented into rage. It leapt higher, not to join its brethren, but to devour and destroy them, to steal the light they piously held like noble saints. It desired to break their fiddles and topple their cups, to send the stars crashing down to earth. 

Such was the yearning of fire, and with fervor it strove to accomplish its dream. Yet as fire ascends, it consumes what fuels it, and the inevitable tragedy occurs when it realizes it has nothing left but hatred to burn. It shrivels and dies, not with majestic glory, but with a small sputtering spark. 

The fire in the plaza of L'Manberg did not have time to descend into martyrdom. Instead it was extinguished quite abruptly, in a way most peculiar to those nearby the pyre. There was no indication the fire had gone out, except that it was there one moment and vanished the next. The crackling logs, the spitting flames, the thick smell of smoke; all of it inexplicably absent. 

No one moved or spoke. Phil stared at the scorched body of his eldest child lying atop the charred wood. He wanted to run to Techno, hold his son's corpse in his arms and weep, but something kept him rooted in place. None of the others stepped forward, not even Tommy, which made him sure he was not the only one overcome with the unusual sensation. 

There was an odd pressure building in his ears, and he could hear with strange clarity his pulse throbbing. Just when the pressure began to border on painful his ears popped, and as they popped there was movement from the pyre. 

Like a bizarre case of rigor mortis, Techno's body stiffened and arched, lips parting as his arms spasmed and his legs shook. Phil stood dumbfounded, aghast at the sight before him, yet still, he felt himself unable to move. 

The spell was broken as the dead man uttered a low moan, and Phil swore he had never moved so fast as he did then, rushing to Techno's side as the son he had thought lost opened his dark eyes. 

He wept, not in grief, but in unimaginable joy, and though at that moment he cared little about how Techno had been resurrected, only that he was alive again, Phil sent a silent prayer of gratitude to Void for bringing back his son.

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Tommy had heard the fire go out and felt his ears pop. He had listened, and when Techno quietly moaned, nothing could have stopped him from scrambling towards the noise. 

He stretched a hand out, reaching, trying to feel for his brother amidst the burnt wood, and sobbed in relief as Techno's calloused palm tightly grasped his own and pulled him closer. 

He clung to his brother and cried gutted tears that told the story of abject misery extinguished by an impossible resurrection. Tubbo sank down beside Techno, choking out a stream of apologies to his older brother along with sobs of his own. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Techno, I didn't know, I love you, I'm sorry–"

Techno turned his gaze to his youngest sibling, his cracked lips parting to answer.

"It's alright. I understand," he rasped. The corners of his mouth pulled upwards just enough to give Tubbo a small, comforting smile, which sent the boy even further into hysterics. Ranboo hurried to his friend's side, wrapping him in a firm embrace while murmuring quiet words of solace.