Who?

Chapter 1 - Distressed

 tw: Self harm, not specifically cutting, but feather pulling.    

     "It's okay Phil, you can stay at my  base." Techno spoke, smiling as he dropped some wheat seeds into the ground.
        "Thank you. I'm kinda broke." He let out a light hearted laugh, bundles of wheat held in his arms.

       It had only been one day after Wilbur's death. Techno decided to give him his secret base, since it wasn't really that secret anymore. Along with everyone stealing the resources that lie there. Phil needed some kind of base for the time being after all.

       He opened the chest and threw the wheat in, brushing his hands off.
       "I think I'll head off Tech, nice talking to you." The pig looked up, nodding and waving good bye. Phil dropped into the river and swum down the hole to Techno's base. Falling into the water below.

        He looked at the two cages that are in the base, no longer holding the two mobs Techno kept. The chest were mostly ransacked or taken by the pig on his moving out. Phil huffed, dropping down into the basement. A stark contrast of blackstone walls compared to the stone ones above. Armor stands no longer holding any netherite armor. Only a single diamond helmet stood tilted on a stand.

      He plucked it off, seeing only fire protection enchanted on it.
       "Useless." He muttered, plopping it back on the stand.

       Phil lowered himself to the floor, leaning against the wall. His wings splayed out in front of him. Now that he looked at them, they were fairly unkept. He frowned, bringing the wing forwards and begining to groom them. Pulling out pin feathers and rearranging them. Thoughts flowing into his head as he busied himself.

        Is Will mad at me? He knows Wilbur wanted him to kill him. But.... What if he didn't? What if it was a spur of the moment and in reality his son just felt guilty. Just like Phil is feeling. He yanked out a feather with too much force. Cringing at the sharp pain that spiked through his wing.

       There must be some way to bring him back. Ghost are real, right? So maybe there's a way to bring Wilbur back to life. To hug him again. To apologize. To feel... Relief. Another feather got yanked out, this time Phil didn't wince. He turned the grey feather in his hand, before letting it float to the ground. His wings aren't quite neat enough.

        What would he do if they find out? His hand gripped around a feather. Would they kill him too? Abandon him? Or....

       "You killed him?" Tommy's face morphed into one of horror, his feet shuffling away. "Y-you monster!"

       "FUCK!" Phil yelped, jumping at the stinging sensation that racked his wing. He opened his hand to see it full of bloodied feathers, small specks of red sprinkled on his palm. He threw them away, trying to wipe the blood off his hand. His breathing stuttered as his mind continued to spiral.

       "You're my son!" Phil cried, his hand gripped tightly around the enchanted sword. Wilburs crazed smile grew, walking up to him.
       "Do it." He grabbed the sharpened end, pointing it at his heart. It's diamond sheen glinting dangerously against Will's skin. Phil gasped, looking into his eyes, searching for a sign of the Wilbur he knew. But it wasn't there. Seeming a dull contrast to the once bright ones he usually saw. "Do it-" he shut his eyes as he plunged the sword through his heart, blood splattering onto his robe. Wilbur fell forwards into his arms, Phil catching him. He stared at the blood that painted his hands, watching and feeling Will's chest no longer rise and fall.

       His vision seemed to fill with the harsh color of red, swarming his head. He killed him, he killed him, he killed him, he killed him, he killed him, he killed him, HE KILLED HIM-

       Phil's eyes snapped open, not noticing that he had spaced out. Slowly raising his body off of the cold stone floor. Feathers were scattered around, speckles of blood littered everywhere. He lifted his wings, spots of baldness and blood dripping from them. Feeling the grounding sting of pain radiating from his wings.

      He sighed, letting them fall back down. Why had that bad habit come back? He thought he had gotten over plucking his wings. Guess not.

       Phil pulled his knees to his chest, looking around the room. His eyes scanning every nook and cranny to take his mind off of his worries. Not wanting to focus on- nevermind. But then, something caught his eyes.

       Gold. A chest labeled with a gold bar. He raised his head, staring at it. The gold was not what interested him, it's what a certain item made of it that did.

      Totem of Undying. That was the key to getting Wilbur back.

       Phil chuckled, running a hand through his hair. If he could pull this off, no body would know that he killed Wilbur. Even if they did, no body would care! And to make things better, he would have his son back. A weight seemed to fly off his chest, eyes brightening as he realized this may work.

       Phil jumped up, ready. But the real question is, how can he revive Will with a totem of undying?

       Why, a stronghold library may have the answers.