"Blessed accessories of all varieties. Come sway fortune in your favor with trinkets blessed by the very own Beucara of the seven jaws of the mystic mother themselves, brought to you all the way from the land of tides Nami-Kuni." The short old lady announced to bypassers using what little voice she had to try to attract the customer to her miniature stand.
A small huddled-up figure of a boy sat on the adjacent sidewalk with arms wrapped around his head with the sound of sniffing and weeping emitting from him
"Young lady, come here. This necklace blesses one's body with great fertility if you desire-" She tried to grab the attention of a couple walking nearby, but they passed by her without even granting her a glance.
"Sir, Sir. If you could .…" It was no use. No one cared enough about her simple wares, especially with how old her stand looked. However, the wailing of this kid wasn't helping either and as a matter of fact, it was starting to get really repetitive.
"Shoo. Get out of here, kid. Loiter around some other stand, before someone comes and kidnaps you. Go scare someone else's customers off."
But he paid her no heed, just like the others.
"Tsk. I swear parents these days don't bother raising their kids themselves-" She stepped off the wooden crate that she was standing on and grumbled her way toward Zekes to scold him. But stopped in her tracks once she once got a better look at him She took a look at the poor boy, who had curled up into a ball and dug his nails into his arms. His cries screamed of a pitiful state of resentment.
"Are you alright, boy? Are you lost?" She called out to him as she tried to put a hand on his shoulder, which he immediately shrugged off.
This made her flinched for a second. "You got a lot of attitude for such a young man." She commented tiredly, yet the boy still disregarded her comments.
"Listen, kid. I don't know what has led you to huddle up all by yourself next to my stand during this busy time of day. But you are scaring off my customers and last time I checked jinn doesn't grow on trees. So could you kindly step away?" She pleaded, but Zekes stayed resilient in his stubbornness.
She let out a weary sigh. "If I weave your fortune, would that cheer you up enough to stop you from crying at the very least?"
Zekes slowly raised his head revealing a snot-covered face and puffy eyes.
"You can … tell my fortune?" He answered in a nasal tone.
"Something of that sort." Zekes watched her march back to her stall, struggling to get onto the crate again. He vaguely remembers a story from a book about traveling chosen from an eastern land of beauty and festivals.
"Do you want your future told, or would you rather keep gawking at me?"
"Ah, sorry." He quickly got on his feet, repulsively wiping off his snoot on his arm as he made way.
"Ugh." The sound of disgust escaped her. "Don't touch anything unless I tell you to, otherwise you are paying for it." She warned him before he sat down.
"If I remember correctly, it should be somewhere right here." She fumbled tirelessly under the table, before thumping a heavy oval object dressed in cloth in front of her, all sitting tightly on a thick cushion. Wiping the sweat off her brows, she unraveled a large glass disk.
The old lady breathed a bit of pride as she presented it to him.
"Bet you have never seen diffusion glass this large before?"
She waited for Zekes' reaction, but his once emotionally charged face had only a dull expression to give in response.
"So it was all a sham." He said with disappointment in his eyes.
"Sham?!?" She repeated loudly.
"It is just a fancy-looking diffusion glass. You are just gonna use it to dictate my type of Beucara and start spouting nonsense. You got my hopes up for nothing." He pouted at the glass disk.
"It is a multipurpose tool, kid. If you doubt me so much feel free to leave any time you want, it is not like I made you pay for this." She reminded Zekes. "Now put your hand upon the crystal and concentrate on filling it up with your raw Beucara and spare me of your mockery."
Zekes didn't protest, for she did only ask him to stop crying in exchange.
He complyingly put both his hands on the crystal and tried to feel as if little currents of air blew out of his pores. A small amount of dark gaseous fluid crept through the glass like smoke through an amber.
"Ah, that is good. I see you are well-rehearsed in utilizing your Beucara. That should be enough."
At the base of the cushion, he could barely see a slab of stone with a concave surface, it was perfectly designed to let the glass have the freedom to rotate while it was on top. Skillfully, she balanced the top of the disk with her finger and began spinning it with her other hand. Slowly the dark gas started separating into clouds of 2 different colors, an orange-colored mass and a smaller blue one.
"It appears that you are a quite blessed elemetasis with a bit of sorcesis Beucara. A lil' master of the elements in the making I see. Not much of a rare combination. Often people with your attributes are able to control and manifest a material, such as fire and wind." She scoffed.
"I am not a little master of anything." He pouted. "Regardless, why don't you tell me something I don't already know."
"Don't take it so personally. I have seen many elementosorcesis pull off inhuman feats. A guy I crossed paths with once was able to become invisible by bending light around him. But if you think this is the extent of what I can do then, you ain't seen a thing, kid!"
She rubbed the palms of her hands together as she murmured a prayer-like verse.
"Bless us with your sight, she whose jaws still ache. When the coastal breeze turned our tint blue, was it not you who weaved our clothes from your mane,? Was it not you who called for grief when the blood of our ephemeral protectors soiled the currents of our streams? Was it not you who taught the blind stars how to shine, so that the moon needn't to lead the night alone? So who is it if not you that will guide this gentle seedling through the torrents of uncertainty, for it shall surely bear fruit in your great plan by your clairvoyance."
