Ryn vs Saxby

Her claws flexed and she took them to Saxby’s body; she carved him with method and malice—not to incapacitate, no, he’d only heal. There was no punishment there. She peeled him. She flayed until his body opened into bloody gills anywhere she could reach; she scraped off half his face in one swipe.
Her own eyes were flash-imprinted, ears half deaf from landing thunder at her own feet; but Saxby was rendered senseless, except of course for his sense of touch. He lived now in darkness, alone except for her cruel hands, and she worked him until he keened.
“Sing!” she snarled. “Sing for me.”
And he did. There was nothing asura hated more than pain. It was enough to force a miscalculation—the last one he’d ever make. With a cry for release, Saxby split his essence again. His flesh rippled, spirit pushing through every drop of his erupting blood. The flesh foamed like the sea, burst, and transformed into insects, scorpions, and serpents. To her immortal eye, it happened slowly—and she leapt through the wriggling epicenter.


Chapter 22, Page 339