Vaela held a large ceremonial knife over a bowl to collect the blood. Her hands, stained red, trembled and she looked up at the hooded figure in front of her. A drop of blood fell into the bowl and the hooded figure stepped forward and raised their wooden staff overhead with a hiss as if lifting a great weight. A Shadow sprouted from the blood like a black vine. Tendrils of Shadow branched out and wove into a demonic figure. The hooded figure rapped their staff on the ground and the Shadow demon unfolded a sinewy pair of lopsided wings.

The hooded figure gestured in a wide motion towards the Shadow. “Behold! The Twisted–” The demon raised a leg out of the bowl, but faltered. “Uh, that is the-the Twisted shall–” The Shadow demon tried another half-hearted step before the Shadows lost form and melted away into the floor.

Vaela winced at her friend’s failed effort. Crude, especially compared to some of the skilled Shadow Spinners in the city center. She set the knife and vial of rat blood on the counter behind her and clapped lightly. “That was pretty good! The demon looked real to me.”

Timura threw back her hood, revealing her pale face and raven hair, slick with perspiration. She swiped a sleeve across her face before flashing a smile at Vaela. “Thanks, V. You really think so?”

“Oh, yeah. The lopsided wings were a nice touch, made the whole thing grotesque.”

Timura grimaced and rubbed her arm. “That part wasn’t on purpose.”

“Ah.” Of course not. Vaela glanced around the shop as if she could find words of encouragement perched on the many shelves. Instead, glass bottles of brined frog eyes, boxes of talismans, and the gamut of other supplies any aspiring mystic could want lined every surface in the store. There was also a wall of leather straps, blindfolds, and a few small whips. Maybe the “love potions” and “lucky-in-love” charms Madame Gavora made actually worked some of the time because Vaela had gotten very good at keeping a straight face when customers bought their wares. She’d worked at the shop for over a year now and learned that people expected her to be an expert on every item, especially those ones. Most of the time, she just made up an answer. It was a leather strap, people, figure it out!

Her station, on the end of the shop opposite the entrance, was at the long display counter where she collected customer’s money for their mystical ingredients in the respectful absence of judgment. Well, she at least tried to stifle her giggling most of the time. On the wall to her left was a door with a crescent moon at the top. It was pockmarked with small craters–Madame Gavora’s private consultation room.

Vaela grabbed her walking stick from its resting place against the counter and shook it illustratively at Timura. “Listen to me. What you need to do is get a wire or something.” She placed the tip of her stick against the bowl. “You pull it at just the right moment”–she nudged the bowl, sliding it a few inches along the floor–“and make it look like the Shadow is actually interacting with the physical world.” She flicked the tip of her stick, flipping the bowl over, and Timura jumped. Vaela grinned and pointed her stick at her. “Freak everyone out.”

Timura clapped a hand over her chest. After she heaved a few breaths, she chuckled and nodded. “That is great. See, this is why you should come! We’d kill it at these things.”

Vaela held up a hand. “Sorry, but you know how it is. I’m not into all that hocus pocus. Uh, no offense.”

Timura grabbed a dried cricket from a shelf and turned it over distastefully in her hand. “Still? Even after working here as a Charmer for so long?”

Vaela grabbed the cricket, her fingers brushing against Timura’s for a moment. Their eyes met and she bit back a grin. “Yeah, yeah, fair point.” She clasped her hands behind her and backed up to the display counter. “Have to pay rent somehow, though.” Speaking of rent, she was behind again. Oh, well. She winked and then nodded to the bowl. “Now, get that upright and let me show you how it’s done.”

While Timura reset the bowl to its position, Vaela swiped a match from the counter. “Picture it like this.” She raised her face to the heavens and timed striking the match behind her back with her first word. “Behold… the great demon lord!” She held the match to the dried grasshopper.

Timura stared down at the bowl which innocently laid on the floor. She looked back up and arched an eyebrow at her. “Oh, wow, real impre…” Her mouth dropped open and her gaze fixed over Vaela’s head.

The burning grasshopper stunk, but the stench and cost to replace it was worth it for Timura’s dumbfounded expression. Vaela smoothed the smirk from her face and assumed a look of abject horror. “Timura, Timura, it-it burns! The Twisted-agh!” She flung the flaming grasshopper at her.

