5 February 2024
…into the building.
The smell wasn’t any better inside than out; something foul bubbled in a cauldron in the kitchen. Every shelf was filled with the strangest ingredients Isaac had ever seen, from eyeballs to salamanders to things he couldn’t even identify. The living room was equally cluttered; knick-knacks of all shapes and sizes covered every available surface.
Alne led them upstairs to a dimly lit room, where a frail girl about the boys’ age sat quietly behind a table. She wore an almost ethereal pink dress, like the wisps of a cloud at sunset, and her eyes had been hidden behind a blindfold. Alne said, “Deifra, dearie, you have customers. A couple of fine young men.”
Deifra nodded and reached out toward a crystal ball on the shelf. Once Alne had passed it to her Deifra asked, “What… kind of fortune did you want told?” Her voice was quiet, and felt almost cultivated to reinforce the idea she might fade away at any moment.
Isaac smiled at her. “Actually, I’m mostly curious about how it all works. What lets you tell people’s fortunes? What kinds of things can you see? How do you interpret them?”
“Dangerous… questions,” Deifra replied. “The spirits… won’t like it.”
“Besides,” Alne cut in, “it’s all terribly confusing. Even I got lost trying to make sense of it. Best leave it to Deifra.”
Isaac shrugged. “I might surprise you. I know quite a bit about magic and fate and all that; my godmother made a point to teach me, since a fairy kidnapped my older sister not long after she was born.”
There was a crash as the crystal ball slipped from Deifra’s fingers. Alne looked no less shaken as she asked, “And who, who did you say your godmother was?”
Everything clicked together. Green and pink dresses, a shack out in the boonies… Even their names. Isaac couldn’t help but smile widely. “Right, I never introduced myself. Prince of Lowenveil at your service; my godmother is queen of Venwald. You might know her as Maleficent.”
With a speed that belied her aged appearance, Alne bolted for the door. Unfortunately for her, that’s where Phillip had been hovering since they came in, and he was able to block the entryway.
“You don’t need to be so scared of me, Alne. Or would you rather I call you Lena? I’m not here to arrest you or hand you over to my godmother.”
Lena froze and looked back at Deifra. Deifra–or Frieda–shifted, and where there had been a frail girl, there was now an ageless, statuesque woman. “There’s no sense in keeping up the charade. Let’s see what the boy wants, Lena.”