Chapter Text
It’s easy to forget everything around him. Easy to pretend they’re not surrounded by war, by thousands of fighting men. Surrounded by death.
Nothing exists in this moment but this. But them.
Isak’s kneeling on the ground, holding on to Even while covering the holes in Even’s body as much as possible. Isak’s crying and shivering and so fucking out of hope that he almost can’t contain it.
Even’s still here, still looking at him, but his mouth is open like he can’t breathe, and his eyes are turning glassy. He’s slipping through Isak’s fingers as they’re sitting there. And for once, there’s nothing Isak can do about it.
He can feel the magic crackle under his skin, can feel it reaching out, surrounding Even. Like a caress, like it’s trying to comfort him too. But he’s too late. It pains him, but he is .
If he’d only reached Even a few minutes earlier, he wouldn’t have been. He would still have had time . Even would still have had enough life left in him that there would be something for Isak’s magic to cling to.
He frantically pushes even harder at the wounds trying to stop the bleeding until Even makes a hurt sound in his throat. That sound gives way to the first sob escaping Isak. He allows himself this one. But he can’t help how his lower lip is quivering, how his eyes are turning wetter. He can’t believe that this is actually happening.
It’s too soon. It’s much too soon. He’s not done yet. They’re not done yet.
The magic crackles around them, making the air around them shimmery and hard to see through. It rises from Isak’s body, envelopes them in blue light, protects them from what’s going on around them.
Isak has never felt this out of control before. He stops trying to hold it back, lets the magic free in a way he’s never done before. He just can’t concentrate on the kind of restraint it always takes to hold it back. He’s never felt this desperate before. Every cell in his body reverberates with the man lying in his arms. Dying.
Even. Even. Even.
“This is not how it ends,” Isak mutters, voice quivering from holding back the tears.
He’s never meant anything this much before. He can feel how the magic responds to his words, eager to do his bidding.
And then he knows . Just like that he knows what he must do. What he can do to rectify this.
He leans in over Even, touches his forehead with his own, eyes crossing from being so close. But he can’t stop looking, can’t close his eyes when this is the last he’ll see of Even in this life.
“I swear to you. I will find you again.”
The magic swirls around them, catches on to the intent behind his words, almost all-encompassing with how it responds to how Isak is finally giving all that raw power a purpose, putting it to use.
“I will find you in every life. This is not the end for us, my love.”
He takes Even’s hand, can’t keep in the second sob that escapes him when he feels how Even squeezes back. It’s weak, but it’s there.
“Come find me, Isak. I’ll be waiting for you in every lifetime,” Even whispers in a low, raspy voice, throat filling with blood.
And Isak feels how the magic latches on to those words, makes them feel like the promise they are. He feels it working, feels the magic almost purring from the pledge that lies behind their words to each other.
The smell of ozone fills the air as the magic stretches the fabric of time and space, fulfilling their vows to each other.
Isak tilts his chin so his lips touch Even’s. He ignores the wetness he finds there, needs to be as close as possible and focuses all his energy on making the magic do as he wishes.
As Even’s last breath leaves him Isak feels it against his lips and he immediately knows that this is it. He stops holding back, lets himself succumb to the sobs and the grief. The pain.
But the magic wraps himself around him, leaves him with a warmth that he knows that, in time, he’ll be able to find comfort in.
“This is not the end,” he sobs against Even, and the magic sings the words to him over and over again.
Not the end.