Excerpt from The Godmother’s Curse Ella had died during the night.

Winter was upon them, the fire had burnt down to embers as she had slept, and the cold had killed her before she could rise and add more fuel to its hungry orange cinders. The frosty stone hearth that served as her bed had not helped the situation, nor had the moth-eaten blanket they had let her have to keep some of the cold away. The icy touch of winter had leeched through the blanket’s worn fibres and stolen her life away. But here she was, rising just before dawn anyway. She hadn’t realized she was dead until the voice had spoken to her, disturbing the most peaceful rest she had had since her mother had fallen ill and had died. Ella had been enjoying that oblivion; no more demands, no more fatigue and no more suffering. She had been wallowing in that pleasant nothingness when Tara had called to her. “Get up. Get up, child, and walk again. Your work on this plane of existence is not yet done, anymore than mine. There are wrongs to avenge. People must pay for the injustices wrought upon our family. You will not have peace until we have claimed that price – nor will I.” Tara had been Ella’s godmother and had died three years earlier, poisoned, they said, by those who suspected her of being a witch. She had always claimed to have had the blood of the fey and the Sight, but had never cast baneful spells or placed hexes upon anyone while still living. All she had ever done was offered cures for ailments, helped birth babies and advised people on how to best plant their gardens. Ella wasn’t so sure Tara had been poisoned for that reason. Her godmother had objected violently to the marriage of Ella’s father and step-mother.

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