Hell hath no fury than a sister decieved 2

The whip cracks cruelly against Erya's back, slicing her skin as it tears through her clothes. She screams in utter pain as Yettiri rips the whip back.

"Erya!" Yetsune cries out in horror, trying to turn her away but Erya clutches her tight to shield her body.

Yetsune's eyes brim with tears at the bloody gash marring Erya's back. She lifts her gaze to Yettiri in disbelief. Her sister's fingers tremble around the whip, face twisted in unrelenting rage, no remorse or regret in her eyes.

Yetsunr feels her knees weaken, and her lashes quiver. That brutal strike was meant for her. She glances at the wound on Erya's back again and dread feels her. She doesn't practice martial art, that whip could have killed her if Erya hadn't taken it.

"Yetsune whispers, voice breaking, "You meant to hurt me?" 

Lord Azryn and Sersi feel the shock ripple through their body. That strike was filled with killing intent.