Rich incense enveloped me, casting a dense fog of sandalwood and myrrh, but mingled within it was a scent I couldn't quite place—something spicy and elusive that caused my skin to prickle with unease. The tent's unassuming exterior stood in stark contrast to the interior's lavish grandeur. Silk tapestries, hanging in deep purples and rich golds, tumbled down from an impossibly high ceiling, while crystals, suspended delicately on silver chains, caught the candlelight and scattered it like stars across the ornate rugs that sprawled beneath my feet. At the heart of this ethereal space, a woman sat with an unmistakable air of command, regal and statuesque.
Madam Asena loomed tall even in her seated position, her raven-black hair interwoven with silver streaks, each intricate braid threaded with coins that shimmered in the soft glow of the candles. Her misty blue eyes, reminiscent of the morning sky just before dawn, fixed themselves on me with an unsettling and penetrating intensity—as if she could see not just the surface of my being, but deep into the very fabric of my soul. Wrapped in flowing silks of indigo and violet, she radiated an authority that rendered my aristocratic upbringing a mere child's plaything in contrast to her seasoned presence.
"Rhylorin Gregor Kuznetsov." Her voice dripped with the gravity of ancient knowledge, echoing as if it carried the weight of centuries. "I have been expecting you."
Stunned, I held myself steady, attempting to mask the tremor of surprise within. "You know who I am?" I asked, consciously striving for composure as my heart raced beneath the layers of my formal attire. "I'm not entirely sure why I'm—"
"Please, child, do come in and take a seat," she interrupted with a wave of her hand, an invitation that felt both warm and commanding. She gestured to a plush cushion across from her, its fabric soft and inviting. "Sit, sit… We have much to discuss."
With deliberate care, I lowered myself onto the cushion, hyper-aware of her unwavering gaze that seemed to peel back the layers of my defenses. The air around us thickened, charged with unspoken secrets and possibilities yet to unfold.
"My boy—the Gypsies of the Covenant—are bound to forces beyond the material world," Asena spoke, her hands moving gracefully through the air, as if weaving invisible threads with her words. "We read the threads of fate, commune with spirits that whisper across the veil, and serve powers that mortals cannot begin to comprehend. We see what others cannot, gleaning knowledge that some would dare not grasp. Our magical ability of divination, like all magic, is a birthright, nurtured and matured through time."
As if performing a sacred ritual, she reached beneath the table and retrieved a deck of cards that caught my eye—each one adorned with intricate, shimmering artwork that seemed to shift and pulsate in the flickering candlelight, their meanings thick with mystery and promise.
"Are you suggesting that I possess such power?" I asked, my throat tightening slightly at her words, the implications igniting a spark of both curiosity and dread within me. "I mean, what does such magic have to do with someone like me?"
She chuckled softly, the sound like chimes in the wind. "The cards will reveal your path." Her fingers danced across the deck with practiced precision before she drew three cards, laying them out in a line between us, each one heavy with significance. "Let us see if these powers you possess are to be trusted or if a bad omen is destined to accompany your existence."
The first card Arched upward to reveal an image of a robed figure holding a lantern, walking through the darkness, its light flickering. Out of the corner of my mouth, I found myself asking, "Is this about discovering whether or not I'm doomed?"
"The Hermit," she intoned, her voice resonant and grave. "This represents your past. You've walked gilded paths paved in gold and privilege, yet you find yourself seeking introspection, drawing your focus inward in search of answers. You need a period of inner reflection, away from the relentless demands of your current station."
My heart quickened as she turned over the second card. It depicted five overturned cups spilling their contents, two remaining upright in the background. A wave of dread crashed over me, filling my chest with an inexplicable hollowness.
"The Five of Cups. Your present," she said, her tone somber, almost mournful. "You are being consumed by disappointment as the world you've known teeters on the brink of collapse. But there is something more—tragedy looms ahead, a profound loss that will shake the very foundations of your existence. You will mourn for what has been taken from you, yet fail to see the value in what remains."
My hands began to tremble as she drew the final card. An angel, cloaked in flowing robes, poured water from one cup to another, one foot resting on solid ground while the other dipped into a stream.
