She panicked. Her footing faltered. She fell; Owl fell, and unlike Iseult, Owl did not know how to land to prevent damage. She caught herself with her hands, and a sickening snap hit Iseult’s ears. Pain lanced up Owl’s Threads, an iron heart surrounded by white. She did not cry out, though. Did not react at all, and Iseult had no choice but to pull her to her feet and into a limping run once more.

Distantly, Iseult sensed Aeduan’s corrupted Threads reach the stream’s drop-off. Distantly, she heard his boots land gracefully upon the softer soil, but she dared not look back or slow. She simply kicked her legs higher and yanked at Owl all the more. The silver Threads were not yet near—and they seemed in no rush to approach—but whatever wore them was far more dangerous than Aeduan.

Of that, Iseult was certain.

Only when Aeduan was right behind her, only when his bruise-purple anticipation filled her awareness, did she finally react. Iseult shoved Owl in front of her and screamed, “Run!”

Aeduan’s hand clamped onto Iseult’s right shoulder, a grip to break stones. But she was ready for him. With her left hand, she clasped his fingers so he could not release her. Then she turned sharply. Her right fist connected with his ribs. Her right knee connected with his groin. He doubled over, and she used this brief weakness to wedge her elbow on top of his.

Iseult kept turning. So fast and so hard, his arm abandoned its socket. A tearing crack filled the woods. Aeduan had no choice but to drop to his knees. Steel pain and crimson fury claimed his Threads. Brightest of all, though, was the turquoise surprise.

He had not expected this, and unlike the real Aeduan, he did not know how to get out of it.

Iseult moved until she was directly behind him and grabbed his head. One hand she placed on his crown, one hand she placed on his jaw. She snapped his neck.

And like the eye gouge, she’d never actually done this move before. She wasn’t prepared for how easily his spine broke. Pain, dark as thunderclouds, laid claim to the entirety of his Threads. He toppled forward and collapsed to the earth.

For several wild, breathless moments, the world was silent. Iseult’s lungs were locked; her booming heart was a distant, forgotten thing. Even the silver Threads vanished from her awareness as she stared at Aeduan. As Owl stared at Aeduan. As the weasel stared at Aeduan, his body facedown on the dried stream and his back shuddering with broken breaths.

Then his Threads began to shrink, and Iseult clapped a hand to her mouth. She’d killed him. Oh goddess, she’d killed him.