Work Text:
This was it then.
Viktor gripped the rune in his hand, its caustic energy vibrating throughout his entire being. Shaking, vibrating, continuous motion.
This was it.
This was it.
(Jayce didn’t look afraid. So, Viktor pretended he wasn’t either.)
The energy traveled up his arm, an arc of pure magic, twisting and bending his immaterial tendons into knots and lightning like sparks.
(It hurt, it hurt. Yet no, it didn’t. Viktor couldn’t feel in the void. But he did, he felt Jayce’s eyes on him. Felt the beating souls trapped by his own hubris. They were warm.)
It was as if the whole lifeblood of the universe was rupturing in his palm. It was heat and matter, yet not. The antithesis of everything he’d become, all perfection blown back to reveal the unpredictability and chaos of the world. Like grazing your hand against nitrogen, burned by the cold.
(This was it.)
Viktor gripped harder. He felt the rune burning into his palm. Blue and pink and purple and every color danced in his vision. A kaleidoscope of energy. The light spiked through his fingers, bright and porous. Like living flame, like static electricity. The soul of all magic, all arcane in his hand. His eyes flashed upwards.
Jayce.
Jayce was reaching for him, fighting against the sheer force of the cosmic reaction. He jerked and spun against the air, not air, and reached, reached, reached, until.
Touch.
Contact.
Their hands clasped the rune together, shaking with the power beneath their palms. And Viktor… Viktor in a last moment of selfishness wished Jayce would let go, let him accept this alone.
(This was it. This was it. This was it.)
But Jayce drew Viktor close, brought his forehead to his own, and Viktor realized his truest selfish act was this, going together. And then.
Then.
There was light and sound and touch and feeling and expansion, implosion, eradication.
(This was it.)
Light.
Sound.
Touch.
Feeling.
The memory of- snow, mountains, a blizzard, a tall man – Viktor – the rune, dropping into his small hand, over and over and over – Viktor?
(Viktor?)
Long nights staring at the gaseous night sky wondering about a better world – playing alone, building a small ship, rubbing a sore leg. Working in the forge, tired arms, sweat down his brow – (Jayce?)
(This was-)
The innovator’s competition, throwing up with stress. Notching gears over and over. Dual vision again and again.
(Jayce?)
Barren wastes. Leagues and leagues of death and silence. So much silence.
(Viktor?)
Alone, alone, alone. In the hospital. At the bottom of a pit. Carving runes into his skin, watching them bleed, praying for one more day. Frantically running towards the lab, a body featherlight in his arms. Not breathing. Not breathing. Thinking only – Thinking nothing, dead, gone, bleeding out – if I get there in time, I can save him, I can save him.
And more and more images, memories.
Light.
Sound.
Footsteps.
Metal clinking against dust and rot. New shoes against wood paneling. A cane against linoleum. Laughter and late nights and no sleep, just one more push, just one more equation. (-it.)
(Viktor? I can-) The light. The light. Everything was shaking. (-feel you. I’m here. I promised-)
More and more. Touch. Feeling. Light slaps on the back. A touch on the back of the elbow. Gentle hands working on a brace. Cold hands warmed by a figure slumped against a hospital bed. Hands grasped against his own. Their own. They were- (I won’t leave.) (Not again.) together.
One soul, one energy. All energy.
It crackled and shook with explosive might and finally, finally, released.