"Temperance. Your future." She leaned forward, her expression a mix of urgency and contemplation. "A need for balance between worlds, a synthesis of opposing forces. You will find that your magic is caught between two realms, and it is this upcoming tragedy that will decide which cup you fill." Her eyes narrowed slightly as if weighing the weight of her next words. "The Covenant is powerful, I assure you, each faction collectively holding back the corruption that seeps from the Citadel of Convergence, but they fear your return for reasons yet unclear…"
As her words washed over me, the tent spun and swayed. Images erupted through my mind, some vivid while others were elusive essences—Oliver's lifeless eyes haunting me, the warming presence of the gentle voice inside my mind, and the ominous shadow with its jagged metal teeth hovering too close. Everything that had transpired in this city since the unveiling of the airship felt tightly woven into a single thread, one that drew me deeper into the awakening of ancient power centered within me.
Tragedy approaches. Loss that will bring your world crumbling down. The echo of her words resonated furiously in my chest, stirring panic that constricted my lungs. Breathless, I felt the incense thicken into a suffocating cloud around me, the crystals' dancing light became blinding, and Asena's all-knowing stare turned unbearable, each moment stretching like taffy in a vortex of dread.
"I can sense your fear, child," she murmured, her voice dropping to a soothing cadence. "Do not allow despair to overwhelm you over things outside your control… It would be wise to begin learning your magic now, before the tragedy approaching fills you with grief."
"No." The word slipped from my lips as I stumbled to my feet, desperation clawing at the back of my throat. "This isn't—I don't want this—"
"Rhylorin, wait—"
I dashed from the tent into the vibrant chaos of the carnival. The cheerful music and laughter wrapped around me, each note striking like mockery as I fought through the throngs of revelers. Driven by the suffocating weight of Asena's prophecy, my legs bore me mindlessly through Braxmond's streets, past shuttered shops and desolate squares, until the ominous silhouette of Kuznetsov Industries loomed ahead. The factory stood dark and silent, its windows appearing like dead eyes glaring down at me, silently judging my every breath. I pressed my back against the cold, unyielding brick wall, gasping as Asena's chilling omens echoed relentlessly in my mind. What tragedy? What loss? Why did a sinking certainty settle in my bones, whispering that I was to be the harbinger of both?
As I stepped into the world beyond the factory grounds, it should've felt familiar, yet every pass through the gardens was laden with shadows, given weight by the foreboding nature of Asena's prophecy. Weaving through overgrowth and dust-covered statues, I barely registered the chill snaking through Braxmond's air. Each leaf glistened with dew like tiny mirrors, snatching brief glimpses of my past—flashes of laughter, childish games, dreams once pure that began to corrode under the onslaught of darkness.
My heart raced as I crept past the silent halls of the manor, hushed voices and muted footsteps cloaked in secrets I could no longer afford to ignore. I reached for the handle of the staff door when sudden movement caught my eye, drawn by the dim flicker of the brass lamps lining the path.
He stood half-shrouded in shadows, his form illuminated with an eerie glow from his spectacles, casting spectral light onto the fog-draped foliage. The same man who had approached me at the airship unveiling. His hair streamed back, as if some supernatural wind had pulled him from the clutches of time—a scholar teetering on the edge of madness or brilliance.
"Rhylorin." His voice sliced through the lingering chaos, impossibly calm, yet demanding my attention. "It seems the sands have finally shifted."
I hesitated, confusion roiling within me, battling fear that gripped my throat. What did he mean? "You were at the exhibition..."
"Yes, and far more than that." His gaze pinned me, forcing forth memories of the horrifying vision lingering in my mind—a darkness that had left me gasping, paralyzed with terror. "Asena underestimates the thread you're part of, the destinies you unravel."
His words coiling around my heart felt constrictive, squeezing and choking the air from my lungs. "Unravel?" My voice nearly faltered, tasting the shadows they wove on the evening breeze. "What do you want from me?"
"Not to destroy, but to guide," he replied, stepping closer, his lenses glinting ominously with that ethereal blue light. "Remember these lines, not written in ink, but in the grains of your power."
His presence enveloped me, and in a heartbeat, a flicker of recognition ignited within me—a distant memory sparked to life before fading too swiftly, snatched away like sand slipping through my fingers. I yearned to ask him, to demand the answers trembling on the tip of my tongue, yet words evaded me, dissolving away just as he did.
"Embrace your gift," he urged, urgency swathes his voice. "For darkness encroaches far too soon."
With that, he dissipated into the starlit gloom, leaving my heart pounding and the gardens feeling more alien than ever. I inhaled shakily, slipped inside the manor, and steeled my resolve to untangle the mysterious threads unraveling around me.