Heartbreaker

Morgana laughed, stretching out her new body. She bent down, grabbing the book that had once been her only housing and strolled out. Now it was her turn to lock people away. Footsteps were already stomping in the floors above, worried tones drifting down from the staircase. You really think you're little pets are going to be enough, my love? Guards streamed down the stairs in a river of steel and cloth. Swords glinted in the candle light.

A man stood behind the wall of the knights, his eyes wide and hands shaking. She smiled when she saw them. She spread her arms wide, shrill laughter echoing through her throat as she threw her head back.

"Really, my love? All of this hostility for little old me?" she asked, meeting the man's eyes.

The man trembled. "How did you get out?"

She twirled slowly. "Do you like it? Something more fit than that last bag of bones."

He gulped. All below him, the knights shifted. A few turned to glance at him, keeping her in their sights. Not nearly as stupid as they look. She smirked and stepped forward with a slow, measured pace. Her eyes never wavered from the man.

"Now, darling, I believe you have something of mine," she purred, crooking a finger at him.

His chest puffed out, straining against the threadbare fabric of his night shirt. His breath caught as his hands came up to claw at the fabric, ripping through it. Black splotches shone in the candle light on his chest. The knights moved then, some stepping up to help the man while the rest turned their swords on her, holding them at the ready.

"Witch!" one said before he charged at her.

Morgana's eyes glinted with a fire as she flick of her wrist. The man was thrown into the wall with a clatter of steel on stone. His groaning was lost in the cacophony of storming men.

"Foolish knights. Lightning strikes all," she said.

With another wave of her hand, the air crackled, blue/white electricity following the movement of her hand before branching off towards the men. They shuddered, the light crackling over their armor. Sizzling flesh and smoking hair filled the room. Just as quickly as they all seized, every knight dropped, smoke rising from the steel.

"Now that the children are in bed," Morgana said, turning her eyes back to the old man. "You know, pet, being trapped in those pages for all those years helped me to realize something."

She walked slowly up the stairs, stepping on fingers and kicking heads the whole way. The man lay on the top of the stairs, clutching his chest, which was turning a deep violet with splotches of black. He stared up at her, his eyes wide, pupils nearly taking up his entire iris.

"Patience is the virtue I lacked when we were younger. I didn't know how to bide my time for the right moment. But this? This has been something I've been waiting for the longest. The ability to walk around again. To give you just as much pain as you gave me when you stabbed me in the back."

She crouched next to him, reaching out to stroke the side of his face. Sweat poured off of him.

Her nails trailed down the side of his face, his throat, stopping only when they got to the middle of his chest. The bulge under the skin beat fast, pulsing just under her finger tips.

"I dreamed about you all these years. Dreamed about what it would feel like to rip your heart out with my own hands," she crooned. She shrugged. "Well, these ones will have to do for now."

Her nails dug in, slipping through the skin like warm butter. He screamed. The sound rang in her ears, making something deep in her roar in delight. Warm blood streamed around her fingers, sliding down his skin. She felt her prize, curled her fingers around it and pulled. The pumping organ stopped as she tore it from its designated place. His screams petered out as well, leaving her in silence.

She stood up, the heart still clutched in her hand. "You should have just fell in line, my love. You always looked better under my heel."

Morgana stepped over the corpse, heading up the second flight of stairs. A blood trail followed in her wake, dripping from her clenched fist.