Ilustrated by Alan Bao.
Blurb: “You must wait here,” the Highest of the High Priests told her. “We will return and bring you back to the Land of Nibiru once we have found the circlet to place upon your head.” The very mention of the circlet made the High Priest tremble with joy. Though the journey through the portal had been brief, the Land of Nibiru was many universes away from where Corrina now stood—in her own small kitchen, in her own small house.
My rating: 4 of 5 stars
I was reading some fic today, in there the so called 'wise man' choose some person to be 'the special'. The thing is, that person believes him, but then too believe him in what can do o *not* can do. Well, people, is better that you listen more to yourself.
Even when those dreams get . . . deferred somehow.
“Where did you learn this stuff?” her father said.
Corrina shrugged. “Books,” she said. [...] She didn’t tell him about the thrill she felt when she first held a sword in her hand, first felt that honed edge slice the air in front of her. She didn’t tell him how good—how very, very good—it felt to be *dangerous*.
“Books, eh?” Her father chuckled. “Well, that’s something. I had no idea books were so dangerous.”
The word thrilled her to the core.
Nice writting, and charming tale.
...the Highest of the High Priests retorted, growing very red in the face. “And you’re not supposed to have opinions. Or . . .what are those things called? The things she had to bring when she took her own sweet time getting organized to come with us?”
“Tampons, your Excellency,” said one of the lower High Priests.
“Exactly. Or brassieres. You’re not supposed to have those either. Or opinions. Did I say that already?”
“You did, your Excellency, but it is still just as apt.”
Can be read it here