‘Follow the script, count the seconds between the lines, command the stage until the curtain falls, smile, bow, spin, play the role until the final verdict, laugh if it is needed, only cry when it is written.’ That’s all she had to do. Since the start of her 'birth', the spotlight was always on her. The youngest of the gods, the smallest, created to be a 'heart' for the dark sea he lived in. They had stolen his power of water and forced it upon a child. A child who only wanted peace and to sing. And he watches, year after year, another flawless performance, another perfect dance. Egeria wasn't meant for this. 'The goddess of justice and water.' was her new title the higher gods had placed upon her. 'The child of every river', 'The Mistress Of Many Waters' were what the people called her. 'That child' is what he called her. He will remind her every second who she really is. ‘What does that make her?’ Sargon thinks, as he watches her sit on her throne. Once a god with power over the seven seas, now a ludex for a child who didn't even know her power. ‘Who is she without a script? What is she without a role to play?’