Chapter Text
“Don’t go,” hoarsely whispers Illuga. He has been trying to fight the corruption for a fortnight already, but it excessively fast and way too deep got in his being. Blackthorn cracks meander over his entire body, from which here and there fire is breaking, “the voice of the Hunt is quieter next to you.”
“I’m staying,” Flins tenderly scoops Illuga into an embrace.
The voice doesn’t show it, but the álfr’s soul is in agony of such strength he has never experienced before. All the attempts to prevent the infection came in vain. Illuga fully stopped to comprehend the speech of their comrades and friends, only the sheer miracle and own desperate will make him to cling at Flins, as one’s clinging at a saving ledge above a dark abyss.
Flins has decided for himself that he will stay until the very end. He knows for sure that he won’t be able to permanently end Illuga’s sufferings. But the way how Illuga is responding only to Flins’s words… It gave a timid hope to preserve at least a small piece of his beloved’s consciousness.
Even if like that
Besides, if the Wild Hunt’s creations are not destroyed, there’s a fleeting chance that they will exist for eternity. And perhaps this eternity will be enough to hold on that little which will remain of them by the end.