A Beautiful Lie

It was better if she didn't return to the cave after what she had done. She was strong enough to survive on her own anyway – was Morgana's first thought as she blinked the haziness away from her eyes.

But not even a moment later, she shook her head.

Why should she be the one to leave, when she clearly had the upper hand?

How glorious the blood looked against Typhon's dusky scales, his vibrant eyes dull, as he lay dying from a savage wound. She could still taste a hint of crimson on her tongue and the euphoric feeling of Ophelia completely crumbling at the sight of his lifeless body.

Knowing she had killed him, sent a rush of blood through her veins, and Ophelia's helpless reaction was so delicious, Morgana didn't want it to end.

Her fellow nestlings were no different from prey in her eyes, and she knew exactly what to bite to get the right reaction.

For Ophelia it was Typhon, and for Typhon it was a cross between Ophelia and 'her'.