Bearclaw Valley Give me everything

in asperas, so much of the blackbird queen sparkled and flashed. 
rage incarnate; neither merrick nor his bride knew the meaning of a cold hunger. they preferred their meals warm, their bloodthirst slaked, their sacrilege noted.
sacrilege was what had created these two, and merrick felt at once that this one meant to be heir to a darker chapter.
he hoped only that age's teeth would not remove him from beholding this glory.
"no one is safe from this one," merrick murmured as if in explanation, ears lifting with delight as asperas drew a slice of blood.
but he came around sharply, and made as if to nudge the nightdark goblin-child into the dirt, warning his bearberry with a bleak snort that loyalty, too, was a tenet of their kith.
a firm affection in it — beneath the blaze of the draconic eye.