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The Wizard’s wards were still burning in the back of his overly-sensitive eyes, lingering in that way only magic could : even his mask had been little protection from the supernatural light as he had slammed his own light through them, felt them rip and coil like tissue paper under his own will.
It had hurt, like falling through water at high speed hurt, that pricking pain all over your skin and ache in your chest as you tried to take air back in. But it wasn’t like he needed to breathe, and pain...well. Pain was just distracting, like the bloody bones at his feet, the neat pointy vertebrae still strung together by what little flesh and sinew his power hadn’t managed to rip.
Maybe that was why he hadn’t seen. Maybe that was why he hadn’t felt his Master’s presence: he was still buzzing, high from the violence and how easy, how *easy* it had been. How easy it always was, since his blood had turned cold, and he had turned... more.
He was always capable of this, he reminded himself. But as a human what a struggle it had been, how much pain it had brought to do whatever he had to, to survive.
Now, even the most brutal act made everything that was left of his soul sing. It was just what he was, what he had to do.
“A bit much, wasn’t it, Hal?”
His voice, like a slap on the hand. He didn’t have a living heart that could jump anymore, so the only loud thump was the one of his knees hitting the floor.
Then his Master was all around him, darkness thick enough to soothe his eyes, to brush his hair: he closed his eyes still, hung his head as the displeased presence surrounded him.
He spoke again. There was urgency in his voice, and Hal rose at his command, a coiled spring eager to act, eager to serve. But his Master wasn’t impressed. His Master wasn’t happy with him, or his actions, and it made something inside him burn, it made his back tense and his shoulder hunch and his tongue too sharp.
“I don’t believe he talked to anyone-”
“And I don’t care what you believe.”
Hal braced himself as his Master’s black aura surrounded him again, barely hearing his last words as that unliving, cold presence clung to the green light that kept him safe. It pressed him, in silent demand of more.
He shivered, the mark on his neck tingling under the rough texture of his uniform. A part of him still jerked away, still screamed to protect himself from the powerful, angry presence. But a new, more level part of him knew that he deserved his Master’s scorn, and rebelling would only earn him more.
That was an unbearable thought. He knew better, and his Master expected better. With a soft noise he let his last shield down, the light flickering and melting into nothing, all that power, all that will submitting to the stronger one.
The darkness touched him, satisfied.