Lenora's fists trembled. Her mouth opened to speak—but nothing came.
The beast watched her, expression unreadable now. The smile faded, replaced by something worse—boredom.
"Tch," it clicked its tongue. "You're not even worth the blood it would take to kill you properly."
It straightened, rolling Esme's shoulders as if shedding the moment like a skin that didn't quite fit. The air still trembled, the sky still dimmed—but the monster? It stepped back.
"You think this is mercy?" it asked with a soft laugh. "No. Mercy would've been killing you quickly. This is insult. This is me choosing to leave you with your shame."
Lenora staggered as the pressure lessened, her knees finally giving way. She collapsed again—hard—choking on the bitter taste of air finally returning to her lungs.
The beast turned away, like a queen dismissing a jester who'd bored her to sleep.
