She's got the devil's eyes
She had warned him.
She never gives the same warning twice. Never makes a promise she could not be certain to keep. Wyrm should have know that, of course. But it seems the madness had warped his mind as surely as age had warped his body. She had known it would come to this. Known the moment Wyrm had whispered her name into the winds to demand a meeting with their grandson.
She should have slaughtered him then, where he stood. But foolish sentiment had stayed her hand. A thread of feeling remaining, refusing to be extinguished beneath the weight of her anger.
She does not make the same mistake twice. Her former lover would not live to feel another dawn on his treacherous green skin. She would make certain of it.
She has planned for this day. Aligned the pieces that, when the time comes, she need only click them into place. Only a fool would not believe her unprepared. Only a fool would think he could take someone under her protection far enough away from her that she could not quickly follow. Not when someone she cares about is in danger.
A simple request, and moments later she is breaking through the shadows of the forest bordering Nerine’s southern edge onto the eerie sands of the beach. Her fury is rampant as she bursts across the bone strewn sand. A fury built from years of self-recrimination and regret for the loss of something she had once thought special, fueled by a heart she would never admit had been broken.
Her normally implacable features are alive with feeling as she finds her target, lashing out with all the rage she had shoved down so deep, that she had tried to pretend never existed. With targeted precision, she removes the clawed feet the might further wound Wolfbane, waiting with seething impatience until Wyrm’s attention as turned to her before she acknowledges her grandson’s words.
“Of course.” A low, fiercely implacable sound, carrying with it all the weight of the inevitability of Wyrm’s end.
Continuing the trajectory of her destruction, she watches as his lower limbs begin to fall away. Gradually rising, letting him feel the inevitability of his end. She moves closer, until she is beside them, beside the thrashing shifter and the wounded pegasus. Until she can lift one hoof and shove Wyrm forcefully from her grandson. Until he lies on the ground, blood soaking the sands and flecking her skin, little more than a wild-eyed husk of the man he’d once been, staring sightlessly into the maws of death.
Perhaps she might have been kinder. Perhaps she might have ended him quicker. But she finds inflicting him with a slow death eases the pain of his betrayal. Eases the long-held emotions she had always been loath to reveal.
Freeing herself from whatever hold he might have left over her once and for all.
Let him see how heartless she could be. Let him flounder in the mistakes he had made, in the understanding that it had always only ever been her kindness that had spared him. She pulls apart his body piece by piece, until his breath rattles with death and his heart lay exposed, sluggishly beating to a halt.
Much the same way he had exposed her eons ago now. Metaphorically, of course. She smiles then. Truly smiles.
Perhaps he finally understands how patient her revenge could be.
and they'll cut you like a weapon