This wasn’t going to work—the Tyrants were just a myth. Xxnx And I couldn’t resist reading the copy I found when sorting through my grandfather’s house. The moonlight dimmed, and I glanced up, expecting to see a dark cloud pass across its white, pockmarked face. I hadn’t heard anyone approach, no footsteps crunching on the gravel or the rustle of brush. Nothing would happen; it was just a myth that you could sell your soul to the Tyrants for three wishes. Two figures stood in the center of the crossroads. It will start being published in a few weeks. And I couldn’t resist reading the copy I found when sorting through my grandfather’s house.
