The morning sun bathed the orphanage yard in a golden glow, chasing away the lingering chill of dawn. Laughter and chatter echoed as little children scurried about, playing their own make-believe games. The older ones, however, were already at work, scrubbing laundry, sweeping floors, and preparing for the day ahead.
Lyra knelt by a large wooden basin, sleeves rolled up, hands submerged in soapy water as she scrubbed a heavy woolen blanket. Beside her, two other girls worked just as diligently, their hands raw from the cold water.
“Hey, Lyra,” said Marina, the eldest among them, her voice filled with concern. “You feeling better today? You looked really out of it yesterday.”
Lyra forced a small smile. “Yeah, I’m good. A good night’s sleep fixes everything.” She wrung out the blanket and set it aside, feeling the weight of her exhaustion settle deep in her bones.
“You should take better care of yourself,” scolded Elen, a girl about Lyra's age. “When you first came here, you were already in bad shape—all bruised up and half-starved. And now, you even cut your hair! It was so pretty before.”
Lyra just smiled again, this time softer, as she reached up and fingered the uneven ends of her short hair. She had done it herself with a rusted pair of scissors. Long hair was a luxury. It got in the way when you needed to run.
Marina dunked another sheet into the water and sighed dramatically. “Ugh, if only some noble would just adopt us all and make us live in a big mansion.”
“That only happens in stories,” Elen scoffed. “Besides, nobles only want kids who are useful.”
Lyra stayed silent. She knew all too well that not every noble home was a fairytale dream. Some were cages with golden bars.
The conversation drifted to lighter topics until Elen suddenly perked up, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Oh! I almost forgot! Do you know what I heard while I was cleaning the headmistress’s room?”
Marina leaned in. “What?”
Elen lowered her voice, as if sharing the greatest secret of all time. “The duke’s men have been searching from town to town for someone. He’s been sending his soldiers everywhere. What do you think he’s looking for?”
Lyra stiffened. She forced her hands to keep scrubbing, not daring to let her unease show.
Marina snorted. “Who knows? Maybe he’s after some runaway thief or some noble brat who ran away from home. The nobility always have their own problems.”
Lyra kept her head down, her stomach twisting into knots. She knew exactly who the duke was looking for. And she knew that if she wasn’t careful, this fragile peace she had found would shatter just like the last one.
Marina suddenly brightened. “Oh! Speaking of exciting things—guess what? A famous fortune teller has arrived in town!”
Elen gasped. “Really?!”
Marina nodded eagerly. “Yes! They say he can predict your future just by looking at you. What do you say? Let’s go see him today! It’ll be fun, and we could all use a break.”
Elen clapped her hands together. “Yes! Let’s go, Lyra! You’re coming too, right?”
Lyra hesitated. “I… can’t. I need to save my money. I’m still short.”
She didn’t dare to waste a single coin. Every copper she earned from scrubbing dishes and running errands was another step toward her next escape. She couldn’t afford distractions.
“Oh, come on!” Elen pouted. “Just this once? Please? We’ll even pay your share!”
“Yeah, it won’t be fun without you,” Marina added, nudging her shoulder. “You work too much. Just take a break for a little while.”
Lyra bit her lip. She knew she shouldn’t. Every instinct screamed at her to refuse, to stay on her path. But as she looked at their hopeful faces, the thought crept in—this might be the last time she saw them. Once she left this town, she could never return.
A lump formed in her throat.
“Fine,” she whispered, her voice heavy with unspoken farewells.
The other girls cheered, and for a moment, just a moment, Lyra let herself forget. Forget that she was running. Forget that danger lurked ever closer. Forget that soon, she would have to disappear again.
But for today, she would be just another girl, laughing with friends, chasing fleeting moments of joy before the world took them away again.
As the girls finished up, the sharp voice of the headmistress rang across the yard. “Lyra! Come here at once!”
Lyra tensed, glancing at the other two before wiping her hands hastily and hurrying over. The headmistress stood near the entrance, arms crossed, her sharp eyes narrowing as Lyra approached.
“You didn’t return on time yesterday,” she scolded. “Where were you?”
“I was just a little late,” Lyra answered carefully. “I had extra work at the tavern.”
The headmistress’s expression darkened. “Excuses! You think you can just come and go as you please? You’re lucky we took you in at all. Now, since you have so much energy to stay out late, you can scrub the floors inside once you’re done here.”
Lyra bowed her head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Satisfied, the headmistress turned away, already barking orders at another child. As Lyra sighed and prepared herself for another round of work, snippets of conversation reached her ears.
