Children of Death | Dream SMP AU (discontinued)

Ghosts and Gods

This chapter includes themes of child abuse and fictional/fantasy racism.

"Does fighting really require so much learning?" Tommy asked. "You just stab someone and they die, right?"
"The thing is, they can also stab you, and then you'll die," Wilbur explained for the thousandth time, holding the broom he was using to imitate a sword in the way of Tommy's blow. "You have to know how to stab them first, and where to stab them to make them die quicker." Wilbur smacked his makeshift weapon hard into Tommy's shoulders and he nearly toppled over.
"But you're not going to be doing any stabbing or any dying for a long time."
"How long?"
Wilbur reached behind Tommy and slammed the broom into his back, sending him face-first into the blanket of leaves that covered the ground.
"Until you can last more than two minutes against your big brother."
Tommy spat out a piece of a leaf and got up, brushing off his clothes and yelling curses.
"We're done training for today," Wilbur said, ignoring him, and began pacing back to the little village.
"Are you just gonna go back to hiding in your room all day?" Tommy nagged him. "What are you even doing in there, and why haven't you told me anything about it?"
Wilbur sighed. He supposed it was time he told Tommy about his little project.
He called back to his brother, who was trailing behind him, "If I can still see your silhouette when I'm at the door, I'll show you."

Wilbur led Tommy to his room and he stared dazedly at the dozens of papers covered in diagrams and notes written in tiny neat letters, the pile of thick books marked at seemingly every other page, and the tidy stack of little folded pieces of paper wedged into the only empty spot on Wilbur's desk.
"Gods, what's all this for?" Tommy asked, already reaching to pick up something from the desk and read it.
"Have a look for yourself."
Tommy picked up a few papers and skimmed over them, studied the neatly piled notes, and the message that was written in black ink on each one of them.
"No..." he murmured as he read and reread the message as if its words might change. "You're not..." Finally he looked up.
"You're going to kill them?"
"Maybe," Wilbur said as gently as he could. "It's only an idea. I want to tell some people I know I can trust, find out if it's possible and how we can do it. If we ever put this into action it'll be a long time from now, maybe years. By then you might be old enough to take care of yourself..." He paused and took a breath. "if I die."
"So when I'm an adult, I'm just supposed to suck it up and accept it when you die!?" Tommy exploded. "And go on with life as if everything's normal? Nothing about this is normal! You're planning to kill our parents!"
"They're murderers, Tommy," Wilbur said maybe a bit too aggressively. "And they were awful to you. They've done worse things than we're doing, and they'll only keep killing and torturing people if nobody gets rid of them."
"Leave it up to the gods," Tommy argued. "It's their problem, not ours."
"The gods have tried and failed. The ones left may not even know about them."
"If the gods can't kill them, how can you?"
"Maybe I can't," Wilbur retorted, "but we might be the only people left who have a chance. If I can find other demigods, or a way to communicate with true gods so they can help us, I will. But somebody has to start this."
"But why does it have to be you?" cried Tommy. "You can't die! You're the only family I have left! And if they find you, you know they'll come for me too."
"I'm not going to let you die," Wilbur said fiercely. "They can kill me a thousand times if they want. You won't have anything to do with this- this war." He breathed and tried to soften his voice. "Tommy, I promise I won't let them kill you. You're a kid, and you deserve to have a childhood. That's why I brought you here," He gestured to the room, and the village outside. "So you could grow up without having to make a choice between killing or dying. I'll keep you far away from all of this, and if they discover me, I'll hide you. I'd throw myself into Death's clutches before I let her get to you. But I'm doing this because I might be one of the only people who can, so I'm not going to run and hide."
Tommy stared down at the note in his hand, then at the clutter and then at his feet. "Don't do it yet. Give it a while. Make sure you know everything. Please."
Wilbur knew he was only trying to delay the inevitable, but all the same he sighed quietly and nodded. "Alright."