The tip of her thumb and index finger from both her hands were now aligned against each other with the empty space between them adopting the shape of an oval flower. She gently placed her palms up against the glass just before a bundle of silk-like projections entered the glass. They danced and darted through the two masses inside, like a careful hand knitting a scarf, barely reducing with each emergence as the color quickly shifted from one to another.
"What are they trying to do?" Zekes was dumbfounded.
"This is not what is really important for you. What is important mostly for you is what color they end up tampering your Beucara into."
"But they look like they are trying to turn it into something."
"Beucara is shapeless, kid. No mold can redefine its shape, for it will always revert back to its most relaxed form. Just like the pattern of your eyes, the color is also unique to each person. No two beings share the same exact color and behavior of Beucara. Almost as if the strings of fate have already seen through your whole being. Writing your existence through shades our mind can only hope to decipher the nick of."
"But as the great scholar Axtutan once said: "To guess at a being's nature is the most essential step to its nurture".
"That is why my people have dedicated their lives to mastering the art of revealing and interpreting this secret hue, in the hopes of providing ease to those minds whose thoughts agonize for what is to come. Like a shepherd judging if the clouds in the sky proclaim of an incoming storm so that he hastens the flock's grazing." She ended by enveloping the disk in the cloth it was packed by. "Now we let it rest for quite a while, then your destiny shall be revealed to you."
The eyes of the boy in front of her were now gleaming in awe.
"How did you do that? That was so beautiful"
"Hmph." She scoffed, before declaring proudly. "What else would you have expected? You are looking at an art that has been honed through a thousand years of fine work by the greatest of Sorcesis users."
"You whispered something right before the squiggly line came out of your hands. Was that how you were able to use your power?"
"Those squiggly lines you are talking about aren't of my own power. I prayed to the mystic mother to grant me her blessing for nothing more than a moment. It is through the mystic mother's Beucara that weavers are able to shape the colors. She is the lifeline of all that we hold dear and all that we strive to accomplish. If not for her, our ancestor's refuge after the Great Ascension, Nami-Kuni would have never come into existence. And for that, we are in eternal gratitude, so the least we can do is chant our personal prayer."
"You really hold that lady in such a high place. She must have helped a lot of people. Can you teach me how to do that thing with the squiggles? Please. Pretty please." He begged.
"Sorry, can't." She made sure the glass was wholly covered in the cloth.
"Come on, why? I promise not to bother you again. I really do mean it this time. So please just teach me, please."
"Sorry, kid. I won't budge on this. So let go of it already."
"Well then. I refuse to leave you alone till you teach me how."
Zekes crossed his arms in protest as he pouted.
The boy was as stubborn as they come. His face was clearly soft and his hands were still smooth. The signs of an easygoing life, the life most kids are fortunate enough to live, but this one had clearly gone a level deeper as his entitlement spelled out how spoiled he was. A subject of unconditional love, which one could not blame him for embracing. But it had the unforeseen side-effect of denying him from learning how to take no for an answer.
A bothersome sigh escaped her.
"You can't get everything you want in life, kid. Fate has given each of us our own share of capabilities. Just like how I can't easily make a fortune by blessing items like those damned Aurasis users, you also don't have the right attribute to do fortune weaving, even if you did only those personally blessed by the mystic mother are able to borrow from her powers."
"But … I also have sorcesis Beucara in me. Y-you saw it, didn't you?"
"Sorry, kid. But it ain't enough to do you any good here. You must at least primarily be a sorcesis to have the knack for it."
"This isn't fair. I want to become stronger. I need to become stronger. If I can't become better, then it will be so long before I can see his uncle again." This train of thought was the result of his sorrows from feeling abandoned by his uncle. The truth is Rafik's words managed to lodge themselves deep within his heart because, despite his childishness, a part of him knew that the reason his uncle sent him to Arobolus with Rafik was to become stronger and learn from him. So if that was all he needed to do, then he had to become strong as fast as he could, so that he could show his uncle that he was worth something.
"Don't sulk on it for too long. Just because you didn't have your luck with this method, it doesn't mean there isn't something out there more suited for your Beucara. You know they have a saying in Nami-Kuni: "If the Kunji vines bloomed every season, it would lessen from the beauty of spring."
Zekes lowered his gaze visibly trying to make sense of what she quoted.
"What it means is that if everyone was able to weave their fortune, then fortune weaving wouldn't be so valuable anymore. But the fact that we are different makes it so that can accomplish feats that would be nigh impossible for anyone else."
"But my Beucara isn't really something that can tell the future or cure people of illness by a few fancy punches. I don't have the potential to become strong. All I can do is open up little rifts and run-" Suddenly he cut himself off, remembering his uncle's words of caution.
"Hmph. If that is what this is about then …" She pointed behind him.
In the middle of the bazaar stood a well-built man wearing a baggy sharwal and a sleeves grey shirt imbued with red patterns. The man's feet danced around elegantly as two long sticks with both ends on fire spun between his gloved hands. The crowd around him cheered as he threw the sticks in the air and spat fire from his mouth like a furnace, right before jumping through the same fire he spat fire and caught both his sticks mid-air in an extraordinary show of athleticism. He was one of the street performers Zekes was looking forward to seeing. It seemed like he had failed to notice that one was performing was only a few stands away from him while he was in the depth of despair.
