Aswall, 1556
Inside a dim, mist-veiled room stood a woman draped in a dark violet cloak that concealed her neck and face. The air carried a faint, subtle scent of cinnamon. Before her rested a table surrounded by candles whose flames flickered softly. Beside her floated a sphere tinted with a pale teal glow and seventy-six tarot cards, three of them lying face down.
"Tell me," the woman asked the man before her, "what is it that you seek?"
"What will happen in my past, present, and future?"
The woman smiled as she gathered the seventy-six cards, shuffling them deftly.
"Mr. Elias, do not forget that before I say anything, you must pay a small fee… otherwise my prediction may turn out to be… inaccurate."
The man smiled and quickly produced five five-pound bills. Satisfied, the woman laid three cards before him, turning them face up. The first bore the symbol of Death, Arcana XIII. The second was Fortune, Arcana X. And the last—The Fool, Arcana 0.
"Well?" he asked. "What do you have to say?"
"Death means your past will be erased. Fortune means that after you die, you will undergo a change. And The Fool means you will have a future entirely different from what is expected."
"How can there be a change in my life when I will no longer exist?"
"Despite its name, it does not always mean death, Mr. Elias. Do not be frightened. It speaks of a transformation that can only be seen when your entire past dies… and that includes you… or rather, your current self."
She glanced at him sideways.
"What I am certain of is this: when you leave this room, you will indeed meet that death. Of course, the kind of death you meet will depend solely on your destiny. As for the rest… well, only good things await you. So not all is bad, dear Elias."
The man's eyes flickered. He drifted into thought for a moment, then stood.
"I understand, my lady. I must take my leave. It was a pleasure seeing you again."
He stepped away from what appeared to be a shop, picked up an old brown hat, and set it over his smooth black hair. Looking back at her from beneath the brim, he said,
"We will meet again."
And with that, he left.
The streets of Aswall were neglected and filthy. Rats ran freely, and wherever one stepped there were puddles of foul water and filth. It was a humble place. Street stalls were sheltered from the rain by makeshift awnings sewn from torn cloth.
Elias walked as quickly as he could. He remembered he still had to buy bread. Searching his pockets, he found that after spending five pounds he had only three left and a few coins—barely enough for two loaves.
"That's all I can afford," he murmured, growing more discouraged with each step.
He thought of what the woman had said.
Die… heh. I don't think I can escape this situation on my own.
My parents died when we were very young. My brother is bedridden like a corpse and depends on me for everything. Of course I would never abandon him. Finding work these days is difficult… and I only just graduated from university.
He had not forgotten what his professor told him when he graduated:
"Elias, the world is far too cruel. Take care of your brother—he can only rely on you. Find work, marry, have children. Do not seek more than you can bear. The responsibility of knowing too much can lead you to a point of no return."
Without realizing it, he found himself standing in front of a bakery. Despite being in an extremely poor district, the place was spotless, filled with mingling aromas drifting through the air.
The reason these loaves are so expensive must be their cleanliness and quality. I doubt there's another place like this in Aswall, he thought.
"Mrs. Sena, it's a pleasure to see you again," Elias said, removing his hat and bowing slightly.
"Oh, Mr. Elias, it's lovely to see you too. Here for bread?"
Elias smiled and nodded.
"Please, two loaves."
"By the way, how is your brother? I remember when you were children—you used to come with your parents to buy cakes before school," she said cheerfully while wrapping the bread one by one.
"Ha… those were good memories indeed. And my brother is at home, recovering."
"I see…" she said, her expression softening as she handed him five loaves. "I hope he gets better."
"M-Mrs. Sena, I can't accept this—"
"Oh please, it's nothing to me. Take them," she waved off casually.
Elias smiled warmly.
"Then I will gratefully accept."
"Come visit again soon."
With that, Elias headed straight toward the home he shared with his brother. The streets were crowded.
There must be a fair, he thought.
