And yet, like any mother forced to set their child free to make their own way in life, she couldn’t do anything to help him now, her fingernails biting into her palms as she watched him bite and tear, and simultaneously be bitten and torn. He managed to rip one of the bear’s extra arms off, spitting it out in a spray of ichor. The bear responded by cuffing him in the head, drawing long red lines down his cheek.

The intensity of the display of violence was riveting, breathtaking. And also horrific.

Morg hissed in pain but didn’t retreat, barreling forward and slamming into the bear’s abdomen, rocking him back and landing atop its chest. Tearing into its throat. The bear’s body did the fuzzy-hazy thing and Soraya expected to find it gone, having escaped her pet’s hold. But then it solidified again, its dark eyes going wide as it smashed each of its remaining paws against any part of Morg it could reach, raking its claws again and again, tearing ribbons from his flesh.

But Morg refused to let go, refused to open his jaws.

Soon the bear’s movements became slower. Until, finally, its limbs flopped to the ground, splayed outwards. Its head lolled to one side. Its eyes closed.

Still, Morg remained clamped on his prey. She could see his throat bobbing as he guzzled the bear’s blood.

She started toward him, ignoring the slashes of fear cutting away inside her chest. “Soraya, you shouldn’t—” Shim started to warn.

She raised a hand to silence him. His intentions were pure, but this was her responsibility, hers alone. And she knew Morg better than anyone else. Though an overdose of godsblood wasn’t exactly a regular occurrence, she’d been through this three times in the last six years.

“Morg!” she said, raising her voice in command. “Release it. Release it now.”

The creature’s barbed tail flicked from side to side, but she was wise enough to remain well outside of its range. She knew Morg loved her as much as she did him, but he wasn’t himself at the moment and couldn’t be trusted.

“Morg!” she shouted again. “Let. Go.”

The last two words weren’t shouted but spoken with the air of one who expected to be obeyed. Cintra had taught her this, taught her how to cut through the fog a morgoth experienced whenever it imbibed, almost like how you’d handle a drunk on the streets.

Another flick of Morg’s tail, but this time he obeyed, finally releasing the bear’s throat and turning lazily in her direction. Golden godsblood dripped from his maw and rivered down his chin. Soraya’s mouth dropped open. By the gods… It was as though the bear had been existing on nothing but the substance for months now, until its own blood ran with pure, undiluted godsblood.

“Spit. It. Out,” she commanded.