Sanista woke, again groggy from one too many drinks.

He dreaded doing it…but it had to be done. He shifted his gaze to the bookcase, and sure enough, on the third shelf down rested three tomes, perfectly aligned.
“This book is like the god-forsaken hydra!” he said, turning his head sideways to read the titles.

Portent: The Birth
Portent: The Life
Portent: The Death

Straight-forward enough, Sanista thought. Simple titles, slim-looking volumes…but oh, was mister Sanista wrong!

Poor author. The studious, intelligent scholar. He who was always loved by teachers. He who was revered by colleagues. M. Sanista, who never bothered to learn the most important lessons in life.

Well, Portent was just going to have to fix that, wasn’t it?

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