Blood dripped from Ingrid's fingers, warm and slick, seeping into the cold earth beneath her. The metallic scent clung to the air, it was suffocating for her.
She could still hear the echoes of dying breaths, the final gurgles of those who had fallen by her hand.
But none of it felt real.
Vesarius was watching her, standing close enough to reach for her if she collapsed. He hadn't yet, but she could feel his presence like a tether, grounding her in the storm inside her chest.
Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
She clenched them into fists, but the tremors only worsened. Something inside her had cracked open, something primal and terrifying. And the worst part?
It felt good.