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... blanket underneath him. His head was lying on Tauri's thighs as she caressed his silver-white hair.

Tears stained his blue cheeks but he didn’t know why. He felt like he knew nothing, really. Everything was a blur. He had been traveling inside icy tunnels deep underneath Grimstone Mountain and now he was lying beneath the stars.

What had happened?

“Was it a sad dream?” Tauri asked gently and wiped a tear from his cheek.

“I don’t… I don’t remember. I just felt— war ...

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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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