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Summary
โYour boy's gonna save mine.โ
She looked down at the kid the first thing she thought was that Madame Mercier was far too old to be his mother. His grandmother, perhaps. But that doesn't really matter, does it? โIs he sick?โ Mary Frank asked, placing a hand over his forehead. Merry's eyes were big and bright, perhaps a little unusual but far from sad. They shone with childish mischief. Not sickness or worry.
The hand of the older woman caressed the kid's cheek and he looked delighted to have so much attention. โNot yet.โ the priestess answered. โBut his soul will rot. And I won't be enough.โ