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Frosch was gone.
Rogue had tried to hold that thought at bay as long as possible, to keep it floating in the nebulous haze of grief and disbelief that had gripped him since that day. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to feel, that he wasn’t already coming undone inside, breaking a little more every time he looked down expecting to find the Exceed at his side or whenever any of his guildmates tried to offer him condolences. No, he was feeling it all despite the haze. What he was trying to avoid, and why he was keeping that thought and the full weight of what it meant at bay, was the darkness that he could feel looming behind the haze. There was nothing nebulous about the darkness, the shadows that even now he could feel curling closer, seeping into the cracks where the weight of Frosch’s loss was sinking in, and it scared him.
It scared him because for once he was tempted to let the shadows win.
Not because it would be easier or would ease the pain. Nothing would ease that, nothing would fix it, because Frosch was gone and there was no way to bring them back. Frosch… His hands clenched, nails biting into his palms as he tried to hold it back, to fight back the tears, the sob or maybe it was a wail that was building in the back of his throat…is gone.
No, the shadows couldn’t ease this.
But…
He lifted his head, staring through swollen, itchy eyes at his reflection in the window. Watching as a shadow rose behind him, taking on a life of its own for a moment as it swelled until it towered over him. For a moment it held his shape, a larger, featureless version of himself, but as he watched its form shifted. Still human, but not him, and as the temperature around him seemed to plummet, the sob that had been forming in his throat became a snarl, and then a curse…and then a whisper.
“Gray Fullbuster…” The shadows seemed to darken at the name, swirling around the shadowy form and Rogue slowly relaxed his hands, eyes locked on them. The shadows couldn’t ease the loss, the grief that was tearing him apart inside, leaving deep fissures for the darkness to seep into and fester. He lifted a hand towards the reflection in the mirror, and the shadows paused, and he could feel something in him waiting too. A breath being held, as he hesitated for a moment, old fear and memories of happier times trying to lure him back. It wasn’t enough, not without Frosch, and he closed the outstretched hand, curling it into a fist and behind the shadows moved, flurrying around the figure of Gray and tearing it to pieces. And as the ‘pieces’ drifted, disappearing into the air and the triumphant shadows began to move back towards him, sinking below his skin and into the fissures, a grim smile crossed his face.
No, the shadows couldn’t help his grief, but they could give him revenge.
**
The mood in the Guildhall was subdued, almost as it had been during Jiemma’s day. Not out of fear of retribution but in solidarity for Rogue and his loss, and the worry and exhaustion written across their Master’s face as they watched Sting emerge from his office with Lector clutched in his arms. He had turned up earlier that morning, claiming that he wanted to try and catch up on some work. And they all agreed that it was more likely that he was trying to get some space to gather himself, as he hadn’t emerged for a while. Even though Minerva and Yukino had taken it on themselves to try and ease some of his workload over the last few days, roping in Orga and Rufus despite their grumbling, which had faded as soon as Sting had appeared.
“How is he doing?” Minerva was the one to broach the subject, moving to intercept Sting as he headed for the door and home, frowning as she took in just how tired he looked, bruise-like shadows beneath his eyes, matched by a darkness in the blue eyes that worried her. She had seen him defeated before, had even been the cause of it, but she had never seen his light so dimmed. “Sting?” She prompted when he made no effort to reply even though he had paused and was staring at her.
“I don’t know,” he whispered finally. “He’s barely said two words to me since…” Sting couldn’t finish, arms tightening around Lector who sniffled and pressed close into his chest, the Exceed having said even less since Frosch had died. “I don’t know what to do.”
