Chapter 1: The Martyr

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The Jabberwock's lifeless body lay before us. Its head clean of its neck. Charcoal blood pooling around the dead creature. Peter Peter stood on the other side of the Jabberwock. A look of anguish and disbelief on his face as he stared at the mutilated body of his beloved wife.

His gaze drifted to me. His eyes darkened. A looking of murder crossed his dirty face. He gnashed his teeth, snarling at me. With a cry he charged at me, ax raised. It all happened in the matter of seconds. I put my arms up to protect myself as he held the ax above his head ready to strike. I squeezed my eyes shut so I didn't have to see it coming. I hear Peter's roar, a strangled gasp, a cry of heartbreak and pain. Then I feel it. The warm wet blood splatter on me. Yet I wasn't dead. A cold wave of dread washed over me. I knew, before my eyes were open, what has happened. My eyes opened, hoping for the sight before me to be an illusion, the impossible to be made right, one last magic trick. But I knew it couldn't be. It was a drawing made in stone. Murderer. Martyr. Monarch. Mad. My breath snagged in my throat.

It was-

Jest.

Mutilated. Severed. Dead. 

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