Cassandra sighed.
She already knew how this was gonna go. They never listened. They never fucking learned.
Didn't matter how many times she was right—how many disasters she called months, years, centuries before they happened—no one ever took her seriously until they were standing knee-deep in the consequences. Then suddenly, oh wow, maybe Cassandra wasn't talking out of her ass.
Ancient times, modern times—didn't matter. Some things never changed.
The curse.
Her visions were so undeniable, so precise, that it was like a cosmic joke. The more right she was, the less anyone wanted to believe her.
She didn't even blame them anymore.
But she did blame someone, the sunburnt-head god.
Her eyes flicked to Captain Sun.
