Chapter 3
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"I really think this is a waste of our time sweetest."

A condescending smile touched Aandra's lips as she listened amused to her
beloved's rants. Her silver eyes gleamed feverishly in the candle light and her
skin was warm, almost moist, but she was sitting upright in the large double bed
of their cluttered bedroom. She held a crude clay mug grasped within her hands
delicately, its contents an opalescent rich brown betraying it for a mild black
tea. Several cushions were nestled behind her back for comfort and the room
remarkably tidy and aired for the amount of random items gathered within; among
them even laboratory utensils and other cryptic tools.

"It won't hurt in the slightest, Nereshka, you know it," she said softly,
"Nothing else is helping and this crone is apparently well respected in the
whole seaport!"

He rolled his eyes as she continued with a modicum of passion, "She is known
for miracles and her divinations are eerily accurate. I even heard them say she
foresaw that the old Gumbo who passed away last year will never find love and it
turned out to be true! And she said it back when he was barely in his twenties.
I tell you, Nerry, this woman has a gift."

With an audible sigh of resignation Nereshka replied, "Very well, very well.
But I don't see how that story proves anything, the very prophecy itself may
have been what convinced him he is incapable of finding his true love, dear."

A look of disbelief crossed over her delicate features. "Huh? What nonsense
darlin', that doesn't make sense at all. We all know he tried so hard! They even
say he was quite the lady's man, and remember old miss Juliana? He was totally
falling for her and courting so finely and she drowned during the cruise over
the Crystal Sea they went on! A merian drowned! How is that not a curse? A
curse!"

He opened his mouth as if to say something but instead just looked at her,
delight at her fierce arguing softening his features. "I suppose there are
things in this world that even such a scientist like me cannot comprehend," she
nodded along as he spoke, "Mystical, magical and prone to be doomed at a
moment's not-," he managed before he was cut off by a poke in the ribs and both
lovers laughed joyfully for a moment.

"Go ahead, dear, Agatha should be here anytime."

He nodded and made his way out of the room, leaving her to straighten out the
bed linen and trying to make herself look more presentable. He returned a few
minutes later leading a short elderly lady dressed in an abundance of grey and
with bleak watery eyes. They exchanged pleasantries and the old woman was seated
on a rickety chair besides the bed before Nereshka bowed out of the room to
leave the ladies alone.

"None can cure you then, child?" the woman asked in a husky voice without much
introduction to the topic.

Shaking her head softly, "No, Agatha, and we have tried every healer in this
cesspool of righteousness."

"Truly now? So, why did the Celestine Healers deny you service?"

"What makes you think they did?", she asked somewhat startled.

"Because if they did not, and could not cure you, they would not have left you
behind here to rot away. Not with your beloved being such a...," she paused as
she looked around the inexpensively furnished bedroom, tattered curtains and
plain stone floor, "renowned scientist in their service." she finished with mild
mockery.

Aandra looked down on her hands somewhat embarrassed by the obvious truth
stated so plainly by the crone. She sighed and, resigned, replied gravely, "They
use his inventions but pay him poorly since, after all, he does it for the Light
and the Church is not rich and all that."

"Ahhah, yes yes," Agatha managed and leaned her head back to chuckle hoarsely,
"Of course, impoverished servants of the Light that they are, they offer it all
to the Holy Supernals' glory. Ah, a good laugh." She then shook her head once as
her features grew more sombre and rose from the chair, "You will tell me the
true reason soon enough, you all do, no secrets can be hidden by Agatha, no no."

The crone hobbled towards the balcony and opened the door allowing in an
alcohol-scented night breeze of a seaport that promised sinful delights. She
walked out only as far as the doorway and paused there as if frozen, her face
upturned to look at the clear sky overhead. Slowly, she let go of the doorframe
and lifted her wizened hands up towards the firmament just as a soft hum began
to resonate throughout the room from her pursed lips. Her hands swirling in a
hypnotic dance, tracing trajectories known only to her or perhaps completely
random, she continued on for several minutes keeping Aandra completely
mesmerised. Finally, the spellcasting was over as abruptly as it began, the
eldritch work complete, and the far-off sounds of the seaport at night took
reign supreme over the ambient again.

Agatha turned around with a thoughtful look on her wrinkled face and regarded
Aandra for a spell before she spoke. "Peculiar, peculiar. This evening might be
more droll than I imagined, child." and she chuckled to herself disregarding
Aandra's confused smile and made her way back to the chair next to her.

"You are one unlucky lass, child, quite unlucky. There is strife and hardships
penned throughout your whole nativity and Astrology does not lie child, no no,
it does not. The Bumblebee in your Tarox points to the society standing in your
path throughout your whole life, it does, naught good can come from being
shunned. It does not bode well trustworthy friends either, it doesn't, not
conjunct Bumblebee, no."

Agatha listened with growing bafflement, her silver eyes narrowed and whole
poise tense as if that could help deciphering the crone's words. Finally, she
interrupted, "But what does it mean, elder?"