Timura shrieked and stumbled back, hands flailing, before tumbling to the ground. Vaela doubled over and howled with laughter. Timura’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. From her private room, Madame Gavora rushed out, her headwrap askew. Her squat legs crossed an impressive distance in three steps. Upon seeing Vaela clutching her sides, she folded her arms and glared at the flaming grasshopper. Vaela grinned and raised her eyebrows. Madame Gavora maintained her stare, though a smile pressed on the outskirts of her lips. She tapped a finger towards the grasshopper before turning back and disappearing into the private room. Vaela waved towards the crescent moon–no doubt Madame Gavora was still Eyeing her through the moon’s craters, her little spyholes. She always Watched the main room when a customer was in. She needed every ounce of information she could glean from her keen Observation for those coming for her private services: fortunes, palm readings, and sex advice.

Vaela stomped out the grasshopper and scooped up Timura’s staff, extending it towards her. Timura huffed and clambered to her feet on her own. Vaela tossed her the staff. “Oh, come on. You gotta admit that was good.” Timura scowled at her and Vaela batted her eyelashes at her. “Don’t be mad, I’ll have to pay to replace that Charm.”

Timura snorted and a grin finally cracked onto her face. “Yes, well, I hope it was an expensive one, you almost killed me.”

Vaela grabbed her hand and led her over to the display case, letting her fingers linger. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t.” She faced her fully and assumed her most wide-eyed innocent expression. “It was just for impotence.”

Timura choked and Vaela cackled, while making her way to the other side of the display case, back to her normal station. “Oh, it’s too easy!” She stabbed a finger at Timura. “Admit it. It was good.”

Timura straightened her robes. “Well, there was a certain panache, though I wouldn’t”–Vaela rolled her eyes and Timura grinned–“okay, okay. It was good.” She slapped the counter. “This is exactly what I’m talking about! We should team up. You and me.”

Vaela opened her mouth, but Timura held up a finger and rummaged through her pocket with her other hand. “Wait, wait. Before you say anything, let me just give you this.” She fished a pendant out and handed it to Vaela.

It was shaped like a small metallic coin with a frog etched onto one side. Timura closed Vaela’s fingers around it and held her hand in her own. “The meeting is in the basement of the butcher’s shop, you know the one. You don't have to give me an answer now, but if you want to drop by, just show that pendant at the door. They'll let you in no problem.”

Vaela smiled politely and pocketed the pendant. “Okay, no promises.” Not really her scene, but it might be something to do. Besides, Timura wasn’t hard on the eyes so watching her promised to be interesting, even if the Shadow Spinning wasn’t great. Based on the fact that her group was already letting her conduct her own ritual, they clearly didn’t mind either. “Now. To business.” She slid a drawer open and procured a small brass Ring. “Been saving this one for you for the day of your big debut.”

Timura reached for it, but stopped halfway. “What, different talent than the normal…?”

Stolen story; please report.

Vaela rolled it between her fingers. “Oh yeah! Not one of our local Spinners.”

Timura tilted her head. “From who? Grazis?”

“Ha! Oh, no. None of that amateur level stuff.”

Timura gasped and she eyed the ring hungrily. “Not… him?”

Vaela nodded and flipped the Ring into the air like a coin. Timura flung out a hand, but Vaela snatched it back first. She pulled it close to her face and stared at Timura through the opening. “Oh yeah–him.”

Timura reached for the Ring again. “How’d you get him to Sacrifice?”

“Mm, you know me.” Vaela shifted her weight and bumped a hip out. She lowered her chin and looked up at her through her lashes, shrugging one shoulder demurely. “I just asked.”

Timura chuckled and shook her head. “And with eyes like those, who wouldn’t give up some of their blood?” Her gaze meandered over Vaela’s form before she made eye contact again. “You really are a Charmer, through and through.” Vaela fluttered her eyelashes.

Timura fished out a generous sum of coins from a small purse in her pocket and put them on the counter. Vaela flicked the Ring to Timura. She greedily caught it and immediately closed her eyes, focusing on the Ring. A moment later, her eyes jolted open as if a current had run through her. “By the Twisted! So much Power–and just from a few drops of blood!”

