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There was a thin line between broken and unbroken, between sane and insane. Douxie felt like he was going to lose his mind.
For hundreds of years, he had danced along that fine line like crazy, swaying and pushing back the inevitable breaking point.
He had lost so many people over his long life - friends, acquaintances, enemies, even strangers he had never truly known.
They all died, and he was still here. Sometimes he felt like he was going to go insane, cross that line, and simply break.
Aside from Archie, he had no one to keep him from going over the edge, and without him, he was slipping.
The protectors of Arcadia were good friends, but he had never had anyone close. Someone close like family, human closeness.
Except for Merlin, who had treated him like a useless apprentice. He had never truly experienced it. All his long life, he had managed without a family. He was fine, he had Archie.
But now he was gone. And there was no one to hold him anymore.
He felt detached. Drifting from one conversation to another, another day, and another day, stretching that line until he could no longer tell the difference between happiness and sadness.
Screaming at night, and by day smiling as if nothing had happened.
He was exhausted. Not just physically.
He needed a break.
But did he ever get one? Never.
He came home from work and immediately collapsed onto the couch. He hadn’t slept in his room for months.
He felt drained, as if someone had sucked all the energy out of him. But he was fine. He would always be.
Every day, he wished not to wake up, and every time he did, he mourned it. Why couldn’t the universe just let him rest?
Over time, he lost his focus. People would ask him questions, and he would usually ask them to repeat themselves.
Magic is emotion. And it seemed his emotions had faded over time.
His magic weakened.
And weakened.
His magic was who he was. He was a master wizard, and without his magic, he was nothing. No one.
Magic was carved into his bones, and as it began to fade, Douxie faded with it.
He just wanted it to end.
It seemed no one noticed his steady decline. Everyone was too focused on their own pain.
And he didn’t blame them for it, not really. They had all lost so much in the final battle.
A meeting of the Round Table, and he fell. Finally, he fell.
And then there was silence. He heard faint shouting above him, but he didn’t bother opening his eyes.
He had always told himself he was fine. He always had been, always would be. But what if he was just too tired? Too exhausted? This life had nothing left to offer him anymore.
All he saw was,
darkness.