But it would never be enough. Ceria sighed and shook her head. It still burned in her, after all. No matter how much she denied it, she had more Human in her than most of her fellow half-Elves. She stared at her dead hand and felt blood pumping through the rest of her body. “One last time.” Her hands—both of them—clenched. Ceria opened her window and tossed the bowl of water outside. She took a deep breath of the cold air, letting it freeze and wake her at the same time. She spoke to the lightening sky. “One Horn of Hammerad still remains. Death before dishonor.” She turned, and strode
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