Seeing Singo take off, she closed the door of her home and muttered under her breath, “Halibastard.” After shaking her head, her acocha closed, as she turned to her son, with fury written over her face.
“WHY DID THAT SHAM COME TO OUR DOOR!” she said furiously “I TOLD YOU TO NEVER SPEAK TO HIM AGAIN!”
Left without a word to say to her, he turned his head away as she continued her ranting, a bit calmer than she was just a moment ago. “I've already been kicked out of my house and they kicked him out of Varun. So what is he doing here again.”
“Packing your head up with false dreams and there isn't anything that needs to be in there, that's in there.” she pauses to take a breath as they both look at each other for a moment placing her hands on his cheeks as she leans in further, “I know your extremely talented, though your magical magical abilities or considered, orthodox.”
His face squeezed he mumbled to her, “Everyone else gets to show whatever tricks they have, even The Amnos's daughter got a scholarship to that university in Centron.” “That’s because she's smart, and her talented isn't your talented. You don't read” she announced to him, removing her hands with Cadryn’s face dimmed.
That's just disrespect
“Heroing isn't for any of us, if that's what you're after,” she said as she turned and headed over to the balcony next to the kitchen, resting her arms over the railing. She appeared to be done with the conversation having had enough of it all, she didn’t want to be bothered with any more trouble from him for the rest of the day.
Exhausted he thinks it would be best for him to get the twelve hours of sleep he needs, and as he begins motioning to his bedroom his mother turns and makes a quick announcement to him, “We’ll live fairly long live so I'm sure you'll find your heart's desire when the time is right.” she then turns back to take in the view.
Entering he lies down, no sooner does he fall asleep and everything gets drowned out, soon after.
Later that evening, around town, Singo who had managed to change his attire to the usual Miltan attire covered his head and face so that guards and police wouldn’t be able to spot him. He had managed to set up a stall no one was using, and with his sense of ingenuity, he managed to form together a fortune-telling stand hoping to make some money.
As dusk’s late hour settled in, the lamplighters made their rounds, reciting soft incantations out of enchanted books as each streetlamp flickered to life, casting a warm glow over the town. Over by his stall, Singo stood, eyeing the crowd. Deciding it was time to make his presence known, he cleared his throat dramatically, then, with a mischievous grin, adopted the voice of a croaking elderly woman. "Excuse me, dearies!" he called out, his tone exaggerated and raspy, trying to draw their attention.
Some passersby's heads turn, curious and confused. Wondering what this old lady was up to draped in her Miltan attire. His face concealed, his voice ringing over that of the other tired vendors, though he appeared like any regular one at first glance.
"Come closer, come closer!" Singo continued, his voice rising in pitch. "I’ve seen your futures! Yes, yes, they’re written in the stars, waiting to be revealed!"
The crowd began to stir, growing bigger and bigger with each moment's passing, drawn by both the absurdity and intrigue of the fortune-telling stand that had seemingly popped up out of nowhere.
“You there, come over here,” he called out pointing at someone in the crowd, a Talestrian man draped in their ethnic attire, looking around puzzled to see it was him she called, the crowd cheering him to step over to her, “You, Yesss you.”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Walking over to his stall with a curious expression to the crowd’s delight, Singo raised his hands faced up, extending them towards the man, “Come on–place them there,” his voice slipped, recovering with the hopes it wouldn’t ruin his performance so far.
“What do you want to know? Fortune? Fame? Family? Things of the past?” “Not sure, just hit me with something,” he said to Singo, who replied, “I’ll make this free of charge.” As the man places his hands face down onto the fortune-teller’s hands a spherical ball with celestial beauty begins to form releasing a faint glow, a mix of astonishment and surprise is present from the crowd, some of whom have never seen something like this before, try sticking their heads over others, some standing on crates or shove themselves through the now thick crowd some of which to no avail.
Singo’s hands trembled slightly as he held the Talestrian’s, the glow from the celestial orb casting shadows across the crowd’s eager faces. His Miltan attire, draped in the fading light, added to the mystery of his act. The man felt the energy surge through him, a tingle in the air that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
The crowd hushed, their curiosity mounting.
“Ahhh, I see it now,” Singo intoned, his voice once again slipping into that of the raspy old woman. “A journey! A journey through the mountains, no… across the sea! Yes, yes… danger awaits you there. But fortune too, if you are brave enough to claim it.”
The Talestrian man raised an eyebrow, half-convinced. “Across the sea, huh? Sounds like quite the adventure.” He smirked, trying to play along with the act.
Singo tilted his head, peering deeper into the orb. "But wait! There’s more... a shadow follows you. A figure, cloaked in darkness, but with familiar eyes." He let his voice grow quieter, more ominous. "It seems... someone you trust may not be as they appear. Your own kin."
The crowd murmured, the tension rising as some exchanged nervous glances. The Talestrian man chuckled, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. “You’re good at this. Almost had me for a second.”
The ball now disappears, as Singo and the man now put away their hands. “She’s the real deal!”, “Amazing!” the voices of some from the crowd said, some of them pushing forward to be given a chance.
“For just a few gin or coins, or whatever you may have, I’ll look into your future too,” Singo announced, watching as the crowd surged forward and the man forced his way out. They offered up their various currencies eagerly, and Singo, knowing this night would surely be a long one, grinned with satisfaction.
As the morning sun and the salty gust of breeze touch his face he rolls over to avoid it, only to be interrupted by his mother opening his bedroom door and calling out to him, “Cadryn! I’ve prepared something for you.” After that, she leaves and he wakes up excited at the thought of warm food in his stomach.
He jumps around and fixes his bed, wondering what meal will be rushing out only to be greeted by the scent of mixed spices. He opened his door only to see his mother leave a soup plate on the table. “Soup, again?” he moaned. “If you had gone out to the market, as I asked, and done your rounds with Ms Atsal, she would’ve given us something else so we could feast on,” she responded.
Oh
“But of course, you instead, you choose to run off with a hobo all afternoon,” to which you could only accept what she said to him. Now, sitting down to a hot bowl of vegetable soup, he tries to drink as much as possible without burning his mouth, and his mother even beckons him to slow down. Though not what he desired he couldn’t eat anything else, well of course nothing was left to cook.
While eating, his mother asked something of him: “Can you go down to Ms. Atsal’s stall today? " She looked at him, and her joyful voice faded. “I mean it.” Like a mother could, what she said pierced his mind, knowing trouble would ensue if her instructions were disobeyed.
Rushing to finish his meal, burning his tongue in the process, though he was distracted by the thoughts of his mentor, sir Singo. Wishing to be taught another lesson on spirit control, his only substitute outside of magic. Having met and frequently talked to the roadside beggar at first, outside of town–a figure some appeared to avoid.
He wasn’t a thief, was he?
He thought to himself, wondering if there was more to the reason why they shunned him. It never made sense—he was no criminal, so why did the townspeople persistently avoid him? What did they know that he didn’t?
Cadryn gets up from the table and says his goodbyes for now as he makes his way down to the marketplace. Figuring this may be another long and boring day.