Wendy could not be killed by anyone who was impure.
That was the condition of her existence.
But Morticai was not anyone.
He was a phoenix.
He was purity given form.
The very rule that had protected her all this time had instead created the perfect condition for her death.
Damon knew this.
That was why he had tried the potions.
"Why… why didn't you just run," he muttered, gripping her hand tightly.
Wendy smiled weakly. Blood soaked through her clothes as the feather that had impaled her dissolved into sparks of fading light.
"I… I don't know…" she whispered.
Damon pressed his palm against her chest, trying to slow the bleeding as if force alone could keep her here.
"It's okay. Don't be afraid. You'll be fine. You'll be fine."
Wendy nodded gently, as if to comfort him.
But they both knew she would not be fine.
Her soul was unraveling.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Morticai had wanted her to suffer before she died.
"Ahh…" she gasped. Her face grew paler. Her skin colder.
