462- More Heads
POV Thalyndra Moonclaw:
I let out a laugh, letting the irritation of being challenged consume me. My father used to say that blind rage tended to harm people, but in my case, it drove me.
"I know exactly who I'm dealing with, you fucking Merchant! And I don't want your cordiality; I want your blood."
I seized a measly second of distraction and lunged, leaning forward. I plunged the dagger into his abdomen, piercing him deep.
He gasped and widened his eyes, shocked by the speed and agility with which I moved.
I wasn't slow, like humans were; I was fast as a predator, like a wolf.
The blade hissed upon contact with his skin, blood bubbling as it was burned by the silver. The metallic smell hit my nose, leaving me satisfied and elated.
For nights, I had dreamed of a moment like that. The Merchant wasn't directly related to my parents' death, but he belonged to the clan and was after me, so he was complicit. As long as I couldn't have the ones directly responsible, I would settle for the underlings.
He placed his hands over mine and tried to pull the hilt. His teeth were clenched, fangs appearing at the corners of his lips. His eyes pulsed with a brown so dark it could easily be mistaken for black, if I weren't so close to be able to distinguish it.
He was an alpha, a man centuries older than me and far more cunning. If I wasn't very quick, he would disarm me and take me with him.
I needed to think, but above all, I needed to act urgently.
It was years of practice, training every single day. It was my first real confrontation. My father wasn't on the other side; he wouldn't get up, smile, and praise me. He would kill me, kidnap me, and do whatever was necessary to get his hands on me and achieve his goal.
I shouldn't think of him as a man, but as my greatest rival.
I pulled one hand free, releasing myself, and then struck his arm with my long nails, sinking them into his flesh. He screamed, his hands on the dagger's hilt giving way to the pain. I pulled the blade out of his skin.
I could hear the flesh being torn, the organs being hit, and the sound of flowing blood. I didn't focus on that, nor on the fact that I was about to make my first victim.
"You will never be the same after you kill for the first time." My father's voice echoed in my head, a memory from one of our conversations.
I am no longer the same, Dad, not since I lost you.
I answered mentally.
I raised my face to the man who stared at me in shock. A sharp smile curved my lips.
"This is for me, for my parents. And for every soul you destroyed," I whispered, through clenched teeth.
I tossed the dagger above my head; it spun twice in the air. I raised my hand, catching it mid-flight, steadying the hilt and pointing the blade forward. Without hesitation, I drove it into the middle of the wolf's neck, severing his jugular. His blood poured over me, soiling my face, hair, and clothes. I tasted its metallic tang on the tip of my tongue.
He staggered back, bringing his hands to his neck. He gurgled, drowning in his own blood. He fumbled as if he could staunch the bleeding. Before he could move too far, I pulled the dagger, causing more liquid to spurt over me.
He cast one last look at me. I stared back, not averting my eyes, watching the light of life fade from his body little by little, until not a single breath remained.
He fell with a thud onto his back on the ground; leaves floated away, his eyes staring blankly, unblinking. Dead. I focused on the sounds. Nothing. Not a single heartbeat, not even a breath.
I sighed and broke into a bright smile, feeling for the first time in weeks: radiant.
Just as they had done to my parents, killing them and taking them away, not even giving me the chance to say goodbye, to hold a wake. They left me blood, and they would pay with blood.
I went to his side and crouched down, grabbing his hair to expose his neck. The cut no longer bled as before; the flow was diminishing more and more. I plunged the blade once, twice, three times, wielding all my strength. Breaking the bones, shredding the skin. I repeated the movements until the head came free from the body. It was held on by a single piece of skin. I pulled hard, tearing the remaining connection, losing my balance and, finally, beheading the Merchant.
I stood up, holding the head by the hair. I wiped the dirty blade on his shirt, cleaning it, before tucking it back into my waistband.
I left the body where it lay, abandoned in the middle of the forest. Let more of them come and see the scene, let them find their packmate so they could see what would become of their own futures.
I walked back towards Eldoria. The blood dripped beside me, leaving a trail behind.
I had told the heir that I wanted heads, and I would show him that I had gotten my first.
However, it still wasn't enough. I needed more.
More blood, more deaths, more heads.
I wanted it all, I wanted chaos, I wanted death, I wanted destruction. Of all of them, but mainly of those who were present, the ones responsible for raising the blade, for reaping my parents' lives.
And I would have all of that, even if I had to leave a piece of my soul along the way, until I was completely undone, until I was reduced to nothing.
Because, deep down, I was already nothing more than that.