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... by the hero's sword.

The blood flowed down making a small pool beneath my crisped body.

My eyes turned blurry as my soul left its physical form.

All of them rejoiced in happiness before the impending doom fell upon them.

Maybe that's how I went away... I have really no idea if it happened like what I just imagined.

I was dead already so I have no way of knowing that.

But it must be something similar to that, right?

No that anything matters ...

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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?”

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