“So you think you’re a monster and he thinks he’s not and you both think you’re alike.”
“Save this conversation for another time and place,” Bear suggests.
He’s right. We’re amongst enemies, or at least not friends. They don’t need to know more about us, than we know about ourselves.
“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Bear adds. “We don’t have objects of necromancy and even if we did, the prophecy speaks of a human sacrifice, Hope would never agree to that.”
He says it with such conviction it hurts my heart. I can’t look at him. I stare at the table. My cup left a wet circle of precipitation on the polished wood. I smear it into curving lines.
The artifact does need human sacrifice, but that wouldn’t have stopped me. I’m not as innocent as he’d like to think. I have killed my fair share of o
