It hurt too much to even scream, the feel of those claws in her wings, shredding them, rendering them useless. He may as well have cut them off, eaten them, for all the damage he was doing. Shuddering, Ziv was limp in the elder's jaws, her body heavy and defeated. So much blood had spilled, a fair amount Malcoda's but more her own. She had failed. Hades had entrusted her to do this, he had believed in her, and she had let him down. He would not allow her to return home with such failure marked on her.
"Nie," she managed to say, breathless but determined. "Nemôžem ísť domov s neúspechom." She was not being bold, or impetuous. She was telling him truth. She could not go home unless he was dead, unless she was dragging his body behind her. So she would fight until he was dead, or until she was dead, because they both knew how the master tolerated those who disappointed him.