The cords they tied around our wrists seemed to be made of the same brown material as their clothes and Archangel’s cloak. It felt both scratchy and sinuous, and as strong as rope. Any thoughts I had of trying to break free ended when they leveled spears at us, wooden shafts topped with evil-look...
Everyone saw it coming. Nothing remained for us here but bad memories and a jagged hole in the ground. The burials we held were brief, perfunctory, as if it really was just dust and sand we were burying. Even the people who’d been most enthusiastic about my dad’s plan couldn’t wait to clear out n...
