“Axis-Windmill. You have blood on your hands that you must atone for.”
“I know.”
—–
“What happened to your hands, mister?”
Roth Voomer looked down, not even thinking about that day any more. He’s basically healed. Except for the extremities of course.
“It happens, kid. The Abyss will have its price.”
“The Abyss,” the almost submerged kid says while nodding, having learned about such things in prison school.
Sunklands 