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... , glass, and blood.

I staggered back, talons scraping across broken ceramic, my wings hanging in tatters. My chest heaved, each breath shallow and ragged. Warm blood dripped from my beak to the floor.

"Still... standing?" Cheng-min’s — no, the Raven King’s— voice came out low, guttural, the edges roughened by something inhuman.

I spat blood, forcing a smirk. "Sorry... not in the mood to die today."

He tilted his head toward the ruin-strewn corner. "All your friend ...

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