"No. This is my request: one shot -" Vika holds her buster up, pointed at the sky, "imbued with that power, to be expended when I wish, and only at my knowing will. The target, and only the target, will die and never return to Marrow Island. But to avoid leaving you in suspense, I will fire within one lunar month."

In her heart is a hate she can't name, but her face is still as stone. "Name your price, king of the wretched."