I didn’t have a Plan B. All I had was this crazy idea, the kind you only get when you’re about to be executed in the middle of the only place you know by all the influential people you’ve ever respected and obeyed. It was stupid and insane and had a 99.999 percent chance of failing, but it was all I had.
I had to melt the blade.
My blood surged with fiery pressure, my soul-fire erupting inside my chest. I was focused so hard on turning into a super-heated torch-person that when the piercing, biting pain in my wings vanished, I didn’t notice.
Then it hit me.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish