The oracle’s gaze settled on the cloth in her palm. She furrowed her brow in response to what Elsie was offering her.
“What is that you ask of the gods, Elsie True?”
“Can they tell me where I can find the object stolen from the shifter monk monastery? Where do I begin my search?”
“Are you sure you wish to ask the gods for help?”
Elsie blew air out via her nostrils. The gods hadn’t answered her appeals in years, but this time things were different. Things seemed different.
Renounced by the gods, abandoned by her mother’s brethren, she had been deemed unworthy to receive advice from whatever ruling body still made a half-assed attempt at pleasing underlings with answers borne of pity.
Elsie’s human blood had branded her a disgrace among all creatures of magical descent. So, she wasn’t expecting much in terms of answers of whatever god was listening, if any at all, but a tiny part of her hoped that not every god saw her as a nuisance or a disgrace. She wanted to believe at least one viewed her as equal—farfetched as the likelihood for that was
Kristy Centeno loves to spin tales of creatures that go bump in the night, with a sprinkle of romance to top them off. Her passion for writing stems from a lifelong enjoyment of reading and the pleasure derived from the magical worlds created by authors like her. She prefers her female leads strong, independent, and stubborn who will stop at nothing to save their loved ones and protect those they care for.
Kristy currently resides in Pennsylvania with her five kids, a quartet of noisy parakeets, and a spoiled puppy. When she is not working or writing, she juggles her free time between raising a handful of minions and pursuing other career goals.
This looks right up my alley. Thanks!