The creature did not fall.
Even after the blood blade pierced its joint, even with the crimson chains burning within, the monstrous turtle rose. Slowly, as if defying the very laws of pain. Its paws slammed into the ground, cracking the desert into craters. The black crystal spines expanded in all directions, pulsing like exposed nerves.
Ada shuddered. Her chest heaved, her breath a cycle of pain. Each breath felt like razors were tearing at her lungs. But still, her golden eyes burned with defiance.
With a hoarse groan, she forced her body to move. Blood ran down her torn wings, her abdomen, her legs. The sword remained clutched in her hand, a living extension of her hatred.
"I'm still here…" she whispered, her voice more to herself than to the monster.
The creature's roar responded, deep and vibrant. It was as if the desert itself had gained a voice, crying out for her death.
