Home - Wilbur soot angst

Part 8

 The three pieces of paper stared back at the family of three huddled around a wooden table.

The writing on the letters was unmistakably Wilburs, no doubt about it. The A's and the T's were curved in just the right that made it immediately stand out to Phil. The handwriting was a bit slanted, anyone could tell it was a bit rushed by a spare glace, but it was written in such a way that it breathed finality into it. There's an unmistakable "This is my goodbye" quality to it.

Three papers rang out:

"To Techno"

"To Tommy"

"To Phil"

In a way, there's a sense of mockery lying in the papers in front of here. Even faced down, the paper's words scream at them. They scream, " You fools! Idiots! Look at your mistakes. Look at what you've caused. Your Wilbur is gone, how does it feel? How does it feel, hm? Painful? Are you filled with regret? Shame isn't it?" The silence amongst the men was becoming suffocating; the words moving forward to grip at their hearts, effectively twisting and turning it. Their hearts were enclosed and trapped in a standstill and no one knew how to effectively move.

All this and they hadn't even read the paper.

It had been a few days since Wilbur had disappeared. The time spent in between then and now was used for everyone to come to terms with what really happened. Grief, shock, anger, and sadness all settled into their minds and began to rattle around while there. Wilbur's disappearance threw everyone off. No one left their rooms. No one had the energy to indulge themselves in what they loved whether it be a pet moth, a disc, a blade, or training. Life was now stained a bland grey for the caddels, light escaping through all cracks and turning into something much darker.

Ever since the day of the disappearance, Phil had immediately begun to plan a trip, or a rescue mission if you could call it that. His boy was grown, sure, but Wilbur was still his son. He was still his son and there was so much that went unsaid between the two of them. Their feelings, Wilbur's abilities, everything. Phil hoped to talk about everything on Wilbur's upcoming birthday this year but fate had not been on his side as he once believed it to be. Hours on his end were spent gathering resources, preparing bags, weapons, anything that could prove useful for where they were going.

Eislons was a fantastic place, in theory, sure, that much was true from the stories he told his children. It was a mystical country filled with different people and creatures of a wide variety but it was also filled with danger. The gods could change in nature at the drop of a dime; one second they are benevolent and kind, the next they are viciously tearing you apart before spitting you back out for the rats. Nothing was guaranteed, Wilbur's safety and life aren't guaranteed. And that, that scared Phil most of all.

Their bags sat packed at the entrance of the home, waiting to be put on and carried for what would have seemed like miles. To most, Eislons would take days to reach. Travel would have to be done with boats even if two out of the three of them had wings to carry them. For the normal person that is. Phil wasn't a normal person, however. Phil had access to knowledge of a form of travel that would prove faster and easier for them all even if a bit dangerous; Nether traveling. Making the portal itself was the easiest part; lava from the mines and water from the shore would combine to make an obsidian creation that could make travel a bit easier for them. The hardest part of it all would be the actual trek through the Nether. It was an uncomfortably hot climate in it itself, danger lurking at every corner. It was completely and utterly filled with hostile mobs who wouldn't think twice before killing something foreign. It was a dangerous place but with the time they had all spent preparing, they needed to catch up and they needed to do it quickly. No doubt Wilbur would have been well on his way by now. Distance works differently in the north, the distance would be shorter and so would the time.