Apples of the Earth

5

3rd persons point of view*

Philza gazed in horror at his home. Ash rained down like the snow from the sky. The sum shined,oblivious to the fact that it was neither wanted nor needed. The fire melted the snow around it and illuminated the snow beyond that brighter than any sun could ever.

The heat alone was enough to keep him from flying close. He searched frantically for his son but saw no trace of him. So Philza landed as close as he dared and dashed inside.

His home. He spent years making this. From the foundation to the sky light on the roof, he built it all himself. There were knicks in the post that supported the kitchen cabinets that marked everyone's heights as they grew. It was now simply ash. In the bedrooms were rich and expensive clothing and bedding of only the finest wool, leather, and fur. Now, it was just charred scraps and singed piles of what is once was. Decades of rare items literally have gone up in smoke. Food as well has been burnt to a crisp. He can smell burnt meat and could only hope he isn't too late.

Coughing violently, Philza plows through the bedrooms and bathrooms. The basement and the kitchen. The storage room and greenhouse. He salvaged what little he can as he goes, including fire resistance potions.

He finds no trace of Techno, but he is able to loosely piece together what happened. The lava stream pouring from in front of the furnace to the basement. The fact that the back door was burnt with its hinges left open. The now burnt potatoes in the furnace. It was an accident. Techno was probably safe.

There were no tracks to follow, but Philza took to the sky, heading south, the direction the back door pointed. But heavy snow covered any tracks there might have been. Ash rained down and mixed with the icy powder, creating a mixture of unbreathable air. If an already sickly child was in this, he'd be gone by now. But, there has been no death flare in the sky. Unless he missed it.

Tears stung his eyes, and it wasn't just from billowing smoke. Every minute passed made it that much less likely to ever find his son again.

Then, he saw a flash of color. Could it be???

He swooped down to the ground to find Doctor Ponk. And in his arms, Technoblade.

"Oh, thank goodness. I thought I had lost him!" Philza nearly wept. Ponk said not a word, just handed the unconscious boy to the only other fridge obsessed person in their world.

Ponk briefly explains that he found the young boy drowning in powdered snow,unconscious, while on his way to give Phil news. In turn, Phil tells him about how the house was lost to a fire. Then, the winged father reluctantly asks what the news was.

"I wish I could be here to give good news. " He starts slowly. Phil doesn't look up.

"It's cancer, isn't it." He asks in a solom voice. But he doesn't ask it like it's a question. He says it as if he were finally accepting it.

"Yes. He's in late stage 2, by the looks of it. I hate to tell you this, but he has about 5 years. The odds after that are... slim." Ponk says solemnly. Philza stands in the cold, shaking from something internal rather than the 8 degrees Fahrenheit the air around him is.

"What about his lives? He still has all three! " He tries to counter. But Ponk simply sighs.

"Here. Let me see your heart tracker." Ponk gestures to the wristband on philzas' right arm. Phil holds out his hand and allows it to be removed. Ponk then puts it on Technos wrist. In moments, the light flashes. Instead of 3 cherry red hearts, you can see 2 and a half cracked green hearts, slowly decaying.

"His lives are corrupted. He can still lose them in normal ways, but when his time comes, they will all break. One after the other. It won't stop, " Ponk sadly explains. Philza funds himself numb. Suddenly, everything feels tight and dark. He's falling with no control, screaming with no air, crying tears he has none of.

"What can I do?" He barely whispers audibly.

"Keep him happy. In this world, there's nothing you can do. If you can keep him from losing his lives, then maybe we can find a way to cure him in the future. But each life will only last about 2 years." Ponk tells him. This is the worst part of his job. Sure,he can bring health and wellness being to almost anyone over nearly anything. But sometimes, there are times he just has to be a shoulder to cry on. And it hurts.

"Then that's what we'll do. We'll find a cure." Phil says, as if it were so simple. Ponk represses a sigh. Denial. Hes seen it before and will see it again. It's never any less heartbreaking.

"Wait a second,  Phil. Uhh, don't you have another kid? Wilderness or something?" Ponk asks with a confused face. Phil goes as pale as the ashy snow beneath his feet.

"Oh, rabbits foot." Phil hisses under his breath. He unfolds his wings and is gone in a heartbeat.

"Well, ok then. I would LOVE compensation for coming miles and rescuing your dying kid. Thanks so much." Ponk begins to sarcastically vent at himself as he turns and walks away.

Wilburs' point of view *

Our home....

I've never known anywhere else. My first steps were on that porch. Mom's guitar was all I really had left of her from before she disappeared. The wood swords dad taught us to fight with. Maps from before the world changed. A lifetimes worth of songs and stories I had made myself. My book collection...

Neither Dad nor Techno were anywhere to be found. I can safely assume they're not here. So, I find myself on my knees at the edge of the melted snow. Tommy is crying, but I can hardly hear over the roar of the flames erupting from the place I have spent my whole life. Even at a great distance, the heat engulfes me, and heatwaves radiating from it send KY hair blowing as if I were staring upwind at a fire whirl from hell itself.

The measly garden we depended on is now scorched, and the glass has burst from the heat. The shards on the lawn glisten in the encaptivating hues of sunset from the bonfire that I once called home.

I see on the horizon what appears to be a giant crow. He hasn't abandoned us. At least not yet. I turn to look at nearly his entire life's work go up in smoke. And I grin.