Work Text:
Burning, consuming pain raced up Trevor's arm. Peeling back his skin, sizzling in his veins, cracking his bones, up and up, as the magic made to consume his whole being. In front of him, Death was screaming.
That dagger, combined with all its pieces, truly was a powerful bit of sorcery. With the way Death's form began to crack and flake away, his darker magic burned away with fierce light, Trevor truly believed he could do it--he could kill Death. A god.
And with that destruction, with Trevor's as well, everyone else at the castle would be safe.
Disappearing wasn't what he wanted. He had things to live for, now, surprisingly enough. He had Sypha. He had Alucard. He had the innocents fighting to survive around his family's old home. He... had a child. Damn, but that little brat was going to be a menace, raised by Sypha and Alucard. Trevor closed his eyes. He'd known the cost. He'd known nothing else could kill the god after their lives. It was awful--damn but it fucking sucked!--but Trevor had made his choice. Himself, for everyone he cared about.
As he felt the magic washing over all the rest of him, he managed a small smile.
And he fell.
And fell.
And fell...
Then hit something solid with a truly jarring thump. His whole body was in pain, feeling like he'd been hit with several bolts of lightning in a row. His skin stung with clear burns, though none as obvious as the arm he'd used to hold the weapon. He couldn't tell if it was capable of movement, or really if much of it was left at all. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. Granted... he could still feel. Still think. For a moment, Trevor felt his heart jump, concerned that all he'd done was send himself to Hell.
The idea got his mind focused, at least, and he was able to carefully feel out his body while lying still. All limbs, as far as he could tell. His insides felt a bit cooked, but nothing painful enough to indicate he was still dying. Could still hear, since he could hear his own ragged breathing and the strange, echoed whooshing around him. There was no smell, aside from his own sweat, and the taste of blood in his mouth. Which meant he needed to open his eyes and figure out where he was, and how to leave.
Looking around only confused Trevor. He was met with a riot of colors, shifting in dizzying patterns around him, like a tunnel, or a room, or a landscape of nothing but sound and color. He strained his neck to look in other directions, but nope; Everything looked the same. What could possibly be so foreign as-
Oh.
"Fuck," he croaked, throat breaking, and he tasted more blood on the back of his tongue.
This was the goddamn Infinite Corridor. How. Why. What the shit had happened that tossed him there?
No answers miraculously appeared, because of course not--that would be too easy for Trevor Belmont. No, instead, he spent a long time carefully sitting up, having to be extra careful with his mangled arm. It wasn't bleeding (anymore) which was good, but the burns looked pretty severe--especially when compared to the lighter burns elsewhere on Trevor's skin--and Trevor's head swam a bit in nausea each time he had to move it. His hand was stuck in a grip, though the dagger itself had vanished from it. Probably for the best. Especially since he wanted to escape and live.
God, but if he ever had to fight something like that again, Trevor hoped there was a magic item that did not require so high a sacrifice. Sure, Trevor was still alive, but he was in no condition to defend himself. Actually, he'd probably die of infections if he didn't get back to Alucard's fancy little castle.
That in mind, Trevor made a simple sling out of some torn fabric and one of his belts, tried to ignore the slight jostling of his very injured arm, and stood up. He had to go slow, and had quite the pronounced limp, but he could move. That was something. Now, if the Corridor didn't kill him, he might be able to find a way out.
Flickers of light moved closer. Then, just to his left, a large seam split the world, opening into something like a library. Ominous.
Apparently he didn't accept the door fast enough, since it continued to open, right around Trevor, forcing him to stumble onto wooden flooring, before closing behind him.
Creepy and rude.
Trevor didn't have any other choice though, so off he went. Bookshelves spun through the sky, arranging and rearranging in patterns only known to this place, sometimes stopping Trevor, sometimes shifting him to a new path. He was grateful they hadn't dumped him off an edge--yet.
After a few moments of nothing but creaking wood, and the flutter of paper, he turned a corner, and a person stood there.
Trevor was no fool; Anyone else in the Infinite Corridor was either trapped like he was, making them desperate and dangerous, or they were in the Corridor on purpose, making them even more dangerous. This one wore a long gray and black sleeveless dress, and a cloak with a hood. The silver jewelry and glowing symbols either painted or tattooed on told Trevor this was one of those "purposeful" visitors. Even so, Trevor had no real leads. He limped forward.
"Well. You've really done it, haven't you?" the stranger said, simple and placid.
Trevor narrowed his eyes. With considerable effort to his throat, he managed to say, "Done what?"
"Killed a version of Death. Not many can claim such a thing."
"Had to be done."
With only a little hum in acknowledgement, the next statement the stranger said made Trevor's blood run cold. "It will not be forever."
