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... lders. The hallway stretched ahead of him, dimly lit by soft, golden orbs of light hovering near the ceiling, casting a warm yet somber glow over the polished marble floors. The faint hum of the ongoing celebration in the ballroom drifted through the corridors, a distant reminder of the grandeur he was walking toward.

He paused, leaning against the wall for a moment, closing his eyes. The events of the day churned in his mind like a storm. The chat he’d had with the higher nobility repla ...

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“Now… where should I put you both?” he asked casually, not expecting a reply. “It’s regretful that I only have one chandelier.”

“Underneath my bed? No, no, too dirty. My dust bunnies don’t deserve this,” Atticus mused to himself. “The mantlepiece? How about the vanity table? I suppose if I lop off one of your heads I could mount it over… Wife, which head do you want to stare at while you do your hair?”

“Atticus!” Daphne screamed. “I don’t want any heads! Let them go.”

“Fair enough.” Atticus shrugged, and flicked his fingers.

There were two identical cracks as both necks snapped at once.

Daphne gasped, horrified. This man, her husband, had just killed two men with a flick of his finger, as though he was snuffing out candles.

“I told you to let them go!” Daphne cried out.

“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

……………………………………………………………

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