They say one’s fortune can only be determined by one's own will. Some people choose to make their fortune. Others would rather have it told ahead of time. Then, there are those who force their fortunes on others, even if it was never meant to be. Yet, the only deciding factor between man and his fortune is the decisiveness of fate. That very decisiveness was at play as Scrooge McDuck sat in the presence of an old gypsy.

Nestled in a candle-lit tent, Scrooge and the gypsy sat across from one another. The gypsy muttered incoherently to her crystal ball, speaking to the spirits that observed the physical and metaphysical realms. At the same time, Scrooge sat flatly in his chair, waiting for time to pass. He tapped his foot and checked his pocket watch, feeling the weight of every second. Eventually, Scrooge had had enough and decided it was best to be on his way.

“Hmph. This reading’s as boring as my shareholder meetings,” Scrooge opined, “If there’s nothing to tell. I best be on me’ way.”

But then, the gypsy hummed. Fervently, the gypsy made a bellowing call as she announced her calling to the spirits of the ethereal realm. Likewise, the gypsy claimed that she could feel the trails of comets sprinkle against the palms of her hands. Her power set the crystal ball alight. And as she extended her arms over the jewel, the inside clouded up in smoke. Such parlor tricks gave Scrooge enough reason to sit back down.

“Please, sir. Give me your palm,” the gypsy requested.

Scrooge obliged, and the gypsy began to do her work. She hummed louder as she took hold of him. His offering made the crystal ball shine brighter. The spiritual powers behind the ball began to do their work.

“I call upon the spirits of the astral plane,” the gypsy crooned, “Through their wisdom, I can see all… know all… and tell all. Watch, sir. For through the crystal lies the great plane. Through the crystal, your future will reign.”

The power of the crystal synchronized with the gypsy’s calls. Their energies emitted beams that shone throughout the tent. Surrounding their circle were spirits seen only by the gypsy’s third eye, joining her in her incorporeal orchestra.

Their chants had an effect on Scrooge, holding him until his gaze fixated deep into the crystal ball. They sway his gaze into the ball’s illuminating light. A gateway opens, allowing the gypsy to unlock the secrets hidden in his mind.

The secret of Scrooge could be described as blackness. A manifestation of the miser was lost in a realm pitched in darkness and decay. Scrooge would yell, but no one answered. No matter how much he shouted, there was no other soul except his own.

But the fortune continued. As Scrooge wandered throughout the dark land, his calls would deepen. Unbelievably, the pitch of his voice devolved into garbled gibberish. His cries would then change in tune, becoming more animal than man.

Then suddenly, Scrooge was blinded by a visage of darkness. The visage was never meant to be seen by the human eye. Yet, Scrooge dared to face the beast. He shuddered upon catching a glimpse of the beast. The beast fluttered like tattered robes.

Above the tatters were a pair of bloodshot eyes. The eyes gazed on Scrooge. Its pupils touched him like a forbidden kiss. Scrooge’s eyes could only shudder, while the beast’s eyes narrowed with malicious intent. Whatever spirit hid behind the dark visage, it wanted Scrooge.

And before Scrooge could run, the beast devoured him. The last remnant of Scrooge’s vision was a monstrous roar—an ethereal roar that was as swift as his absorption of eternal darkness. The crystal then snuffed its remnants, bringing the vision to its end.

“Such a perilous fate,” the gypsy bowed, “Maybe we can arrange some sort of change for a small payment.”

“PAYMENT?!” Scrooge exclaimed. The dreaded word in the billionaire’s dictionary snapped Scrooge back to reality. “I’ll give ye’ a payment… My backside!”

The cheapskate marched from the circle, but not before telling the gypsy that her fortune-telling business was nothing more than a hookah-infused scam.

“Please, Mr. McDuck! Please take heed!” the gypsy implored, “I can tell you better fortunes! A trove of treasures untold!”

“Hmph!”

“What about that of a magic sword?”

“Hmph!”

“A dagger that can manipulate time?”

“Hmph!”

“The location to the Cave of Wonders?”

“Hmph!”

“I can give you anything, sir. Just give me my money!”

“I can give ye’ three kicks to the keister—That’s assured from me,” Scrooge dismissed, “Forget the payment, you sow! Ah’m keepin’ me money!”

And with that, Scrooge turned his back on the gypsy and marched back into the market.

