“Please… tell me who ye are,” Jane said with a trembling voice.
“Ye pry too much for a wee lass, dinnae ye?” She walked closer, a sinister smile forming on her face, her eyes never leaving Jane’s. “Isla. That’s my name, if ye’ll ken.”
The words were softly hissed, burning into Jane'smind. A strange pain followed the sound, striking her in the center of the head with such force that it blurred her vision.
A lie. She is lying.
The silent whispers raged in her mind—the innervoice risingto a scream so high that Jane covered her ears until the painful ringing subsided. She blinked open her eyes and returned her gaze to the strange woman.
“Ye lie!” Jane cried through clenched teeth.
She expected the woman to frown and retreat in shock, but she nodded instead. When Jane caught peoplein a lie, theyrecoiled in terror, but this hag was no ordinary person. She was dressed in ragged skirts and a filthy tartan sash, but the smile on her face revealed that she was no poor dorbie.
“I kent ye’d find out that was a lie, lassie,” the woman said with a wide smile. “Ye are the one I was looking for.”
No familiar pang came along with the voices in her head. That wasnota lie.
This woman had truly been looking for her.
“Will ye tell me who ye really are?”
“I’m a fortune teller, lass. I’d rather nae tell ye more. But I ken who ye are—what ye are—and I can help ye.”
Jane remained motionless, her breath forming a warm cloud in the air. Somehow, she was not afraid of the woman.
The woman searched for hereyes, and when she saw no fear in them, she raised her hand from her dark cloak and extended it toward the girl.
Jane noticed that the woman's arms had been inked over with drawings. She quickly looked around and approached the gnarled fingers in front of her. The ink on the back of the hand was dark and rich, with an image of a bird in the center of a triple spiral symbol.
Up close, the woman’s silver eyes felt even colder. When the hag spoke, Jane felt the same unease as earlier, but she ignored the feeling and listened to her instead.
“Ye are the daughter of truth, and the coils of candor are wrapped so tightly around yer mind that nae one could speak a lie tae ye. The little voice deep inside ye whispers that ye should nae believe lies. And the weight of mistruths scream in yer head, harsh and hard, do they nae? Is thattrulyyer burden, lass?”
Jane nodded, and the woman shook her head, bowing over Jane’s hand.
“There’s more, bairn, much more. It is too heavy for yer young shoulders tae bear, but bear it they must, for yer truth could break and birth kingdoms.”
The woman’s words cloaked her in warmth albeit not comprehending their meaning.
“Yer duty comes at a cost, for this is a dangerous power. Ye can use yer knowledge of truth and mistruth for yerself, but ye shouldnevertell another soul if someone lies to them. Do ye understand?”
“And what if I do?” Jane questioned in a whisper.
“Never, lass, never!” the woman gasped. “Better ignorance than the truth for others. If ye do, there shall be consequences. Ye shall lose the power of truth forever. Doom awaits ye only down the path of altruism!”
The sky above was darkened by clouds, and the woman's eyes flashed with fire. Jane felt fear creep over her body for the first time, and she yanked her hand away,staggeringback. The fortune teller moved forward at a breakneck pace,grabbingJane once more—her bony hands clutchinghers with an iron grip.
“There is something more that ye should ken. There is a man with whom ye cannae ever use yer gift. Yer powers will nae work with him… unless ye wish for yer death. This man is a herald that shrouds the eye of truth with darkness. And yet, ye will want to trust him. Beware that man, for he utters only the demise of the daughter of truth. Sense his soul before ye put yer trust in him. Yer fate cannae be escaped, lass. He holds it in his hands.”
The woman'sgrip loosened slightly, and Jane pulled away.
Runningback through the alley as quickly as she could, she ignoredthe wicked cackle and the echoes of her voice shouting five words at her.
Yer fate cannae be escaped.
None of it made sense. How was she the daughter of truth? Why would she trust the man who would announce her demise?
Her legs had barely taken her out into the daylight when she landed in her mother’s arms.