Dagny raises her head the slightest bit, her eyes flickering between brown and silver as she fights to remain conscious. She braces a hand against the cracked ice, attempting to push to a stand as Slaine’s laugh echoes through the air, mocking her effort.

He stops a few inches away from her shuddering body, his eyes wide and glinting with a cruel light as he watches her crash back to the ground. “Maybe you’re not as useful as I thought,” he murmurs, bringing a finger to his lips. “Maybe you are just a weak little human. Maybe I should have just killed you the moment I saw you, instead of going through all this effort to use you.”

Dagny narrows her eyes on his hateful expression, her skin glowing with a weak silver light as she attempts to draw more magic from the earth. “I am not weak,” she snarls, her voice raw but forceful. “You are. At least when I fight, I have the courage to face my enemy head-on. You… You’re a coward. A disgusting coward who can only win when he cheats and lies and backstabs. You’re no king,” she spits. “You’re hardly a man. And I would rather die than be used by a spineless worm like you.”

Slaine’s jaw tightens, and though he doesn’t show it, I know her words struck a nerve. “I’m tired of this game. I’m tired of listening to you draw breath. Zairn?”

“With pleasure,” he simpers, shuffling over to Dagny with a large, curved blade held tightly in his palm. He hands it to Slaine, who weighs the weapon before ultimately tossing it to the ground with a huff. “No. I want to do it with my hands. I want to feel the life drain out of this wretched whore.”

“As you wish,” Zairn mutters, retreating to the shadows where his soul-crazed pet is waiting, snarling and snapping with anticipation.

I watch, helpless, as Slaine widens his stance, curling and uncurling his fist as he stares down at Dagny with a bloodthirsty sheen in his smile. “You’re about to get your wish, little human. I’m going to carve your heart from your chest, and then I’m going to watch you die. And when I’m done, I’ll kill off your mates one by one, until you’re all just a pile of rotting corpses for the arachnyxes to feed on.”

He raises his arm high above his head, his claws elongating and sharpening to fine points as he curls his fingers inward, preparing to deliver a blow directly to the center of Dagny’s chest. In a last-ditch effort, Dagny attempts to blast Slaine back with a wave of her power, but all she manages to conjure is a small gust of wind, enough to rustle the ends of his hair and nothing more.