Architects of Illusion (Echoes of Olympus, #1): Pythia

Castle in the Mountains by Gray Artus

Castle in the Mountains by Gray Artus

Welcome to Olympus, where the Muses of Greek Mythology are charged with the responsibility of discovering, inspiring, and guiding the young incarnations of legends past until they once again take the form of greatness.

Embark on an enchanting journey through Architects of Illusion (Echoes of Olympus, #1), a YA fantasy novel series inspired by my backyard neighbors, Biltmore Estate, in honor of George Vanderbilt‘s extraordinary legacy. 

Join me, and a cast of brilliant film composers, as we awaken your imagination to the magic of the mountains during this year’s international A to Z Challenge (representing #TeamDamyanti).

For a detailed PHOTO TOUR of Biltmore Estate, including the library’s large allegorical figures carved into the walnut overmantel by sculptor Karl Bitter, click HERE!  Want to read more? Visit my A to Z “Sneak Peeks” page!


TARIRO AND I were seated directly across from Delphi library’s spitting walk-in fireplace, the wrought iron sentries guarding its logs regarding us with creepy curiosity.

A movement above tugged my gaze up the two story walnut overmantel to the large, intricately carved figures flanking a timeworn tapestry. The polished pair pulled away from the wall, and in one fluid movement, leapt from their pedestals onto the balcony.

I shifted nervously in my chair, searching for the nearest exit. “That’s…that is not normal.”

“The Pythia,” Tariro whispered, reverently, “are Oracles. They can peer into your soul and see all your incarnations.”

“I’m getting a palm reading from prophetic Pinocchio’s?”

“Shhh,” Tariro warned, elbowing me in the ribs.

The girl with the globe edged closer, her eerie amber eyes studying me. Without so much as a sound, she wrapped her strangely warm, wooden fingers around my hand. The Oracle shifted her gaze to the burnished ball balanced in her palm. A haunting chant spilled from her dusty lips, unleashing the ghost of a language long dead.

The orb slowly shed its wooden skin, revealing a blinding crystal beneath.

“What’s happening?” I muttered from the corner of my mouth, barely suppressing my survival instinct.

Tariro’s eyes were drawn to the glowing glass. “They’re searching your past to foretell your future.”

© 2014 Samantha Redstreake Geary



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