“An interesting spread.” The Firebearer sounded amused. “Come.” Vi carried the burning goods into an even smokier backroom. Their shoes were removed as though it was a sacred place. Tapestries and rugs covered the floor and walls, making it feel very small and intimate. They each took a place on either side of a smoldering fire pit.

“Are you certain you wish an observer?” she asked, looking at Daniel. “I will read the futures as I see them.”

“I suppose ...” Vhalla looked up uncertainly at Daniel. “If you don’t mind?”

“I’ll wait right out here.” Daniel slipped back out of the heavy curtain, and Vhalla heard his footsteps fade away.

The woman knelt over the fire pit and reached into the smoldering coals. She lifted them up and dropped them, their orange-hot glow bright in the dim light. Flames licked around her fingers and soon her arms up to her elbows were covered in soot. The woman reached across and held out her thumb, marking Vhalla’s face.

“Vhalla Yarl, blessed bird of the East. The one who can soar without wings. The first chick to fly the cage. The first to return to our land.”

The woman leaned back. Taking the quill, she threw it into the fire pit. Flames roared white. Vi grabbed the wheat, adding it to the fire. The color changed to orange. Finally the rose petals were sacrificed and the fire changed a deep unnatural crimson, almost black.

Vhalla held her breath as the woman eased her face into the flame. Face-down she opened her eyes to the fire, and Vhalla let out an uneasy sigh as the Firebearer was completely unaffected by its heat. Slowly the flames began to die down, leaving a light-purple ash at the bottom of the pit.

“The present burns away, leaving the future to rise from its ashes.” Vi leaned over and took a large handful of the ash and threw it into the air over them. The fine powder began to slowly swirl and trickle down, lighter than snow, and hovered before her, making unknown shapes before finally settling to the floor. Vi’s eyes burned a bright red color.

“You will march to victory, and it will be won upon your silver wings. But the winds of change you will set free will also shatter that tender hope upon which you fly. You will lose your dark sentry,” the woman foretold.

Vhalla clutched the plain pocket watch, her heart beginning to race.