Reverie Jamboree - Heart of the Cards

Lia found the hut perched precariously on the edge a floating island. It was, quite literally, perched — long legs sprawled akimbo from the bottom of the quaint cottage, at the ends of which were birdlike feet which curled around the angle of the cliff. The cottage itself was even and level, but it was precariously suspended above a rolling sea of clouds and a fathomless plummet to the bottom.

Near the hut were a handful of dragons, some romping happily through the heath while others ranged out to the nearby other islands, to long-abandoned, crumbling structures that might have once been homes before whatever magical cataclysm put these bits of land in the sky.

Eulalia was charmed by the scene and, truthfully, a tad lonely. She loved her dragons dearly and other people too, but it had been too long since she last saw another rider.

She circled above until the front door of the hut opened and a head poked outside. A woman with ruddy hair waved a careless hand, beckoning Lia in.

With a smile, she came close and landed delicately on the front step.

“Come in, come in,” said the other rider. “I’ve been expecting you for some time now.”

Lia’s smile wavered, but she obeyed, careful of her taloned feet as she stepped into a cozy sitting room.

“Expecting me?” she repeated and waved her wings away, leaving her with two human arms. “But we’ve only just met.”

The older rider stopped and looked at her, an eyebrow raised. “We have,” she agreed. “But you are one with the oceans and the night, aren’t you? Have you not had visions?”

Eulalia bit the inside of her lip to keep from frowning. She didn’t like feeling at a disadvantage, like the other rider was calling her inexperienced.

But before it could do more than ruffle her feathers, the rider waved a hand again. “Nevermind; it doesn’t matter. I’m Demona.”

“Lia,” she said.

“Lovely to meet you,” Demona said in a manner that was more routine than sincere. “Would you like to take a seat?” She gestured to a set of chairs and a table. “I’m still getting things ready.”

“Getting what ready?” she asked, unable to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

Demona paused near her hearth, the flame casting gentle light on her face. “Sorry,” she said suddenly, a bit of her stern expression melting. “So sorry. I knew you would be here and that I could help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“No, of course,” Demona said easily. “But there’s more to this life than what we need. We offer help to others out of kindness, not from a place of judgment.”

“We?”

Demona pulled the kettle out of the fire, and sat it on a woven mat on the table to cool. She blinked, and two cups and saucers appeared, along with everything else. “I could feel your concern, even from where you were flying. This one,” she scuffed her foot against the floor, and the hut seemed, somehow, happy to be acknowledged, “isn’t in the most secure location. It wouldn’t take much to knock us off the island.” Lia’s cheeks warmed, but she couldn’t deny it. “You weren’t concerned to be cruel,” Demona continued. “You simply cared.”

“Yes,” she said. Then, carefully, “What can you help me with?” She pulled one of the chairs out and tentatively took a seat, careful of her tail feathers as Demona took the other.

Demona flicked her wrist, and a deck of cards appeared in her hand. “These cards are magic. They say what need to be said, in whatever language it takes. I’d like to read them for you.” She began to shuffle, and Eulalia watched in amazement as the backs of the cards changed with every pass of her hand, every time a card was tucked away. The size, shape, and color of them moved in dizzying fluctuation until Demona fanned them out on the table, each one different.

“How—?”

“Oh, I haven’t the foggiest,” Demona said, laughing. “They appeared in here one day, and they do that every time. It’s never the same deck twice. Sometimes, dice or runes fall out when someone chooses a card, then disappears as soon as it’s back in the deck. I’m sure it all comes back to my magic, somehow; I enchanted the cottage to begin with, but I didn’t make them intentionally.” She tapped the table. “Choose as many or as few as move you.”

Lia chewed her bottom lip, looking at the spread of the cards. On the left side was a small rectangular card with rounded corners, a hypnotic pattern in blue and white on the back. Her brow furrowed, she reached out and tapped it, then took her hand back.

“Just one?”

“It’s bright,” she said. “Compared to the others.”

Demona nodded and scooped the rest of the cards up, stacking them to the side as she pulled the chosen card to the center of the table. She flipped it over.

The image on the face of the card was a blur of flickering images that made Lia’s eyes ache after only a few seconds. Bits and pieces replaced themselves with something new several times before she had a chance to blink, and she closed her eyes to try and stave off the headache suddenly pounding at her temples.

“What on earth,” Demona said, sounding more intrigued than upset. Lia heard the whisper of the card across the tabletop as Demona picked it up. Tentatively, she cracked an eye open, faced with the pattern that had first called to her.

Demona frowned at the card, then thumped it in irritation.

“It’s still going,” she said, halfway turning the card so Eulalia could see the horrible dance of images before pulling it back to face her. “It’s much easier to say something with a definitive card, but I suppose I can offer this: you’re at a major crossroads. Life-defining. Whatever path you choose will lead to something wildly different from any other you could have chosen. But the choice is yours; even fate stays its hand for you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“That’s hard to say,” Demona said, laying the card face-down on the table and picking up the kettle to serve herself tea. “It’s a responsibility; your choice will ripple outwards to effect others. Some people might like that amount of control over others, but I suspect you don’t.”

“Gods no,” Lia blanched.

“But it’s freeing as well,” Demona said, tipping the kettle towards Lia in a silent question until Eulalia pulled her own cup and saucer over, allowing Demona to serve her. “Most people are bound by the way everyone around them is also moving, like cogs in a machine or threads woven together. But right now, you exist outside of those systems. You are not tethered to them or by them. You could do anything, and most likely, you would become the lodestone of the new system you created.”

“What if,” Lia started, stopped, sipped her hot tea, then started again, half mumbling into her cup: “What if I loved someone, but they weren’t ready to be loved? What if that was my crossroads?”

“Oh, luv,” Demona said gently. “No card from any part of the Chronoscape is going to tell you to sacrifice yourself to fix someone else, and anyone who read it to you like that wouldn’t be worth the dirt on your feet. But there are many ways to love someone until they are, if ever, ready: as a friend, as a part of their community, in strictly-measured increments, or from as far away as you need to be. Whatever you choose to do or be — that person might follow you or they might not. And whatever they choose only reflects on them. Not you, not your capability to love nor the quality of it.” Lia swallowed around the lump in her throat, tears pricking hot at the corners of her eyes. “And you deserve to love and be loved by someone who doesn’t make you question any of those.”

“I know,” she said weakly, hardly whispering.

Quite seriously, Demona leaned forward, folding her arms on the tabletop. “And if you tell me who’s’ made you cry like this, I’ll make sure they never do it again.”

Lia, despite herself, laughed, tears finally rolling down her cheeks as Demona smiled.