When I enter the heated formal interior of the council atrium, my father doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t speak to me directly, and I’m presented to the oracle alone. A ghost of a girl, translucent and silent. Presenting to the oracle is supposed to be the happiest day of one’s life, second only to finding your mates. This oracle is a woman of mystery, from the great and all-seeing House of Phoenix. But at this moment, she’s a woman in a burnt orange power suit, sitting behind a grand desk in a corner office with a view of the entire city behind her. Her hair is a bundle of vibrant strawberry
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