Description
I can't remember who first told me that summoning a Faerie would grant me three wishes; one for personal gain; one for family; and one for a stranger. All I can do now is hate them. Mind you, part of this is my fault - I'm too gullible for my own good. Rhys didn't even bother making his story half believable. He would be laughing his butt off now, if he were still alive. It all started a couple hours back, when I decided I was failing badly enough at maths to seek out a magical way of cheating. My everloving cousins, Rhysand and Morrigan somehow convinced me that the only way to be granted a wish was to summon a Faerie, our sacred gods of luck. And according to him, the only way to summon a Faerie was to pluck a chicken, put it in a weddig dress and stabd underneath the Rowan tree with it underarm until nightfall.
The god of malicious intent
