Work Text:
Hisirdoux Casperan doesn't quite understand what happens. Most of the events up until the sealing of Killahead bridge is foggy. Merlin's gone, asleep at the expense of his magic. It's eerie, deathlike and still.
Magic runs through his veins, keeping him alive where his heart does not beat. Hisirdoux wishes he were there too, lying in unending sleep until he was needed one day in the future, but there had been work set afore him by his future self to prevent problems for them, completing a circle yet to be drawn.
The other Hisirdoux gave him instructions, laying out a place hidden away where it would be difficult to find, the enchantments and puzzles needed to buy the security of Merlin and his Staff of Avalon. His wizard's accomplice purrs at his side, Archie his only family and company while he works, the lone worker after Merlin is laid to temporary rest.
It is an apprentice's first foray into magic's mastery. The seals are difficult, but Hisirdoux simply remains in the tomb's site, Merlin resting below on a slab to wake when it was time. Nine hundred and ninety-nine years and four months from then.
Merlin would wake to the presence of his first and last human Trollhunter.
He's visited a few times by Deya, surveying the area of an old friend, and she helps him with the carvings telling a story. She comes bearing the scrolls of trollish art to scrape into the stone and line with a paint made with a stone that reflects torch light.
He enchants it using her presence and the amulet of daylight so that only its light can illuminate the carvings. His stomach twists as they work, but he buries it.
The enchantments take longer than expected. It takes six solid months of practice to get the time reversing spell to work, binding the way the room appears to figure out a puzzle. Douxie can only pray that it's effective.
The protection spell binding the use of any and all magicks past the waterfall takes four times as long, and he can finally let Merlin rest.
The tomb remains untouched until Team Trollhunters finds it, centuries later.
And Hisirdoux fades into history, buried under pseudonyms and false lore.