"How did he do that?" He asked without even shifting his eyes from the performer.
"Years of practice and unwavering will, that's how. That kid is the youngest of a lineage of ignis dancers, not as old of a tradition as us fortune weavers, but old enough that one could say they are the progenitors of their art of flame manipulation."
"Huh, so lucky to be blessed with such a talented bloodline of ignis dancers. Not so lucky for me." Zekes disappointedly sighed as he rested his head between his arms.
"Well, he most definitely did inherit the passion for it, but the ability to perform it, not so much."
Zekes looked back with a raised eyebrow.
"But how? He can clearly do all the jumps and stuff?"
"Tell me, what do you think it takes for one to be able to become an ignis dancer?"
"Huh?!? …. Hmm, let's see." He ruminated intently while observing the ignis dancer perform. "Well, you would surely need to be able to breathe fire … oh, and having strong legs would really help." He answered, eagerly waiting to see if he had answered correctly.
"Yes, one would need to be able to control fire and have "strong legs", but more importantly he must be able to be one with the fire."
"Be one with the fire?" He repeated after her the moment she explained.
"Don't interrupt me in the middle of my sentence, kid." She was quick to scold him. "To be one with something is for both of you to be able to accept each other without bringing harm to one another. It is an essential rule that is important for anything that wants to be whole and content. Just like how a sculptor must make sure the edge of the chisel he uses is only pointed towards the rock he is carving, lest he carves himself into the very same sculpture he was sculpting."
She gave a pause to let Zekes digest her words.
"The boy was born with a defect that let the very fire he produced burn its maker. An omen that could only spell the end of this longstanding tradition with him. A curse almost as if made by design to mockingly leave him by a hair's breadth reach of attaining his one desire. He was ready to give his soul and body to the flames, yet they only rejected his touch."
"A word of wisdom for you, youngling. I have studied the shades of fate for decades on end. Many say that fate is blind to pleasures and agony or that fate favors the virtuous, but from what I have seen it has a taste for ...." She leaned forward to whisper the last word to him. "IRONY. If cruelty was an art, his birth would be but one of many punchlines. If people can laugh at the face of fate, then it is only expected for fate to laugh back at them."
"And yet … he performs! Look at him!" She declared in amazement.
"Tell me what else do you see when you look at him."
"But I have already-"
"Look, boy. Look!" She insisted. "Ignore your presumptions and see beyond the facade of an easy life."
He complyingly observed with his eyes squinted in search of the core of this tremendous showmanship. Just in a matter of seconds, he was able to make an obvious sign that he had previously missed somehow.
"His mouth and jaw … they are as red as molten steel."
"Right, right. Now look closer. Look at his arms." She pointed.
"They seem … tight as if the skin has been stretched out. They must have been burned." He deduced smiling back at her from feeling a sense of accomplishment at noticing such an unfortunate thing. The old lady's slow nod confirmed his suspicions, making him change into a more appropriate sad expression.
"Scars can hold more stories than words and this boy's burn marks are not much different. Days and nights, his family pleaded with him to abandon his risky endeavor. They used their connections to offer him effortless jobs, many beautiful women's hands in engagement, and many more happy outcomes just to get him to quit. But he held on like a she-wolf holding onto the scarce meat she managed to scavenge for her cubs. Though his family loved him dearly they could not allow him to throw away his life in pursuit of the unattainable. So they came to me in hopes that if he saw his future, it would put reason into him. And though I was reluctant at first, when I saw a light kindling from his heart to his eyes I knew that even if he were to see his own self turn to crisps right in front of him his will would still refuse to waver.
"I pitied the kid's burning desire, but also empathized with the parent's worry." She paused. "… because the joy of their children is the fruit of all hardships they are willing to endure. And to stand idle as this fruit rots is a sin against one's purpose and existence, such actis only committed by the most selfish and the least shameful." Her eyes seemed teary and her words sounded burdened. "As a mother, I could not let the situation stay the same as it had presented itself to me, but it is hard to change the mind of those who come to you with a sense of desire. But thankfully I needn't do that cause when two people desire the same thing, a compromise can always be made as long as they are both satisfied. And what they both wanted was for him to have a long-lived happy life, and the only thing impeding between them was doubt, the weed that I had to uproot to let the sprout flourish."
"I accepted to read the boy's fate, but only with two conditions in mind. First, they had to understand that to question the strings of fate is to refute the very sacrality of the art itself, an act of disrespect against the Mystic mother. Naturally, they agreed, but when I told them that my second term was for them to support the boy in his aspirations no matter the outcome, they lashed out at me, calling me all kinds of slurs and profanities. I was quick to remind them of my first condition and how whether he is to be relieved or ruined is not for any of us to decide, but what he thinks of his family at the end of his life can be changed. Of course, it did little to appease them and as they were about to leave, the boy did something even I couldn't have foreseen. He stepped in to make his own terms. He reasoned that if they were to see he would vanquish to the flames, he would happily retire from ignis dancing and live the rest of his life in accord to his parent's wish. Otherwise, they would have to let him do as he wishes. The boy had been resilient on only becoming an ignis dancer up till now, so why the sudden change of mind, I thought to myself."
