"𝕾𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑"

V

Morana's point of view:

Today was the day we could finally go out and explore. The staff at the orphanage had made a big deal about it, giving us the usual spiel about safety and responsibility, as if we hadn't been cooped up for two days straight like overanalyzed zoo animals. The catch? We couldn't just wander off by ourselves. No, that would be too logical. Instead, we had to pair up with someone who had been at the orphanage longer, someone who knew the area and could show us "the ropes."

I got stuck with Carlos.

Carlos wasn't bad. He was nice—too nice, really. The kind of guy who held doors open and said things like, "Ladies first," without a hint of irony. He had the emotional depth of a golden retriever, which would've been endearing if he didn't blush every time I so much as looked at him.

"Are you ready, Morana?" Carlos asked as we stood at the gates, his voice tinged with that usual nervous edge he got whenever we talked.

"Ready to be babysat? Absolutely," I replied, smirking as I adjusted my bag.

His cheeks turned pink instantly, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Carlos was sweet, but sweet wasn't exactly my type.

The market wasn't far from the orphanage, just a short walk through a few winding streets. As we turned the corner, the noise hit me first. A constant hum of voices, laughter, and the occasional shout from a vendor advertising their goods. The air was thick with the smell of roasted chestnuts, fresh bread, ripe fruit, and something sharp and spicy that made my stomach growl.

Stalls lined the cobblestone streets, each overflowing with colorful wares. There were crates of tomatoes so red they looked fake, baskets of plump grapes, and bundles of herbs tied with twine. A vendor waved a hunk of cheese at a passing couple, while another argued loudly with a woman over the price of figs.

The crowd moved like a living tide, pressing in from all sides. Children darted between legs, clutching sticky sweets, while tourists with wide-brimmed hats and cameras wandered aimlessly. The energy was infectious, chaotic in the best way.

Carlos stayed close, his eyes darting nervously to the crowd. "We should stick to the main path. It's easy to get lost here."

"Main path?" I scoffed, already eyeing a narrow alley where the stalls looked a little shadier and the smells a little more interesting. "Sounds boring."

"Morana," Carlos started, his voice heavy with concern, but I was already slipping into the crowd.

"I'll be right back!" I called over my shoulder, not bothering to wait for his response.

Freedom. Finally.

The further I wandered, the more the market opened up to me. A vendor called out in rapid Italian, holding up a basket of figs with a grin. I shook my head with a polite smile, and he winked, tipping his hat. Men stared openly as I passed, some bold enough to offer compliments I didn't bother translating. Women shot quick glances my way, their eyes narrowing when they thought I wasn't looking.

It wasn't new. Attention followed me everywhere, whether I wanted it or not. The long, curly brown hair, the big brown eyes, the full lips—it was like a magnet. Add my figure to the mix, and I might as well have had a neon sign over my head that said, Look, but don't touch.

I didn't care. Let them look.

The deeper into the market I went, the more eclectic the stalls became. Strings of dried chilies hung like garlands next to bundles of lavender. Trinkets carved from wood and bone were displayed alongside colorful glass beads that shimmered in the sunlight. A man played an accordion nearby, the music weaving through the chaos like a thread.

I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, too caught up in the noise and the smells and the colors. The crowd pressed closer, and someone bumped into me hard.

"Scusa," I mumbled, trying to push my way back into the open. But the next thing I knew, I was being jostled through a narrow doorway, stumbling into a small, dimly lit room.

It smelled like incense—earthy and sweet, with a floral edge that made my nose itch. A round table sat in the center, draped in a purple cloth embroidered with golden stars. Candles flickered on every surface, their flames casting shadows that danced on the walls.

"Sorry," I said, brushing off my sleeves. "Didn't mean to barge in. I'll just—"

"Wait."

The voice was low and commanding, and it froze me in place.

A woman stepped out of the shadows, her dark hair piled high and her green eyes practically glowing in the candlelight. She was draped in a shawl that shimmered with beads, her hands adorned with rings that caught the light.

"Your cards," she said, her accent thick and melodic. "They are screaming at me."

I blinked. "Screaming? That sounds... bad. Maybe they need therapy."

Her lips didn't twitch, not even a little. "Sit," she said, gesturing to the chair across from her.

I hesitated, glancing toward the door. "Look, I don't really do the whole fortune-telling thing. Thanks, but—"

"Sit," she repeated, her tone leaving no room for argument.

With a sigh, I dropped into the chair, crossing my arms. "Fine. But if this turns into a séance or something, I'm out."

She ignored my sarcasm, pulling out a deck of cards that looked older than the table. Her hands moved deftly, shuffling the deck with practiced ease before laying out a spread.

"The cards tell me you are at a crossroads," she said, her voice soft but firm. "Your path is shrouded in fire and shadows. Your heart is torn, though you pretend otherwise."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, dramatic much? Is this where you tell me to follow my destiny or something?"

Her green eyes locked onto mine, sharp as a blade. "Your destiny follows you, ragazza. You cannot escape it."

I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly feeling like the air in the room was too thick.

"Your fire is both your strength and your curse," she continued. "It burns brightly, but fire consumes as much as it creates. Be careful, or it will consume you."

"Right. Got it. Fire bad. Anything else?" I asked, my voice flippant, though I couldn't quite keep the edge of unease out of it.

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Guard your heart carefully—the one that beats, and the one that feels. Both are fragile, but one will break before the other."

I swallowed hard, my sarcasm faltering for the first time. "Well, that's cheerful. Thanks for the existential crisis."

She smiled faintly, her eyes unreadable. "Beware the storm ahead, ragazza. It will test you in ways you cannot yet imagine."

I stood quickly, brushing off the unease settling in my chest. "Great talk. Really. I'll send you a postcard from my fiery doom."

As I stepped back into the bright chaos of the market, her words lingered, heavy and unwelcome.

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I know this chapter is a bit short but I had three exams today and I'm super tired.
Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't forget to vote,comment and share .

Lots of love

-M