PREVIEW

... some invisible rope.

The Bloodthirsty was beautiful in the way a volcanic eruption or a collapsing star might be—raw, dangerous, and utterly irresistible.

As his hand closed around the blood-red handle of the scythe, a jolt ran up his arm like someone had slapped his soul.

It was unreasonably cold and heavy. No, stupidly heavy. His arm dipped immediately under the weight, and he almost dropped the thing then and there.

"W-What the hell?" he muttered, bracing hims ...

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