Minerva knew that the admission wouldn’t have come easily. The guild had changed for the better such admissions were no longer the cause of mockery, but of concern and support, but Sting still tried to do what he could alone. Or, with Rogue… and that was the problem here. His support. His shadow. His balance, was what had been hurt, threatening to tear them both apart. That they were more than guildmates, more than friends, only added another layer of complication, as did the Exceed in Sting’s arms, a potent reminder however unintentionally of what Rogue had lost. I’m not sure any of us know, she admitted to herself, glancing at Lector and then Sting, before her gaze moved around the guild. Everywhere she could see the weight of this loss, and the fear of another, as Rogue had been a ghost of himself the last time, they had seen him when Frosch had been laid to rest, and she took a deep breath before reaching out to grip his shoulders.
“Maybe this time you don’t need to do anything,” she said when Sting looked met her gaze, cutting him off with a small shake of her head as she saw the instinctive protest building. “You can’t fix this, none of us can.” This isn’t like the GMGs, or even a battle, we can’t regroup and find a different path to victory, it was a sobering thought, and one that she could see reflected in Sting’s eyes as her words registered, and she softened her voice. “Rogue needs you just to be there, for now, to make sure he knows that he’s not alone. That he hasn’t lost everything.” We all do, she thought, meeting Yukino’s worried eyes across the guild, knowing about the whispers and worries that had been spreading through the guild, everyone realising that if they lost Rogue, they would lose Sting too.
“But what if it isn’t enough?” Sting asked.
“It will be because it’s you,” Minerva said simply, releasing him and taking a step back. “And you’re his partner, his mate. His light. He might just need reminding of that right now.” For all her worries, there was no hesitation in her words or doubt in her eyes as she met his gaze. Sting stared at her for a moment, searching for something, and she wasn’t sure whether he found it as he ducked his head to whisper something to Lector. The two of them having a heated discussion with a lot of head shaking and pleading, that finally ended with the Dragon-slayer hugging the Exceed tightly before setting him down on the ground before he looked back up at her
“Would you and Yukino keep an eye on Lector for me?”
“Of course,” Minerva smiled at Lector as he slowly moved across to her. “But, why…?”
“You’re right,” Sting admitted. “Rogue needs reminding that he’s not alone, and we need to talk before this gets any worse, and Lector…”
“Will remind him of F-Frosch.” Lector finished, sniffling and Minerva reached down to scoop him up when he didn’t stop, and he turned to hide against him.
“It won’t always be like this,” Sting said, staring at Lector with evident anguish and there was a pause before the Exceed peeked across at him, teary-eyed but trying to smile.
“I know.”
Sting swallowed at the tearful agreement, before looking at Minerva who smiled faintly and nodded. A promise to watch over his partner, before he squared his shoulders and headed for the door, his light a little bit brighter than it had been a moment ago.
****
The haze was gone.
The shadows chasing it away as they had seeped into every part of Rogue’s body and soul, welcomed for once. Embraced. And in the clarity of its wake, anger blossomed. A dark, writhing mass of fury and hatred wrapping itself around his heart. Frosch is gone. The thought was still there, clearer now that he was no longer trying to keep it at bay, but it was no longer a heart-broken cry, but a war cry.
A promise of pain and retribution.
Of revenge.
The shadows… No, his shadows, revelled in it. Feeding on it, and into it, his magic rising with each breath, each dark thought as for the first time in days he showered and dressed. Each step methodical, planned, a step closer to the revenge unfolding in his mind.
It would start with Gray…
That gave him pause for a moment. Since, when had he thought of going further? Of letting the darkness spread? He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t care. Gray Fullbuster might have been the one to take Frosch from him, this time, but was he the only threat? The only enemy? His revenge against the Ice Mage would come first, there was no other choice, but… he could feel the darkness within him expanding, chasing down each spark of light – of hesitation and rationality – and engulfing it, the shadows quivering, as his resolve wavered, steadied and hardened. It will start with Gray, but it won’t end there. He felt as though he should have felt different then, as though the world should have shaken at that moment, but instead, he felt steadier. Stronger. As though he had finally reconciled with some inescapable part of himself and found his balance.
All it had taken was losing everything.
