"No." Maglor smiles bitterly. "But I have no choice. Thank you, Killua. By even giving it like this you help me more than you know."

A sigh and he accepts the jewel, and Killua might notice that the scars on his right hand match the jewel, but they are red and look fresh, rather than the silver of old scars that they should be. Immediately of contact the nauseating smell of burnt flesh fills the air and Maglor's hand spasms around it, but he never makes a sound.

The hunger in his eyes fade, but the light in them brightens to mimic the jewel, pain replacing need.