Alicia could have sworn she felt something staring her. She tried to calm down, she was being paranoid again. Ever since the event, her divination has worked to her detriment instead of her benefit. Countless futures showed her a charred tapestry and countless pulled into an ever-turning wheel. Her skin was wrapped in bandages that hid burns and cuts, boiling skin and bleeding gashes. She saw a future that manifested to her with flames that licked her flesh.

She was fortunate that night helped her when he did. She insisted that they go here in Korilstadt immediately. She managed to convince night to accompany her and changed the Arcana meet up here instead. She has to wait a few days before the conclave begins and everyone arrives. She insisted on the changes since the future only changed when they met in this specific place.

She couldn’t see too far in the future since it harmed her. So she focused only on herself a few seconds from now.

“Hey, hey alicia. Knock knock.” Night was making a joke she heard a hundred times in a thousand lifetimes.

“Who’s there?”

Orange

“Orange”

Orange you glad you got me around to help you

“Orange you glad you got me around to help you” Night snickered at the horrible pun.

She laughed the same punchline she knew would come. She took comfort in these little joys.

“So you doin’ better alicia? You haven’t even touched your soft-shelled taco.”

She sighed trying to release the pressure she built up. “I’m okay, I’ll manage. At least it’s better than before.” She took a bite of the dish. It was strange, such simple ingredients should not taste so incredible to the senses, yet here she was witnessing it. It was fascinating what people from other worlds could make. Even if she knew what it would taste like, she was still surprised at every little thing. She took joy in that. She may know all the threads that weave the stories of people, but living in itself is an act contained in the moment. And she is alive. She is here.

She grew up in a convent raised by her mother, a nun. It was of divine intervention that she came to be. She grew up praying and living a humble life, of herding sheep and milking goats, of planting herbs in a garden and harvesting the gifts. One day she was given visions, she was given a mission, she saw many lives forking and many more dance a tune not their own. Only her own was not so tied down by fate. She could chose, and what more could she ask for.

They dove into one of the shops beyond the gates, it was a simple antique shop and a member of the pentacles, one of the greatest merchant associations in the world. One that was in league with the Arcana.

They perused the antiques under the watchful eye of a cat that sat in the counter without a shopkeeper in sight.

“Night, we should go soon. The sooner, the better. If we can meet up with the others, we’ll be safe. But we must remain clandestine. In one of the strings, we were noticed by the ones in power. It would not have been too much if that was the case, but the lich was there. I want to avoid that as much as possible.”

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“Okay.” Night looked at Alicia with concern. His voice changed to a gentle one contrasting with his appearance. “I’ll always be there Alicia, always. When we meet up with everyone you can tell us everything, okay. I’m only good at fighting and I know I’m not as good at the other stuff all of you do, but I’ll do my best.” Night hugged her tightly. “You’ll always be my big sister.”

Alicia has seen this before, many many many times. But she still teared up. She reciprocated the warmth with her bandaged hands. “C’mon don’t cry night, it’s gonna be okay.” She brushed his hair away from his face. “Your still the same kindhearted streetchild even now.” She laughed as how siblings laugh to comfort their own.

They let go and savored the moment of filial intimacy.

One of the antiques, a rug with four symbols ornately woven at the edges continuing as an endless pattern surrounding a farm. It depicted four images. First was a woman holding coins exchanged for silk. The second, a little girl holding a staff used to herd sheep. Third, a bloody blade held by a young boy holding the pelt of a wolf. Lastly, a man holding a cup in filled with wine in a covenant with another.

She went to place the rug in front of the purring feline in the counter top.

“Hello, is this for sale?” She uttered at the cat as it ignored her.

“I would give four coins for such a piece. It is well made, but I shall not give a single more.”

The cat stared but still said did not move.

“If not for coin, then I could give you my cattle. I have herded them in pastures and fed them till they were full.”

The cat stilled, sound ceased from outside the shop as if nothing existed there.

“If not for my cattle, then I give you my blade. I have felled beasts with fangs twice as tall as aman and claws sharp as razors.”

Dust inside the shop disappeared. The cat was now giving them their undivided attention.

“If not for my blade, then I give you my word. I will treat you as I do my own for I will be loyal and loving.”

The cat was now lording above them. It stood on two legs with a robe that draped down and melded with the shadows around them. A white star appeared at the humanoid catman’s chest signifying it royalty. A Cait-sith was now standing with nothing but a counter separating them. It spoke in a purr.

“The rug cannot be sold for coin as coin cannot be laid upon, and gold is far too cold. The rug cannot be traded with cattle as no fleece or leather could compare to it’s comfort. The rug cannot be given for a blade as my claws are sufficient to aid me in my hunts. And a covenant with one cannot last forever for I see your grave in my vision.

So I ask instead a name. A name given freely and without regret and I shall give you the rug and more riches that your hands could carry, oxen who could carry a mountain in it’s back and never tire, a blade that could pierce the sky, and a life with a lover that would never end.”

The shelves erupted with vines that spread and spilled into the floor. Bushes started sprouting beneath the floor, presenting the berries that could fill ones belly with a bite. The limited space that once were the walls, were now mist and trees that followed the horizon. The ceiling was now a sky speckled with stars. The merchant now held out it’s furred hand to the two.

“A name is the only price I seek”

The two bowed and offered their name as they did many times before. A name given freely.

She was first.

“I am the moon, the one reflected in the lake as witnessed by the beasts. I show what needs be, and I shall remain as a guide. I give my name freely.”

Night was next and said with a voice sweet and gentle.

“I am the chariot, led by beasts and men. I march to holding my hammer and blade in both hands. I shall be what moves, and I am inevitable. I give my name freely.”

The Cait-sith smiled with eyes forming to crescents.

“I receive names, and as of my word I shall give you all I have promised.”

The forest shifted, moment after moment. Grass turned to stone, then dirt to brick. They were now inside the passageway between sleep and consciousness. The lands between, not the waking world and neither of the dreaming. A tunnel to the dreamlands and the spiritworld, of this life and the next. A crossroad intersecting worlds borne from the borderless nature of korilstadt.

They were in Rioghachd cadail, the kingdom of sleep.

The Cait-sith, Tomas Til Drum, the king of the cats spoke.

“Welcome back”