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... nto snow that swirled around him, eventually forming a blizzard. White flames drifted from his hands and joined the torrent, creating a seemingly impenetrable wall around him of snow and flames. His eyes darted around, and he held his sword in a ready position across his chest.

Haunted laughter echoed through the mist as shadows encircled Mike. They waited patiently, just outside his strike range, as they laughed, mocking the man as if he were a goldfish trapped in a bowl.

"Crazy ...

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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.”

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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.

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……………………………………………………………

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