It is a hopeless battle. She is slim, she is weak and delicate, a flower beneath the might of his ripping fangs. Something in her whispers quietly, and she wonders if Reapers are real, if they are there to herald her into heaven, to comfort her in her last conscious moments. Be still. Stop fighting. Save yourself the pain. But she has been reduced to a singular desire, to protect. So she jerks her nose free from his aim, and when her teeth meet his neck she wishes she had fangs, wishes for once in her long life that she could tear and ruin him. Kill him. Muriel had never wished harm on another soul, but in that moment she is vicious, she wants him to bleed out and suffer for his sins. He is too practiced for she to be the first, and she wonders why, of everyone the Goddess deigned to kill, this monster was not on the list. He deserved to be put down like the rabid dog he was.

Life was never fair, especially not for the innocent.

One evasion means nothing, she is blinded by pain and he is advancing on her still, a flurry of disaster that she yields beneath bit by bit. If she can even hold him off for a few precious moments, Leliel can grab Brigand and run. Escape. The Gods have done nothing for her, but she prays to them. Prays neither of them will be stupid enough to try and save her, to try and stay to see her graceless crumble beneath his blows. Prays further that Brigand will not have to see this, this ending that she does not have to flip to the last page to know is already scrawled there in bloodied ink.

It's an ending she can live with, can bear, if only her son can see another day.

He rips free of her, and she stumbles, falls right into his blow as he kicks her down to the earth. Her chest rattles and she wheezes in the snow, wings fluttering spasmodically, creating macabre snow angels beneath her fallen form. She sneers at him, the ugliest expression to have ever crossed her face, vibrant as she burns out into an inevitable death. A shooting star blazing its way into nothingness. He crows his words, his victory, senseless and mad in his lyricism. It is a sick game he is playing, the mere idea of him ingesting her blood is disgusting. But she fears for her loves, and wonders if he will find them better targets now that she has been kicked down. Struggling to her knees she snaps her teeth in his direction. Me, pay attention to me you bastard!

As many moments as she could earn them, she would. It would be agony beyond anything she'd ever experienced, but she needed to do this. To die knowing she'd let them live.

"Don't play with your food!" she snarled, more beast than beauty in her dwindling moments. Face me. Let them live.

I'm so sorry.