Work Text:
Gunshots fire, hands slide down arms and disappear, a thumb brushes across the intricate fabric of an omamori charm. Blood seeps across his mother’s shirt, wide golden eyes take in countless crumpled bodies, a child cries out.
Magnus cries out, back in that same spot he stood centuries ago, alone and afraid. Iris doesn’t hear it. She doesn’t have the privilege of seeing him break. Instead, a piercing scream echoes in his skull, throbbing and violent and earth-shattering.
Sweat breaks out across his forehead, and everything goes still. He glares up at his enemy, exhausted and full of so much rage and humiliation he’s certain it will kill him before she does.
He stands, stubborn as always, meeting her eyes. His gaze holds the heat of thousands of losses, memories of sob-filled nights and seething rage. If he had his magic she would be dead, and he knows it.
He presses his hand against the barrier that surrounds him and he smiles, cold and triumphant.
Strong.