The bickering stopped when his parent's temper seemed to ease up to the proposal. They agreed thinking there was nothing to lose. I thought about advising him to reconsider and coming back another time, but I knew he wouldn't have made such a risky gamble if he hadn't already set his mind on it. I did what only I could do then and put his future in fate's hands. You could imagine our surprise when the weaving read as someone greatly favored by fate, emitting a color keener to an exceptionally talented hunter than a prey of the hunt. The mark for a soul to thrive beyond its primal circumstance. It was a color far too grand and unusual for someone who wanted to participate in the endeavor of showmanship.
"After that, the boy silently walked away from my stall, while father wanted to curse me knowing that what I had told him would only encourage him to continue if not push him to live more recklessly, yet he had surprisingly chosen not to as to respect our arrangement, so they quickly paid their due and left."
"It was not an atypical outcome to see for us fate weavers. Nothing feels worse than losing all the work you had put in by only a few words, but I hoped that I at least gave them the comfort that their kid wasn't gonna get himself killed."
"Later the boy came back to me alone, apologizing for his family's behavior, offering to pay me from his own savings as reconciliation. Of course, I refused and reminded him how now that it was certain for him to become a great ignis dancer there were better things he could spend it on than an old woman selling charms in the middle of the street." Despite his insistence, I only took no for an answer. He then promised me that he would pray to the gods for the longevity of me and my descendent as long as he can bear flames. Lately, he had begun to become indecisive as everyone around him suffocated him with doubtful remarks, he confessed to me. He had only wanted to spread the happiness that had once received from seeing other artists perform. But seeing how I fought for him, despite there being so little reason to, finally gave him the bit of courage he needed to properly stand up for himself."
"Now even after years of trials and tribulations, even though he still makes mistakes, he had not missed a single day to show up to perform in 'his favorite spot'." She satirically expressed. "The surface of his hands had deformed into a leather-like hide, leaving them with the mobility of a crab's claw. Yet when he conceals his deformity, he does not do so out of shame, but rather to keep his hands as an instrument of joy. For he knows that he must keep up the illusion of an easy hardship to ease the hearts of his admirers. He hides his weakness as to become their strength." She monologued. "Those are the hidden signs of true strength. It looks easy because you have never felt the fire scorch against your skin. I bet, even now, whenever a sweat dribbles down his arm, it is from his fears weeping for him to cave into what is sensible. But his very being rejects it as if it could not have lived any other way. His core of strength was not gifted to him but shaped by his very own hands like a river carving the rigid stone to what its currents are at ease with the most. Just so that he can be that last candle that still holds the dim flame even in the darkness of the night."
"In a sense, every other ignis dancer danced in the flames. But him," She scoffed. "he manipulates the temper of the flames as he barely lets them reach him like a gentle hand striking the sharp strings of a Shamisen to produce its dreamy sounds, making him the only one who truly dances with the flames."
She took in a deep breath as she finalized her story, letting the sound of the noisy bazaar take over the narrative once more.
"So … what was the point of the story."
"The POINT is that everyone has the potential, but it is the consistent drive to improve that separates those who protect from those who need to be protected. Only the tallest plants thrive, while those under survive. But if you asked me about it, you could do yourself a great favor by stopping this pursuit of power altogether. You are just a kid after all and all that power accomplishes is giving you more things to burden your life with. It won't lead you to what you desire. I stopped seeking it long ago even though I was ever so close to becoming one of the seven jaws of the Mystic mother and despite all, there hasn't been a sour thought about it in my mind ever since."
The wooden crate creaked below her as she readjusted herself into a more comfortable sitting position. Zekes silently stared at the feeble old woman in front of him who was struggling to crack her back.
"Hmmm … what are you gawking at?" She caught him.
"No-nothing," he averted his gaze. "… but I mean … you are saying that you were once powerful enough to become one of the jaws of the Mystic mother. … I am not really sure how strong they are, but from the way you talked about them, they sound like a pretty big deal. And I mean …." He hesitantly eluded.
"Huuuuhhhh. So now you doubt my honesty? Shameless I say, shameless!" She let out a regrettable sigh. "But I cannot blame you for having such an impression of me. I have long forsaken the potential I once had and now I only remain as a rusty tool, made to use only due to convenience. … just barely sufficient enough to get the job done …. a sad old woman that leaves behind a legacy of minor acts of kindness in people's subconscious."
Seeing how his unneeded question ended up burdening her heart made Zekes feel guilty inside.`
"I am sorry for making think such bad things. I was only trying to think how I can get back to my uncle." He lowered his gaze in shame.
"You have too gentle of a heart for the things you desire. I was merely reflecting on myself. All that I have done was of my own devices, so save your pity for those whom it can help."
He lifted his head to the sound of her scouring through her pockets.
