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He was sure it was over, it had to be.
The Collector led them to the edge of the archive, a precipice of promise that towered over the Boiling Isles –or whatever was left at least. His legs shook but the pain of fingernails piercing his palm had overridden the fatigue of the past few days. He looked a mess. He was sure of that too.
Adrenaline still flooded his mind and with a rather sudden start he turned toward his friends –how were they handling this? Gus, Amity, Willow, Camila and even the Collector (was he good now?) were all in their own stages of disbelief. It felt as if they been fighting for so long, their whole lives controlled by a man he was raised to love, to respect and now he was gone.
It was a scary thought.
It meant the future was entirely undecided, an uncertain realm of possibilities that he would have to face without his best friend and oh how that ached. How that had been taken from him like so much, like his purpose and his home and his identity and he wasn’t so sure he had anyone right now. Sure, Luz had said that it would be okay, that they're family and he would be safe but... but... was she okay?
And then the Collector began to reassure them, in his own strange way, that she was back [she shouldn’t had been gone] that she was safe [they were just kids, they should always be safe], that Luz had been going on about something to do with the Titan and he could only hope any of this would make sense later when they were everyone had been reunited.
Except for him. He still didn’t exactly have anyone waiting.
He looked back out over the edge again and watched in mild interest as the flakes of his past splintered into the rising sun. Hope. He had to have hope. There was a sort of irony in life thriving on the corpse of a God [wasn’t King a Titan too?] and maybe it was the fact he was a Grim-walker or maybe it was the fact Belos was practically some ancient parasite and now dead or maybe it had to do with them all knowing deep down what had happened to Luz when they saw those orbs of pure light stream past but it all came crashing in a tidal wave of pressure, breaking the walls of denial he had built for so long until nothing but ugly sobs crawled as his throat and tears assaulted his eyes.
And then there was a hand in his.
Willow. Of course, it was Willow.
Like all of them she wore scrapes and scars and shook in either fear or disbelief. It was something they had had come accustomed to, he noted rather dumbly through his hysteria. She too faced out into the Isles, a coat of fresh tears painted her eyes in sorrow and fear and relief all at once and suddenly he felt a little less alone.
It might have been because she was holding his hand or because no one else was quite so dramatically sobbing like a loser but he felt a sort of red-hot embarrassment creep up and he ducked his face into the crook of his free elbow to gather some of his lost composure.
From the corner of his eye, she smiled at him, and he felt just a little better about the future.
Looking outwards, everything was partially visible on the horizon; what was left of his tormenting past eventually receded from view as the wind blew it away from Titan ribs and trees and old towns. The dead infectious green that he just knows will haunt him to his grave was finally being eradicated from his future and, despite his complicated feelings for what was meant to be his uncle, he allowed himself to -for the first time since reentering the Boiling Isles- smile back.
And then it went wrong.
Something wasn’t right, a small ache in his chest (which could just come from being out of breath, it's not like he was perfect at self-care) or even the thickening build of sweat amassing on his forehead (which could certainly only from running about during the past few hours, no other reasons) were within seconds pushed to the forefront of his mind, all senses focusing solely on the odd pains and aches his body was experiencing.
Then he knew.
The very moment a strange tingling sensation emanated from around the edges of his scars he connected the dots. Apparently, his alarm at the very thought was enough to warrant suspicion from his friends who were all called to his attention by a very worried Willow calling out his name in surprise.
He slowly turned to look over at them, Willow and Gus stuck either side to support him as he wobbled slightly on the spot and Amity and Camila in front of him, echoing questions between both him and each other like a pair of squawking parrots.
“It's happening.” He interrupts them all, quiet but certain enough to silence the small, concerned crowd formed around him. They all looked at him quizzically.
Gus speaks up first. “Umm... what does that mean, dude?” and they all agree with the sentiment.
“What happens to all Grim-walkers eventually.”
“Mijo,” Camila started placing a hand gently upon his shoulder, “what happens to Grim-walkers?” All he could force himself to do was look away shamefully, a deep guilt filling his heart like poison.
Willow just squeezed his hand harder, whispering desperately, “you... you don’t mean-” Despite his best efforts a sniffle escaped him, and he nodded. The tingling began to spread as if cluster of ants crawled beneath his skin.
“No, no!” Amity refuted. She took a single step forward, almost daring him to say what none of them could. “We`ve come too far for that Hunter, you don`t mean that!”
But he knew.
“He's gone now. I`m a Grim-walker, you know this and as much as I hate it the only reason I'm here is because of him and if he`s dea-… gone. If he’s gone then I go too.”
He didn’t want this, of course he didn’t. Desperately, all he`s wanted was to go to Hexide, play Grudgeby, study wild magic with his friends, learn to carve palismen, honor Flapjack, meet up with Darius again, cosplay with Gus, gossip with Amity, hang with Luz, thank Camila, perhaps hold Willow’s hand again.
Oh Titan, he would even be willing to apologize to Eda The Owl Lady for all the trouble he’s caused if he were just given the chance.
But he wasn’t.
This was his end.
And as his skin erupted into sparks of extraordinary spheres of mystic lights his thoughts drifted to his best friend. It wasn’t fair that the little red cardinal had been lost so soon, that he wasn’t able to protect him and now that sacrifice would be for nothing. There was so much he began to discover about himself, the human world giving him a chance to explore who he truly was, and he wasn’t finished!
It wasn’t fair and as the tingling grew, as his body’s evaporation into the glowing occult cloud began to worsen, as the yells of his friends as they clung to the dwindling remains of him merged into one, and as the sight of a devastated Collector, who stood back watching with a look so innocent and saddened, blurred with the tears now cascading down his radiating face, he couldn’t help but wonder if this is what it was like for Luz.
“Thank, you guys... I love you.” He smiled bittersweetly.
He was sure it was over, it had to be.
He was right.