Curse of the Wolves
If I had to guess, she was Middle Eastern, though I couldn’t be sure without asking.
“If it isn’t the mortal girl who gave my hunter’s chase in the Forest of Ruin.” The smooth tenor of her voice was altered by her sharp accent, each syllable piercing and intense. “I am glad to see Mirari did not kill you after all.”
This was Adira, I realized. The Goddess who frequented both the mortal and immortal realm, plucking abused and battered women, and offering them a second chance at life. Sparing me from embarrassing myself entirely, Sirona swept into the room, capturing Adira’s attention.
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