I couldn’t bring myself to look through the menu. Not after the first item I’d seen. If you’re curious—and I know you are—it was ghoulash. Yes, ghoulash. And no, I didn’t have the courage to read any further. Honestly, what else was I expecting? The place was called “Spare Ribs.”

I was seated near the entryway, close enough to the window to catch glimpses of the street outside. Lantern light flickered on cobblestones, and skeletal passersby wandered by, laughing and chattering as though this was all perfectly normal.

A waiter approached my table, his bony frame accentuated by the tailored cut of his jacket. He held a tiny notebook, in which he made a note after glancing at the badge dangling around my neck.

“What will the sir be having this evening?” he asked, his tone polished and professional.

I sighed, closing the menu without a second glance. “Just... get me the ghoulash.”

He jotted it down with a flourish. “An excellent choice,” he said, disappearing into the kitchen with a faint rattle of bones.

Excellent choice? Sure. But the truth was, I didn’t have the strength to face whatever horrors of puns might be lurking further down that menu.

When the waiter returned, he carried a dish that was... surprisingly appetizing. The ghoulash came in a deep black bowl with wisps of steam curling into the air like spectral tendrils. The scent was rich, savory, and faintly spiced. It smelled so good, in fact, that I almost forgot where I was—or what it was called.

"Enjoy," the waiter said with a grin—or at least the skeletal approximation of one, how that worked I did not know—before vanishing as silently as he’d arrived.

I took a tentative bite. To my surprise, the ghoulash was fantastic. Tender chunks of something-meat melted in my mouth, and the broth was hearty, infused with just the right balance of warmth and spice. If the undead could cook like this, maybe I’d been too quick to judge.

As I ate, I pulled the map from the complimentary bag and spread it across the table. The glowing lines and shifting symbols gave it a surreal, almost living quality, but it was surprisingly detailed. Bonetown’s winding streets and clustered landmarks sprawled across the parchment, with labels that hovered and shimmered faintly. I traced my finger along the streets nearest to the restaurant, scanning for something to do after the meal.

That’s when my eyes landed on a small icon not far from where I was seated—a flickering image of a crystal ball. The label next to it read: Madame Nostalgia’s Tarot Emporium – Peer Into Your Future!

Tarot reading. It sounded... harmless enough. And if I was being honest with myself, I was curious.

I polished off the last of the ghoulash, the warm meal giving me a surprising amount of comfort. The waiter reappeared just as silently as before, collecting the empty bowl with a courteous bow.

"Delightful, wasn’t it?" he said, as if he knew the answer.

"Actually, yeah," I admitted. "Thanks."

He bowed slightly, stepping aside as I made my way to the door. Outside, the air was cooler, the faint metallic scent of Bonetown’s streets mixing with the aroma of roasted chestnuts from a vendor nearby. I checked the map again, orienting myself toward the tarot reading.

It wasn’t long before I spotted the building. Nestled between two imposing stone facades, the emporium stood out like a glowing ember in the dark. The exterior was draped in thick, velvet curtains of midnight blue, embroidered with constellations that seemed to shift and twinkle as I approached.

The door creaked open before I even touched it, and a voice drifted out, low and melodic. “Welcome, traveler. Step inside and face the unknown.”

For a moment I was about to go ahead and step inside, but then I got a wonderful idea.

What if I just stood there? I’ve been led around from one thing to the next a bit too much, time to have some fun of my own.

I froze in front of the doorway, one foot poised in the air as if I’d been caught mid-step. The voice from within—the one that had so melodiously invited me to "face the unknown"—repeated its greeting, slightly more insistent this time.

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“Welcome, traveler. Step inside and face the unknown.”

I didn’t move. Not an inch.

A long silence followed, broken only by the faint murmur of Bonetown’s distant bustle. Somewhere inside the emporium, I imagined Madame Nostalgia was peeking around a corner, watching me with growing confusion—or annoyance.

“Traveler...?” the voice called again, now tinged with uncertainty.

Still, I didn’t budge.

“Are you... just going to stand there?” The once-melodic voice cracked slightly, the composure slipping.

I tilted my head a fraction, as if considering the question deeply, but still, I didn’t move. My foot hovered in the air like a statue frozen mid-stride. At this point, it was no longer about the tarot reading—it was about seeing how long I could keep this up.