His scowl must have been enough of a question.
"You are still alive, aren't you? Barely wounded at all." Trevor felt both his eyebrows go up. What the hell did they consider "severely wounded" then? "More than that, death cannot be killed."
"You just said that's what I did," Trevor growled. He hacked a cough, spitting some of his blood to the floor.
"You did kill one." The stranger came closer, movements too fluid, eyes too bright, every ounce of attention on Trevor. His instincts screamed. "But a manifestation of death is not the same as its purpose. And where death is, we can come to be."
"You." Trevor had no weapons left. He flexed his free hand anyway.
"The Death of your world is gone. For a while. Your sacrifice was not enough to destroy the many others of us. And it will not stop those in your world from reaching the end of their lives."
"Wasn't the point. You wanted to kill everyone. Everything."
"He wanted to, yes," Death corrected. "But he had... lost sight of our being. Where there is life, there is Death."
Trevor paused, mostly from feeling unexpectedly winded, but also to mull over the meaning of that phrase. "He wanted... to eat every soul."
"In a sense. He wanted to take all the energy from those deaths at once."
"He would have left no life."
"No life. No Death. He focused too much on want, and not enough on the balance which makes us so."
"So... You don't care?"
Death's eyes narrowed. "I do. But not in the way mortals think. That one may be gone, for the moment, but it is not the first time an individual one of us ceased to be as they were, and it will not be the last. Even Death must change, when the time comes. But that isn't what you meant."
Trevor shook his head; He felt his legs beginning to shake under the strain of staying upright. He would need to end the conversation if he had any hope of using the last of his energy to escape. Blunt it was. "Do you want to kill me?"
Death tilted their head, not answering for a long moment. A few steps closer brought the both of them uncomfortably close, and Trevor felt his hair stand on end, pinpricks of pain as they tugged the skin.
"The Death of your world wanted to," they said, calm but to the point. "But you have destroyed and separated him from me--his individual grudges. We were the same, and now we are not, so no, I do not wish to kill you. But... I do not wish you here."
"...Not like this was my-" Trevor coughed and spat again, little spots growing in his vision. "My first choice either."
"Interesting." Death raised their brows in thought, stepping back enough to give Trevor some breathing room. "This place feeds from and into many worlds. I feel the way we feed in each of them, and they, in turn, can feel me. However... nothing dies, here. Is this not what most mortals wish for?"
"Everything dies, isn't that what you said?"
"Eventually."
"Then why the fuck would I stay here?"
"If you leave, you will die."
Trevor narrowed his eyes. He was pretty sure he was more likely to die if he waited around, rather than going to get help and healing. Or was this a puzzle, where the answer was something like, 'Everyone who leaves eventually dies, because all things die?' More little spots appeared at the edges of his vision. Trevor fucking hated riddles. But even if he was going to go back only to have a brief moment with Sypha and Alucard...
"Dying has never frightened me."
The first, barest hint of a smile appeared on Death's face, more of a relaxing around the eyes than anything, but a more positive expression than the unmoved-neutrality from before. With a brisk nod, they turned and walked towards an opening in one of the surrounding bookshelves.
"Follow then, Trevor Belmont. We shall see you back in the care of other mortals."
Which was probably the best answer Trevor was going to get. The best chance to get out of the twisting Corridor. So he limped slowly after, breathing deliberately to keep his vision clear. Whatever energy he got from the fear of his fight was draining slowly away, and he wasn't going to remain conscious for much longer. He couldn't keep track of where they went, and it wouldn't have made much difference to him anyway; He had little skill with magic, limited to using items imbued with it, and thus the Infinite Corridor would never make sense to him. He focused instead on keeping his legs moving, making sure Death never got too far ahead, and always, always making sure nothing was about to attack him. Even so, he managed to see little pieces, windows, into other worlds.
A Belmont with her long blonde hair pulled back, leaping nimbly up gears in Dracula's castle.
A young man and woman talking in the dawn, watched over by a mysterious man in black.
A vampire who looked vaguely like Dracula, crying over a dead man in his arms.
A young Belmont--wait, was that another Trevor?!--walking down a road alongside a warrior with two swords.
Eventually, Death stopped, and a shimmering portal opened there. It was too bright to see much, but Trevor thought he saw the outline of Dracula's castle against the bright daylight.
"Go." As Trevor walked towards the portal, black really creeping into his vision then, Death spoke one last time. "We will see each other again, Trevor Belmont. Once it is your time."
Another trip, and a fall.
Down.
And down.
And Trevor fell right into the arms of his two most important people. Even their startled cursing was beautiful to hear, and Trevor, finally, let himself relax. They would both be upset at him for thinking it, but Trevor thought the cost had been worth it, to be there with them again.