FIRE AT WILL, ASSASSIN, his fae blood roars, MY RETURN SHALL BE SWIFT AND MY JUDGEMENT MERCILESS. Mist black as night sprays from his hidden mouth. YOU AND YOUR MORTAL ILK SHALL ALL DROWN IN A KING TIDE OF MY WRATH.
William's stomach seizes with a new wave of fear and pain. Those are not the thoughts of a stable Shiftling. The balance between man and merrow lays on the verge of tipping. If he loses control, he is not getting it back, and he refuses to die the monster the huntress surely sees.
Wrenching a knee beneath himself makes the world spin in bleary colors, but it frees his other arm. Clawed fingers dig under his mandibles, grab hold, and pull.
His fae blood bellows with thunderous rage, hurricane gusts buffeting his human mind. He bites down on his own fingers, tastes salt and copper. Purple fluid glimmering with gold grit trails down his arm. His pincer rises, open wide--
--like he knew it would. Fighting the storm clouds that threaten to blot out his sky, William wrangles it enough to miss clutching his own arm. It clamps around the knots on his chest instead. His fae blood screams with disbelief.
Sharp sounds like gunshots bark as the knots crack, Otherworldly water spilling down his abdomen. Facing the typhoon in his head, William thinks: That. Is. Quite. Enough.
Knots, claw, and mandibles rip off his flesh in a flash of white light. Wings and tail dissolve into fading motes. What's left behind is a man braced on his hands and knees, loose hair trailing down to his elbows. He pants for air, trembling like a leaf.
Stranger still is the creature he yanked out of himself. Black, white, and red, the merrow's glow is muted as she lies limp on the ground. A hole in her belly radiates inky spiderwebs.
William's voice is a harsh croak, eyes wide with horror. "Saoirse?" He gathers her into his arms, cradles her head. No, no, stay with me, he thinks.
Choking on pain as he tries to straighten his back, he looks down. An identical wound mars his own guts, coating him in crimson from the waist down.
The hamlet swims in his vision. William sways, grip on his aunt and reality loosening. This isn't just dying. This is it. This is the end.