Jhora had spent centuries trying to die. He’d tried drowning, burning, decapitation, magic swords, god-blessed spears, demons, poisons, the checklist was endless and he was getting frustrated. The prophecy had been quite clear, only with his death would true peace come to the land.
Back when he’d been one of the evil Warlords of Trian, it had seemed a certain doom. Every hero in the Hundred Kingdoms would be after his head. Now he was pretty sure the Goddess had just been maliciously ironic.
|These snippits are copyright Martha McMahon Bechtel and may not be reproduced or distributed without express permission. All rights reserved.|
Technotari Tags: Fiction, Fantasy