The creature plunged down.

Laira and Jeid stepped away from each other, and the bat crashed down between them, charred down to bones. Skin peeled off its head, and its hair had burned off. It was still alive, its organs exposed and still pumping. One of its eyes had melted. The other eye met Laira's gaze. Laira winced, the pain of that eye worse than arrows or demon teeth. There was gratitude in that eye. The creature opened her mouth and whispered.

"Thank you." Relief flooded the demon's face. "Thank you."

Its eye closed and its organs deflated.

For a long moment, silence filled the cave. Then a trembling voice spoke.

"Please. Laira, please." Raem rose, covered in soot and blood. His sword was gone, fallen in the battle, and deep gashes bled upon his legs. His arms were burnt, the skin peeling away. He tried to run, but Jeid's foot slammed down, blocking his escape. Raem turned toward Laira. "My daughter. Mercy."

Still a golden dragon, Laira growled. She stepped closer to Raem, leaned down above him, and bared her teeth. "I have killed many before. I slew Zerra, the chieftain who spent years hurting me, the chieftain you bought with bronze. I killed many of your demons. And now, Father, I will kill you. You turned me into a killer. You called me a beast, but I was a daughter to you, an innocent child you sent on a path of blood. Your own fear became true, and yes, now I am a monster. You made me one, and this monster will be your death." She roared, the sound pounding against him, her breath flattening his skin against his skull. "In the name of Requiem, in the name of my brother, in the same of all those you hurt, I end your life now."

She leaned down to bite.

"Laira, please!" he shouted, raising his arms in front of his head.

Her jaws snapped shut around his arms, severing both at the shoulders.

Raem screamed.

Blood sprayed from his stumps. Laira spat out both arms, tasting his blood. Raem still stood before her, shouting hoarsely, face pale.

Laira bellowed and leaned in to bite again.

Her father turned and ran.

"Stitchmark!" the tyrant cried. "Stitchmark, help!"

One of the demons—the creature with tools growing from its fingers—had survived the inferno of dragonfire. Its shell was cracked and leaking, and its face was burnt, but it still buzzed forward, wrapped its legs around Raem's torso, and lifted the maimed king. The demon soared, insect wings beating with a fury, and began to fly toward the cave exit.