“...A noble is visiting today…… everything must be spotless…”
Her hands clenched at her sides. A noble? That meant trouble. It meant the risk of being recognized.
Lyra worked through the orphanage tasks as quickly as she could, her hands moving mechanically as the sun climbed higher. Each moment spent scrubbing the floors and dusting the corners felt like an eternity, the pressure of the headmistress’s disapproval pushing her forward. The smell of old wood and stale air lingered in her nose, and the sting of the harsh soap on her raw hands only seemed to drive her faster. By the time she finished the chores, the entire orphanage was spotless, and she barely had time to catch her breath before she grabbed her worn cloak and headed out the door.
Her first stop was the baker’s, where she worked as an errand runner. The heavy smell of flour and yeast clung to the air as she slipped into the back, her arms already tired from the morning's work. The baker, a burly man with a loud voice and sharp temper, handed her a basket filled with loaves of bread and pastries to deliver to various houses across town. It wasn’t the hardest job, but it wasn’t fair either. The deliveries were often far, and she wasn’t paid much for the trouble. A handful of copper coins, just enough to fill the gaps in her meager savings, was all she got in return for running up and down the cobblestone streets, often in the chill of early morning or the late hours when the sun had long since disappeared.
Her stomach growled as she moved swiftly through the town, but food was always a luxury she couldn’t afford. The bread in her basket was for someone else. She thought of the other children at the orphanage, who would no doubt be able to enjoy their meals while she would eat scraps, if at all. The disparity between her life and theirs was something she had grown used to, but it never failed to leave a bitter taste in her mouth.
After finishing the deliveries, she made her way to the blacksmith’s shop. Her job here was to help with the menial tasks—sweeping, organizing tools, running errands for the smiths. The blacksmith himself was a tall, burly man, gruff and often short-tempered. no matter how fast she worked, the blacksmith always found something more for her to do, something to delay her.
“Don’t just stand there, girl,” he would grunt. “Get that cart of iron from the back.”
Her arms screamed in protest, but she did as ordered, dragging the heavy cart to the forge despite the pain that gnawed at her bones. Once the cart was unloaded, the blacksmith simply grunted, “Good. Get back to work.” No thanks. No appreciation. Just the cold, harsh reality of being nothing more than a tool to be used.
By the time she finished at the blacksmith’s shop, the sky had already started to dim, and Lyra knew she didn’t have much time left. The tavern was next on her list. But tonight, she made a decision. She couldn’t risk being stuck there for hours, not when she had promised her friends she would go with them. She would make a quick stop at the tavern and leave early—just enough to get some money for the day and still catch up with Marina and Elen.
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Arriving at the tavern, the noise of rowdy patrons and the warmth of the fire greeted her. She walked in and immediately spotted the owner. The rotund man with a jovial laugh grinned as he saw her approach. “Lyra! Sweep the floors and take care of the tables. We’ve got guest.”
She nodded quickly. It was only a few hours, she told herself. It wasn’t much, just the usual mess, but the nobles were careless, knocking over their cups and leaving scraps of food everywhere. Still, the owner was pleased when he saw her move swiftly, her broom and mop cleaning the messes in record time. A few coins in her pocket would make it worth it.
At around five, she caught the owner’s eye again. “I’m leaving for the night,” she said, not waiting for his reply.
“Go on, then,” he said with a dismissive wave. “We’ll manage.”
With that, Lyra hurried out of the tavern, the heavy doors swinging behind her as she stepped back into the cool evening air. The streets were quieter now, and she made her way quickly to the meeting spot. Marina and Elen were already there, eagerly waiting for her.
“I thought you might be late,” Marina said, grinning. “You actually left the tavern early?”
Lyra offered a small smile. “Just wanted to make sure I had time for this.”
For a fleeting moment, the fatigue from the day melted away, and she let herself enjoy the lightness of the evening. They laughed together, their voices echoing in the quiet streets as they made their way toward the fortune teller, ready for whatever the future might hold.
The market was alive with color and sound, a vibrant mix of vendors calling out their wares and the chatter of townsfolk haggling for the best prices. The air was thick with the smell of freshly baked bread, spiced meats, and sweet pastries, and Lyra’s stomach growled in protest. She hadn’t eaten much all day, and the delicious smells made her feel a little light-headed. But she held her ground, her hands clenched tightly at her sides to keep from reaching for her last few coppers.
