I didn't mean to (TW)

I can give you freedom from your guilt with a flick of my wrist

Both connect, and nobody is more surprised than Nephele. Their screams chorus in a macabre harmony, the electricity forcing noise where the dagger would have silenced it. Her limbs jerk as her muscles contract fiercely, the sound of agony strained as it forces itself through her clenched teeth, jaw forced shut. As she’s thrown sideways and the electricity finally ceases, Nephele stares up into the sky, breathless, and marvels at how the pain of the dagger itself is nearly absent. It feels more like she’s been punched solidly in the chest, especially with how the weapon remains embedded and stifling the blood flow.

But it won’t for long.

The woman’s screaming is muffled in her ringing ears. She can’t feel her fingertips to know if her chakrams are still clutched in them. There is only the sky above. The same sky she has flown in since her wings were capable of carrying her. A second home to any Fae. The only companion she has anymore, and the one that comforts her here and now as she feels her heart thudding in her chest. A dying rabbit kicking about frantically, doing nothing but hastening the end as it expends futile energy.

As Maea screams, and blood starts to seep through her shirt in a blooming rose over her chest, Nephele swallows down the iron on her tongue and smiles serenely at the sky.

I can give you death with the look upon my face