"There it is." She cried out before producing a small stack of colorful light crystal panels with their ends attached to each other by a piece of string. The crystals dangled down from her hand revealing a collection of pictures. She pointed towards one containing a well-built lady with a thick white braid holding a bundle of fibers in her palms.
"That's me back when I was still perfecting my weaving, in order to be admitted as an official fortune weaver." She then pointed to the one below it. It was of a plaza with many waterways running in between, decorated with flowers and flags and filled with colorful tents that people gathered in. "This is the kunji blossoms festival, where we give to the less fortunate, in order to pass on the kindness the Mystic mother has shown us. It is also required for fortune weaver initiates to practice on passersby as to strengthen their connection and control of the blessing."
Zekes' eyes were gleaming with fascination. He only had a vague idea of what Nami-Kuni was like from years of reading through his uncle's library, but it was the first time he had seen Nami-Kuni itself. Part of him wished that he could have appeared there at the snap of a finger.
"It looks … so different." He struggled to find the right words.
"Different is one way to describe it. Every year for seven days, people would take up to the streets and sing folklore songs of the great heroes whose lives were forfeited protecting the land and waters of Nami-Kuni. The beautiful melody of the Shamisen would echo throughout every house and temple, while the needle-beaked lillas listened to every stroke of the string so that they could sing it back to people weeks after the festival was concluded. The smell of pastries would overcome the smell of the fresh dirt for the first three days as the bakeries would lay out the soyan root pats that they had been tirelessly growing for the last two months. Oh, what a pleasure it is for the mouth. Sweet and stringy. Made from the soyan bean's sweet roots. Dried and boiled til the honey-like nectar spewed out and then hardened into a delicate glass-like brittle stone that just dissolved in your saliva."
Zekes' mouth dribbled before she even finished her sentence. The steamed milk buns he had prior, now felt more like stale bread compared to the soyan root pats she was describing.
"So to say it is different is to do it injustice. It was the life many aspire to live. So you could imagine my disappointment in having to work in a colorless city like this with the personality of a dead weed." She exclaimed out of frustration, but no one paid her any attention.
While she was cooling off, Zekes scanned through the rest of the pictures. Many pictures were of her during her training and one interesting picture was of a thin woman dressed in layers of white clothing and a thick vein covered her face, except for her jaws which were made out of polished wood. She was sitting on top of a big wooden board that was carried around by four ladies in decorated clothing as the surrounding people bowed to her.
But the one that caught his eye the most was of her holding the hands of a little boy as he gently caressed a baby she was cradling.
"Are those your kids?" He asked politely.
"Huh?" The question caught her off guard. She brought the crystal panel closer to her eyes so that she could make out what he was referring to. "Ahh. That is my firstborn Tetku and the little one is Layla. I had forgotten how tiny were her hands back when she was a cure little thing. How her tiny digits would reach for my hair like how earthworms reach for the surface during the rain. Then little Tektu would call out for me 'Quaza, Quaza, I want to be carried too.' Poor thing couldn't even spell out my whole name. He would always get jealous of the attention I would give little Layla and would stump his foot around in protest till I patted him."
It had only just now crossed his mind that even though he had been talking with her for a good while now, he still didn't know his name.
"Quaza?" He subconsciously repeated.
"Ah right, I hadn't properly introduced myself, since I don't usually need to with customers. I am Quazela Ruminari, a pupil of the Mystic mother, a disciple of Kitsu-xan's palm thread flow dance, and now a small-time merchant of whatever place that keeps my pocket furthest from devoidness of jinn for the month."
Zekes considered that an introduction from him would also be in order.
"I am Zekes Zeller, a…" No title appropriate for him came to mind. "An aspiring strong person." He replied in a serious tone.
"An aspiring strong person, really?" She chuckled. "Now that is a first. I am sure you will accomplish great endeavors worthy of many more titles of similar taste." She joked.
Zekes took a moment to consider the appropriate reaction here and only after careful consideration, he replied with a smile full of innocence.
"Thanks."
Quazela started wheezing from laughter when she saw how her words of sarcasm passed right over his head. Zekes still stood there dumbfounded wondering why she was laughing, which in return made her laugh more. He was really quite gullible, even for a kid.
"You really are something, kid." She whipped the tears from her eyes. "To tell the truth, you somewhat remind me of my son Tektu when he was your age. Always such a show-off just like his father, talking about grand ambitions and accomplishing unfeasible deeds, but in truth, people couldn't help but end up liking him for it." She pleasantly thought back.
"Why did they like him? Did he end up doing the stuff he talked about?"
"I wouldn't know since a few months after I had my daughter, he had to leave for the village of Oxobia to help his family escape from the Judic expansion. Half a year later I received a letter from him explaining how he was safely back with his family, but that they were reluctant to leave their home, so he was staying a bit more to convince them to change their mind. But only a few days later news came to us about the Oxobian massacre. Thousands of people dead, all at the hands of the Insurrection, especially that wretched man." Her eyebrows furrowed with the mention of this unknown person. "And that was the last I heard from him."
Sympathy overwhelmed Zekes' eyes as the Quaza recounted her unfortunate memory.
"But I am sure he still wouldn't have accomplished any of the things that he said he would. Since that man was nothing but talk." She criticized him in a nostalgic tone.
