“People will sing of this,” Avra whispered. He felt—he felt—gripped by something. Like his tongue was not quite his own in this moment, like it moved to the bidding of whatever bullshit higher powers usually sassed him through his deck of Heralds. “Our descendants for a hundred generations will sing of this.” “I don’t fucking care,” Teveri said, tense with emotion. “I’m going to eat him alive. I am going to wreck him. I am going to make him beg.”
