Eleeria Silverwing

Tarot

I went to Haera.

Her family has always had the gift of divination on her mother's side, and she carries a pouch of those cards -- the ones the Witch used to use. Slightly different in picture but similar in meaning. They are meant to aid the diviner in scrying the future. Some sort of innate connection to the Weave. Or something. I'm not sure what it actually is; Haera describes it as reaching out a hand to tug at the threads of fate and see what resonates. Divination is not her primary concern, but she inherited the gift from her mother.

She said the cards were not happy as soon as she drew them, attempting to put them away. She said I shouldn't look; it would only bring me unhappiness. She could put them away and I would never be the wiser. I grabbed her hand as she tried to hide them, squeezing hard enough to break on anyone else. The cards were fumbled, spilling them onto the floor.

The pictures stared up at me, damning me. A woman fleeing a pyramid of cups; a man stabbed to death by swords; a woman crying herself to sleep.

"You are consumed by that which haunts you. You are aimless, lost in a sea of change. You do not know which way to turn." Her voice was nearly a whisper, the words coming from some deep part of the threads of fate. She was one, and many -- all at once, in some horrible combination. "You wish to change.You would embark on a journey several have made before you and none have come back from the same. It will be painful; you will lose, and lose, and lose some more. Your fears will haunt you every step of your path. You must conquer them, or lose yourself within them. Either way, you will never be the same. You will never be the person you wish to be, again."

I wish I had listened to her. I wish...I had never heard those words, speaking from the mouth of the Weave.

I hate change.