She let out a heartfelt sigh.
"It was a terrible thing what they did to those people. They were humble and very hospitable people. There used to be a common saying 'Even a bastard can feel the warmth of a mother's meal in the hospitality of an Oxobian'. They would give anything they had to anyone who was in need at no cost, but the Judians demanded from them the only thing they couldn't forfeit, their identity. The world really did forget a unique way of kindness on that unfortunate day."
"They seemed like good people. I am sorry about what happened to you and your husband."
"Pay it no mind, kid. I made my peace with it a long time ago, even though the ache is never gone, you learn to grow into a more tolerant person because of it. Since at the end of the day, you have no other choice but to live on with it."
As Zekes was about to mutter something he stopped. The old lady felt his hesitancy.
"Don't fear to inquire, boy. I may look delicate, but my nerves are made of silk. And I know that you won't ask anything out of malice. Go ahead, so that you may learn from me now rather than on your own, for then it would be too late."
Her words of encouragement seemed to have reached him when she noticed that his gaze no longer shied away towards the floor.
" So umm… if you were close to becoming one of the jaws, why did you stop?" The question finally came through. It was only natural to ask after the bombshell of finding out that she had quit despite how she loved to ramble about all the wonders of her birthplace and all the memories she seemed to have made there. "From the way you talk about Nami-Kuni and the arts, you seem to have loved it very much. If so, then why did you leave in the first place?"
Quazela took a deep breath, looking towards the sky as she plundered for a moment.
"Because I had wronged someone dear to me, which in turn has tormented my daughter. I was the vilest of the foulest. I had forsaken my responsibilities as a fortune weaver and as a mother. Though my daughter says she forgives me, I know I am underserving of any forgiveness. Who am I to request, let alone demand such a thing?"
"I think it is a stupid reason." He ruthlessly interjected. "If she said she forgives you, then you shouldn't beat yourself up over it. I never got to know my mom, but I still miss her and sometimes I hate how she was not a part of my life, but my uncle told me that it is important to forgive mothers, even when they do something wrong because no matter what happens they always try their best for you."
The way Zekes poured out his heart through his words without a thought strangely struck a string with the old lady. "You are too forgiving for your own good, kid. But maybe this time it is a good thing. I have lived too long through hardship that my sight has grown blind to see that forgiveness could be so easily earned in people's hearts. The part of me that did died with my-" She felt a knot in her throat, as if the more she tried to speak the more her heart tightened her airway. She coughed and thrust her fist upon her chest.
"Quaza-" But before he could cry out, she put her palm in front of him to make it clear that she was fine and then cleared her throat.
"I am sorry, the years weren't kind on my throat. It may be hard to believe but in my youth, I would sing to myself for hours, but now I can barely get more than a prayer in before gasping for air."
"That is not true. You speak a lot for someone as old as you." Despite his good intentions, it was clear that Zekes wasn't the best at formulating his words.
Her face grimaced at the kid's poor choice of words. "You must be pretty popular with the ladies. I will try to take what you said as a compliment."
She sighed even more as Zekes' blunt expression gave it away that he didn't entirely understand what she had meant, but then ultimately decided that he said something good as he responded with a dumbfounded smile.
"I think we have conversed enough for one day. I didn't even notice how much time had passed since we started talking. It is almost noon by now. Even if you may not be very talented in fate weaving, you really know how to make an old lady put her guard down. Anyhow, I can feel your fortune is ready by how much heat the diffusion glass is giving off. Let's not delay what you stayed for any further."
"Now, before we continue any further, I must warn you that the blessing of the mystic mother does not tell falsehoods. As such, you may not like what you may find out. A piece of wisdom that I have learned throughout the years is that an ignorant mind is more restless than one that knows of its own helplessness. So there is no shame in looking the other way if you choose to."
"No way, old lady. I already waited long enough for this. Just show me already."
"Hmph." The haste with which he ignored her warning, only made her scoff. "Alright, but remember, you wanted this." She raised her head at him as her hands nibbly unclothed the disk.
"Wow. I have never seen Beucara in the shape of neat little black lines before." Zekes eyes glamoured at the simple shapes inside the glass disk.
"What are you on abou-" Quazela's stomach dropped the moment she looked down at Zekes' fortune. A streak of sharp dark lines floated undisturbed in the diffusion glass. They all ran parallel to each other, marching endlessly into the infinite. It was a pattern that she had the misfortune of seeing only once before, one that took away her purpose. It was an omen of a fatal choice that was to come. One that people could rarely overcome. As a fortune weaver, it was no special occasion to end predicting the fortune of those at the brink of death, as the false hope of comfort was most appealingly to damned men, though none would be comforted with what they refused to believe but also begrudgingly knew or so she had gotten to learn.
But this was no diseased noble, nor a fleeing fool, she was reading the fortune of a child! It was practically a death sentence. The fortune itself was for a while thought to have meant certain doom because of how no one lived long enough to see their fortune change, that was until against all odds, a man somehow clung to life and overcame the invitation of death, but by the end of it, he was a very different person from who he had been, or so she had heard. As for who this man was, the one who told his fortune refused to disclose his identity, which put many minds to doubt the validity of such a claim, and our beliefs would have stayed the same if it wasn't for the mystic mother who herself confirmed their statement.
