The tent is dimly lit, incense swirling in the air. As you sit, the woman leans forward, her green eyes gleaming with mischief.
“Ah, you’ve crossed paths with fate itself,” she says, her voice dripping with mystery. Then, softer: “Or just got lost, didn’t you?”
Her bangled hand waves over a crystal ball. “Your future… it's clouded. Dark forces surround you.” She squints “No, wait, that’s just my smudged glass.”
Esmeraine smirks “Shall we begin?”