As he walked, he bumped into an elderly woman. Her back was hunched, and she looked as though a gentle breeze could carry her away. When she nearly fell, Elias caught her just in time.
"Ma'am, are you alright? I'm so sorry—I didn't see you!" he said in alarm.
The woman stood, straightened her clothes, and noticed the bread in his other hand. She swallowed, quickly looked away, and smiled.
"You are a kind young man. This old woman is unharmed. Please, forgive me."
Her gaze did not escape Elias. Behind her lay a stack of old, worn books.
"Ma'am… are you selling those books?"
Her eyes lit up.
"Young man, I trade them for food. My children died years ago, and I have no family. It's the only way I survive."
She continued:
"Would you like one of these old books? They aren't worth much… but perhaps I could trade one for half a loaf of your bread."
Elias took out one loaf and handed it to her.
"Don't worry, ma'am. Please take it. I don't need anything in return."
Just as she was about to accept it, she pulled her hands back and lowered her head.
"I cannot take bread without giving something in return. These books are all I have."
Elias waved his hands quickly.
"Please, ma'am, I'll take a book. Perhaps it might help with my studies. Don't be discouraged—please accept the food."
She lifted her head and smiled with relief. Accepting the bread, she nodded gratefully. Elias bowed and continued on his way.
He glanced at the book in his hand. It was completely worn, its cover cloth-like, its pages damp and dirty. Flipping it open, he realized it was written in an entirely unfamiliar language—something resembling cursive Italian, but with spelling errors and written backward.
Not just anyone would notice such a thing, but Elias could. Though poor and orphaned young, his father had left enough inheritance to pay for his university education. Even so, Elias cut expenses, often skipped meals to feed his brother, and learned accounting from childhood.
At university he had met Professor Ismael, who taught him many languages, including Italian.
"I suppose I could take a look…" he murmured upon reaching his apartment.
The building's wooden stairs were filthy, rats roaming freely. There was nothing to do but climb. When he opened the door, the first thing he noticed was the smell of sickness. His brother lay on the lower bed, thin, cheeks hollow.
He opened the window, dusted off surfaces, set the bread in the kitchen, and turned on the bath tap. Returning to the room, he gently lifted his brother.
"Eliazar, sorry to wake you, but you need a bath."
Normally Eliazar would not respond.
"Do I stink?" his brother asked, surprisingly.
Elias laughed.
"You really do."
After bathing him and brushing his teeth, he laid him back down.
"Today Mrs. Sena gave me two extra loaves. I also bumped into an old woman trading books for food. I traded one loaf for an old wrinkled book."
"What's the book about?" Eliazar asked.
"Probably written by someone with terrible spelling."
They both laughed.
"I miss when you used to go to university and read me everything they gave you," Eliazar said.
"I'll decipher this book and read it to you," Elias replied.
"You'll read me something you don't understand and end up cursing me to death?" Eliazar joked.
"Don't ever say that again."
"Sorry, brother. I didn't mean it. Please read it to me when you translate it."
Elias smiled and ruffled his long brown hair. After making sure his brother ate, he sat at his desk, lit a candle, and began translating.
Hours later, he had deciphered thirty percent of the book.
"It's a truly strange book," he said. "It talks about the energy of the universe, the alchemy of the Emperor's eight voices… there are drawings of plants and claws."
"That's terrifying," Eliazar said. "What else does it say?"
"Only the key of the universe lies within your mind. I am your emperor. Your death shall be your pride. I am the reason…"
Elias remembered the woman's words.
"How arrogant…" he murmured.
Suddenly—
A sharp pain pierced his head, as if something were forcing its way out from inside. His vision blurred and a deafening ringing filled his ears.
"Agh… damn it…" he groaned, clutching his head.
"Brother?!" Eliazar cried. "What's wrong with you?!"
Elias collapsed onto the desk with a dull thud.
"BROTHER! This isn't funny! Talk to me!"