She had already lost a child to such a dreadful fate. To lose another would be too much for her weak heart. But what could she do? Who was she to challenge the fates designed by a sacred-.
"So what does it say I will become like?" Zekes demanded as the wait irritated him.
Cold sweat dripped down the old woman's forehead. "Ah … Y-yes, let's see what it says." She took a deep breath to calm herself down and started chanting a prayer as she hovered her hands over the disk. Slowly, the perfectly cut lines dissipated back into a blob of gases, however, its color didn't change back. Of course, all of this was unnecessary as she already knew what fate they told of. She only did it because she couldn't stand the sight of that dreadful pattern, looking at it only made her curse herself more for being a fortune weaver.
Zekes waited patiently as his eyes pressured her into an answer. How could she tell such a young soul that soon enough it couldn't make memories of youth, that it wouldn't have the chance to experience a life that it burned to live through? No one with a good conscience would even dare to rob such a soul of what pleasure there was in what little life they had left. So why did feel so guilty the last time she did it?
But alas, she couldn't help but make the same mistake once more.
"Ah, it is all clear to me now." She delayed time by building up the suspense. "Your worth … it has been judged in the eyes of the mystic mother and she has determined … that though you are ambitious, what you seek shall come to you in time, but for now, you must rest and store strength and experience joy for what life is worth as to prepare for hardships that come your way."
Zekes slowly blinked with his wide googly eyes. Quaza hoped that this could clench the clueless boy's curiosity and that would be the end of that.
"I knew this was all a sham." His gaze dropped quickly.
"Wha- it is not. You better watch what you say about the sacred arts, boy, lest you wanna disrespect the mystic lady."
"You say that yet the fortune you gave me was so vague that it sounded more like general life advice."
"GAH!" She was taken aback by his perceptive reaction. From the way he acted before she had taken him to be very gullible, but it seems that he had a keen eye, especially when it was least fortunate for her. Yet she still wanted to spare him from worrying about the inevitable. "You really can't help being a handful all the time. I wish I could tell you more about your fate but this is all I have to work with. Sometimes, the fortune is vague due to one having infinite potential. If it were to guess how you will tread, then it would limit your growth to that one path." She desperately tried to convince him.
Zekes stroked his chin as he gave her words some thought.
"Makes … sense I guess." He lit up, letting Quaza breathe out a sigh of relief.
"So I will become powerful?
"Have you not been-" Her frail hands stroke the tabletop. She put her finger on the bridge of her nose to relax. "Yes, boy. You shall become strong, but only if you are patient and spend what time you have left enjoying your life."
"What time I have left?" Zekes cocked his head to the side from confusion.
"The time you have left til you become powerful, that is what I meant." She hastily corrected her misshape before she let out a hesitant laugh.
Zekes still wondered how he would end up so strong if he barely needed to do anything, but at least now he was sure that it would happen. Perhaps that would allow him to return to his uncle sooner.
"Thanks, lady."
"Yea, yea. Nice of you to go around thanking people for distinguishing fires that you started." She mocked him as she lowered the crystal disk into a bucket of water next to her.
"I do really mean it though." His brow furrowed. He had not been used to being mocked this much before and took it as if she really didn't like him.
"I am just jesting ya, kid. You outta learn how to joke if you wanna get along other people."
"But how does making fun of someone makes them want to be your friend?"
"I mean … if someone …" She wanted to guide this poor innocent soul, but her patience and energy were running short. "I suppose the best way to understand is for you to experience it yourself."
"Alright…" Though he had forfeited, it was clear to her that doubt still lingered in Zekes' mind, the kind that filled you with shame for admitting your naiveness.
"I can see that today has taken a toll on you, boy. If you still feel like all of this was for naught, then let me leave you with a parting gift."
"Really? … I mean thank you … no I mean no. Uncle told me not to take things from strangers."
"Oh come on, boy. Don't you think we are more than just strangers by now? You made this poor lady pour her heart out for you for gods' sake. But also would a stranger give you a gift as valuable as a functional blessed necklace?" She argued before pulling out a string necklace with a teardrop-shaped glass attached to it, enveloped in a swirling cast of metal.
"Come forward, let me put it on you." She held it open with her hands.
Zekes was hesitant at first, but considering how kind Quaza had been to him the whole time, he had no reason to refuse.
"There you go. See if you like it."
Zekes held the teardrop in his hand to inspect it.
"It is quite nice."
"It does more than just being quite nice. Wrap your hand around it and try to squeeze some Beucara into it."
The moment he focused on the crystal a faint light shimmered between his palm. As he opened his hand, the crystal faintly shined in a glamorous light.
"That one has been blessed by an actual Aurasis, the proof is in it working."
"This one only?" He questioned as he looked around at the other ornaments laid out on the table.
She indicated to Zekes to come closer.
"Well, you see. My other ones were also blessed by an Aurasis, but they were blessed with properties that don't really work on them. For example, this one here was blessed with accelerated healing, but a metal bracelet is not a living thing, so there is no way for it to heal. People have this misconception that when you bless an object with something, the blessing will also transfer to its holder. But your necklace was blessed with the ability to shine, that is why when it feels your Beucara, it reacts with it and activates the dormant blessing." She proudly gave him a thumbs up.
