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Chapter 68: Others Like Me (2)
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... s palm open.
The blood splashes onto the table in a sudden, savage gesture.
I watch as green blood splatters across the table. The man behind it is tall, thin, and stooped like a withered reed. He raises his bloodied hand and begins to chant in the tongue of the golden—the language of the gods.
“We, children of the goddess of mirage, of the goddess of veil. Oyá, we praise you. Let us, oh mother of nature, wield the power that flows through us all—once through you, and now ...
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