Children of Death | Dream SMP AU (discontinued)

Prologue

He flew low, skimming the treetops to avoid any unwanted eyes. The moon glared down from above, a round, unblinking eye gleaming yellow-white. It was a still, quiet night - a perfect night for flying, to somebody who was doing so for leisure. To him, a perfect night to be found out and killed.
He slowed his wingbeats to keep quiet, dipping lower so the rustle of the canopy's leaves was in his ears. Another night hiding beneath the moonlit blanket of darkness, hoping no nocturnal creature or unfortunate insomniac would see a pair of black wings against the infinite black sky; another night searching restlessly, knowing he would return empty-handed, just like he had all these thousands of times.
He veered closer to the edge of the forest. There was something there. He hovered, keeping his wingbeats as quiet as he could, fixing his eyes on the sliver of a shape. It was probably nothing, but he dared to venture closer; and saw what he could just barely recognize, in this blackness, was a house.
A few houses. A small village - probably a human one, by the looks.
Had he seen this before? He'd scoured the outskirts of the mountains behind him a hundred times, so had he missed it? It didn't matter. There may have been hundreds of human settlements scattered around this place, this one couldn't be of any importance. But then - something else. Something moving. It couldn't be - could it? Probably just another human up too late because they couldn't sleep or heard a sound. But then why, out of the corner of his eye, had it looked like...
He swooped downward and perched among the branches of a tree that would hide him well enough from whomever this may be. He squinted his sharp eyes and studied the shape - a tall figure, draped in a dark coat with the hood pulled over their head. Their back was turned to him, but he thought that he could make out dark, curly hair.
The figure turned. Philza started, nearly toppling from his branch. He'd been right. He recognized that face, he knew it. This was him.
But what about his wings? How had he hidden them all this time? Philza knew despite everything that he was right, somewhere in his bones. He had to be. This was who he'd been looking for all these years.
Wilbur turned back and walked through the door of one of the houses, and then he was gone.
So he'd been living with the humans all this time. And not just Wilbur - both of them, most likely. They weren't dead, they'd run away, and made a new home, alone. Philza tried to push back any emotion. He'd done it, at long last, he knew what he had to do now. He couldn't waste time feeling sorry. He touched his necklace and it glowed gently red, and then he was there, in her realm; barren land littered with discarded bones, strangled by red and black and purple roses. Death spread her wings, stared down at him from her throne and smiled.
"What brings you here?"
He fluttered up to meet her and landed on her outstretched hand.
"My love," he said quickly, taking one of her huge claws in his. "I think we've found them."