Marina and Elen, however, had no such restraint. “Come on!” Marina called, pulling Lyra’s sleeve as she walked briskly toward a food stall overflowing with sweets. “We’re having a treat today!”
Lyra hesitated. “I can’t—”
“Don’t worry about it!” Elen said, flashing a wide grin. “Today’s our treat! You’re coming with us, whether you like it or not!”
With that, the two girls dragged Lyra along, her protests fading as their excitement filled the air. The stall was a colorful one, with brightly decorated paper lanterns hanging above, and baskets of soft, honeyed cakes and crispy fried doughnuts piled high. Marina handed over a few coins to the vendor, and before Lyra could blink, a small platter of warm, golden pastries was thrust into her hands.
“You have to try these,” Marina urged, her voice giddy as she eagerly took a bite of one of the fried doughnuts, sugar glistening on her lips. “They’re the best in the market!”
Lyra took a hesitant bite, and the sweet, warm dough melted in her mouth, a soft cloud of sugar and warmth that made her feel a little lighter. Elen, already halfway through her own treat, shot her a triumphant look. “Told you!”
They wandered from stall to stall, sampling bits of fruit, small pastries, and savory snacks, laughing and chatting with the vendors. Lyra felt a flutter of something—maybe it was joy, or perhaps relief—swelling in her chest as she watched her friends indulge without a care in the world. It was a simple pleasure, but for her, it felt rare.
As they reached another stall, Marina glanced at Lyra and whispered, “Don’t worry. You’ve earned this. You work so hard.”
Lyra’s heart swelled, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she just took another bite of the pastry handed to her, savoring the brief moment of comfort. It was only when they had eaten their fill and the sun was dipping lower into the sky that they turned their attention to the final destination of their outing—the fortune teller’s tent.
As they walked through the market, Lyra’s eyes caught sight of a curious sight up ahead. The fortune teller’s “shop” wasn’t a shop at all. In fact, it wasn’t even a proper building—it was a large, weathered tent, its once-vibrant colors faded and tattered from age. Strange symbols were embroidered in gold thread around the edges, and the entrance flapped lazily in the evening breeze.
Lyra stopped dead in her tracks, her heart fluttering with unease. She blinked, her brows furrowing as she took in the sight. "This?" she whispered under her breath, her voice tinged with disbelief. "A fortune-teller in a tent? In the middle of the market? Why hasn’t this been declared heretic by now?"
The older girls laughed softly at her response, clearly unbothered by the unconventional setting. “It’s just a tent, Lyra,” Marina said with a wink. “And maybe a little unorthodox, but that's what makes it fun! Besides, if it’s good enough for people to line up for, then it’s worth checking out.”
Indeed, a small but eager line had already formed outside the tent, a mix of townfolk and curious faces, all waiting for their chance to meet the mysterious fortune teller. The air around the tent felt charged, as if something unseen was stirring just beyond the walls.
With a deep breath, Lyra stepped forward, following her friends into the line. “I don’t know about this,” But her friends were already chatting excitedly about the readings they would receive, the potential glimpses into their futures. Lyra found herself drawn into the excitement, despite her skepticism.
At the center of the room, a large crystal orb sat on a table, glowing with an eerie, soft light. The only sounds were the quiet hum of the crowd outside, and the rustling of the woman in black who stood behind the table, draped in a cloak that seemed to swallow her whole. She looked every bit the part of a fortune teller—mysterious and unsettling, her face partially obscured by the shadows beneath her hood.
As the three girls stepped inside, their eyes wide with wonder and excitement, the woman’s voice broke the silence.
“Oh my, my,” she cooed, her voice silky, yet filled with a strange kind of amusement. “Look at you three—such cute little kittens. How may I serve you, dears?”
Lyra, Elen, and Marina exchanged excited glances. The air in the tent seemed charged, as though the very fabric of reality was bending in anticipation.
Elen was the first to speak, her voice filled with eager curiosity. “We want to know about our future. Will we get rich one day?”
Marina blushed at the question, her excitement mixing with a little embarrassment. “And when… when will I meet my prince charming?”
Lyra, standing a little off to the side, couldn’t help but smile softly at her friends. She was a bit shocked by their enthusiasm, but it was hard not to get swept up in the energy of it all. It felt ridiculous, almost like a dream.
The woman’s eyes flickered to Lyra, a strange glint behind her hooded gaze. “And you, little yellow kitten,” she purred, a knowing smile curving her lips. “What is it you wish to hear?”
