The dagger flashed downward. A sharp cry broke in a gasp.
- The form on the rough altar twitched convulsively and lay still.
- Under matted white brows, sharp eyes gleamed with a ferocious intensity.
The jagged flint edge sawed at the crimsoned breast, and thin bony fingers, ghastly dyed, tore out the still- twitching heart.
📘 Kings of the Night
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