DSMP AU Oneshots (angst and comfort)

Goddess of Death -- Final Part (Medieval SBI)

**I'm once again asking for any prompts/suggestions/characters/storylines to write about so if you have any please leave some HERE or at the end of this story :) **

TW// abandonment, confrontation, death 

Third-person POV: Phil's

Word Count: 3575

With tired wings and drooping eyes, Phil took a final break before reaching his destination.

At this point, he wasn't entirely sure where to go, but from the moment he had taken off from L'manburg, there had been an invisible force tugging his body in the one direction for hours now, and he had no choice but to trust it.

Half of the sun was visible above the horizon at that point, casting the world into a serine, golden haze. Phil wished to take more time to admire it - sitting in silence listening in to the crows and wildlife settling in for the night - but he couldn't. He needed to remind himself he was on a mission. A mission multiple people were relying on him to complete successfully. So, with a heavy sigh, Phil ran off down a cleared strip of trees before taking off one last time.

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"Got you," Phil mumbled to himself, catching sight of a singular wooden hut lit up by torches upon a platform surrounded by empty marshland. He tried not to think about its eerie similarity to the version in his dream.

Swooping down, he quickly hid within the branches of a nearby mangrove tree to observe the scenery. Apart from the twinkling lantern swaying slightly in the gentle dusk air, and the soft lapping of water, the place seemed to be deserted. But he knew looks could be deceiving and was quickly proved right, as he caught the glimpse of a dark shadow pass by a window, facing his direction.

Phil gasped quietly and tucked himself further, hunched over upon a thick branch, enshrouding his body with his black wings. He always felt blessed for their colour - or lack of - since they enabled him to camouflage rather well.

The blurry shadow appeared to hesitate at the edge of the window, rather than disappearing completely from view. Then, it backtracked and hovered ominous around the midpoint of the windowpanes. Phil began to sweat slightly, despite the cool atmosphere. Did the witch know he was there?

Watching on with fear simmering in his gut, the hybrid watched as the shadow transformed into something more defined. It now appeared as the outline of a large woman.

A memory stirred within him, but this was no time to get sentimental.

Without even noticing, the individual vanished from sight. Phil shivered, eyes darting between the window and the front porch of the house, which sat adjacent from him.

All of a sudden, the door opened, spilling warm, yellow light out into the world.

"Come in whenever you feel comfortable, dear," a gentle, welcoming voice announced. It gave a starry kind of chuckle, but didn't utter another word.

'Dear?' Phil pondered, scrunching his face up slightly . That...that familiar laugh...? Is this the kind of trick my dream had warned me about?

The hybrid waited a few minutes more before silently dropping to the ground. The voice repeated over and over in his head. This had to be a trap. The renowned 'Goddess of Death' wouldn't go easy on him.

So why did his feet still carry him so recklessly towards the open door?

Standing there, illuminated in the light of the open house, Phil numbly stared inside. Multiple brewing stands were set up amongst various shaped surfaces, although only half were busily bubbling away. The smells from inside merged into one - a certain tangy scent reminding him of boiled lamb mixed with herbs. Even though the smell may have come across as comforting, it made Phil's stomach flip. This witch meant business with how much was going on, not to mention what could possibly be hiding in her multitude of chests.