Lyra laughed softly, her voice a little more uncertain than the others. “I… I would like to know how well I’ll do in the future,” she said half-heartedly, her gaze drifting to the glowing orb. She didn’t really believe in all this, but she figured it couldn’t hurt to play along.
The woman’s gaze didn’t falter. She stared at Lyra with a kind of intensity that made her shift uncomfortably. Then, with a graceful gesture, she turned to Marina.
“Well, then, let’s begin,” the woman said, her voice laced with mystery. “You, who seek your prince charming.”
Marina, still flushed with excitement, eagerly sat down before the table, her eyes wide with anticipation. she reached beneath the table and pulled out a set of old, weathered tarot cards, scattering them in front of Marina.
“Pick three,” the woman instructed, her voice almost a whisper.
Marina hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward, her fingers brushing against the cards. She picked three at random, her heart racing as she laid them down before the fortune teller.
The woman studied them for a moment, her eyes narrowing in thought. Then, she looked up at Marina, a smile creeping across her lips. “Oh my, my,” she murmured. “It seems you won’t be meeting your prince charming any time soon, dear.”
Marina’s face fell slightly, but the woman’s next words made her perk up again. “But don’t despair. You will meet someone one day—someone made for you. And more importantly, something big is about to happen for you.”
Marina’s breath caught in her throat. “What is it?” she asked, leaning forward eagerly. “What’s going to happen?”
The woman’s smile widened, but there was something a little too cryptic about it. “Ah, dear, that’s a surprise. You’ll see when it arrives.”
Marina nodded slowly, her mind racing. It wasn’t exactly the answer she’d hoped for, but it was still something to look forward to.
Elen was next, practically bouncing in her seat with excitement. She reached out and picked her cards with a determined look in her eyes. The woman smiled at her as she laid the cards out, her fingers delicately brushing each one.
After a few moments, the woman spoke again. “Very soon, you will come into a great deal of wealth and privilege,” she said, her voice soft but filled with authority. “But be warned, little kitten. Not everyone who flatters you is a friend. Be careful who you trust—especially those who sweet-talk you.”
Elen’s eyes sparkled. “Really?” she breathed, practically glowing with happiness. “I’m going to be rich?”
Lyra’s turn came, and though her heart was racing a little, she felt strangely detached from the whole process. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she had a feeling that nothing good was going to come of this. She could feel it—something about this tent, about this woman, didn’t sit right with her. Still, she stepped forward, her friends watching intently as she picked three cards.
As her fingers brushed the cards, she felt a strange tingling sensation run through her. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there. Something was off. She could almost sense a faint energy emanating from the cards, and it made her stomach twist in unease. But she continued, laying them down on the table before the woman, who was watching her with an intensity that made Lyra’s skin crawl.
The woman’s smile widened when she glanced at the cards. It was a strange, almost creepy expression, one that sent a shiver down Lyra’s spine. “Oh, how wonderful,” the woman murmured, her voice dripping with an almost sinister sweetness. “It’s not often I meet someone like you.”
Lyra frowned, her heart pounding in her chest. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice faltering slightly.
“Ah, yes,” she said softly. “You want to know how well you’ll do, don’t you?” She paused, letting the silence hang in the air like a weight. “Well, my dear, the path you’re on... it’s not looking so bright. If you continue down this road, I’m afraid you’ll find yourself in trouble. It seems that the future you’ve built for yourself doesn’t lead to anything good. I’m sorry to say, it doesn’t look like you’ll do well in the distant future at all.”
Lyra’s heart raced as the tarot card suddenly flew from the table, slicing through the air with unnatural speed. Before she could react, the card struck Marina in the chest, followed by Elen—both of them vanishing into thin air. Gone. Just like that.
“Elen! Marina!” Lyra gasped, stumbling forward, but the girls were already swallowed by the card’s strange power. The fortune teller barely moved, her eerie smile widening as she picked up the card as if it were nothing more than a trinket.
“Oh, don’t worry,” the woman hummed, her voice unsettlingly calm. “They’re simply... waiting.”
Lyra’s chest tightened, her voice shaking as she demanded, “What did you do to them?”
The woman raised an eyebrow, her smile stretching. “Patience, dear. They’re not gone, only... captured. For now.”
Lyra’s hands balled into fists. “Give them back.”
The fortune-teller leaned back in her chair, unfazed. “Your future’s not so bright, little kitten,” she said with a cruel glint in her eyes. “But maybe I can show you how to change that.”