“Try an’ fool me with a cheap fortune. Ooh, these gypsies today...” Scrooge grumbled, “That does it. That does it! I’ve had all I can stand. Now where’re me’ nephews? We’re leaving this backwater city!”

Scrooge may have only spent a day in Jerusalem, but a day was all that he could spend. It was time to go home and go back to where life made sense. But first, he had to find his nephews.

The boys took advantage of their guardian’s absence to have a little vacation of their own. The boys partook in some Middle Eastern culture, greeting the locals and playing with the other kids. It soon came to mind as to why they all wore bathrobes and dresses every day, to which one of the kids told them that they were a great way to block out the sun.

Dewey was quick to comment that if he didn’t want to be out in the sun, he’d be inside with a soda pop. Louie, however, began to appreciate the heatwaves in Duckburg as the sun beat down on his hat. Luckily, Huey, Dewey, and Louie got by thanks to some slushees offered by some of the local parents. They even managed to snag some cool toys from the local shops for as little as a penny. These boys sure were lucky. Normally, the shopkeepers charge extra for tourists.

“Check it out!” Huey lit up, “I got one of them funny nesting dolls!”

“Gee, that’s neat, Huey,” said Dewey, “But check mine out! I got an Earthmaster Gynax action figure. He’s not supposed to be out for another six weeks back home! What about you, Louie?”

“Aw, that cheapskate sold me nothing but a lame, old crochet doll,” Louie groused, “Just look at him!–He doesn’t even do anything!–And the girl dolls are just wooden heads glued onto cheap fabric. The crook!”

Just the fact that Louie got the equivalent of a kid receiving a rock on Halloween was enough to make the other boys laugh.

“Looks like you’d better work on your haggling skills!” Huey and Dewey teased, “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

The boys heckled Louie for a while before being interrupted by two excitable men. The men rushed past the children before moving to a secluded place. Ever curious, the boys sneak towards a nearby wall to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Apparently, there was some giddy quack making explosive dances over at the bazaar. The quack was described as silly to an almost queer degree. The boys snicker to themselves, believing that giddy quack was no one but their Uncle Donald. They listened in, but instead of humorous gossip, they were fed some terrifying news.

According to the man with the big nose, a deadly cult known as the “MaliQuack-Tud” was rising in the city. The details were hard to distinguish, but allegedly, the group were described as thugs who wore nothing but black garbs. They say the black garbs turned them into shadows that covered them from head to toe. Their goal was said to use the threat of darkness to strike fear in the hearts of the untainted. The MaliQuack-Tud were said as far back as the 19th century. In wartime, they brought cities to their knees. They were men of dictatorship, and if they were to rise again, then the entire country was in great danger.

Worried about what terrors the MaliQuack-Tud could bring, the boys excused themselves and headed back to the market.

“I-I-I don’t know about you guys…” Huey stuttered, “But I don’t like the sound of that Malik-Attackud at all.

“Neither us!” the boys agreed.

“I don’t think I could understand anything through that mustache,” Louie remarked, “But I do think we should find Unca’ Scrooge and Unca’ Donald fast. I-I don’t wanna be embedded on a eulogy wall!”

As luck would have it, the boys would bump into Uncle Scrooge with the turn of a corner and a fountain to break their fall.

SPLASH!

“Boys!” shouted the soaked Scrooge, “Why, I’ve been lookin’ half-a-yard to find ye’!”

“Unca’ Scrooge, we wanna go home!” the boys whined.

Their whining confused the old miser, considering the fact that they had just arrived. But the boys had their reason and explained to him about the scourge of the MaliQuack-Tud. Their complaints made some of the locals leery, prompting Scrooge to hush them. Scrooge brought the boys into a huddle and calmed them with words of wisdom.

“Boys, boys, calm down,” Scrooge placated, “There ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of.”

“But, Unca’ Scrooge…!”

“Ah, now there be no more of that. Because nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

“A-Are you sure, Unca’ Scrooge?”

“Bless me’ bagpipes, I’m sure. Just remember this: A terrorist is just a man with no honor. And as a man of honor, you should always be resilient no matter the cost.”

The boys absorbed every word Scrooge had to offer. The old mentor was happy to turn molehills into mountains with his treasure trove of wisdom. It made the boys smile in a way that showed that one day, they too would become upstanding men of tomorrow. Now, if only he could do the same for one specific relative of his.

“Come along now, boys,” Scrooge ordered with the tilt of his hat, “Time to get your madcap uncle. We’re leaving this backsand place.”