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Cold wind whips at his face as he stands, overlooking the star-speckled darkness that is the Void. It calls to him. Begs him to come and become one with it. To become another star in it’s dark mass.
The bedrock is firm beneath his feet and for a moment, the man wonders what it would be like. To spend the rest of eternity, memorialized as a sparkling white piece of soul, kept far out of the reach of everything except the eyes of whatever crazy bastard would follow in his risky footsteps.
Philza sheds his green cloak, revealing the broad, black wings beneath it.
A chorus of squawks comes from above him and he turns his gaze upward to acknowledge the flock of nervous crows sitting on ledges and roots protruding from the walls of the ravine. The sky is a mere line at the top of it.
The birds cry out, and Phil smiles a little.
Danger!
Philza!
No!
Death!
Philza, stay!
They’re concerned. What if he doesn’t come back? What if he goes too low? What if he succumbs to the cry of the Void? He laughs.
“Don’t worry about me,” He reassures them. It does nothing to soothe their warning cries. Phil rolls his shoulders, stretching his wings out as far as they go.
They’re just slim enough to fit between the walls of the ravine - that’s how narrow the cavern is.
There’s a weight on his head, and talons grab on to his hat. It’s taken from its resting place on his golden hair and the crow flutters to the ground. The thin green-and-white striped hat is smushed under the weight of the smaller crow. It’s glittering black eyes meet the shining blue ones of the bird-man standing above him. It caws.
Adventure!
This bird was newer to the pack, only a few months old. But Philza grins and leans down to pet it’s head gently with his first knuckle.
“You keep an eye on that, okay mate?” Phil points to the hat beneath the bird. “Make sure it doesn’t fall.”
A squawk of agreement.
Philza stands back up, pulls his wings back in and tucks them tight against his back.
He takes a breath.
Closes his eyes.
Leans forward.
Dives.
As he plummets towards the darkness, he can hear the crows start to screech like all hell has broken loose. The sound of tens and hundreds of wings beating the air echoes in the ravine that grows farther away from him.
The wind is biting. It stings his face.
Finally, the man spreads his wings and he catches what little updraft there is. He has to beat his wings to keep from falling farther. There’s not much wind for him to float on.
The screaming of the crows seems oddly close. One gaze upwards reveals the silhouettes of a giant flock of birds against the gray of the bedrock above him.
He rolls his eyes and smiles.
They chastise him for his risky adventures, but nevertheless he finds that they always follow him. Their complete loyalty and utter trust in him makes Phil’s chest warm.
He makes his way back up to them, beating his wings hard against the chilly, barely-moving air radiating off the Void. The crows descend, meeting him halfway. They surround him in a cloud of jet black, flapping wings.
They’re almost invisible in the darkness.
“You followed me.”
The amount of caws that resound around him in response would be deafening to a normal man.
Follow!
Trust Phil!
Adventure!
Fly!
“Well then… What say you we go exploring?”
He gives them no chance to respond, before he’s tearing through the crowd of them. The birds screech in surprise and rush to get out of his way as he launches past. He gives a merry laugh and looks over his shoulder at the stunned flock, still hovering an ever-farther distance behind him.
“Well?? Keep up!” He calls.
There’s a chorus of excited squawks and they begin to follow him. He slows down just enough for them to match his pace. They surround him as he turns his direction upwards. The higher he can get, the farther he can glide.
Philza climbs until he can touch the bedrock again, and then spreads his wings. They catch the air and he glides. The crows float around him, screeching with glee and slowly beginning to spread out from their initial clump.
Trust!
Brave!
Go!
Fly!
Free!
Philza can feel his chest swell with pride.
If there was one moment of his life he wished he could stay in forever, it was this one.
The sensation of being completely and utterly free. Having if but a few fleeting minutes where he didn’t have to care, or worry.
Surrounded by his biggest pride and accomplishment, most of whom he’d raised since before they could fly.
This, this was true peace.
And then he gets an idea. He flips onto his back, tucking his hands behind his head as he glides backwards and gazes up at the majority of his flock.
“What if I touched it?”
The crows turn their gaze to him. Confused.
“The Void,” He clarifies, “What if I touched it?”
They start crying out again. Warnings.
