An Incurable Disease

Every thud, every beat, Daphne could feel it prominently beneath her palm and her fingers. Atticus's heart was right there, an ever-present sign of his humanity― and in this case, his love and devotion for her. She wondered, just briefly, if she actually used magic to go through with it and killed him, would he allow her? Or would he fight back, with his words nothing but for show?

Magic tingled on the tips of her fingers at the mere thought. It would be so simple to end this tyrant once and for all. At the same time, end the husband whom she vowed to protect, to stand by, and to love.

She was sure that Atticus was sensitive enough to the sparks of magic that had triggered on her fingertips, but he didn't even flinch. He simply stood still, watching Daphne in silence as the others stared in bated breaths. Atticus practically had his arms wide open, ready to receive a possible death sentence.