Blood spattered across Cedric's sleeves, dripping down onto the wooden floor in bright, shocking drops.
Sylvia, who had seen worse in her lifetime, wasn't shaken by the gore itself, but by the sheer precision of the strike. None of them had even seen the dagger leave his hand, and yet in a single motion the deed was done.
Emma staggered back, choking on the scream she couldn't let out. Elias's hand pressed lightly to the small of her back, steadying her. His eyes flicked to Aldric, who wasn't smirking in surprise, nor in cruelty. No. The look that curved his mouth was something else entirely: pride, satisfaction… and a knowing Elias couldn't yet grasp.
The severed pieces landed with a soft, obscene thud against the boards—Zara's index and middle finger, the very ones that had once drawn her bowstring, her skill, her pride.
