The Lycan King’s Playtoy
Without a word, he pried the vial away from me, tipped a single drop of its contents onto his finger, and forced it into the rabbit's mouth, holding its jaws shut against its thrashing.
The air was thick with an unspeakable weight and clamminess as we watched, the healer's breath hitching beside me. The rabbit went rigid; its blue fur now displayed an unnatural hue that sickened me as it gradually spread, like ink. One twitch; nothing more—the chest stopped heaving, eyes dulled, and the little crustacean kept dying, in front of our eyes, as it shrank—fur turned to powder, and bones drew inward like charred paper.