"Did you come to have your fortune told, young man?" the woman asked.
Ishtar swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am."
The fortune teller took the tarot cards in front of her, shuffled them, and laid them out in a straight line on the table.
"Pick one of these cards, young man."
After thinking for a moment, Ishtar chose the second card from the right and flipped it over.
On the card was a black lion holding the Isotra—the star around which Avalon revolved. But what did it mean?
Ishtar handed the card to the woman.
"Very interesting," she said with a suspicious expression. "There is a difficult path in your destiny, young man. You will be subjected to a test. If you pass this test, you will reach your goal. However... this test may involve losing a loved one, or something that belongs to you."
The woman's final words hung in the air.
To lose...
As the word echoed in Ishtar's mind, the noise of the street faded away, replaced by a high-pitched, disturbing ringing in his ears. Unconsciously, his fingers gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white.
What did this mean? Who would he lose? His mother? His father? Or a part of his own body, like an arm? A poisonous doubt settled in Ishtar's gut.
With a trembling hand, he left two copper coins on the table.
"Thank you, ma'am," he said, and quickly walked away.
Leaving the noise of the crowd behind, Ishtar turned onto Canal Street. This was one of the city's main arteries; the wide waterway cutting through Atlonda divided the city in two and carried the flow of life.
He walked up onto the stone bridge just as the sun was about to vanish below the horizon. The sky had turned into a canvas where purple, orange, and blood-red blended together. Ishtar leaned against the cold iron railings of the bridge and took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the cool, moss-scented air.
Below, merchant ships glided through the canal's calm waters. Mana lanterns hanging from some of the masts had already begun to glow, defying the approaching darkness. Every ship had a route, a harbor to reach.
But what about him?
He stared at his reflection in the water. The events of today weighed heavily on his mind. First, that terrifying dream in the cathedral and the inexplicable pain he felt... It was as if his heart had truly been pierced. Then, that fortune teller...
"There is a difficult path in your destiny... Losing a loved one..."
The woman's voice echoed in his mind. What did that black lion and the Isotra Star on the tarot card mean? Why was he, an ordinary blacksmith's apprentice, chosen? Were the tales his mother told him not just fairy tales after all?
Ishtar instinctively brought his hand to his chest, to the spot where he had been stabbed in his dream. There was no physical wound, but he could feel the crack that had opened in his soul.
As the last rays of the sun shimmered on the water, Ishtar realized that the fear inside him was slowly being replaced by curiosity. Whatever his fate was, he knew he could no longer just grow old forging iron in his father's shop.
Something had changed. The gears of fate had begun to turn.
AAAAHH!
Ishtar was startled by a blood-curdling scream that shattered his thoughts. The sound came from a dark alley just below the bridge. Without thinking, he vaulted over the railings and ran toward the sound.
As soon as he entered the alley, he grimaced at the vile stench hitting his nose; the smell of rotting flesh and metallic blood.
At the end of the alley stood three men in cloaks and a girl in a brown cloak, backed into a corner. On the ground lay a lifeless knight bearing the crest of the Rose Duchy.
Ishtar's eyes locked onto the symbol on the men's cloaks: A Black Isotra.
His breath hitched. It was the same damned symbol from his dream! Fear, like an icy hand, squeezed his heart. But when he saw the desperate look in the girl's eyes, he realized he had no right to be afraid.
When the men noticed Ishtar, all three lunged at him at once. Daggers flashed in the air.
I'm dead, Ishtar thought. He squeezed his eyes shut.
But the expected blow never came. When he opened his eyes, the world had changed.
Time... was not flowing.
Dust motes hung suspended in the air. The punches thrown by the men moved as sluggishly as molasses. Ishtar's mind, however, was crystal clear.
Those strange movements his father had taught him for years, saying, "You will only use these to survive," erupted from his muscle memory.
Asakirna. The forgotten dance of the Timark Desert.
Ishtar dodged a slow-motion punch by tilting his head slightly to the side. Then, he delivered hard, lightning-fast strikes to the vulnerable point on each attacker's chest.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
When time returned to its normal flow, all three men collapsed to the ground, gasping for air.
They looked at each other in shock and fear. One of them quickly hoisted the dead knight's corpse onto his shoulder—which was strange, why did they want the body?—while the other slammed his hand onto the ground and whispered ominous words in a raspy voice:
"Isla letina kara!"
A circle of purple light flashed on the ground, and within seconds, they blended into the shadows and vanished.
When silence returned, Ishtar ran to the girl despite his trembling legs. He reached out a hand.
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?"
The girl shook her head, her voice trembling. "No... You saved me... Thank you."
Ishtar couldn't help but ask, "Who were those men? Why were they wearing that symbol?"
Instead of answering, the girl pulled down the hood of her brown cloak. In the dim light of the alley, hair shining like flames spilled out.
Ishtar froze. He knew this face. It was the girl he had collided with in the square... But that hair... That hair belonged to only one family.
The girl raised her head. "I am Neosa ven Rose. Princess of the Rose Duchy."
Ishtar's knees went weak, and he quickly bowed his head. He had just addressed a princess as "you" informally!
