The sound of singing birds slowly roused Simon from his slumber. He rolled over, his eyelids blinking and opening slightly, letting in little rays of light. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and finally opened them completely. The first thing he saw was a large smiling face staring down at him.

“AH!”

“Good morning Sir Simon! Miss Lucy and I have made breakfast! Come join us!”

“Yeah, sure. Just let my heart start beating again.”

“Ha! Excellent joke!”

Maxwell threw open the door to the tent in a grand flourish and walked out. Simon sat up and rubbed his temples. Three days. Three days of travelling with Maxwell, and he was still not used it. At least he was a good cook.

Simon sniffed at the air, and his mouth began to water. Lucy had been using her father’s journal to learn how to set traps, and Maxwell had been cooking them into delicious meals. Life was pretty good.

After putting on clothes, Simon emerged from the tent. They had set up camp in a small clearing within an expanse of forest. Lucy was reading next to the campfire, and Maxwell was tinkering with his arm, a pouch of tools lying next to him. Simon went to the pan that was hanging above the fire and scooped a small pile of miscellaneous meat onto a plate. He sat down next to Lucy and began chowing down.

“Simon?”

“Yesh?” He said with a mouth full of food.

“I’m trying to read here. I could do without the distraction.”

“Shory.” He swallowed, “Any luck with that thing?”

“Kind of. I think I’m starting to decode some these passages, but most of the information I’m getting is from these images. There are some strange things in here. Like look at this.”

She tilted the book in his direction. Carefully sketched into the pages was an illustration. It showed a long, thin chain. At the end it was a curved blade, like the end of scythe. Smaller illustrations showed silhouettes of figures using the strange weapon and having it used on them.

“Huh. So, what is it?”

“It seems like it’s meant to wrap around things. Once you do that, you can pull and move them around. Objects, people, whatever. I’m thinking about getting the materials to make one next time we stop in a town.”

“Nice. And what are you up to Maxwell?”

“Aha! That, Sir Simon, is a surprise!”

“Of course it is.”

Simon rubbed his chin. Maybe he should think about adding something else to his repertoire. He was pretty sure he hadn’t reached his magical limit yet. Maybe…

“Git de hell out e my ferest!”

Everyone jumped, and turned to look at a man who had entered the clearing. He was a thin, balding man wearing a grimy pair of overalls. He was pointing a pitchfork in their direction as veins pulsed on his forehead. Lucy stepped forwards.

“Listen, we don’t want any trouble…”

“Ye got cotin in yer ears? Git out!”

“I’m sorry, this is your forest?”

“Ye! It’s on my property! An I won’t have any no-good kids burnin my ferest te de ground! Now put out de fire an git out!”

The man watched them intently as the three of them slowly began packing up their camping supplies. The man’s eyes widened as they packed both of their tents into the same bag.

“Wot de hell was dat! Some kinda magic!?”

Simon looked at him, “Yes, actually.”

“Then you lot best git on yer way. We don’t take kindly te you magic types! Yer bad luck you is! An don’t try to hide dem runes on yer arms from me!”

Simon stopped reaching for his sleeves. The old timer had some good eyes on him. They finished packing their things and slowly walked past the old man, who glared at them. They walked through a set of tress and found themselves staring out at a wide expanse of grassland. Simon whistled.

“Now that’s a lot of walking.”

The rolling hills stretched for miles into the distance, dotted with the occasional farmstead and fields. Carts and caravans could be seen travelling across the expanse, along with the occasional group of travelers such as themselves. In the distance, crumbling stone ruins jutted from the ground, the remnants of some lost civilization. The map said that another forest lay beyond here, but it was too far to see. The old man walked up behind them.

“Harumph. Now you lot git on yer way.”

“Whatever you say mister… what's your name?”

“If I didn’t give me name, I didn’t mean to. Now git!”

The three of them began walking, looking behind them at the old man, still glaring at them and shaking his pitchfork.

* * *

The trio slowly but surely made their way across the fields, talking and arguing to pass the time as they passed similar-looking crops and farmhouses over and over again. Occasionally they would come across a set of old, worn stone blocks jutting out of the ground.

“Ruins,” Simon would explain, sweating under the jacket he put on to hide his runes, “left behind by some far-gone civilization.”

As the sun began to make its way to the top of the sky, the three decided to stop for lunch in the shade of a large, moss-covered block. Maxwell began pulling out food he had prepared while Simon removed his coat.

“Are you sure that is a good idea Sir Simon? That old man said the people here didn’t take to magic users very well.”

“I’ll be fine. We’re in the middle of nowhere. The nearest farmstead is at least an hour’s walk away. Who’s going to see me?”

Lucy pointed into the distance, “That carriage perhaps?”

As fate would have it, a horse-pulled carriage was heading towards the group. Simon begrudgingly put his coat back on as well as a set of gloves to cover the runes on the backs of his hands.

