A/N: I must say, the chapter title's a bit weird. Anyway, I've been dying to write this part in the... almost two years it's taken me to get this far. I think you'll be surprised.
A terrible, inhuman scream pierced the air as she hit the ground. And what would have to be described as a smile played on the cobra's face.
"So you see," he hissed. "So you see now that you are weak and arrogant, like all your kind. Power shall always be triumphant, not values."
An enraged look momentarily lit Sharpclaw's face, then was replaced by a resigned expression. She sighed.
< I give up. The duel is over, > she mind-whispered brokenly.
This had a devastating effect on the others. Cassiopeia simply stared. Circe looked away, sobbing, and a tear slid down Uric's cheek.
But a look of understanding crossed Kiri's features, and she nudged Stormy. "The duel's over."
"Way ahead of you, sister," Stormy murmured back. She pointed her index finger at Silas, whispering, "Crucio."
The cobra gurgled and collapsed. Almost, but not quite, immediately, Sharpclaw was on her feet and gathering for the fatal psychic shock. Now she was free to build. Had Silas not been dealing with bone-crunching, head-exploding, red-out pain, he would have been able to sense the coming blow from the ever-present mindlink. And prevent it ever striking.
Now, he knew it, but could do nothing under the Cruciatus Curse. Stormy was of course the only one who wouldn't get in trouble for using it.
With a slight nod from Sharpclaw, Stormy released Silas. The cobra staggered back, as far as a snake can stagger. Sharpclaw faced her enemy head-on.
Silas sneered. Defiant to the last, he leaned forward and spat in Sharpclaw's face.
That was the last straw. The Griffinqueen released the psychic shock.
Silas died instantly and cleanly. He fell back and hit the ground. It seemed a long moment where nothing happened.
"Well," began Circe, "shouldn't we be -"
Sharpclaw's legs collapsed from under her. Her body met the forest floor with a thud.
"- getting.... back.....?"
Sharpclaw stated, calmly, though she was breathing hard,
"Not so sure?!"
Uric's incredulous repeating was all that anyone could say for a few seconds.
"I wasn't faking that fall," explained Morgana, now back to human form. "Silas had bitten me."
This, also, took a little while to sink in.
"He must have known it... the venom's in my bloodstream now. There's no cure. It's only a matter of time." She seemed reconciled to it. "Listen. I had a feeling this was going to happen. When it's over," still, she was calm, "I want you guys to go to Hogwarts. Zephyr can fly you if she's up to it. Dumbledore will know what to do."
"No, Morgana!" whispered Circe. "No. You'll be okay." It was as close to a command she'd ever come in her whole life.
Morgana only smiled weakly, against the pain. She glanced around. "Take care of yourself, Uric," she murmured softly, her words nevertheless echoing in the air and in the hearts of five young people. "I'm so glad I've met you, Stormy, Kiri, Cassiopeia," nodding her head slightly to each in turn. "And Circe. I want you to have this." She drew from around her neck, from where it had been hidden by her robes, a milky white orb on a silver chain. "So you can tell the story."
She changed very fast from form to form now, Sharpclaw-Morgana-Sharpclaw-Morgana-Griffin-girl-Griffin, each appearance so suited to her, each echoing the other, both hinting at the personality within that was the true Morgana, a thing of gold that had touched their lives forever. That would leave them tonight.
Qualith, chief advisor to Sharpclaw, felt it.
Qualith was very old. No one, not even himself, could tell how old he was. He must have seen centuries, admirers gasped in awe.
Qualith was a griffin.
He had been very young when the last Griffinqueen died. Even if he could remember scarce little from that time, he would always, always remember how it felt when his beloved Queen left this world forever, as vividly as if it had been yesterday. In fact, perhaps more vividly, as Qualith had been known to forget yesterday at times.
Her Final Statement. The last thing she would ever say to her subjects. The Griffinqueen would have but a precious few seconds. A few seconds, while the strange affinity that formed only as she was dying lasted.
It echoed through Qualith's head. And now another Queen was dying.
It tore Qualith's heart out all over again. He wanted so to be with his Queen, to console her, to help her.. and yet he was powerless. Powerless to stop the venom spreading through her body, even now slowing her heart.
It was an awful way to die, he realized suddenly, an awful way to die...
It was getting weaker, much weaker, and Qualith dimly knew he was getting weaker too...
What a good end, he thought, to die with your Queen.
He could feel his old life ebbing, just as, many miles away, Sharpclaw's young life was.
Qualith closed his tired, oh so tired, eyes and at last went to sleep.
He would never wake up.
With one last, wordless whisper, she was gone.
Her body, fixed in a strange combination of Griffin and human, did nothing so much as drift apart, like the unraveling of the golden ends of a tapestry, into tiny bits of gold dust. That which had once been Morgana blew away in a slight breeze. All was silent.
