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... exuded an aura of familiarity, as though buried deep within his subconscious he knew exactly who—or what—it was. Yet the truth refused to surface, lurking just out of reach.

The figure threw back its head and laughed—a sound that reverberated through the garden, shaking leaves and sending ripples across the crystalline pool. The laughter was wild, unhinged, filled with both triumph and madness. When it finally subsided, the figure lowered its head, fixing Liang with those unnerving blue ...

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[Excerpt]

“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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“Yes, I let them go,” Atticus said. Then, his eyes darkened. “To receive divine judgment from the heavens.”

……………………………………………………………

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