“I can’t,” Tenae whimpered, barely able to hold the cup in his hands. The potion spilt out the sides, hissing at is hit his skin.
Pena reached out with a gloved hand and holding it up to Tenae’s lips. It was the tradition, to leave only the strongest warrior standing to be taken as hostage. The rest needed to die before they could be taken.
“You must,” she said, tipping the cup up to let Tenae drink.
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