Danger!
No!
Death!
Pain!
Hurt Phil!
He considers their worry. But ultimately, he doesn’t need their permission.
He changes course again, heading back towards the bedrock ceiling. The crows follow him and he finds another crevice in the rock. He manages to fit through, and the flock floods in beside him.
It’s not a ravine this time. Just a cavern, barely large enough to fit all of them. Philza sits on a ledge, gazing at the rest of them on the other side.
“Stay here.”
The birds tilt their head at him.
“I don’t want any of you getting hurt. Stay.”
Phil!
No!
Stay!
But he doesn’t listen and leans his weight forward, falling once more towards the Void. It’s only now he realizes that his hair has long since come out of his ponytail. It smacks his face and it stings a bit. The crows’ screaming grows quieter, but none of them follow him this time.
Somehow, Phil finds himself at peace once more. Free-falling towards what could very well be his death. His arms trail above him as he falls, and so do his legs. He finds that he no longer wants to open his wings.
The Void calls out once more.
And Philza nearly gives in.
But talons sink into his arm and he curses, his eyes tearing open. There’s a crow. His hat is clenched tightly in its beak, and it nearly seems to be glaring at him. He doesn’t remember seeing it with the rest of the flock.
Phil suddenly finds his ability to move and his wings spread wide again, catching on the air with a jolt that makes his shoulders ache. The crow gives a surprised screech and the hat flies from its mouth.
It notices and turns, like it’s ready to fly off to catch it. But it’s momentum and Phil’s sudden stop causes it to crash into the man’s chest.
It screeches in pain as it’s wing crumples beneath it, and Phil’s scrambling thoughts are narrowed into one solid, animalistic instinct:
Protect.
But as he turns his gaze upwards, a burning pain begins in his shoulder and climbs up to his neck. He cries out.
He’s gotten too close to the Void.
A second pain, sharper this time, explodes next to the first and he grits his teeth, holding the injured bird close to his chest as he beats his wings hard against the ever-extensive air of the Void.
He’s back up in the crevice in no time. The birds greet him with relieved caws. Phil perches himself on a tiny ledge and carefully pulls the injured avian away from his chest. The crow screeches again as the movement barely jostles it’s wing.
The appendage is twisted in a way that surely can’t be natural. It’s small feathers are bent and crumpled, and Phil feels a small pang of guilt in his chest. He’d been the one the bird had followed. He’d nearly let himself be taken by the Void, and if it weren’t for this small one, he likely would just be another piece of stardust.
Phil looks at the others.
“Follow me. And stick close,” He commands. The crows ruffle their feathers, wings perking up in expectation of flight. “We need to get your sibling home.”
And one last time, he jumps into the Void. He holds the injured bird carefully, cringing at each pained warble that musters in the back of it’s throat. The bird is in pain, and Phil doesn’t risk another death-defying maneuver, instead sticking close to the bedrock ceiling above them.
The rest of the flock clings around him like a ball of soapy bubbles. They’re all silent.
It seems like ages before they reach their original ravine, and Phil swings himself up into it. A swarm of crows flies up into the narrow space around him, and the gust of wind that comes with them whips Phil’s untied hair in a flurry around his face.
Niki is more than willing to help the injured bird, setting the bone and bandaging it, and giving Phil more than enough regeneration potions from her aquatic stash. Phil stands in the shallow water of the lake until Niki gives him the all clear. He surprises her with four diamonds he found while mining, and doesn’t allow her to wave them away.
Upon realizing that Phil isn’t budging, she gives him a grateful smile and a thank you, before disappearing under the quietly churning waters of her lake home.
The crow perches on Phil’s shoulder as he flies it back to the nest. It gives a small, sad chirp and nuzzles closer to Phil’s face.
Hat lost… promised…
Sorry…
Phil perches on a nearby tree, bringing the bird into both his palms, careful to not upset it’s freshly bandaged injury.
“Hey, mate?” He says softly. The small bird looks at him with glittering black eyes.
“It’s okay. I can always get a new hat, yeah? What’s important is that you’re okay.”
The crow chirps again, leaning it’s head forward. Their heads bonk together lightly.
Phil smiles.
“Now let's get home and get you and your siblings some food, yeah?”