488- When the Blade Finds Its Mark
POV Thalyndra Moonclaw:
I felt the skin rupture as the blade advanced. It caught on a bone. I threw it to the side, plunging it completely into his throat.
I didn't want to hear anything he had to tell me—nothing would be as relevant as his death.
I pulled the dagger out, only to plunge it a second time. Then a third, fourth, fifth... his blood sprayed onto me, onto my face and clothes, bathing me. It was warm and reeked of rust.
He no longer breathed—dead by my hands. Still, I didn't stop. I put all my strength, all my rage, all the pain of grief into each of my blows.
I felt the muscles tearing, the skin rupturing, and the bones breaking, causing a dry crack with each thrust of my hands.
I only stopped when Anton grabbed me and pulled me back, trying to calm me down.
The Merchant's head was severed, hanging backward by a few broken bones. His blond hair had come loose, stained red by his own blood, and his expensive, refined clothes were soaked, completely ruined.
It hadn't been a pretty death, much less an honorable one.
His accomplice beside him vomited, leaning forward, unable to look at the scene.
Anton held my arms and turned me to face him, aligning our heads. My chest rose and fell in rapid succession. There was no disgust or judgment in his eyes—there was only...
compassion.
"Are you okay?"
I nodded, unable to give him a verbal answer. Myrion clapped and began to laugh loudly.
"Fuck, that was badass as hell!" he praised.
Anton shot a look at his brother, without removing his hands from me, feeling the need to hold me, sensing how affected I was.
"Didn't I say she was violent?" he joked, turning to smile at me, trying to lighten the mood.
"Yes, you did, but it didn't do justice to reality."
Anton winked.
"She, with that dagger, becomes a danger." He raised his hands and caressed my hair. "I've had it buried in my heart—it's quite painful."
I snorted.
"It wasn't in the heart—it was to the side," I corrected, receiving a luminous smile from him.
"Oh, of course! How could I forget such an important little detail?" he mocked. He extended an arm, pulling his hand away from my hair. He turned his nails into claws and, with a single movement, finished severing the Merchant's head. It fell backward and rolled across the ground. "Remove the other's head, Myrion—we're taking them to our father," he instructed.
"I thought I could have a little fun first."
Anton laughed.
"You'll have fun at the auction."
My eyes widened and I stared at him.
"You... you're going to the auction?"
He denied it with a gesture.
"No, Fer." He held my head between his hands, pushing my blood-stained hair away from my face. "We're going to the auction."
I gasped, stunned.
"You have no idea where you're getting into—you're nothing but reckless pups!" the Merchant interjected. "You've just signed your death sentences by killing Silas."
Silas. So that was the name of the wretch who destroyed my life.
"Sir, do you like hearing your own voice?" Myrion bellowed.
"Kill him now or I will—he's boring me," said Anton.
With elongated claws, Myrion went to him and dug them into his neck, piercing the skin. Blood flowed through the fissures. He pressed his fingers hard, burying them into the holes made in the neck. I watched the tips disappear into the skin. The Merchant screamed desperately, trying to free himself from the chains binding his hands.
Myrion stepped on his legs, crushing his thighs with his big, heavy feet. He pushed, pulling the head upward. I heard the skin tear and the muscles split.
My stomach churned.
A bone cracked, followed by another. The fissures in the neck grew larger, joining one another and transforming into a complete cut. Blood gushed, red and pungent.
"Get it over with, Myrion," Anton scolded.
"I'm doing it, dammit! It's not my fault this wretch has a hard-ass neck," he retorted, panting.
Another bone cracked, silencing the Merchant. He rolled his eyes, his pupils dilated, and then showed no further reaction, uttered no sound. Dead.
Myrion roared with rage, his eyes flashing in alternating colors.
The head separated from the body, spraying blood everywhere, soiling me and Anton as well. The body fell to the ground with a dull thud while the head remained caught in Myrion's hands.
Anton made a sound, complaining.
"Dammit—you got me all dirty."
Myrion grabbed the dead wolf's hair and raised his hand, showing off his work. All of the Eldoria heir's skin, which had been clean before, was splattered with blood.
"And where's the fun if only Thalyndra arrives in this state? We need to be up to her standard, of course." He shrugged.
Anton turned to his brother and stared at him.
"You want to make a scene."
"Just a triumphant entrance," he corrected.
Anton shook his head.
"You're trying to divert our father's attention from us and put it on what happened here, not on what happened yesterday." He read his brother, connecting the facts.
Myrion snorted and lowered his head.
"Of course—he's already been on my case since the fire. I intend to keep going to parties, brother. You know that's the first thing he'll forbid us from doing when he finds out the truth."
"Don't you have enough females? Why do you need the parties?"
"Fun. Eldoria females tend to be boring in the long run, so I need some distraction."
Anton moved away from me, but I noticed his gaze was always attentive to each of my movements. He walked to the fallen head of the Merchant I had killed and picked it up.
"Maybe the plan will work, maybe not. Even so, he won't stop us from going to the auction. And if he does, we'll go anyway."
Myrion smiled, showing all his teeth.
"That's music to my ears. A party with new females and lots of death." He sighed theatrically. "Did I hear paradise?"
Anton snorted, not bothering to answer his brother.
"Let's go! We still need to find out the entry password for the auction, or no one here is going to attend."
"Of course we will! Just blow a few heads off and rip out a few hearts. Some cowardly idiot will spill the beans," Myrion retorted.
The Eldoria firstborn walked toward me and took my hand, intertwining our fingers. He looked at me intently, releasing his breath slowly.
"This is only the beginning of your vengeance, Fer. I promised you many heads—as many as necessary—and I'll give each one of them to you."
He didn't promise me flowers or chocolates, as humans used to do. He promised something far worse, with a much deeper meaning for me. And it was these little details that made my heart skip a few beats.
I ignored what I felt, focusing on the pleasure of having beheaded the wretch who had been responsible for plunging the dagger into my parents' chest.
I smiled, savoring every second of that death, which I would carry with me forever.