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"Oh god Milo, no, no, no, no."
Their usually so feisty shifter is lying in front of them with his hands on his side as they kneel down next to him. The smell of blood is everywhere. Milo's eyes are vaguely open but his mouth curls into a pain-twisted smile when he sees his mate's face above him.
"There's my sweetheart." He barely manages to get the words out.
"shhhh, Milo, don't speak" Sweetheart's adrenaline kicks into gear as they gently put their hands on his. Their core is already reaching out to his warmth when Milo coughs, small specks of blood landing on his cheeks.
"Sweetheart, no." There's pain in his voice. They can't make out whether it's because of his wounds or because he's worrying about them. "It's too much." He whines as he feels his mate's magic trying to pull his muscles back together. "Too deep - your magic - can't-"
He is trying with all that is left in him to tell them that their powers have limits. That his wounds need more. He doesn't even think about the oh so obvious fact that his partner has no intention of giving up. No intention of only using their powers in a reasonable way. No intention of letting him bleed. And absolutely no intention of staying alive if it meant that he died.
They close their eyes, knowing that their next move will hurt him more before the pain is gone. They move his almost lifeless hands away from the deep wound, blood already flowing as they press their hands on it.
Milo cries out in pain. Black fog overpowering every thought in his mind. His eyes are shut, his body uses the last energy it has left to impulsively jerk his upper body up before falling back onto the ground, making him whine from the impact.
But then he can feel it. The warmth that he is so familiar with. The warmth he reaches out for when he bridges with his mate. It travels from muscle to muscle, cut to cut, bruise to bruise. Like a wave of sunlight.
His brain is barely able to comprehend what is happening, covered in the haze that healing magic leaves behind.
Warm. So warm. Feels good. Are they bridging with me? What is- oh that feels good. Less pain. Can feel my legs again.
The cause of this warmth is panting now. They are pouring all that is in them into their partner, their love, their mate.
They are already kneeling, but their knees, their upper body and their arms are losing their strength rapidly, barely able to hold themselves up now.
They can feel it. Their core is not just dying, it is rotting from the inside. A black hole growing where their powers used to be.
"I love you" they whisper. "So much."
With one last grunt, one last push, one last attempt to save him, they move every ounce of magic they have left into his skin. Their vision blurrs as they collapse next to the shifter.
A few seconds pass. Both of them panting. But Milo's breath gets deeper and more steady. His partner's gets quieter.
Milo's eyes snap open when his mind finally catches up with the situation. He is still on his back, so the face that he saw before is now gone from his vision.
"Sweetheart?!" He sits up, looking to his left and only then to his right where he sees them. He gasps, his hands reaching for his partner on the ground. Their eyes closed, mouth slightly open, barely breathing.
If they didn't look so fragile, he would shake them. "Sweetheart!!" he doesn't even notice his own voice shaking with held back tears.
"no no no no no, NO" now the shifter is trying to reach out to them with his magic. But the healing magic haze is still strong. His powers barely starting to recover. And truthfully, his mother might have taught him how to heal, but this is no case for basic healing magic anymore.
Still, the desperation overpowers every reasonable thought he has. He tries to reach their core. But he almost throws up when all he finds is a strange, rotten feeling.
The tears are streaming down his face. His cries for help reaching far, yet no one is able to hear them.
A shifter holding onto a stealth. One heartbeat quickening from fear. One slowing down more and more.
His forever gave their warmth to him and is now getting cold.