The Empty Mirror
Chapter 27: Hunger on trial
I had the feeling that the tarot reading was coming to an end; my intuition suggested that only those three cards would be revealed to me, at least for the time being. The interpretation seemed clear: the first card, The Hanged Man, symbolised my past; the Ace of Wands embodied the present; and the Two of Wands, by implication, outlined my future. Something hinted to me that The Marquise would not completely reveal the meaning of the cards, but that they would be a reflection of my own identity.
"I am the Two of Wands" - the Marquise began, her voice ringing with authority and mystery. "I represent the strength, boldness and confidence that nestle in your being to undertake new projects. I convey to you the message that this is a propitious time to seek allies, suppliers or subordinates to help you achieve your goals. If you find yourself facing a complex situation, you will find the solution through patience and perseverance.
The effigy offers us the vision of a man, situated on the top of a castle, holding a tiny globe while his gaze embraces a vast panorama to his right and an infinite sea to his left.
The illustration reveals that the globe symbolises a world, indicating that the world is at his disposal and that great potential unfolds if he extends his horizons to embrace wider experiences. This represents the balance and skills required to maintain mastery of the situation. In the lower left corner, roses and lilies stand, emblems of longing and chaste thought in concord. The basto, which he holds in his left hand, symbolises the harmonisation of passions in order to direct them properly. He understands his ambition and discerns what steps to take. He wears an orange tunic, which denotes an energetic attitude towards life, and a red hat, which symbolises a passion for adventure.
The image printed on the letter astonished me, for this time it was not the figure of a usurping bull, as was customary, but of a man, a human. It was as if the future held in store for me the destiny to become one, to become a human being.
The tarot reading concluded, and the Marquise, with her distinguished gesture, gathered the cards on the table, arranged face down. She deftly shuffled them before revealing the dark side of the deck, which displayed a shadowy engraving of a bull, thus concealing the sequence and arrangement of the cards. He then placed them at one end of the table, away from the centre, and continued his speech: "The motives of your nightmare and its genesis are alien to me, distant even from the tangible realm and the Ace of Wands, its architect. Nevertheless, there is a path of escape in sight, a path by which you might yet elude this nightmare."
"What is that path?" - I inquired, my heart racing and filled with longing.
"The way to detach yourself from this confinement is to imbue it with the presence of the Ancient Hunger," he replied almost immediately.
"The Old Hunger?" - I inquired, feeling a shudder in my chest.
"Yes, it embodies the essence of the Famine that was humiliated in Chimeria," he said with a hint of disgust.
"I understand. But where does this Ancient Hunger rest?" - I questioned, not wishing to inquire into the significance or root of such a "Famine", nor into its implications, nor into its strange connection with Chimeria, aware that the Marquise would not reveal those tangled secrets, however much I might require them.
"I carry it right here, so you don't need to look for it. However, there are aspects you must apprehend," she whispered, barely audible, letting out an immediate sigh.
At that instant, the Marquise pulled from her yellowish robe a choker. It exhibited the shape of a grotesque and harrowing jaw, as if it had been ripped from the jaws of a ravenous beast. It was made of rotting, contorted flesh, with fleshy membranes hanging from its margins like shreds of torn skin. Winding black veins snaked along the surface of the choker, as if taking on a life of their own.
The teeth of the jaw were hideous, with jagged, splintered outlines that resembled clots of curdled blood. Some were crooked and disfigured, while others were sharp and pointed like razor blades. Constantly, fresh dark-toned blood dripped from the cavities between the teeth, forming small dark pools at the base of the choker.
With false teeth of blackened gold embedded between the natural teeth and gums of the jaw, they exuded a sickly, sinister glow, as if imbued with the very essence of insatiable hunger.
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"Its name is 'Hunger on trial', but it is only the tip of the iceberg in terms of its story. To delve into the narrative of this cursed object would be redundant, for your knowledge of the arcana of witchcraft is still scant" - he mused as his fingers caressed the gums of the choker.
"Witchcraft," I whispered, puzzled.
"However, you must delve into the intricacies of both its beneficial effects and its dire consequences, as well as the curses and blessings that the Famine unleashes upon you," he continued, ignoring my stupefaction at the evoked sorcery, and then went on: "I will lay it out for you in the most accessible way possible, stand by, and listen carefully. I will first relate its blessings, and then its curses. The blessings he bestows are three:
1. Devourer of Souls: The choker boasts the ability to absorb not only the spiritual energy of those around it, but also their souls. Each time it is activated, it emits an insatiable desire that draws in the surrounding souls, imprisoning them in its bosom. Its abilities are unleashed by the gleam of the three golden teeth in its jaw. The left fang symbolises the act of consuming souls, with a less than 50% chance of assimilating them and absorbing the opponent's spiritual energy.
2. Voracious Bite: The choker triggers a "bite", reflecting its appetite, as a passive effect on the central tooth. The piece unleashes a "bite" on hostile enemies, with a greater than 50% chance of devouring the flesh.
3. Carnal Corruption: The necklace's right-handed prong exerts a corrupting influence on the opponent's body, distorting its flesh and transmuting its appearance into a sinister caricature of its original form. The complexion turns livid and clammy, the muscles swell and twist, and the eyes take on an unwholesome, ravenous glare, with less than a 50% chance of success.
