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... et of clothes. They were plainer than what I’d borrowed from Castle Cael, but sturdier and more comfortable, the sort I was more used to.

Catrin and I were brought to a smaller hall. A round table of deep blue marble waited for us, set with dishes of food and drink. Pretty elf maids with silver leaves in their hair guided us, sitting us on stools carved of elder wood and whispering conspiratorially to one another. Their laughter was like the Wil-O’ Wisps — fey, carefree, and a touch unse ...

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“The Second Cult Leader and the Prophet of the Voodooists died during the Holy War seven years ago.”

Florence Academy was a prestigious clergy academy.

“Now that the Voodooists are considered as a cult, who is the Third Cult Leader, where are they now, and what are they up to?”

Only I knew the answer to this question.

The Third Cult Leader was a freshman at Florence Academy. He was here, standing amongst the others in the auditorium.

How do I know this, you ask?

Because I’m the Cult Leader.

……………………………………………………………

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