Atticus curled his fists as the endless desert of the domain reverted to pristine white.
The ripped body of the Willguard still lay dead beneath his grandfather, blood dripping from his claws as he drew heavy, uneven breaths.
'He hasn't changed.'
The Magnus of now reminded him of the past, of the man his grandfather had once been. An absolute presence. Someone he could rely on, someone who would always stand behind him.
Magnus slowly turned and met his eyes. Atticus' fists tightened.
'I see.'
He'd been too deep within his own world to notice anything outside it. As it turned out, Magnus had been trying to tell him something all along, and this fight had finally forced him to listen.
'I'm still Magnus. I'm still your grandfather.'
A smile crept across Atticus' face, stretching until his teeth showed. He nodded once, relieved when Magnus returned the gesture.
