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... ned cold.

In the echoing stone halls of the Bright Castle, it was hard to forget that Gunlaug's power was absolute. For as long as any of them remembered, he had ruled over the Dark City with an iron fist, elevating those who bowed to him and destroying those who did not.

Countless men and women had tried to challenge the Bright Lord in the past… great people, terrible people, and everyone in-between. It was their skulls that now stared at the crowd, darkness nesting in their eyes.

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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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