[https://drive.google.com/file/d/1hq0aVqjibvq5Lb1_tE_shPjBLckZHpEV/view?usp=sharing][https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=2753483394864608&set=pb.100006089226319.-2207520000..&type=3][https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=2753483394864608&set=pb.100006089226319.-2207520000..&type=3][https://imgur.com/5WmOPs9][https://imgur.com/5WmOPs9]

  Don’t expect this to be any good. I’m a treasure hunter, not a writer. But every good treasure hunter ought to keep a journal to chronicle her groundbreaking discoveries, so here we are.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  A word about me: my name is Manda Colstryker, and I’m a runaway orphan with high aspirations and low standards. I reject the theory that ‘beggars can’t be choosers’ in that I fully expect fame and fortune, but I’m not picky about how I get there.

  A word about my groundbreaking discovery: To be honest, it was more of a rediscovery. A confirmation of old superstition. In this modern day, the rich and uppity prefer their new gods of technological doohickery and one-uppance, but we the simple folk still enjoy a rousing fireside tale about the old gods and their antics.

  Let’s just say the gods’ ‘antics’ are a little more concerning in person.