Finally, the curtains parted, and a figure stepped out. Madame Nostalgia herself. She was tall, draped in shimmering robes, her glowing crystal ball hovered at her side, swirling with faint images I couldn’t quite make out. She looked every bit the mystical seer, except for the fact that her expression was one of pure exasperation.

“Seriously?” she said, folding her arms. “You’re just... standing there?”

I blinked at her, feigning innocence.

“I was considering my options,” I said finally, keeping my tone as serious as possible.

“Considering your—?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You either come in or you don’t. It’s not that complicated, sweetheart. Are you sure you don’t want your future read?”

“My future read? That is what’s going on here?”

She smirked, raising her hands dramatically. “Yes, your future as the most indecisive soul to ever wander Bonetown.”

That got me. With a chuckle, I finally stepped forward, letting the velvet curtains fall behind me. “Alright, alright, I’m in. Let’s see what the future holds.”

Madame Nostalgia huffed, her earlier annoyance melting into a wry grin. “About time. Honestly, you’re lucky I’m in the business of patience.”

Her crystal ball floated beside her as she turned sharply on her heel, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, “Mortals…”

The interior of the emporium was exactly what you’d expect from a place that promised to reveal your destiny. The air smelled faintly of incense, thick and spiced, and the walls were lined with heavy drapes that absorbed every stray sound, creating an unnerving silence. The only light came from dozens of flickering candles and the eerie glow of the crystal ball, which pulsed like a heartbeat as it hovered next to her.

Madame Nostalgia gestured for me to sit.

The table between us was covered in a cloth adorned with swirling, arcane symbols, and in the center sat a deck of tarot cards, their backs gilded and embossed with skeletal designs.

“You seek the truth of your future,” she intoned, her voice resuming its earlier melodic quality. “The cards will reveal what lies ahead—if you have the courage to face it.”

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing, letting her theatrics unfold uninterrupted this time. She placed her hands over the deck and closed her eyes, murmuring something in a language I didn’t recognize. The cards seemed to hum in response, their edges glowing faintly.

She slid three cards from the top of the deck, placing them face-down in a row before me.

“Focus,” she instructed. “Think of the questions that weigh on your soul.”

I had plenty of questions—most of them variations of What the hell am I doing here?—but I nodded, doing my best to look contemplative. With a flourish, Madame Nostalgia flipped over the first card.

“The Death card,” she said, her voice low and ominous. “But do not fear—death in the cards does not always mean a literal end. It signifies transformation, the shedding of the old to make way for the new. Pain, yes, but also rebirth.”

“Comforting,” I said, though my voice betrayed my skepticism.

She ignored me, flipping the second card.

“Judgement. Judgement represents reflection, reckoning, and awakening” she said. “A call to account for past actions, and the opportunity to set things right.”

I swallowed. The room felt suddenly heavier, the air thick and oppressive. Madame Nostalgia’s glowing eyes fixed on me, unblinking.

“And the final card,” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. She turned it over with a deliberate motion.

The image was radiant: a golden sun beaming over a field of sunflowers, a child riding a white horse with arms outstretched in joy. Light seemed to pour from the card itself, chasing away the shadows that had crept into the corners of the room.

“Ah,” she said, her tone shifting to something warmer. “And here, The Sun. A sign of hope, vitality, and clarity. After darkness, light will find you. Whatever trials await, they will lead to renewal and joy.”

I stared at the cards, my mind a swirl of conflicting thoughts. Transformation, reckoning, and then hope? It sounded like a journey—one I wasn’t sure I wanted to take.

She leaned back in her chair, studying the three cards as if they formed a puzzle only she could solve.

“Your future is one of profound change,” she said finally. “You will face challenges—both of the self and of the soul. But if you embrace transformation, if you confront what must be judged... you will find the light you seek.”

I stared at the cards, their imagery almost too vivid, as if the scenes were alive. “That’s... a lot to take in,” I said.

She chuckled softly. “Destiny always is. But take heart—the Sun shines brightest after the longest night.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure whether to feel reassured or deeply unsettled. The cards seemed to pulse faintly, their golden edges catching the candlelight.

“Thanks,” I said finally, rising from the table. “I think.”

Madame Nostalgia’s smirk returned. “Good luck, traveler,” she said as I turned toward the door. “You’re going to need it.”

Ding. Ding. Ding. A bell tolled faintly in the distance.

“Sounds like your ferry is ready for you, just on time.”