Desperate, Ally grabbed for whatever it was he was holding out to her—she didn’t have the presence of mind to question, she just drank. Anything was better than this, the making and unmaking and unraveling and the fire in her veins and it was sharp and hot and oh. Anything was better. Death itself would have been a relief at this point.
The black sludge oozed down her throat and she gagged, but managed to keep it down. Her hands—claws—hands curled against the floor and a low, shattered keening sound was wrung from her lips. Breathe, just breathe through it. Breathe. It had to stop. No matter what happens, it eventually has to stop...
Her stomach rebelled. She curved forward, heaving, gasping as tears ran down her face.
Whatever was left of the potion in her system came back up with the charcoal mixture. A ripple of scales ran down her spine and she shuddered—but it was not followed by fangs or a tail. Slowly, with each new breath, her form reshuffled itself, melting back into a human girl, crouched and shivering, clothes ripped where the dragon had torn through her skin.
She took a breath. Another. Everything hurt, but it was no longer the hot agony it had been. And it was fading. Slowly, but it was fading.
“Well...” Her voice was wrecked, raw and shaking. “That...didn’t work.”
She looked up at Samuel, shaking in earnest now, new tear tracks twining their way down her cheeks. “Thank—thank...you.”
And she fainted.