Vaela nodded in appreciation. “Yeah, and that’s just what I could Harness. There was even more that I couldn’t Tame.”

Of course, it went without saying, Timura wasn’t even feeling the full potential of the Ring. Her control over Shadow wasn’t too bad for a lay Spinner, but Vaela knew she was stronger than her. Over a year of Charming objects day in and day out had helped her Power grow considerably, even without formal training.

Timura slipped the Ring onto her middle finger and stared at it, lost in the dull sheen. “Can you imagine? Having that kind of strength? Wouldn’t you do anything for that kind of Power?” Her eyes refocused and she looked at Vaela intently.

Vaela slid her stool over and plopped down. She brushed a strand of dark brown hair back from her face. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t need much.”

Timura leaned over the counter. “But don’t you want anything? Don’t you have a dream?”

Vaela pulled her walking stick to her and traced her fingers over the familiar knobs, worn smooth over the years. “Well.” She looked at the door. Beyond it, it’d be getting dark soon. The fading light of the sun would disappear over the city of Xufont. And further still, the sun would set on cities and lands she’d never seen before. A whole world, growing cold. And other lands, soon warmed by the light of the new day. So much to see, to explore. Yes, one day.

Timura spun around and whipped her staff in the air. “Well, I do! I’ll be a great Spinner and travel to the ends of Dome, raising Shadow wherever I go!”

Vaela smiled and put her stick back down, resting it against the counter. “I hope you do.”

“So, next time you see him, send him my way–I’ll be his apprentice. A journeywoman!”

“Oh, no, not a chance. I like you far too much to send him towards you.”

Timura faced Vaela and tilted her head. Vaela waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing but trouble that one. I’ve never seen him stay in this city without hearing a ruckus soon after.”

Timura twisted the Ring on her finger, staring at it with a sense of reverence. “Yes, but still.”

Vaela rose. “Well, good luck tonight.” She retrieved another dried grasshopper from a drawer and set it on the counter with a crunch. “And since you’ve been such a loyal customer, how about I throw in this Charm, on the house.”

“Still for impotence?”

Vaela winked at her. Timura laughed and faked a shudder. She waved and strode to the exit. Before leaving, she called back over her shoulder, “Remember. Butcher’s basement at midnight.”

As soon as the door shut, Madame Gavora stepped out of her private room. She was shorter than most people, rounder than most people, and sharp as a blade. Her keen eye missed little and she had a nose for business. “I don’t know why you listen to that silly girl’s presentations, child.”

“Oh, they’re not so bad. And besides.” Vaela deposited the small heap of coins on the counter. “Pretty good haul today, eh?”

Madame Gavora hurried over and counted through the coins, her stubby fingers flicking through them deftly. “Good, my dear, very good.” She put a warm hand on Vaela’s shoulder for a moment.

“The wild stories she comes up with and her sense of adventure, well.” Vaela smiled and hugged herself. Just like Dad. Of course, he didn’t use Shadows, though. She tossed her stick in the air and caught it. “Her stories can sound crazy, but real life can be just as crazy. My father used to tell me all sorts of things you’d barely believe!”

Madame Gavora’s eyes narrowed just a tad as they often did whenever Vaela mentioned her dad. Yeah, yeah, she’d gotten enough of that from her mother growing up. These older women, always so protective. So he’d drifted in and out of her life. Did she wish he’d been around more? Sure, but she only had fond memories.

Vaela vaulted over the counter and swung her walking stick in mock battle, holding off a dozen armed men. “This is all he had, you know. A single walking stick. The only thing he ever needed to survive from city to city.” She spun and pointed it at Madame Gavora. “Oh, you should have heard the things he’d done! You’d think he’d fought off entire armies.” She laughed and tapped the stick on the ground twice. Yeah, she knew. Maybe some of his stories were exaggerated, maybe he got carried away every now and then. She crested her fingers over the top of the stick. The only thing he ever needed.

Madame Gavora huffed and straightened her headwrap. “And yet, I’ve seen him visit you how much? Not a day. What sort of man doesn’t visit his daughter?”

