Marra's POV:-
I stab her with the shuriken, thrusting it as much as my tired strength permits into her solid but yielding flesh.
Dark blue flames - the same ones she produced to frighten her own son earlier - consume her. Twirling black smoke and raucous, agonized shrieks echo through the ballroom. Soon there is nothing left, not ash nor bones, where she stood. Not a speck, not a mark, of her vile existence.
I cry.
YOU ARE READING
Sort of Dead
Humor**This book features short, fun, snappy chapters** **Perfectly fine as a standalone** [Caution: may pack a couple of gutpunches.] "First things first: this is the story of how I die. Over and over again." __________________________________ Marra is...
