31 “I never should have made you,” he growled. The shadow kicked and thrashed and tried claw its way free, but screamed in pain with every rivulet of blood that touched its skin. He pinned it to the ground and twisted, twisted until the shadow froze, panting in his arms. “Father—” He gave one last, vicious, twist. The shadow’s neck snapped. Cracks splintered over its body, light and smoke seeping over his arms, spilling to the ground, swirling away. He lay back and closed his eyes, unmoving, chest heaving. Arms still wrapped around the body, until dawn.
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