Vaela waved her off and hefted the stick. “And one day I asked him, ‘how did you fight with no weapon?’ I’d barely seen him handle so much as a butter knife. Oh, you should have seen him jump up!” She closed the distance between herself and Madame Gavora and shook the stick in her face. “A true mage doesn’t need a weapon, he told me! Do you believe, in his hands this stick could be transformed into an Ice javelin in a matter of seconds. Or an Ice sword, so big it could cut a man in half in a single swipe.” She jumped away and cut through the air with a twirl. “This stick, well it had been as much a walking stick as a devastating weapon.” She stroked the stick fondly, her fingertips surfing down every knob, every nick–each one a story.

She hadn’t seen him in a while. Years, even. But she still remembered the last thing he told her. This stick, this very stick. It could be anything she wanted. The only thing she’d ever need for her own adventure.

The bell on the door jingled, cutting short her reverie. A tall woman, gray hair drawn back in a tight bun, face pinched into a permanent scowl, walked into the store, her rust-colored robes billowing behind her. Vaela’s spine stiffened immediately. Kaverlna. Priestess Kaverlna.

Vaela retreated back behind the counter, standing shoulder to shoulder with Madame Gavora. The tension in Madame Gavora’s body was palpable through their contact.

Kaverlna strode up and looked down at her. “Vaela.” It wasn't a question, or even a statement. It was a command, a summons. She drew a scroll from her robes and held it out. Vaela accepted it as if by compulsion.

“I've come, once again, to remind you of your duty to St. Incus and the Church of Blood.” She raised a hand and clenched it into a fist. “Those of us blessed with the Power of the blood are not so common. You dishonor the Creator by wasting your talents here in this squalid shop.”

Vaela slammed the scroll onto the counter. “If the Creator's got a problem with me, then He can tell it to me Himself.”

The priestess spat on the floor. “Blasphemy.” She whirled away and strode to the exit, stopping in the threshold. “You will join the Church, Vaela. You are of Blood. And blood always flows back to the heart.” She slammed the door and glasses on the shelves rattled.

Vaela scooped up the scroll and carried it over to the trash. Madame Gavora caught her wrist before she released it, and turned her hand palm-up. “Show me your palm, child.”

“Come on, not now.”

Madame Gavora leveled her with a calm stare. Vaela sighed and stuffed the scroll into her pocket with her other hand, leaving her palm open and unobstructed. Madame Gavora’s stubby fingers traced the lines of her hand gently. “Mm, yes, I See. I can sense a great destiny in you.”

Vaela gave her a small smile. This mystical stuff was all nonsense. But Madame Gavora’s hands were warm.

“Close your eyes, child.” Vaela obliged and Madame Gavora’s finger tickled her palm as it ran along the creases. “Something awaits you.”

“Mm, is it dashing man? Or maybe, a fetching lady? Not too picky, you know.” Vaela giggled and peeped through one eye at Madame Gavora.

“Hush, now. No, no, love may await you, but I See something even grander. Adventure.”

Vaela’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes bolted open. Her walking stick leaned against the counter still, exhausted no doubt from all the imaginary enemies she’d fought. But that’s all she’d ever done with it, dream of distant lands. Maybe it wasn’t exhausted. Maybe it was well-rested.

“Close your eyes.”

Vaela’s hand trembled slightly and she leaned forward. Fortune-telling, just a bunch of nonsense. But maybe…

Cold metal clinked into her palm and she jerked. In her hand, a small pile of coins rested. “This is… this is too much, Madame. It’s more than my weekly wages.”

“Mm, but you’ve earned it, yes?” Madame Gavora folded Vaela’s fingers closed over the coins and then patted her on the cheek. “Your father might have just left you that hunk of wood for adventures–such a man’s thought. Ah, but a woman knows some metal will put food in your belly and a roof over your head. Save your money and one day, you’ll have your adventure. Now, go home for today, child.”

Vaela clutched the coins to her chest. Enough for this month’s rent and to make up for coming up short last month. “I’ll help close the store.”

Madame Gavora shooed her away. “Go. I’ll close up.”

Vaela fidged with the coins and Madame Gavora fixed her with a stern look. “I can handle this place myself, child. Now, go.”

Palm reading, such nonsense. Vaela flung her arms around Madame Gavora and hugged her tight. They pulled apart after a moment and Vaela wiped her eye with her sleeve. Fortunes, such utter nonsense.