Page’s Journal
The barbarian king who had sacked Rome roared triumphantly to his gathered warriors. But his priestess and head seer screeched, liver-spotted hand raised to her weather-beaten face, “My liege, the burning ghosts of this city give you fair warning: Your children will soon forget your language and speak ours, they will pray to our God and eat our food, wear our clothes; they will learn how to read and write as we do. In five generations your tribe will be forgotten, your achievements relegated to a single sentence in an obscure piece of inscription. But Rome stands eternal.” – Confessions of a Barbarian Seer.
He found her in the middle of one of the Georgetowns, living in a hole-in-the-wall masquerading as a motel. Her bedsheets were clean, but he knew the mattress underneat
