Despite herself, Sylvia gasped. She withdrew into herself. Like almost every child, she had heard the scary stories. How the ordeal was not short. Possibly hours of increasing pain while the victum roasted. How a scorched tongue would allow only strange, muffled pleas for mercy.
“Ah, your reaction is precious,” Wetron said. “I knew I had to witness it.”
Almost as if she were a titanic djinn, Sylvia pulled herself together with a heave of mental effort.This swine would not get any of the satisfaction he craved. She spat in his face.
Black holes, Space ships? What’s going on here. This is supposed to be a fantasy, right? Right!
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Cover by Tom Momary