"My Lady! I didn't know who you were... Please forgive my informal speech."
Neosa smiled slightly, the traces of fear fading from her expression. "I cannot ask the hero who saved my life to apologize."
"If you will permit me..." Ishtar said, his voice still shaking with excitement. "...allow me to escort you to the castle, My Lady. It is no longer safe here."
The Princess nodded, and the pair began to walk toward the Rose Estate.
It was six in the evening. Neosa and Ishtar walked along the coastal road leading to the Duke's residence. The Princess's unique beauty combined with the sunset created a magnificent portrait. Ishtar was left open-mouthed at the sight.
He wanted to start a conversation, but she was the Duke's daughter, and he was just an ordinary blacksmith's apprentice... Still, he might never get another chance to speak with the Princess. So, he gathered his courage.
"Umm, well... The sunset is very beautiful, isn't it, My Lady?"
The Princess turned her grey eyes to Ishtar. Ishtar's heart began to beat like the bells in the cathedral.
"Absolutely. I love the sunset in this city. When it meets the sea, it creates a beautiful scene," Neosa said.
The wind was blowing a bit too hard today. Neosa shivered; she had discarded her cloak because it was soiled with the knight's blood. Ishtar noticed this. He was wearing his favorite jacket over his black shirt. He took off his jacket and draped it over the Princess's shoulders.
"It is cold, My Lady. You must take care of yourself, or you will catch a cold."
Neosa was touched by Ishtar's thoughtful gesture. "Thank you," she said softly.
There was a question that had been plaguing Ishtar's mind. What kind of curse did the Princess have? He was afraid of being executed by the Duke for asking, but if he didn't, it would haunt him. He decided to ask.
"My Lady, there is a question that constantly occupies my mind. Everyone claims you have a curse. Are these rumors true?"
Neosa looked at the sunset. She was hesitant about telling him, fearing he might distance himself like everyone else. But she owed him her life. She decided to tell him the truth.
"Yes, I have a curse, but it is no ordinary curse. While I was in my mother's womb, the Duke's second wife cursed my mother to take her place. The child born would be cursed, and the one who gave birth would die. That is why my mother died after I was born."
She paused, her voice trembling.
"As for my curse... If I ever fall in love with a man, I must kill him and drink his blood within two years, or I will die."
Hearing this, Ishtar didn't avert his eyes for even a second. Despite the horrifying truth, the admiration inside him suppressed his fear.
"Then," he whispered, "the man who dies for you to live must be the luckiest man in the world, My Lady."
Neosa's eyes filled with tears, and she threw herself into Ishtar's arms. Ishtar took out the handkerchief his mother had sewn for him and wiped the Princess's tears.
After the Princess stopped crying, they continued on their way and finally arrived at the Rose Estate.
It was a massive mansion. A huge rose depiction was painted in the center of the building—the symbol of the Rose family. In the front garden, there was a vast field of roses. Blue, red, purple, navy... roses of every color bloomed there. Two guards waited at the gate. It was late; evidently, all the knights were out looking for Neosa.
Ishtar escorted Neosa close to the gate.
"You must go the rest of the way alone, My Lady. If the Duke sees a stranger like me with you, he might have my head."
Neosa pulled a bracelet from the inner pocket of her floral dress. The crest of the Rose family was engraved on it.
"Consider this a gift from me. We will meet again soon," she said.
Then, Neosa planted an unexpected kiss on Ishtar's cheek and ran toward the gate.
Ishtar was mind-blown. He touched the spot where she had kissed him; I am definitely never washing my face again, he thought.
After resting for a while on a bench by the coastal road, night fell. He had experienced so much today; he had to return home. He walked quickly toward the path home. He stopped by Artun's bakery, greeted Artun, bought some of his mother's favorite bread, and arrived home.
His mother met him at the door with her usual warm smile.
"Welcome back, sweetie. How was your walk?"
If Ishtar told her he had fought cultists, saved a princess, and walked her home, his mother would worry to death. So, he smiled as if nothing had happened.
"It was good, Mom. I bought your favorite bread."
Nera accepted the bread with both hands. "I made dinner, won't you eat?"
"No, I grabbed a bite on the way back, thanks Mom. I'm going to my room now, I'm pretty tired after today."
He walked inside. His father was reading the newspaper on the couch. Seeing Ishtar, he raised his hand for a high-five. Ishtar gave his father a solid high-five.
"Heyy, our brat is home! How did it go?" Andor asked.
"It was good, Dad. I'm going to my room, do you need anything?"
Although Andor acted like he didn't care, he had been worried about his son. "Just your health, son," he said.
Ishtar went up to his room and lay on his bed. It had been a long day. He still couldn't get the men with the Isotra symbol out of his mind.
"Whatever, I'll think about it tomorrow," he muttered. After checking his Status Window one last time, he fell into a deep sleep.
Ishtar found himself in that dark room again, just like when he fainted in the cathedral.
"Damn it, this place again?" he said.
Suddenly, the ground began to shake and crack. A massive Coliseum rose from beneath the earth. Ishtar's mouth fell open in awe.
Suddenly, a voice boomed from the Coliseum:
"Hey you! Get in here."