“How could you keep this from me?”
Moira tried not to glare at the glossy photo of her mom, but she couldn’t help it. Her fingers clamped down on the flimsy bit of memory, her thumbs leaving fat prints at the edges.
… Not from the ravages of war, or time, or the elements. Sun bathed the land, blessed and warm, softening the ground kissed by Demeter’s absence. No, her temple, situated on the cusp of the faithful farming village of Feonrii, had been sacked by decidedly human hands.