Laments over the the death of the noble Centurion turned
Senna's stomach. She abandoned her drink when she could stand no
more.
The closer she got to her quarters, the more grim her
thoughts turned. Should have been drowned from birth. Tossed in a
river in a sack full of roc-
Her thoughts
were broken, coming into the room and seeing the small form sleeping
silently on the cot near her own bed.
Yet, if he had never
lived, neither would Callista. Her mind whispered with
infuriating logic.
“Still lived far too long, you ask me.”
Seneca muttered to herself.
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