Of all the ways Zerxes had imagined his death, it had not been at the jaws of a green, untrained, spoiled fucking shithead. And a goddamned girl, at that. A fucking girl. At least death by the dragon would have been more honorable. As much as Z hated to admit it, at least he was a worthy adversary. But this...this was just embarrassing.

His devil green eyes could only stare at her as she stumbled away and vomited. This. This was the one who'd taken him down. One who couldn't even stomach the sight of death. Of what she'd done. He'd come back and haunt the fucking bitch. How dare it be her who came out on top! It was supposed to be him! Always him! How long had he fought? Years! Years of fighting wolves with more worth than that girl. That...pup! Hardly more than one, even.

When she stumbled again and fell, Z saw that she did not rise. Good. Let it be a consolation that at least she was going down with him. Her family's name was the last curse on his tongue as his vision failed him and the last of his life's blood could no longer sustain him. And so ended Zerxes Zamora, the self-called scourge of Relic Lore. Drowned in a puddle of his own blood. Felled by a girl.