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Dawn

They come. Today they come for me to repay the debt owed for yesterday. That is how it works. That is always how it works. Suffering to end suffering. A means to an end. I was bred for it. It is my purpose.

They are here now. They stand at the door to my cell and unlock it. Here, drink, they say, handing me a wooden bowl. I drink. Deep. I can do no less. I am duty-bound to obey.

They lead me across the yard. At the base of an old, stone table, they bind my hands in front of me. I wish I’d been allowed to wash them. Now it matters little. Now it is too late.

They place a noose around my neck. Upon the table, they tie my bound feet to the tree at the foot of it, the rope around my neck is bound to another at the table’s head. My hands, they are my own. The stone is cold, but the faces looking down at me are not. They recognize my sacrifice. They too know I can do no less.

They offer to bind my eyes, but I wave them away. I gaze at the blue sky for the last time. For me, it will never again be grey.

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