Welcome To Team Irony!
The goddess Irony and her two sisters Destiny and Might welcome you to their service as they seek out the six lords who fell from their good graces.
Want to learn more about this mysterious goddess? Check out this excerpt for a sneak peek of her role in Oracle of Life: |
**Excerpt from Oracle of Life: The Lords' Gambit Series Volume One**
How could anyone stand the heat of raging flames atop their head at all times? Not a single bead of sweat stood on Irony’s brow, and the flames caressing her cheek didn’t seem to affect her in the slightest. Golden teeth, each perfectly straight and polished to perfection, smiled warmly at Nariah from an equally golden face. Even the goddess’s lips glistened, as though made of a living polished gold. Was she even alive, really? She didn’t seem to breathe…
Raising a long, slender finger to her lips, Irony shushed an already quiet Nariah.
“You sure do… think… a great deal, even for a mortal,” Irony said, pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes closed.
It had never occurred to Nariah how many of her thoughts the goddess living uninvited in her head must be able to see, to experience, through her eyes. She cringed, huddling down and crossing her arms over her chest as she backed away from Irony. Hadn’t the world taken enough from her, without prying into her mind as well?
“Shorn, child,” the goddess cursed, balling her hands into fists at her side. Blowing an angry hiss of smoke out through both nostrils, Irony let her eyes drop. She breathed in, then out, tension evaporating into the Void around them.
A Void. That’s what Death called the place of darkness he had brought her to. What were Voids, exactly? Could anyone find them, or only a lord or goddess?
Raising a hand as though asking her to stop, Irony’s frustrated grimace settled in a sad smile. “Enough with your questions. Look… Nariah… I…”
Irony paused, and Nariah braced herself for the worst. Why was a goddess so powerful stumbling to get a sentence out? These beings were older than time itself, surely giving orders to a mortal was akin to Nariah telling a horse to move.
Taking in a deep breath, the goddess blew out again, this time less in frustration and more in nervousness. Who was this woman, exactly, Nariah wondered. What manner of goddess was she?
“I know that we—my sisters and I—got off on the wrong foot with you.” Irony almost sounded… apologetic? Nariah’s head swam. Had there been anything left to hold onto, she would have grabbed hold of it to steady herself. A goddess, apologizing to a mortal? No, an outcast? It was unheard of!
“You are the first of your kind. The first Seer,” Irony explained, drawing close enough to take Nariah’s arm. The goddess’s grip was gentle, but firm, keeping the young mortal steadily on her feet without hurting her. A tender smile graced the goddess’s lips, but sadness lingered around them, too.
“You have suffered greatly, carrying our message. For that, we—but especially me—are all sorry.”
This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. Nariah’s eyes darted around, looking for any sign of a stone gate like the one Death had led her through to get out of his Void. Rapid heartbeats drummed in her ears, her own panting breaths echoing in the now silent darkness. She had to get out of here.
A chair appeared out of nowhere, fashioned like a golden throne with a red velvet cushion. Irony sank down onto it, then drew Nariah sideways onto her lap as though the mortal were no more than a small child.
Strange… Irony smelled like peppermint and oranges, just like Nariah’s mother once had.
“You’ve seen the wickedness within the heart of the Ellonian people,” Irony finally said, lowering her gaze. “They would sooner snuff out the light of the divine than address the corruption that has brought ruin upon them all. You, though, have a heart that is too pure for any of them.”
Nariah couldn’t help but snort at the goddess’s words. How close had the exile been to wishing the worst upon all of them? And yet at the thought, the goddess smiled.
“We will answer your call any time, Nariah. We did not have a choice in vessels—you are the only one among your people who is pure enough to contain us. But we will not let you be destroyed by hands stained with darkness.”
Read More In Oracle of Life for only 99 cents while on pre-order HERE.
Raising a long, slender finger to her lips, Irony shushed an already quiet Nariah.
“You sure do… think… a great deal, even for a mortal,” Irony said, pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes closed.
It had never occurred to Nariah how many of her thoughts the goddess living uninvited in her head must be able to see, to experience, through her eyes. She cringed, huddling down and crossing her arms over her chest as she backed away from Irony. Hadn’t the world taken enough from her, without prying into her mind as well?
“Shorn, child,” the goddess cursed, balling her hands into fists at her side. Blowing an angry hiss of smoke out through both nostrils, Irony let her eyes drop. She breathed in, then out, tension evaporating into the Void around them.
A Void. That’s what Death called the place of darkness he had brought her to. What were Voids, exactly? Could anyone find them, or only a lord or goddess?
Raising a hand as though asking her to stop, Irony’s frustrated grimace settled in a sad smile. “Enough with your questions. Look… Nariah… I…”
Irony paused, and Nariah braced herself for the worst. Why was a goddess so powerful stumbling to get a sentence out? These beings were older than time itself, surely giving orders to a mortal was akin to Nariah telling a horse to move.
Taking in a deep breath, the goddess blew out again, this time less in frustration and more in nervousness. Who was this woman, exactly, Nariah wondered. What manner of goddess was she?
“I know that we—my sisters and I—got off on the wrong foot with you.” Irony almost sounded… apologetic? Nariah’s head swam. Had there been anything left to hold onto, she would have grabbed hold of it to steady herself. A goddess, apologizing to a mortal? No, an outcast? It was unheard of!
“You are the first of your kind. The first Seer,” Irony explained, drawing close enough to take Nariah’s arm. The goddess’s grip was gentle, but firm, keeping the young mortal steadily on her feet without hurting her. A tender smile graced the goddess’s lips, but sadness lingered around them, too.
“You have suffered greatly, carrying our message. For that, we—but especially me—are all sorry.”
This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. Nariah’s eyes darted around, looking for any sign of a stone gate like the one Death had led her through to get out of his Void. Rapid heartbeats drummed in her ears, her own panting breaths echoing in the now silent darkness. She had to get out of here.
A chair appeared out of nowhere, fashioned like a golden throne with a red velvet cushion. Irony sank down onto it, then drew Nariah sideways onto her lap as though the mortal were no more than a small child.
Strange… Irony smelled like peppermint and oranges, just like Nariah’s mother once had.
“You’ve seen the wickedness within the heart of the Ellonian people,” Irony finally said, lowering her gaze. “They would sooner snuff out the light of the divine than address the corruption that has brought ruin upon them all. You, though, have a heart that is too pure for any of them.”
Nariah couldn’t help but snort at the goddess’s words. How close had the exile been to wishing the worst upon all of them? And yet at the thought, the goddess smiled.
“We will answer your call any time, Nariah. We did not have a choice in vessels—you are the only one among your people who is pure enough to contain us. But we will not let you be destroyed by hands stained with darkness.”
Read More In Oracle of Life for only 99 cents while on pre-order HERE.
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