Karma

Santos slumped in the chair that had been placed in the chamber devoid of markings. His body was not as impressive or intimidating as it had been when he had attacked the Dianthians. Instead, he looked like an ancient man long past his time to settle in the grave. His white hair hung limp down his back where it had loosened from its leather tie. His robes were dirty and wrinkled. Remedio noticed the deep lines in the other man’s face when he looked up as Remedio entered the room. Stephen walked in behind him. Both waited until the door closed before saying a word.

“I need to examine you, Santos,” Stephen announced. He carried a medical bag in his hand.

Santos lowered his head to resume staring at the bare dirt floor. “It doesn’t matter. I’m dying. She was right. I’m not what I thought I would be.”

“That is a different discussion,” Remedio said in a tight voice. “Right now, we need to take care of you.”

A shrug was the only response they received.