Noctisardor Bypass [r] fevered

Do it.

This caused confusion — did he want to die? was he just messing with her? — but Laurel kept her firm grim, not truly in control anymore. That's how it felt. Nothing could stop her now.

Laurel was not a skilled fighter. This was probably the first time she'd ever been in a real fight; every time before, Laurel had frozen in place, ran, or tried to intimidate others into leaving. Of course, she'd shed the blood of prey. It was different, though, to hold the throat of another wolf in her jaws. To hold the throat of her own nephew in her jaws. The last remnant of Indra that she had, but she knew that it was better to let him go. He'd torn Indra from her, after all.

The pain in her shoulder was no longer like a whip lashing and clawing at her flesh. It had become a numb feeling as it droned on and on. Blood dripped through her teeth and that was all that mattered in the moment. Merrick's blood. It wasn't working, though. He wasn't yielding. He should be dead by now. Laurel could feel that she was off, that her lack of experience and the weakness from the pain had made her miss her mark.

I'm sorry, Indra. Her own voice, this time. I'm sorry that I couldn't save you. I'm sorry that I'm killing the child you loved.

I'm sorry that I didn't kill him when he drew his first breath.

Finally teeth released and with a surprising precision Laurel grabbed onto his jugular at last. She could taste victory as she gripped this familiar place — it was almost like killing any regular animal — but her head was swimming from the pain and the blood loss. She was not as skilled as Merrick at being wounded; this was probably the worst she'd been wounded apart from when she was little and Jhala grabbed her by the throat.

Now it was her teeth around someone else's throat.

Just as her teeth closed firmly around his jugular — to kill, to tear it out and send his blood spouting across the floor of the cave as he would gurgle and choke on the blood of all of his innocent victims — she could feel her consciousness waning. Laurel couldn't tell as her vision faded to black whether she had done it. If she managed. If she finally avenged Indra. If she released the tormented soul of Merrick from the world. She didn't know if she had tore through his jugular, or if she'd passed out before she managed.

The last thing she thought, though, before she passed out —

I hope I wake up next to his corpse, or never at all.

And then, icy cold words from Iliksis, low, threatening —

Don't worry dearest.

It's not your time yet. I have plans for you yet. You won't die.

I won't let you.