He snarled under his breath at that thought, the shadows lashing out in response, wrecking the room that he had shared with Frosch, with Sting… there was a glimmer of something at the thought of his mate, a hesitation that was ruthlessly suppressed. Sting would understand. And if he doesn’t… That thought, rising from somewhere deep inside didn’t even register as his magic continued to ravage the room as he headed for the door. Unable to wait any longer, the hunger for revenge propelling him out of the room, and the house that he had barely set foot outside since Frosch’s death.
…I will tear it all apart.
**
Sting had been focused on trying to work out what he was going to say to Rogue. What he could possibly say to break through the grief that had gripped his mate since Frosch had died, not sure that there were any words that could stand against that kind of loss. Or, even if there were, that he would be able to say them, having found himself powerless in the face of it over the last few days. But he had promised Lector that it wasn’t always going to be like this, had seen the worry in Minerva’s eyes and heard the whispers in the guild, and knew that he had to try. Not just for his and Rogue’s sake, but for the guild’s.
I have to find a way to reach him…
*
He felt the magic first.
Angry and rolling, an almost physical weight in the air as the pressure grew and grew around him until he felt as though he was wading through molasses. His own magic flared in response, defensive as he tried to push it away, faltering as he realised that he recognised it. His heart sinking, as he saw the shadows of the buildings around him, stretching towards him, fuelled by the magic in the air.
“Rogue…” He whispered, and as soon as the word left his lips, the magic eased a little, the shadows remaining but bending away from him as though he was standing in direct sunlight. He had just drawn in a ragged breath of relief as the pressure eased, when he heard footsteps approaching, head whipping around. “Rogue!” He called, but there was no relief in seeing his mate with his own eyes, because where the shadows had stretched towards him, they were utterly surrounding his mate, to the point where it was hard to tell where Rogue ended, and the shadows began It wasn’t the first time he had seen Rogue like this, and yet he knew that this was different. That something was wrong, and he shivered, taking an instinctive step back and spread his arms. “Rogue, what is going on?”
“Sting…” Rogue’s voice seemed to come not only from his mouth which was pulled up in a strange, grim smile but from the darkness, echoing until Sting lost all sense of where it was coming from. “I’m going to kill him.” It was said so simply and easily, that it took Sting a moment to register what he had just said, and he paled when the words hit home. Rogue…
“Who…?” He whispered, having a sinking feeling he already knew the answer.
“Gray Fullbuster.” Rogue snarled, fury colouring the words and the pressure returned, lashing against Sting and forcing him back a couple of steps before he managed to steady himself just as Rogue reined in his magic just a little, his voice a little steadier as he added. “It all started with him, and I will start with him too.”
“Start?” Sting demanded, stepping forward. “What do you mean ‘start’ with him?” He hated that for the first time that he could remember he was truly afraid of the darkness coming from his mate. Still, he kept moving forward, arms out to appear as unthreatening as possible, not entirely trusting Rogue to be able to differentiate between friend and foe right then. Especially, as the other Dragon-slayer looked almost confused by the question, tilting his head, child-like as he stared at Sting with eyes that were more black than red.
“He…He killed Frosch.” The waver in Rogue’s voice, the anguish that cut through the rage for a moment gave Sting hope that maybe is mate wasn’t as far gone as he seemed.
“I know…”
“No!” Shadow lashed out towards him, and Sting hissed, feeling a stinging pain across his cheek followed by blood trickling down his face. He didn’t reach for it, unable to move as Rogue prowled towards him, pressure trapping him in place, shadows wrapping around his legs and arms and tightening as Rogue stopped right in front of him. “You don’t,” Rogue continued, leaning in and holding his gaze. “You don’t know what this feels like. What it means to lose everything.”
