Within her rooms she paced and fumed.  It had taken almost too much energy to get her message through to the priestess. Now she waited for what seemed like an eternity for contact to be made between the priestess and Muerta—and for the Queen to be called to talk through … Continue reading →

Anala stepped out of her bathroom draped in nothing but a towel.

Yarrow awoke with a hangover that could kill a treecat, vastly disappointed that the liquor hadn’t done its job.

Jules awoke to the weak winter sunlight filtering through the curtains, hitting him square on the face. 

“How can I be sure that this…story you told me is indeed true and not…fantasy?”