The Fisher of Bones

The Prophet is dead.Ducky isn't ready. Ducky doesn't have a choice. Ducky doesn't even have a name anymore. The Prophet has been called home by the Gods, and the eyes of the Gods have turned to his daughter. They whisper in her ear, now. For a generation, her people have been following ancient instructions, carved on bone in a language only the Prophet can read, toward the Promised Land. Now their journey is almost over. And whatever lies between them and the place they will call Home ¿ be it deserts, legendary horrors, or the monsters men make of themselves ¿ it is Ducky's burden to take them there. It is her blessing to take them there. Even if it costs her everything.The Prophet is dead. Long live the Prophetess.