A Prophecy of Eggs
Chapter Eight: Ishtar
Ishtar frowned at Katina, from where she sat at the presumed spot of honor in the circle, and fidgeted for more space between Euphenia and Cleon. The boy next to her scowled and shifted closer to Amalric
“You,” the man next to Katina said with a frown, “must explain yourselves.”
3. Lie to Me
I've seen dead lights before, when I was a child, when my mother was still among the living. Little impish things danced in it, a light shrouded by the fogs that a friend of my mother's claimed to creep from the underlands. They were supposed to travel from the Lakes of Fire, or the Forests of Diamond, to bring the dead to pleasure, or to sorrow. The dead lights that had come for my mother, killed from a car crash, were periwinkle.
None came for the corpse in front of me.
1. Lie to Me
Sin.
That was Father Marley's favorite word, preaching to us from his high pedestal up on the stage of the old, resurrected chapel newly dedicated to Saint Gavin—self proclaimed freedom fighter. Sin explained everything that was happening now, everything, and in the late night prayers full of somber chanting, I like any good flock member, whole-heartedly agreed. And, being who I was, I condemned Felicia Stone.
Her Imperial Majesty, Felicia Stone.
Totality
This is the story of Linda Ellerman, mother of the future.
This is the story of Zotz the Sage, caretaker to the past.
This is the story of Andrew Macomb, the bridge between worlds.
This is the story of Devon Engelman, first arc of the circle.
This is the story of Melchior, arbiter of prophecy.
This is the story of Cylence, for what he leaves in his wake.
The Prelude To The End
The Prelude To The End
