The Balintataw Oracle

A Plea to the Unseen

Kleng sat in her shop, the Tarot cards laid out before her in a half-finished spread. The cards were her usual source of comfort, but today, even their familiar symbols offered no solace. It had been days since her last vision of the bridge, and she felt a constant gnawing dread in her chest. She couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out. The Balintataw had shown her something terrible, and each day that passed without incident only deepened her anxiety.

Outside, the city carried on as usual—people hurrying to work, children laughing on their way to school, and the distant hum of traffic filling the air. But to Kleng, it all felt surreal, as if she were watching the world through a veil. She had tried everything she could think of to warn others: the blog post, emails to city officials, even a call to a local news station. But her warnings fell on deaf ears. She was just one voice among many, drowned out by the noise of everyday life.

Exhausted and frustrated, Kleng decided to seek help from the one place she thought might understand—the Balintataw itself. If this realm had chosen to reveal its secrets to her, maybe it would also show her a way to act—to intervene before it was too late. That night, she prepared herself for the journey, lighting candles and incense in her shop's small back room. She sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed, and focused on her breathing, willing herself to enter the dream realm.

It took longer than usual, but eventually, the familiar pull began. Kleng felt her consciousness slip away, drawn into the swirling darkness. When she opened her eyes, she was back in The Balintataw, standing on a vast, barren plain under a sky that seemed both infinite and confining. The landscape was different this time—no bridges, no cities, just an endless expanse of fog and shifting shadows. The air was thick and heavy, charged with a sense of anticipation.

Kleng walked forward, feeling the ground shift beneath her feet, like stepping on the surface of a shallow lake. She called out, her voice echoing in the emptiness. "Show me what to do. Show me how to stop it."

There was no response, only the faint, whispering wind that carried unintelligible murmurs. Kleng continued to wander, growing more desperate with each step. She had no idea where she was going or what she was looking for, but she needed answers. She stopped at the edge of a small, still pond that appeared out of nowhere, its surface perfectly smooth, reflecting the swirling sky above.

Kleng kneeled beside the water, staring at her distorted reflection. She hardly recognized herself—her eyes were sunken, and her expression was one of exhaustion and despair. She dipped her fingers into the water, sending ripples across the surface, and suddenly, the pond came alive with images. It showed glimpses of her city, moments frozen in time—a traffic jam on a busy street, a mother scolding her child, a man checking his watch as he waited for a bus. The scenes shifted rapidly, like flipping through a deck of cards.

"Please," Kleng whispered, her voice breaking. "I need to know how to help them."

The water stilled, and a new image formed—a figure standing in the fog, watching her. It was a tall, cloaked being, its face obscured by a hood that seemed to blend with the mist. Kleng felt a chill run down her spine. She knew instinctively that this was not a random apparition; this was a presence that had been watching her since her first vision. She could feel its gaze, heavy and unyielding.

"You've seen me before," she said, her voice trembling. "You're one of The Watchers, aren't you? "

The figure didn't respond but raised an arm, pointing to something beyond the pond. Kleng turned to see a towering structure materialize from the fog—it was a grand, ancient clock, its gears grinding slowly, ticking away with each passing second. The clock's hands were moving erratically, shifting forward and backward, as if time itself were unraveling.

"What does this mean? "Kleng asked, standing up and moving closer to the clock. The watcher remained silent, but the answer seemed to come to her in a sudden rush of understanding. The clock was showing her the fragility of time—how easily it could be manipulated, broken, or rearranged. It was a warning that her visions were not set in stone; they were glimpses of potential futures, not certainties. She had been given the chance to change them, but the window to act was closing fast.

Kleng turned back to The Watcher, her heart pounding. "Tell me what I need to do! How do I stop the bridge from collapsing? "

The watcher slowly lowered its arm and pointed directly at Kleng. The message was clear: the power to change the future lay within her, but it came with a cost. The Balintataw had shown her what could happen, but it would not tell her how to prevent it. Kleng had to find her own way, driven by her own will and determination.

Frustrated but unwilling to give up, Kleng tried one last plea. "If I can't stop this, why show me at all? Why burden me with these visions? "

For a brief moment, the figure's hood lifted slightly, revealing eyes like swirling pools of ink—dark, deep, and unreadable. Kleng stared into them, feeling as though she were looking into the very essence of The Balintataw itself. She realized that the visions were not a gift or a curse; they were a call to action, a responsibility she had no choice but to bear. She was not meant to be a mere spectator; she was the catalyst, the one who had to make the first move.

The fog thickened, and the figure began to dissolve into the mist. Kleng watched it vanish, leaving her alone once more. The ticking of the clock grew louder, echoing in her ears as The Balintataw began to pull away, drawing her back to the waking world. When she opened her eyes, she was back in her shop, the candles burned down to their wicks, the incense long gone. It was still dark outside, and Kleng felt drained but determined.

The message was clear: she could not rely on anyone else to act. The Balintataw had shown her the burden of knowing, but it was up to her to decide how to use that knowledge. Kleng got up, grabbed her Tarot deck, and spread the cards on the table, her mind racing with possibilities. She would go to the bridge herself if she had to. She would shout warnings to anyone who would listen, even if they thought she was mad. She would not let the future unfold without a fight.

For the first time since her visions began, she felt a surge of resolve. She had been chosen for this, and though the path was uncertain and the burden heavy, she would carry it. As she stared at the cards, The Fool appeared at the center—a figure stepping into the unknown, guided by instinct and courage. Kleng smiled faintly, knowing that the journey was just beginning and that she was ready to embrace whatever came next.