“You haven’t!” Sting shouted, finding his voice and straining against the shadows trapping him in place. “You’ve lost Frosch, you’ve lost your partner, and you’re right I don’t know what that feels like, not really.” He remembered the moment that he had thought that he had lost Lector to Minerva’s rage, and the relief and hope, and sheer desperation when he’d been given a chance to get him back. The lengths he had been willing to go to just to make sure that he could get Lector back. He understood that much, but not the full weight of that loss, and it took him a moment to find his voice again. “I can’t understand what that feels like. But, I am here Rogue.” He yanked against the shadows on his arm, letting his magic shine through just enough to release his right arm so that he could reach out and brush trembling fingers against his mate’s cheek. “I am still here with you, so you haven’t lost everything, and you’re not going to.”
Rogue seemed to lean into the touch for a moment, some more red bleeding back into his eyes, but then he stiffened and pulled back, glowering at Sting. “If you’re still with me, then why are you standing in my path? Why are you questioning this?”
“Because this isn’t you,” Sting retorted, looking pointedly at the roiling darkness surrounding Rogue. “And even if I could understand the need for revenge.” He did, knowing that Rogue wasn’t the only one reeling from that betrayal, as it had caused a shockwave that went beyond their guild, beyond Fairy Tail, but the Ice Mage was already in custody. Questions were going to be asked, and hopefully, they would find out why before someone with a more level head could decide on his punishment. “It doesn’t sound like that’s the only thing you’re planning on doing?” His voice rose in question at the end, not entirely sure that he wanted an answer.
What are you planning Rogue?
What do the shadows want from you?
“It’s not,” Rogue admitted after a moment of thought, looking unrepentant at his admission. “But it will start with him, and if you really understand,” he stepped forward, reaching for Sting and cupping his face as though to pull him in for a kiss. He didn’t, fingers curling tighter, almost painful as he held Sting in place. “Why are you still standing in my way?”
It was snarled, and for a moment Sting couldn’t breathe as the darkness swirled around them both, engulfing him, choking off his air and his ability to answer. Rogue held him there like that for a long moment, until there was a roaring sound in his ears and he was starting to think his mate wasn’t going to release him, and just as he was beginning to panic Rogue released him and took half a step back, taking the darkness with him. Leaving Sting to slump to his knees gasping and spluttering as he fought to catch his breath, reaching up to rub at his chin before looking up at Rogue.
“Because you would do the same for me.”
“What?”
“If our roles were reversed, you would be stood right here in front of me,” Sting said firmly, pushing himself back to his feet and meeting his mate’s gaze head-on. “Do you want to know how I know?” There was no reply, but he took that as agreement, closing the distance between them again, the darkness quivering as though itching to lash out at him again, and he took it as an encouraging sign when it didn’t. “Because, I remember how you were after the Grand Magic Games when I hadn’t been able to go through with lashing out against Fairy Tail, even for Lector’s sake.”
“You were weak,” Rogue spat, but it didn’t mask the way he flinched at the mention of the other Exceed.
“Maybe I was,” Sting allowed, making no effort to hide his hurt, hoping that it would spark something in Rogue, but the shadows only seemed to darken at his admission. “But I also know that if I had kept going, then you would’ve stood in my way that night.” There was no hesitation, no doubt in his words, remembering how Rogue had come running up to embrace him in the wake of his defeat, holding him close, and telling him that it was a good thing that he had stopped. That they had lost. That it was a step forward on a new path. His words, even more than Lector’s weight in his arms, chasing any thoughts of that darker path from his mind. “So no, I’m not going to move.”
There was a pause. As though Rogue was actually considering his words although nothing in his expression suggested that Sting had reached him, but the darkness was swirling as though in the grip of uncertainty and Sting held his breath. Hoping, praying that it had been enough. Please, Rogue…I’m still here, so listen to me. He was doubly glad that he had left Lector behind now, not sure what would have happened if his partner had been caught up in the mess, and not sure whether that would have been the tipping point that pushed Rogue into doing something he would regret.
