𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘, 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝖻𝗎𝗆

(b.n) the fortune teller

The market buzzed with noise. Barterers shouting over one another, kids running barefoot through alleyways, the smell of dried fruit and spice in the dusty air.

Bea walked just ahead of Nico, weaving through the stalls with practiced ease, bow slung across her back and fingers toying with the leather strap of her quiver. She turned toward him over her shoulder.

"You're slow, pirate."

"I'm taking in the ambiance," Nico said, gesturing at a stand selling glowing blue mushrooms. "Also possibly high off that fungus."

She laughed. "You're just stalling because you don't want to help carry sacks of rice."

"It's called strategic avoidance."

They turned into a quieter corner of the market. Down a narrow alley lined with faded flags and wind-chimes made of spoons. Bea slowed first, spotting a crooked little tent with a hand-painted sign:

"Fortunes Told. Futures Untangled."

Bea tilted her head. "That wasn't here last time."

"Let's not," Nico said immediately. "These people always say I'm cursed or something."

"That's because you look cursed." She grinned and stepped forward anyway.

The inside of the tent was warm and oddly dim. A hundred candles flickered on twisted iron holders. And at the center sat a woman, ancient, draped in veils and shadow. Her eyes were pale, almost colorless. But they saw.

She didn't look up. "Two souls. Entangled," she said.

Bea blinked. "Sorry?"

The woman finally looked up. Her voice was deep and calm, curling like smoke. "You shouldn't have come together. Not yet. But here you are."

"We didn't plan this," Nico muttered. "We were just—"

"Fate doesn't care for plans, boy."

Bea opened her mouth to argue — but the woman reached out and touched her hand.

She froze.

The woman's eyes fluttered shut. "You burn," she whispered. "You fight so hard. But your heart knows peace now... and that frightens you more than war ever did."

Bea's hand trembled slightly.

Then the woman turned to Nico. And he actually flinched as she reached for him.

"Yours is a name born in blood. A soul once loyal to chaos. But it bends now — for something gentler."

"What does that mean?" Nico asked, voice soft.

The woman leaned back. Her voice dropped.

"You will walk through fire. You both will. But what survives... will be stronger than any vow."

"So we survive?" Bea asked quietly.

The woman didn't answer right away. "That depends... on whether you're brave enough to choose each other. Again. And again."

Silence.

Then a wind swept through the tent, flickering the flames, rattling the spoons outside. When Bea blinked again, the woman was already turning away, back to the candlelight.

"Go," she murmured. "Before the thread tightens."

They left in silence. Back into the sunlit street, where everything felt suddenly louder, brighter.

Bea looked at him. "Well. That wasn't weird at all."

"Super normal," Nico agreed, voice hoarse.

A pause.

Then she nudged his side gently. "You okay?"

He didn't answer right away. Then: "Yeah. Just... thinking about whether I'm brave enough."

She looked at him for a long moment. Then reached for his hand — quietly, no pressure. Just there.

He took it. And didn't let go.