Artemisia

“Oh, my Goddess!” I breathe out, putting a hand on my chest.

A slender and pale woman stands in front of me as I turn around. Her white-blonde hair contrasts with the black gown she's wearing, her icy blue eyes inspect my face before she smiles feebly.

“You must be Missy,” she says, her tone gentle and melodic as she speaks, keeping her voice nerve-wracking calm. “I was eager to meet you.”

I take a deep breath, feeling my lungs fill back up to the point of being able ...