The effects, so far described, seem as astonishing as they are real. No wonder it is among the most powerful artefacts in my arsenal. However, you must be cautious. This device acts mostly automatically; in the face of a threat, it will unleash its abilities to protect its wielder. However, you must direct its actions with the power of your mind alone, as if you were a thaumaturge. I recognise that this is a lot of information to assimilate, but you possess a strange connection to your identity and how it reverberates in the world, no matter the dimension.
I massaged my temples with my fingers, struggling to assimilate what the Marquise had unveiled to me about "Hunger on trial". The overwhelming magnitude of what had been presented left me stunned. Nevertheless, with an effort, I curved the corners of my lips in a forced gesture of understanding, prompting her to continue, this time with the curses associated with "Hunger on trial".
With my heart frozen in the deepest terror, I found myself plunged into an abyss of unfathomable anguish as I received the curses of the 'Hunger on trial'. Such curses, oh, how they weighed upon the soul: the 'Increase of Appetite', an indomitable maelstrom that assaults both the body and spirit of the hapless wearer. The insatiable desire to satiate both physical hunger and the very essence of existence drove the wearer to a desperate, even self-destructive, search for satisfaction. The relentless compulsion to consume, whether earthly delicacies or sensory experiences, became a devouring frenzy that threatened to consume the wearer in its entirety, as a hungry wolf devours its prey to the bone. And if the breath of life faltered, if nutrition failed, the wearer himself would be condemned to be his own feast, devouring himself in a macabre dance of self-destruction.
My insides twisted in a knot of horror as I listened to these dire words, my body trembled like a leaf in the wind of woe, and my lips, numb with fear, barely managed to articulate a sound. My eyes were blurred with tears that threatened to overflow, obscuring my vision with a veil of grief and despair. And yet, in the midst of this whirlwind of terror, the woman's voice persisted, like a beacon in the darkest night, guiding me through the shadows to a glimmer of safety.
"You must be cautious in the use of such a device," his words echoed in my ears, penetrating deep within me with a warning laden with ancient wisdom. "Though the chances of being devoured by the necklace are less, there is a latent risk, ever lurking like a beast on the prowl. But fear not, my child, for you are protected in this nightmare that consumes us. Fate claims you alive, for there is still a part to play in this macabre game. So, though the shadows threaten to engulf you, remember that you are not alone, that there are those who watch over you even in the darkest depths.
Hearing these comforting words, a sense of warmth flooded my being, dispelling the fog of fear and bewilderment that enveloped me. The tenderness in her voice as she called me "my child" enveloped me like a motherly embrace, offering me a refuge in the midst of the storm, a sense of belonging that I had unknowingly sought for so long. Though I had never known the warmth of a mother before, in that moment, under the protective blanket of her words, I felt welcomed, loved and, for an instant, at peace with the tumultuous world around me.
"I understand. If I am to follow the path of my judgement, then, being a choker, must it rest on my neck?" - I inquired, still troubled by uncertainty.
"Yes, it must be girded round your neck," replied the Marquise. With these words, she handed the choker into my hands. I examined it carefully and apprehensively before I placed it slowly around my neck. Its width, like a human jaw, made itself felt, imposing itself on my skin with an ominous weight. With no choice, I adjusted the black leather strap behind my neck, leaving a gap to avoid suffocating. It was then that I felt a trickle of dark, tar-like blood drip down my chest. The choker was more reminiscent of a canine collar than anything else, stirring in me associations of ancient practices and unspeakable dalliances. Its design seemed to attempt to stifle hunger under the guise of lust.
"The pain will be mild, fear not!" - assured the Marquise, as the gold, denture-like prostheses clamped onto the top of my neck. It was as if they were trying to squeeze my jugular vein. I felt the gold embed itself until it almost reached my windpipe, making me squirm as I felt the strap squeeze me and my dermis redden slightly. At last, I expelled a clot of dark blood, similar to that of the collar. It was a fluid that established a grotesque bond with my being. The pressure of the leash eased and the jaw seemed to contract subtly. It was then that I noticed that the shape of the jaw became more feminine than masculine. This transformation led me to question the reason for such a change, especially if the Marquise had been its previous wearer, in her words. However, her nervousness about the metamorphosis added to my puzzlement. Although, being an expert in the arcane arts, I had a sneaking suspicion that her restlessness contained a coded message.
"Beautiful you look with such grotesque artefacts that they even make me envious," the lady joked, as I stifled a cough.
"Your reason is on the edge of the abyss. We have had a prolonged dialogue, and your sanity is failing. You must leave, you must return to the whirlwind and shake yourself free of it. The choker is the key to escape this ordeal. If you can get 'Hunger on trial' to eat 'it', you may find a route to salvation" - he said, as he waited unperturbed for it to fade away.
A halo of melancholy fills me as I contemplate his departure. Though fleeting, our encounter was between horror and enchantment, and she was present to me. That treasured a value beyond all other considerations. I could have revered her completely if she had agreed to stay, but such a prospect faded into the distance. It was about to fade, and though her goodbye plunged me into disappointment, for the first time I longed for reunion, a hope that fueled my determination not to give in. I asked, "What is your name? Have we sealed a friendship?"