“You really believe that…” He almost didn’t recognise the voice, it was Rogue’s, but it wasn’t, and he looked up, an affirmative on his lips, just as the shadows rushed towards him in a wave in the midst of them he could see Rogue’s lips drawn up in a snarl, eyes mocking. “You’re a fool.” It echoed like before, coming from everywhere and nowhere, flooding his ears and repeating over and over as he swept away by the rush of darkness, the shadows whipping and slashing at him until he couldn’t stop himself from crying out in pain. And high above his voice, he heard Rogue laughing, and something painful took root in his chest as he was flung full speed int the side of a building, the impact driving the air from his lungs.
This isn’t my Rogue.
That realisation hurt more than the impact had, and it forced him to his feet, staggering slightly before he dropped into a ready stance, trying not to notice how his hands trembled as he curled them into fists. “Maybe I am a fool,” he said, spitting blood on the ground, eyes locked on Rogue who looked almost amused at seeing him back on his feet. “But I am the fool that loves you, and that Rogue… the real Rogue loves back. So, I am not going to move. I am not going to let you destroy him for revenge.”
“Then, I will start with you!” Rogue was on him even as he spoke, the darkness around him intensifying as he slashed down with shadows wrapped around his arm, but Sting was no longer there, dropping beneath the blow and falling flat on his back, cheeks swelling as his magic gathered. Rogue’s eyes darting to him, a split second before Sting released the roar and he didn’t miss, the laser-like beam slamming into his mate and forcing him back as it exploded between them.
He hadn’t expected it to do much damage. Still, it gave him time to scramble up and put some distance between them, unsurprised to see the shadows that had risen to protect Rogue from the worst of the attack melting away, leaving a furious Rogue glaring at him. As they stared at one another, the shadows coalesced around Rogue, slipping into his skin, forming glistening, ebony scales up his arms and down the sides of his face, and Sting’s heart sank either further at the sight. So, you’re going that far? He asked, even as he let his own magic rise, reaching for the Dragon within and feeling the scales creeping across his own skin. He had never imagined using this power against his own mate, and what made it worse was that he wasn’t sure how much of this was Rogue, and how much of it was the shadows, although right then he supposed it didn’t make much of a difference as Rogue rushed at him once more with a snarl.
The next few seconds were a blur.
They were well matched in terms of strength, and the years of fighting together as the Twin Dragons and later as mates meant that they knew each other’s movements as well as they knew their own. Rogue slipping into the shadows, as Sting’s Holy Nova, tore through the spot where he had been, reappearing behind Sting who had anticipated the move, catching the shadowy hand and using it to launch Rogue across the street. Light and Shadow, blurring together as they clashed over and over, neither of them able to gain ground, the other refusing to give the other the slightest opening. “Give it up!” Sting shouted, taking a hit, feeling the shadows leaving deep gashes across his shoulder so that he could try and talk to Rogue. “Rogue!”
Rogue ignored him, becoming shadow again and Sting twisted to try and meet the next blow, but his mate had other ideas. Wrapping his wraith form around Sting, torrents of shadows pouring from his hands and lashing unrelentingly at the blond Dragon-slayer. Again and again, the shadows lashed at him, merciless, vicious and for the first time Sting realised that this was going to make the difference in this fight – he was still fighting as though he knew Rogue, fighting with no intention of going all the way – and Rogue…Rogue was going for the kill. No! He gritted his teeth, pushing against the pain and the ache of that thought, bringing his hands together, light gathering between his palms as he focused on the shadowy form wrapped around him, waiting, biting his lip to stop himself from crying out. Tasting copper, as he finally spotted what he was looking for amongst the swirling, shadows, a brief moment of solidity giving him his target and he attacked.
