This wasn't the beginning.
Our stories, like strands of silk, were long since intertwined; deals made, ashes mixed with sand, secrets kept, blood and wine spilled. The beginning had already passed, slipping through the gap in my memories and the fog that covered the empty streets.
That night, Versuvia was quiet. Already settled into a dreamless sleep, the city was blanketed by an ethereal, milky glow. The silence was almost tranquil. I lingered at the window to study the dew on the glass before drawing the curtains closed. Almost.
"I'll miss you, Cassandra." My master's soft voice carried across the shop as he placed a small, cloth sack on the counter. He went by many names in the city. Asra, the fortune teller, magician, augur, and the one who taught me everything I know about magic. Of my past...what little I remember.
Running a hand through his thick white curls, Asra smiled at the frown that tugged at my lips. "Must you leave tonight?" I couldn't help but to ask, looking away from his amused gaze to pluck dark red fabric tucked behind a crystal ball and several glassy bottles. As I handed him the familiar scarf, Asra replied, "It's the dead of a moonless night. The right time for beginning a journey."
Under the flickering light of the lamp, Asra's tanned skin and pale hair only seemed to emphasize the amethyst eyes that crinkled into another smile, "Here, take this." Around his neck, the golden band seemed to glint as he moved to dig into his bag, already strung across his shoulder, "For you to play around with while I'm gone." A gift? How unusual.
"Your tarot deck?" My eyes widened at the sight. As he handed me the cards, our hands brushed; the familiar current of magic ran up my arm, though I couldn't tell if it was from the deck or Asra himself. This was the last thing I expected him to ever give me.
It was true our shop provided fortune telling services, amongst other things, but this particular deck was special. One of Arsa's own creations, and thus imbued with great power. I hesitated, glancing down at the unexpected gift, "You think I'm ready, Master?" A shadow passed over his face as he pulled his hand away. "You're still calling me that…" Asra murmured before he quickly smoothed out his features, purple eyes meeting green. He never liked that title, refusing to explain why. I tried to ignore the voice that reminded me that Asra knew of my past, and yet...I knew nothing of his.
I could scarcely even recall when we first met, a swirl of color and noise. I'd eventually given up on trying to remember when the headaches became too much - a gaping chasm, years missing - focusing on the present instead. The forgotten memories lingered still, like smoke in the air. Just out of reach.
"You know I can't answer that for you." Asra shook his head, "You've made incredible progress, but you still won't let go of your doubt." He paused, something I couldn't quite understand in his gaze, "Do you think you're ready, Cassandra?"
Looking down at the cards to hide the brief flash of frustration - why don't you ever answer my questions? - a muted sigh escaped. With a resigned smile, I gestured to his gift, practically thrumming in its eagerness, "Why don't we ask for the cards?" Asra nodded in approval, "Excellent suggestion."
Like the rest of the shop, the back room was draped in fabric and incense, a familiar combination of muted colors and the faint smell of cinnamon. Easily ducking under the curtain, I sat across from Asra, shuffling the cards gently before laying them across the tablecloth.
The magician smiled, observing, "It's been awhile since we've practiced." I found a responding smile tugging at my own lips when I met his eyes, "Because you're always gone?" The words slipped from my lips before I could censor the thought, grimacing as regret flashed across his features. Is the sting of truth better than the comfort of a lie?
"Maybe," Asra sighed, appearing tired in the warm light of the lantern, "Someday you'll find a real teacher….Well, I'm here now." He shook his head, white curls dripping over his forehead and into his eyes as he leaned forwards, "Let's see how powerful you've become." He always said I was "powerful" and "gifted". Master Asra wasn't a liar...but he didn't tell the whole truth, either.
Before I could begin, something cool and smooth brushed across my ankle. "We're not alone." Asra smiled knowingly as I bent down, lifting the dark fabric of the tablecloth. The gentle, pale creature slowly climbed up the offered forearm, curling up and around my shoulder with practiced familiarity. The snake's tongue flickered softly against my neck as she settled against the white linen of my shirt and under the layers of colorful cloth. She was pleased to see me...or so I believed. It was hard to tell with Faust. As Asra's familiar, only he could truly understand the snake...as she could him.
"If we're all here, let's begin." He nodded, those violet eyes studying the cards as they slipped through my fingers. It was simple enough to ignore the sharp yet silent reminder - I had yet to find a familiar that suited me - as I took a deep breath, clearing my mind.
My hand was drawn to the uppermost card, flipping it over. The image of an elegant owl was on the other side, with curious red eyes and clothed in shades of purple and white. "The High Priestess." I murmured, just loud enough for the occupants of the room to hear.
"And what is she telling you?" Master Asra leaned forwards, eyes glimmering with excitement. Expectant. "Is she speaking to you now?" Something I'd learned with the cards was that they did speak, just not in any human tongue. Nevertheless, the whisper of magic was gentle, an undercurrent of energy that gathered just below the skin. Intangible, but impossible to deny. My mind was clear when the answer arose, spilling from my parted lips, "You've forsaken her."
The magician paused, straightening as his gaze dropped to the displayed card, "I have?" Something shifted in his tone, cautious.
"Yes," I continued, allowing the words to escape in another breath, "You've pushed her away and buried her voice. She calls out to you, but you won't listen. Master, if you don't listen to her-" A shark knock startled the three of us, Faust's grip tightening around my neck. A customer? At this time?
Our eyes met for a brief second; the moment was gone, dissipated into the evening air. With a quiet sigh, Asra pulled himself to his feet, wrapping the scarf around his shoulder once more, "Did you forget to put out the lantern again? Just as well….I can't stay any longer."
The door in the back of the shop was fairly well hidden, covered by various drapes and a shelf precariously full of spices. Faust slipped from my arm to coil around Asra's wrist, seemingly content.
With one hand on the doorknob, the white-haired magician turned to me, "Well then…" Another knock broke the momentary silence, and a strange smile - almost bitter, regretful - lifted his lips, "Take care of yourself, Cassandra." Whatever he wanted to add was left unsaid, hanging in the air between us as he left. Just like that, he's gone...again.
A third knock, almost frantic against the aging wood, echoed through the now-empty space. And so, the journey continues.