A Ministering Angel Shall my Prince be.

The trigger was pulled.

A sharp cold pain pierced through Miraye's breast, the metal digging quickly into her heart. Her eyes widened, gazing straight into the Shrike's orange stars as she let go of the sword and fell backward. A sickening thud was heard and with her downfall was a disturbing splash of her own blood. She caught a glimpse of Tic, horrified, still being dragged away. She smiled at him, a tear sliding down her right eye, as the crimson red flooded out of her pupils. They set into a horrifying white as the brown tried to reach it.
'I'm sorry' she whispered to the boy, the presence of his invisible violet eyes filled with horror. She coughed. The blood had dyed itself into ebony instead of its usual red color. The lead was traveling fast through her veins and she cold feel the ice run down her body from the heart. She was soaked in a pool of black blood that it looked more like the night sky for the lights that twinkled above her.
A flutter of black wings fled past her eyes and the clank of the gun dropped to the floor. The loud flapping rung in Miraye's ears as she saw the blue topped head carried off and crashed out of the window. At least Farrago and Matty were gonna be okay.

The remaining guests had stopped departing and had seen her body. They turned and praised Larkin for his greatness.

Miraye looked up at them. She was greeted with smirks and insults. She was weak and they took this advantage to shame her before they died. She breathed, her fingers twitching at every word.

Her fingers continued to flex, their cruel words filling inside.
"Ha, you're all talk. Come her preaching and swear at our Shrike, and this is how you go, eh?"
"You said we were all going to die, but you just killed one!"
"Hypocritical wench!"
So much hatred in one room. Their voices swirled into one. Some even walked past her to see if the Shrike was alright. She lay there, looking as if she was to be crucified.

-No, I'm not going to die like this.
--Not like this.
---Not in front of them.
----Not in front of him.
-----I promised.

And that promise shall be kept.

Miraye clenched her hand into a fist. She smiled as the insults continued.
A loud popping noise could be heard in the hall.
Shrieks filled the air.
A body fell, his head blown off. Blood stained on everyone.

Miraye's grasp grew tighter.
Another pop.

She unclenched.
More shrieks.

Clench.
Pop.

Grasp.
Drip.

Tight.
Splash.

Clench.
Stain.

Pop.
Shriek.

Open. Palms free, fingers loose.
Everyone who had surrounded her and threw insults at her layed dying next to her. Their heads, their brains exploded. All were govenors of the different regions of the Dark World, and all were needed. Now they slept eternally.

---Hisheme, accept my sacrifice...

She turned her head towards the Shrike, he was grasping his lung. "When I go," Miraye breathed, "I promise I will haunt you."

Breath.

Her eyes hung low and silence filled the hall.

Miraye was dead.