Stumbling free, as the stigma formed trapping Rogue for a moment, half-solid and half-shadow, teeth bared in a snarl as he realised what had happened. “Rogue…” Sting cut himself off, seeing in the almost pitch-black eyes that there would be reasoning here, no words that could fix this. “I’m sorry.” He could already see the shadows reforming, creeping across the edge of the markings and beginning to erase them and knew that he would have long, and he lunged forwards. He didn’t have Rogue’s magic to back him up, the careful, trusting balance they had built up over the years, but he did have a trace of it. They’d shared their magic before, a trace of Rogue’s shadow deep inside, just as somewhere beneath that rolling darkness lived a spark of his light, and he reached for that trace of shadow now and charged.
I’m sorry…
Thin beams of light and shadows, the latter weak and few and far between, the magic strained, shot towards Rogue from all directions. I’m sorry. Sting found himself squeezing his eyes shut as the first of the beams struck his mate, flinching as Rogue roared his pain. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. He had never liked having to pull Rogue back from the shadows, going against his best friend, his partner and mate, grating against everything that he was, and this was worse because it wasn’t just about bringing Rogue back to himself. It was about protecting himself from the fury in his mate’s eyes, from the rage in the pained roar that became something more, and Sting’s eyes flew open just as the shadows smashed into him flinging him backwards. Desperately, he crossed his arms, bracing himself against the attack, leaving furrows in the ground as he managed to bring himself to a halt before crashing into everything.
There was no time for relief, the shadows that had clearly been shredded by his attack, rushing back together and forming a looming, terrifying mass behind Rogue who stepped forward, no longer held by the stigma. His face twisted into an expression that Sting could never have imagined on his mate’s face. Let alone aimed at him, and despite himself, he stepped back. “Rogue…don’t….” Please…
“You said that you understood.” Shadows slammed into him from behind, and he wasn’t given a chance to steady himself before Rogue was there, swiping across his chest and opening up a deep gash across his front. “You were supposed to be on my side.” A dozen more slashes, blood welling in their wake, leaving Sting reeling as he lashed out in desperation as he realised the tide was turning against him. The others, I need to get the others… As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t fix this alone, not this time. Not with Rogue clearly willing to go much further than he was. His blow landed, but so did Rogue’s retaliatory strike to his face, his nose breaking beneath the impact and he stumbled back, dizzy and disorientated, confused by the writhing shadows in the air. Caught off guard when Rogue rematerialized behind him, wrapping an arm around his throat, the shadows slicing into his skin, curling up the side of his throat as his mate leant in close. “You shouldn’t have stood in my way.”
The shadows crept up and up, leaving no bit of skin untouched until it felt like he was being stabbed by dozens of needles at once, and then they reached his chin and his mouth. A sharp jab to his side, clawed fingers biting into his skin, forced him to cry out, opening his mouth and the shadows rushed in. Sting’s eyes going wide, as the needling sensation swept through his body, tearing him apart from the inside out. He was screaming, or at least he was trying, the sound caught on the shadows flooding him, writhing, as he thrashed against Rogue in a frantic, desperate attempt to escape. Rogue’s grip on his throat was immovable, pressing harder and harder, cutting off his air. Rogue, please… magic gathered under his fingers, as he clawed at the arm holding him in place, and he knew that it was hurting, feeling the shudders that greeted each blow, but it wasn’t enough, Rogue wasn’t going to release him.
There were tears in his eyes, and he wasn’t sure whether it was pain, fear or the rising realisation that Rogue was seriously trying to kill him. That he wasn’t going to flinch, let alone stop. Rogue…He couldn’t breathe. A roaring sound building in his ears, driving out everything else as the darkness pressed in on him, and he was no longer sure if it was Rogue’s magic that he was seeing, or surging pull of unconsciousness rising to claim him. I’m sorry…He wasn’t aware of his hands falling away from Rogue’s arms, the strength fleeing from his legs, leaving him entirely supported by the same arm that was killing him. All he had was the roaring in his ears and the numbness that was beginning to spread through his limbs, offering a blissful release from the agony riddling every part of his body.
