Bitter Mercy
He said she had no name but 'Prey', and then said only: "Run."
The Innocent Hare fled across the desolate wasteland, pursued over the rocky ground by things that slavered and mocked. Her sides heaved with exertion, her torn feet bled. Ripped from mundus and tossed into hell, she knew she was going to die.
Trapped on a ledge overlooking a sea of molten rock she gazed at the so called 'hounds' that stared back at her with mirthful glowing eyes. The daedric creatures smirked at one another and then threw their collective heads back and howled.
Long minutes seemed stretched into hours as she curled her fists in the dirt, eyes flicking back and forth between twisted faces and feral grins.
Then the ranks parted to reveal her death made manifest, a spear gleaming in his fist and a malicious smile upon his lips. With a bored and lazy swing, the silver blade bit into her side. Her blood pooled around her to the toll of a wicked bell...
She woke to darkness, a clock ticking away in the distance. An odd looking man stepped to her side and offered her his hand. An elder statesman with penchant for purple, he smiled with sharp white teeth glimmering from behind a neatly trimmed beard. But his eyes held a demonic golden light.
He tilted his head to the side, his smile turning shrewd. She kept her hands tight to her chest. He knelt and touched her cheek. Power flowed from his fingertips and seeped into her, bubbling golden in her veins. She clutched at his hand and his smile returned.
"Always mine in the end little hare, it's as I've said before a bitter mercy perhaps, but mercy nonetheless."