The carriage pulled up next to them, the horse stopping even though there was nobody visibly driving or steering. Strings of beads hung from the sides of the carriage, clinking against the wood, and shedding multicolored light in all directions. A set of steps came out of the side of the carriage, leading up to a door. Above the door was a large, wooden sign. Painted onto the sign in large, swooping, blue letters were the words “Madam Cassandra’s Charms and Fortunes”.

The horse whinnied and began eating the grass as though it planned to stay there for a while. The trio looked amongst each other, and then looked back at the carriage. They expected someone to come out, but nobody did. Eventually, Simon gingerly made his way up the stairs, and gently knocked on the door.

“Oh my! A customer! DO come in!”

Simon glanced back at his companions. Lucy shrugged, and Maxwell gave a thumbs-up. Simon slowly pressed on the door, which opened with a satisfied creaking noise.

The inside of the carriage was lit with gentle candlelight, sending strange shadows over the numerous bits and bobs. The walls were lined with strange things. Jars containing small pickled animals, boned tied with feathers, statues of monstrous creatures, and tapestries depicting alien worlds.

In the center of all this chaos sat a small table. Sitting at the table, opposite of the door, was an elderly woman. She sat hunched over the table, a shawl draped over her back. Bandages wrapped over her eyes, with a crooked smile slowly opening beneath it.

“Gooood eeevening! I see that my trusty horse has brought me to someone who would be interested in my little establishment.”

“Uh, yeah. You’re Madam Cassandra I presume?”

“Yeees. I am the proprietor of this little shop of wonders. Does anything catch your eye dearie? Perhaps you are looking for something of the… magical sort?”

Simon’s eye twinkled as she said that, and Lucy saw it.

“Oh no you don’t. We don’t have the money to waste of stupid magical knick-knacks.”

“Well that’s too bad. Maybe I can interest you in something young lady? A beautiful necklace perhaps? I’m sure that it would look lovely on you.”

Lucy stared at the woman’s bandaged eyes, “Yeah, I’m sure you do, but no thanks.”

“Oh. I see. None of you will be purchasing any of this poor old woman’s wears…”

“Come on Lucy, no need to be such a tight-ass. We can buy one thing, right?”

“Yes Miss Lucy, your behavior towards this woman is very distasteful.”

“You know what?” Lucy put a bag of coins in Simon’s hand, threw up her arms, and walked out the door, “Do what you want. I’ll be outside.”

“Yes! Sorry about that Madam Cassandra,” He seated himself at the other end of the table, “why don’t you tell me about you’re wares?”

“But of course, dearie. I actually think that I have something special for you. And in order to appease your lady friend, I will give it to you on the house!” Her gnarled fingers crossed over each other as she smiled at him.

“Really? You don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, but I insist. It won’t be too much trouble. You may have noticed the part of my sign that mentioned fortunes…”

“You want to tell me my fortune?”

“Yes. It would be a simple matter. I would tell you of something that will happen in your near future. How does that sound dearie?”

Simon turned to Maxwell, “What do you think?”

“I think this sounds like an excellent idea!”

“Alright then. I will take you up on your offer Madam.”

“Excellent. Unfortunately, I will have to ask that your companion leaves the carriage.”

“WHAT?!”

“You heard the lady Maxwell.”

“But… Sir Simon…”

“Get out and wait with Lucy already! I’ll be out in a moment.”

Maxwell hung his head and exited the carriage.

“Now then. In order to read your future, I will need to feel your palms.”

“Oh, sure.”

Simon removed the gloves he had put on and held his hands out. The old woman took his hands in hers. Her fingers were long and spindly, ending in long, painted nails that poked into his skin painfully.

“Are those runes I feel?”

Simon froze. The old man said the people here hated magic. Wait, she said she had magical wares, right? He was just being paranoid.  Right?  Something about the way she spoke didn't sit well with him.

“And they seem to be scars too. How interesting.”

“Um…”

“Don’t worry dearie. I’m not like the folks in these parts. I have no problem with users of magic. Why would I sell magical objects if I had a problem with it? In fact, I really enjoy magic. You could call it a… passion of mine. Now that I have finished with your palms. I will finish my ritual to read you fortune.”

Simon bobbed up and down excitedly as the woman reached for the bandages around her eyes. She gingerly removed them, and as she did began to stand up and straighten her back. As the shawl fell off, Simon realized that she was much taller than he had first assumed.

As long, curled, back hair tumbled down the woman’s back, she finished unravelling the bandages. Simon was shocked to see that her eyes looked fine. The same could not be said for the skin around her eyes, however. Around her eyes were a series of tattoos, moving around her eyes in complex spiraling patterns. Runes.

Simon tried to stand up, but as he did, the woman smiled at him, and the runes around her eyes glowed.

“Don’t be like that dearie. I see great things in our future.”

Multicolored light washed over him, and his vision faded to black.