She knows (with some sort of terrifying certainty) that he will be the end of her. The faint shimmer of gold in his coat is illuminated by the scattered light that breaks through the broad leaves above them, and Astri sees him as some sort of angel, almost. With certainty he edges forward - the steps of a creature who knows he’s caught his prey. Each footfall deliberate and soft. She cannot escape him, and he’s well aware of that. Inwardly, she blames herself. The Chamber had gifted her with wings and she had refused them, finding the things cumbersome and awkward on a body born without them. To think, if she had kept them, this might have only been a casual encounter. But not now, not with the unthinkable lust that’s reflected in his gaze.
He questions her, and like a weary lioness who’s encountered a rogue male one too many times she hold her tongue, feeling her lip curl involuntarily with spite. Her daughter’s name in his mouth turns the word to ash. He edges closer, and Astri is careful not to move, not to betray the thundering pace of her own heart. He was enjoying this - enjoying her, and the smooth firmness of his horn against her cheek told her that she was his plaything now. Only a means to an end. “I’ve given life to things more terrible than you.” She whispers, feeling his absence the moment he steps away.
Her eyes lock with his, and his power overtakes her.
There is nothing to describe what she sees, only the outward reaction from her terror gives an idea of what she experiences. Her eyes roll into her skull, the sclera giving her a ghastly face. Her muscles seize, neck contorting to twist her head sideways as her mouth snaps open to release a thin, high scream. The effect is momentary, but the memory is there now. Astri cannot escape. She feels her heart near to bursting, feels her mouth form words that come out as a cry for relief, for him to stop. Her eyes rolls back, pupils wide and whites exposed, and she sees - only for a second - Dacia in the wood far from them, lingering with terror in her eyes, watching. But in an instant her daughter is gone.
She’s soaked in her own sweat, panting from the exertion of her body in that terrible moment. Astri is not herself anymore. With a feral cry she stumbles forward into her own end, teeth exposed in a weak attempt to attack him. “Free me.” She thinks, because she cannot speak anymore. Death is now a welcomed friend, a sweet embrace to shield her from what he’s done to her. “Bastard.” She whispers, closing her eyes.
astri