Beggar, she’s called during her hungry youth in the village by the waves. Servant, after the oracle’s acolytes claim her for their distant temple. Thief, when she steals away into the night with their sacred magic.
For centuries, no one calls her anything at all. The magic sustains her, but it does not sate the emptiness gnawing at her belly. In the forest, she conjures a wandering abode to snare unwary prey.
Witch, the lost ones curse her, before she cracks their bones for supper. Fingers greasy, teeth bloody, she chews on the name. It satisfies as well as any. For now.
About the author:
Kristin Osani is a queer fantasy writer who lives in Kyoto, where she works as a freelance Japanese-to-English video game translator when she’s not wordsmithing, working on nerdy cross-stitching, or cuddling her two cats (three if you include her husband).
RECENT STORIES
