Chapter 10: At Long Last!
Sons of the CullHanbin had dislocated his jaw 6 times.
Hyperextension fueled by grandiose heroism during a rescue mission is the cause. Ripped veins splatter hot iron. But beautifully grotesque theatrics can’t attach a head to its body. “Sorry, it’s just not damn right,” he argues—it’s clear what for. Morality skewing the concept of immortality, he met the valkyries at a crossroads.
Justice’s axe levels unjustly at my neck.
280 years of asking for permission first festers into misunderstandings. It’s all true. Garlic. Mirrors. Sunlight. Fire. I remember that fire will engulf my still breathing lungs. Thick, cackling, fiercely burning against a severed windpipe.
Noticing the murmurs overtaking my execution’s procession, I ask, “Here to save me, my prince?”
“Tis but one of my many talents, Bobby,” Hanbin answers, bowing low.
He dislocates his jaw a 7th time, stoking the flames of war without care. Valkyries in horse-drawn chariots explode like stars as witches rule the skies on broomsticks. Vampires charge hand in wisp with ghostly companions. Fair folk join the fray, and trees thrash and bash to protect their goddesses. Hundreds of supernatural creatures of the night gather in one place; the Culling delivered us into a world she set ablaze, and it’s just “not damn right.”
“I bet she tasted like chicken,” I muse, hacking up black feathers.
Having rarely received such disdain for his deeds, my executioner abandons his post. Stretching lips wide, Hanbin seizes the opportunity. Mino’s wing span blocks his advance. Birdie battle mace and faceless cavern of teeth clash, sparking on contact. And the winner is the irrelevant wretch who steadies a muddied axe above me.
“At long last! Salvation from these earthly bonds!” I squeal in delight. “Show me the true afterlife, my eternal lover!”
Chop!
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