Not many people get the chance to visit a soothsayer's dwelling. But those who do, say many things that could silence a rowdy tavern. Ask any one of those individuals what they saw, and they'll say the bones of a thorny-tailed drake, herbs that could revive the dead, potions which could kill a man with a single whiff, or any other exotic reagents a future-seeing servant may sacrifice to a god.

Ask me what I saw, and I’d say, mirror.

It was nestled in the corner of the room, the light reflecting off its polished gold frame which caught my eye. Aside from the shelves of dusty and worn books (whose titles were so faded I'd assumed their authors were dead by now), the mirror was the only object of interest. What separated this mirror from the average mirror was the fact that it was “broken.” I say it was “broken,” because the last time I checked, I was a human—not a vampire.

I've seen one stand in front of a mirror before and truth was brought to the rumour that they do, in fact, have no reflection. Their clothes did remain though, appearing suspended in the air. Unlike mine oddly enough. My waist-length half-white and half-black cloak that rested over my shoulders, dark grey tunic, and seven scabbards were all unseen by the mirror. Everything around me was reflected, except me, as if I didn't exist.

I looked at a stack of books on a nearby shelf and an idea struck me. I took one and waved it around the mirror. What was reflected back was the sight of a book soaring in the air, guided by my invisible hand. However, like a veil being pulled over it, the book became invisible as well.

"I never thought a fool could get here," a voice said.

I turned with a slight jolt and to my right stood who I presumed to be the Diviner. She was quite young and not at all the old hag I had in mind. Her eyes bore semblance to the dark purple color of a Feldis flower. Her hair was a feather-white sheen that fell to her waist. While almost everything about her didn't match the image in my head, the hooded robe certainly did. It was pure white and embroidered with golden threads that formed the emblem of Fate, a fox.

Once she had my attention, she continued, "I believe books are more interesting to read than to wave around like make-believe dragons." She looked me up and down and added, "And aren't you a few years too old for that?"

Well actually, I'm far from a few years too old. But that's not the problem here. A first impression is very important, especially with someone who's well known. It would be best they do not remember me as someone who still plays make-believe.

"Ah, you misunderstand. You see, I'm not a vampire. And the mirror..." She started to walk away. I guess I'll go with a different story. "...I was simply...admiring the book."

"A dusty old book about torture?"

I flipped the book and cleared the dust on the cover. '100 Torture Techniques of the Jajiken.' I inhaled deeply and said, "...Yes."

She strolled onwards without a second glance. And just like the winter winds of yesterday a good first impression had blown away.

...

"So I just have to give you the coin and...that's it?" I asked, sliding the prized object onto the desk.

An exasperated sigh left her mouth. "If you're expecting bark from an ancient tree or water from a spring of immortality, you won't see it. These 'reagents' aren't needed for the incantation. Whoever you heard this from, and wherever they heard it from, is most likely just a lie spun by none other than the Diviner known for such."

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"A pity to know," I said, recalling my uneventful trek here. I feel for the poor souls who came here with similar expectations as I. Not many interesting things on the way here. And not many interesting things in the Diviner's dwelling it would seem.

She examined the coin before clasping it between her white-gloved hands. "Once I begin the incantation, you will ask your question when I say the words, 'ask your question.' I should have your answer shortly after."

"Simple enough," I said, and she began.

She closed her eyes and breathed in. And as she breathed out, a luminous golden light emanated from her hands, immediately capturing my attention. A gentle humming danced at the edge of my ears, while my body tingled—resonating with a force I couldn’t see. What followed next was an azure magic circle materializing on the desk before her. This was no ordinary spell—it was incantation magic, the pinnacle of magical prowess that few mortals ever had the privilege to witness, let alone perform. Dull unlit sigils I couldn’t decipher were inscribed onto that circle, and as she spoke the following words, they began to glow one-by-one.

"To you who seeks to glance at the strands of Fate will find one cut and new one strung. Though be aware the tamperers whose hidden threads intertwine and turn truth to lie. In this divine exchange, Fate asks one more request, that you forever remember her benevolence. Now, ask your question."

For a person such as I, receiving an answer to a question simply isn't enough. Being told an answer is similar to reading about a tranquil lake or an iridescent flower field in full bloom inhabiting a small island in a book. However, seeing the place itself is a more satisfying resolution to one's question. Yet, here I am, hoping to cast away the doubt harbored in my heart with an answer I should believe.

"Will I finish my quest?"

The magic circle which had now raised three floating azure rings above it vanished, along with the golden light that shone from her hands.

It was in the short silence that followed that I realized my heart banging on my chest and my breath being held in suspense. The magic no longer hid my thumping anticipation from me anymore. Would anything change if the answer were 'yes'? What if it were 'no'? Would I simply give up? I can't say, after all, I wouldn't need to come here if I knew. If anything, at least I would know if the road to my destination was lost or if I made it through to the end. There's comfort in knowing that much.

I shifted in my chair. "So what's my answer?"

"I..." Her brows creased, and a confused and slightly concerned look possessed her face. "I-I don't know."

"What?" I scrunched my eyebrows. "What do you mean you don't know? It's a yes-or-no question."

Dismissing my words, she cleared her throat and tried the incantation again, this time, enunciating every word. Similar to before, a light pierced her hands and another magic circle opened.

"...Now, ask your question."

"Will I—"

The magic circle closed and light ceased yet again.

"Wha-I—" the diviner faltered. "I don't understand. It should have worked."

She quickly looked at the coin in a slight panic, flipping it back and forward as she examined it, maybe in the hopes that there were a blemish or sign that it was forged. Otherwise, what other reason is there as to why the ritual went wrong?

As for me, my once thumping heart had been pierced by an invisible blade. I could only have a blank face for what had occurred. This endeavor had taken much of my time, wading through the sunken paths of marshes, climbing past a freezing mountain, and walking through a dead forest where the only interesting thing at the time was getting firewood. All of which was rewarded with nothing, save for the avalanche of disappointment. And more concerning, a hint of fear.

Unless, I was at the wrong place.

"No, it can't be," I muttered. "Are you a fake?"

I was met with a sharp glare that eliminated any sort of previous fluster in her face.

"What?" she said.

I elaborated, "This place doesn't resemble anything like the dwelling I had in mind. There were no relics or reagents that I was told of. No hag or-or," I tried to piece things together, "or arcane magic. Maybe it was just an illusion."

"Huh?! I already told you, those were just lies instigated by the 44th Diviner of Fate, otherwise known as the Diviner of Lies." The diviner stood up and put her hand on her chest. "And I, am the 46th Diviner in service of Fate. To accuse the Diviner of Truth of being a fake, you're questioning the integrity of the Goddess herself."

"Then what is my answer? What happened to the saying, 'For a question asked, an answer received?'"

She slammed her hands on the table. "I. Don't. Know."

What followed was what I wish I could say was a lull, but those piercing eyes determined to reach my soul made sure it wasn't. We stared at each other, unsure of what to do next. And as if to break the standstill, the tense atmosphere was broken by a voice. A voice that was neither hers nor mine. It came from an object I was familiar with, a mirror.

"Sefya, assassins coming for you."