…I’m sorry…
He was abruptly released, dropped to the ground with no hope of catching himself. Sting sprawled, gasping for air, and immediately regretting it. It hurt to breathe. To think. To move. Yet, move he did, as weak as a new-born kitten as he managed to roll onto his back, not even making an attempt to stand up, trying and failing to reach for his throat, his body struggling to respond to his commands. For a moment he focused on breathing, dark spots still dancing across his vision, the roaring sound slowly easing away so that he could hear the soft footsteps bringing Rogue to his side, and he blinked as his mate towered over him.
“Can you really do it?” He managed to whisper, feeling the blood that bubbled up in the corner of his mind, not even recognising his own voice as it rasped out past his damaged throat. The dark spots were doubling, unconsciousness creeping closer, blending with the shadows writhing around Rogue and seeming to blot out the rest of the world so that everything had narrowed down to his mate. He blinked, struggling to keep his eyes open as he looked up at Rogue, searching for some sign of the man he loved. The man he had never thought capable of doing this, even in his darkest moments, and finding no trace of him. No hesitation, no mercy…just the promise of the inevitable, and he swallowed, heart breaking again. “Then…I’m sorry.”
That seemed to catch Rogue’s attention, and he faltered for a moment. “Why are you apologising?” Sting almost didn’t answer, because with that question the last little shred of hope that he had been clinging to died. If you’re asking me that… Rogue had always known, had always stood. Their ability to understand each other even without words had set them apart from when they were children, and it had gone deeper than that. Just as he had known when the shadows were creeping again, the dark thoughts needing to be held at bay, Rogue had always known when his mood had slipped, when the doubts about his ability to be Master were whispering that little bit louder. But then he had missed these signs, the darkness creeping in under his watch, and Rogue was looking at him, head tilted in confusion, no longer able to understand him. Something more than his body broken by this fight, by the shadows eddying around them, and maybe that was why he answered. A final, desperate defiance against the darkness, against the inevitably in the dark eyes tracking his every move.
“I promised that I would be your light…” The words cost him what little strength he had left, and he could feel himself slipping. Sliding towards a darkness that didn’t come from Rogue, and he almost let himself just go with it, drifting closer and closer to that invisible edge, and he was teetering on the precipice when he felt more than saw Rogue sink to his knees beside him. Fingers brushing his cheek, almost tenderly, coaxing him away from it as his eyes flickered.
“You promised to be my light…” Rogue echoed, voice soft and almost wondering and Sting blinked, trying to clear his vision, trying to see his mate. A tiny, traitorous part of his heart still daring to hope. The fingers curled against his cheek, warm against the chill that seeped into his skin, waiting for something. Waiting for him, he realised a moment later when he managed to open eyes that he didn’t remember closing, focusing just enough to make out Rogue leaning over him, eyes intent as an almost loving smile crept across his face. Radiant against the darkness surrounding them as his hand shifted down to rest over Sting’s chest. “And you will be.”
Agony.
The shadows were tearing into him once more, burrowing deep into his chest until they found it. Not the heart that was broken, or the struggling lungs, filling with blood, but the spark. The lingering glimmer of his magic, flickering at the edges, burned to an ember from their fight but still bright. A light that shone brighter for a moment, pulsing in defiance of the shadows as they wrapped themselves around it. Tearing it lose, thread by thread, ripping it away from Sting without hesitation or mercy, and he jerked, a keening noise rising in his throat as it rose above him, tiny beams breaking through the shadow.
“My light,” Rogue whispered somewhere above him, almost reverent and Sting heard him move, reaching for the rising, swirling ball of shadow and light. He felt his mate’s fingers curl around it, as though they were curling around his heart along with the shadows, squeezing, tighter and tighter…a final beam passing over him before shadows overcame it ultimately, and as his magic faded, the world turned dark, and this time he let it take him as tears trickled down his face.
I will always be your light…