The hard surface of a rock pressed against his back. The metallic scent of lifeblood lingered in the air, spilling out of his parted lips. The way the liquid ran over his tastebuds made him shutter. Pale fingers pressed against a enduring wound that threatened to take his life. When they say you can feel death take hold, it's not just an expression. He could feel twig like fingers embrace his body, pierce into his soul. The rapid river of red started to cascade out of the injury now. A shadow, flapping and silence. Something watched from afar. The ever present cold was the only company the dying felt as black invaded his senses.

"No- no you.. Xavier!" A voice cried shaking the lifeless body of beholder's younger brother. The person who was shaking the body, trying to convince the corpse to awake from its permanent slumber; trembled. "No.. Please! We were supposed to change our fat-.." The older brother trailed off tears still streaming down his face. Suddenly the boy froze, red glossing over. "conteram sigillum, mutare fata. Surgite, surgite, consurge."
When cold eyes once a sky blue opened to be grey, fate was changed that day.

qui insidiatus temporibus percurrere, qui mutare fato succumbere Gades perfugit

Translations from google translate
They're latin btw

Idk what I'm doing with my life