Page 100 of The Vespertine Treaty

"Do you feel that?" I whispered, leaning in close, my eyes burning into his. "That is your marrow turning to dust, Malathor. I can do this to every inch of you. I can make your blood turn to acid. I can make your eyes wither in their sockets."

I dialled the power up. Just a fraction.

His skin began to grey, flaking off like parchment. He thrashed, convulsing, his bladder emptying in terror.

"Please!" he shrieked. "Please! Kill me! Just kill me already!”

"Kill you?" I laughed, and it was a sound Void of sanity. "No. Death is peace. You don't get peace. You touched what was mine."

I moved my hand to his shoulder. I rotted the joint instantly. His arm went limp, hanging by a thread of dead muscle.

I raised my hand again, aiming for his face. I was going to melt it off. I was going to erase his identity before I finally allowed him to die.

A low, urgent growl cut through the red haze.

I froze.

Rhana.

She was limping up the stairs, blood dripping from her flank, but her eyes were fixed on me. She groaned again, sharp and commanding. She nudged my leg with her snout, hard.

“Ophelia. We have to get her. He doesn’t deserve death.”

The name crashed into my mind.

If I killed him now, if I spent the next hour peeling him apart... Ophelia was still waiting. Every second I wasted on this filth was a second she was alone in the dark.

And if I killed him... the torture ended.

Rhana was right. He deserved worse than death. He deserved eternity.

I looked at Malathor, whimpering, broken, half-rotted in my grip.

"You're right," I said to Rhana, though my eyes never left his. "He is too easy to break."

I withdrew the Death Touch, leaving him gasping, shivering in agony on the floor, unable to move for a long time.

"You will wish I had killed you," I promised him.

I grabbed him by his lapels and threw him—hard—against the stone floor. I heard his hip shatter.

I looked down at him, a broken pile of velvet and rot.

"Do not move," I commanded, my voice vibrating with power. "If you crawl even an inch, I will know."

I turned away from him. I picked up the sword, wiping the dust from the blade.

I looked down the dark corridor where the rooms were located. I could feel it now. The faint, terrified pulse of her life force.

My anger evaporated, replaced by a cold, desperate need.

"Ophelia," I whispered.

I stepped over the wreckage of the door Malathor had tried to block and walked into the darkness to find my wife.

I didn't bother with the lock. I gripped the iron handle of the door and ripped it from the hinges, the metal screaming as I threw it aside.

The sound echoed like a clap of thunder, but what I saw inside silenced the roaring blood in my ears instantly.