"So are all the other ornaments a scam?"
"Call it what you want. But I sell what I advertise. Some people don't even bother getting through the trouble of getting them blessed. Know that, even if my bracelets don't provide agonizing souls accelerated healing, it does give them the peace of mind that there is something with them that could help them."
"That is one twisted way to make sense of it, but I think I can understand how it can be a good thing."
"As long as no harm is inflicted, people should help themselves to whatever they wanna buy."
His attention was once again on the crystal he had cupped his hands around it to see how bright it shined. Its size was deceptively small for how bright it shined. He estimated that it would at least let him see where he was stepping even during a moonless night.
"Are .. are you sure you wanna give this to me? I mean it must be pretty valuable seeing how it works in front of you." He was hesitant to ask at first for fear of her changing her mind, but the thought of him taking away something potentially quite valuable from her would have made him feel even more guilty if he didn't try to give it back.
"Oh please, that piece of junk has been sitting in my bag for the last 2 times I returned to Nami-Kuni. I would rather have you rid me of it than have to carry it around 2 more times before throwing it away."
The way the crystal was shaped reminded him of how droplets of water that were left stranded on blades of grass after a rainstorm refracted the light of sunrise into a tiny rainbow. Even he could appreciate its simplistic beauty.
"Thank you very much, old lady- I mean Miss Quaza." The way he said it so sincerely was different from how he talked before and managed to ease off Quazela.
"Think nothing of it, kid." She scratched the back of her neck, feeling a bit flustered. "Just make sure to pass off the act of kindness when you get the chance. The world only gives back to those who take little for themselves. Now get going and don't make me repeat myself again."
"I will try my best. Thank you for letting me be in your care" He jumped down his stool.
"Anytime, kid. If you happen to need to buy some ornaments, you know where to find me. Though, I can't promise you any discounts."
Her words didn't land on deaf ears, but Zekes was too preoccupied with the excitement of showing Rafik his new necklace to respond back to her.
The busy streets felt strangely quiet to Quaza once she was once again all by herself. As she relaxed her shoulders, her eyes couldn't help but wander towards the diffusing glass that she had sunken into the bucket of water. The cloud of dark matter slowly dispensed into the water before quickly decaying.
Her brows frowned at the thought of that kind-hearted boy having to meet his end in due time, she hoped that he would at least experience a bit of the youth kids were entitled to before that time would come. This is why she doesn't wanna do fate weaving anymore, she never wanted to spread sorrow through her work, but it was her duty to speak the truth. And the moment she decided to read a kid's fate, she was greeted back with open arms by a grim reminder. This must be fate's way of mocking her.
"Old lady," A familiar voice boomed so unexpectedly that it broke her train of thought. It was Zekes who had barely walked more than a few stalls distance away."Please makeup with your daughter by the next time we meet."
"You fool of a child; do you want the whole bazaar to hear you?!?!." She angrily cried out. "Fine, but you better not forget about me by then."
Zekes lifted up the necklace between his fingers. "I won't as long as I have go-"
The warm farewell was cut short as Zekes' arm suddenly dropped down. It may have been just a moment, but by pure chance, his eyes saw a figure looming in the alley behind the old lady's shack. He could barely make out their face under their dark hood, but the bit he could make out looked just like his uncle's face. But how could that make any sense? Rafik had told him that he had gone on some sort of trip, he would have surely accompanied them if this was where he had to come. So it couldn't be him … no, it had to be him, he was sure of it. There was no way he could mistake someone else for his uncle. Perhaps he regretted leaving him with Rafik and had come for him. Yes, that had to be it.
"Kid?" Quazela waved a worried hand.
The figure suddenly withdrew back into the darkness from where it came. Zekes instinctively walked forward.
"Wait, uncle. Don't leave me."
His feet began picking up pace and in just a moment he quickly sprinted past the old lady.
"Stop for a moment, kid. Don't go running into there alone. You will get kidnapped." She shouted, but he had gone into the alley before she could even finish her warning.
"What could that rascal be up to now?"
A grim thought crossed her mind as she remembered the fortune she had just told.
"No way, but it is so soon." She mumbled to herself.
The boy was marching to his own grave. Of course, she had no proof that he would end up in harm's way at this very moment. But she felt something that was more than just worry by the look on his face when he ran. She could not just overlook it, even if there was only a slim chance that his fate could be resolved this soon.
She rushed towards the alley.
"Kid, you will die if you don't come back." She desperately cried out but it was too late as she couldn't even see him anymore. Thoughts raced through her head as she considered what she could do, but before she could decide two cloaked figures rushed past her into the dark alley.
"Hey, stop you two." She reached out her hand. There was no way for her to catch up to them, they had disappeared into the darkness in the blink of an eye.
They were going after Zekes. They were gonna kill him. She had to call the guards before his time ran out. He won't let another boy die due to her hesitation.
"Guards, guards. Please help. Someone is gonna die. Help me, please." She cried out into the busy street.