Cloth and flesh were torn without discretion. As Tobias clashed with the Faun in a brilliant display of deadly force, his ragged breaths slowed. She was blurred around the edges, his twisted savior, a woman obsessed with victory. She would have her murderous thrill, he was certain now. Springs of blood welled up on the surface of his flesh in the wake of newly opened wounds. Cracks in the foundation of his stoicism formed, but he refused to falter. Each blow was a stain in his courage, and as he sank to a knee beneath the weight building on top of him, Tobias shook violently.
The dagger and sword ripped through flesh and blood spewed from gashes Tobias seemed oblivious to. Amber eyes settled on Philomel as her fox met his hand and clamped down. Blackheart clattered to the sand without sound, and Tobias clamped his fist around the creature's lower jaw as it sank it's teeth into him.
The deathblow had already struck. Deathblows. It would never be known which of the blows had ended him, but Tobias' body had long since failed. Willpower alone kept him conscious. "Perfect," he managed, his voice not rising above a whisper. Tears streamed down his cheeks at the release as it rushed toward him, and he smiled up at the Whore Faun with honest thanks. "I can... I can see... her..."
Blood ran down his chin as he slumped forward. His body trembled with a final surge of defiance before it deflated in defeat. His broken form sank to the dusty ground and silence gripped the lonely world at last.
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