"I'm pretty sure you know, child, you do. Think, tell me of your childhood."

At that Agatha fell silent immediately and clutched at the mug in her hands,
the black tea long cold but still pervading the area with its bitter, refreshing
smell. The crone laid a hand on her arm softly and squeezed it in encouragement
though little but detached curiosity was evident on her countenance.

"My mother... she... she was executed for heresy against the Light when I was
five. I was taken to the execution grounds where all cheered the executioner on
and applauded the radiant white-clad figures of Celestines upon the platform. I
remember little details of that day, only the feeling of nausea and as if I was
in a dream. None of it made sense, and my mother was kept kneeling for hours as
her crimes were flaunted to the world amidst booing and hissing, insults and
things thrown at her. And my guardian kept me rooted to the ground with his firm
grip upon my shoulder and head, making me watch..."

"Yes, yes, all very touching, you poor child, but we haven't a whole night.
Hurry on with that story. Important details!" the crone shrieked.

Chastised, Agatha took a sip of the cold tea and then continued more briefly,
the corners of her lips shaking as she spoke. "I was then taken into the
Celestine Orphanage so that my mother's wrongs bring some right to the Light,
they said. I was made to work hard and a lot to weed out the demons from my
mind..." she paused here, took another sip, inhaled audibly and continued
quickly, "I was abused by various Celestine Priests and Priestess in my time
there and finally gathered up the courage to do something about it when I was
fifteen. I was whipped and demoted to the lowest of jobs for my outrageous
accusations against such holy of brethren and ran away soon after. The Orphanage
didn't teach me anything useful enough to be taken in anywhere though,
especially with no one to back me up and clearly an outcast. I lived on the
street doing what the Celestines denounced me as most useful for to earn a
living. Then I met Nereshka..."

"All very touching," the crone interrupted her, "And quite obvious where it is
going, child, quite obvious. You fell in love, he saved you from your dreadful
life, he is your heart's Paladin and all that bubbly nonsense. Makes sense
enough why they would reject you now. Your luck that," she added with a smirk,
"I have a soft spot for heathens." she finished with a chuckle and watched
Aandra blush embarrassed.

"The malefic Aapek for your nativity is governed by powers of the Twin Crystals
though, quite intriguing that. The third sign of the zodiac represents powers of
the mind and you seem quite ordinary, how would that be your potential doom?"
the crone asked.

"Powers of the mind... oh," Aandra seemed surprised and scared at the same
time, "ma-le-fic? So bad?" and when the crone nodded in agreement she followed,
"My gift... I suppose my curse given the nightmares..." she muttered to herself
incoherently but the crone was patient. "I am a Prophet, quite unskilled really,
visions of the future invade my dreams. Nightmares, all nightmares of an end,
and end in a glorious blaze of light and the serene face of Princess Marilynth,
blessed be she, amidst it. But it all went away, Magnagoran Prophets helped me
so..."

The crone listened genuinely interested this time and considered it carefully
before asking, "When did it all go away?"

"With the Prophets. Well, actually sometime after, when I got home from my
visit."

"And did anyone know of these prophecies of yours?" the crone asked with
intensity.

"Oh... a few friends and Nereshka, he was quite frightened for me because I
would trash on the bed each night as if I was being torn apart by piranhas, hah.
But they passed, I wonder how that is to be my doom at all? Maybe because due to
these visions I had to go to Magnagora and caught some wretched disease on the
way?"

"Maybe... maybe...", Agatha replied somewhat absent-mindedly, a stern look on
her face. "Well, in an case, we ought to see if I can do anything for you." and
she rose to shift from the chair to perch upon the edge of the bed and took
Aandra's hands into her own. She closed her eyes and focused intensely but no
odd humming or twisting followed her working her gifts this time, she simply
held Aandra's hands for a very long time, beads of sweat upon her forehead the
only telling signs of anything taking place beyond meditation.

When she withdrew her hands, her face was a mixture of confusion and worry,
whereas Aandra seemed weak and drained and collapsed back upon the pillows
breathless. "This is peculiar, peculiar yes, Crocodile promised no better
alas... this is so unusual, it is like your body is just a container for your
lifeforce, instead of its source. You do not produce more, look how much my
probing has tired you..."

She stood up and took a step back from the bed, "I am not sure what it is child
but this is dangerous and there is no cure, it is like you are dead!" she
shrieked, "Such things are not reversed."

"What is not reversed?" Nereshka's voice asked from the doorway, he crept in
silently.

Turning to face him, fervently, "This woman cannot be cured! Keep her away from
people!" she roared and stormed out of the room, rudely squeezing next to him in
the doorway and leaving the couple alone in the silence that followed.

"Crazy old hag, I told you sweetest, not worth it..." he offered turning for
the bed but Aandra lay there unconscious. "Aandra! Sweet Raziela..." he managed
with tears gathering in his eyes as he held her gathered up close, her head
tilted back limply. "I will find a cure, beloved, I will find a cure! I swear
it!"