The bell above the door gave a thin and trembling chime. Linnie noticed a smell that, while thick, wasn't unpleasent. Incense thick as fog filled the room, obscuring their vision.
The interior was dim, most likely a purposeful choice. There were lanterns everywhere that dangled from the ceiling, but their flames were all covered and obscured, creating a feeling that the room was constantly moving.
Linnie froze in the doorway, feeling the floorboards creak under his boots, and listened to the faint hum that resonated throughout the shop. He thought he could hear muffled voices.
Liora bumped lightly into his back before stepping past him—she was already looking at each and every trinket and bobble she could see, eyes wide.
The beaded curtains that covered every window were gently swaying despite the complete lack of a draft to push them. A cage hung from a chain and reached barely above their heads, swinging back and forth.
The small bars were bent outwards as if something once escaped, a long time ago.
"Granny? You're here, aren't you?" Marielle called out, completely shattering the mystical atmosphere.
"Oho~ is that you, Ri-Ri? Hold on dear, I'm almost done with this customer."
'Ri-Ri?' Linnie stifled a laugh.
The aged voice came from behind a set up curtain... tent? Cove? Two soft shadows could be seen through the thin fabric, sculpted by the strangely colorful light coming from within.
Then, the light went out, and a muffled clattering sounded from within.
The curtain flung open, and an angry woman stormed out. She pushed through the four kids and yanked the door open, slamming it behind her as she left.
The four of them looked at each other, but Marielle just shrugged.
"Ri-Ri, would one of your friends like to be read, or is it just you, like usual?" the voice called out, still shrouded by the fabric.
"I don't know, granny. I'll go first, though."
Marielle sounded much more respectful than normal. It was as if any amount of bitterness had been completely swallowed up in the presence of this old lady... who may or may not have been her actual grandmother.
She pushed through the curtain and disappeared. Once it closed behind her, it was as if a soundproof barrier had formed.
Perhaps one had. Linnie wondered if maybe this mysterious fortune-telling granny knew magic. He wasn't sure if there was such thing as fortune-telling magic, but if anyone could do such a thing, he'd expect them to be a wizard.
"Woah, you think she can really tell the future?" Liora whispered. "It's super convincing in here."
"How am I supposed to know? I've never got my fortune told before."
"...She's real," The Prince said.
Both Linnie and Liora were surprised to hear him speak. They'd already gotten used to, well, ignoring him.
Not in a mean-spirited type of way, but because he was simply easy to forget. Even when he did speak, it was soft enough that you could completely miss it.
"Yeah? And how do you know?" Linnie asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Uh, I got my fortune told by her once."
'Oh. Duh.'
"And it came true!?" Liora asked.
"Not yet, but... I think it will."
"So it's total—"
The curtain came open, and Marielle walked out. It was hard to tell through the dim and foggy atmosphere, but it looked like she was a little pale. Paler than usual, that is.
"That was quick!" Liora said in surprise.
"I visit often, so there isn't anything new for her to say. Ahem, would anyone else like to go?"
The Prince moved to speak, but Linnie stepped forwards, interrupting him.
"I do!" Linnie said.
'A fortune...!'
He pushed through the curtain and was met with an ancient-looking lady. Her eyes were closed when he initially stepped inside, but the eyelids quickly drew back over her abnormally large and spherical eyeballs in such a way reminscent of a lizard.
"Lin... or, would you prefer me to call you Linnie?"
Her voice sounded incredibly comforting in that moment. A feeling of calm serenity washed over the boy as he sat on the small cushion.
There was a short table that was situated between them, and that was all. There was no crystal ball or special pot, like Linnie had heard about.
Only him and the granny.
"You—I never told you my name? No way... you really are a fortune-teller!"
"Ohohoho, no, no, Marielle told me about you and the girl. But... I am a fortune-teller."
"Oh," he said with disappointment. "Go on, then. Tell me my future."
The granny chuckled softly, and her eyes dramatically widened.
"You... have lost many people in your life, haven't you?"
"...What's this about? I came here for my future, why would I wanna hear about stuff that's already happened!?"
Her eyebrows dropped and her lips pursed.
"Relax, boy. I was just warming us up. Yes, yes, give me your hand, then."
Hesitant, he reached his hand out and over the table. The old granny grabbed it, revealing her own incredibly wrinkled, yet soft, hands.
She licked her dry lips as she examined his skin.
"Hm, hm. You have trouble sleeping, don't you? Oh... no, that's not good. Not at all."
"What? What's not good?"
She squinted, and brought his palm closer to her eyes. Her brows furrowed, and her eyes darted back and forth as they read the lines.
"Oho, that can't be right," she said, looking up at him. "You have quite the interesting palm, you know. Sometimes, people are a little harder to read."
She drew away from his hand, and she turned around as if to fetch something.
"So? What now?"
"Don't worry, I'll just read your fortune in a much more accurate—and expensive—way. Ha! Don't look at me like that, it's on the house!" she laughed.
She brought a thick deck of cards out and spread them across the table in an arc. They had strange pictures on them that Linnie didn't recognize.
"Cards? I don't know how to play those ones."
"They're not playing cards, silly boy. Now, shush, unless you don't want to her your fortune."
Her fingers hovered above the cards, and she moved them in a seemingly random order. She trembled as she went.
As she flipped over a certain card, her entire body stiffened. And when she finally spoke, her voice had lowered to a degree that Linnie hadn't believed was even possible.
The sudden change in behavior made him gulp.
"You... walk beneath twelve watchful fires—yet only nine will ever greet you."
Her eyes flicked up to him—wide and glossy.
"The tenth will hide. The eleventh will cackle. And the twelfth... has marked you."
The small lantern inside the cloth cove dimmed, yet the fire inside only crackled louder.
Granny swallowed, and it almost sounded like she was forcing out the rest:
"One will sever your name from your fate. Another will offer you a crown made of wounds. And the last—her shadow—she will wait with the scruff of your soul tight in the grasp of her hand."
Her entire body twitched as if something cold had poked her against the spine.
"Your path was not meant for a human tongue to speak."
The final card turned over, face-down and hidden from Linnie's eyes.
"But... it has already begun," she finally said, swiping her hand across the table and collecting all the cards in one motion.