John, the boy who made the wench vomit onto his sweater, who wrote NOW IS THE TIME TO STRIKE BACK on the sidewalk where the Queen fell, who accidentally gave rise to the war-mongering Orks and mind-controlling Wenches, grabbed ahold of the woman’s arm. Angered, Kathy tore away and ran screaming for her sister.769Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdbfM14PFCV
“SARA!”769Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1mSJzhy5xN
Sara could only stare at the flaming arrow jut out of their father’s chest before Kathy grabbed her. Not knowing where to run in the city being razed to the ground, they saw John descend into a hole. Sewers were their only refuge. No beserk-wild Ork and no psychic wench would dare think to go beneath.
The commotion of war cries and blood-curdling screams seemed a distant nightmare. They heard rats now among echoing drips. Kathy and Sara followed John down a long bricked tunnel, steamy with trash and blood.769Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUKECIrO3IK
769Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4PYBszMWjQ
“Stop,” Sara begged.769Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡChAJe6lPMU
John obeyed, but Kathy insisted they keep going.
They entered a lantern-lit library where street urchins huddled together, waiting for them. What is this? Kathy wondered, trying to avert from their soulless gazes. Her eyes watered and widened once they settled on their ornate royal brooches. They must be the Queen’s children...769Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwc9O8hppR1
769Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKAyfTOa13k
