Her face hardened some as memories--memories?--flashed behind her eyes. They were disjointed, colorful, quiet--but one thing remained the same among them: Ma. He looked down at her hand, still shifting the grains of sand. " I understand." She said softly, her voice falling in its tone to be flat, almost cold. "I--" she started, but a knot started to swell in her throat. She blinked, hard, swallowing down the gruesome feeling that the words she was about to say brought on like bile in her throat. "I don't think I want to." She was not sure if those words were true, but she felt a strange sense of confidence in them anyway.
Letha sat there in silence for a long time, trying to process what she had just said. She did not look back up at Amun while she decided where to go next. "Amun, why weren't your hands warm?" She finally asked, slightly terrified of the answer.
Somehow, the idea of magic felt familiar in her heart.
L e t h a
Where will I find peace other than in oblivion?
