The market square was a riot of noise and color, the midday sun reflecting off the brass pots of the rchants and the bright silks of the shoppers. Ashlyn moved through the crowd, her head held high, followed closely by her maid who struggled under the weight of several heavy packages.
Ashlyn had spent the morning spending. She had bought expensive wine, rare tobacco, and a set of gold-inlaid daggers—gifts for the generals Carlos needed to impress. She had mortgaged her mother’s estate, trading her security for a gamble, but she felt confident.
The plan was in motion.
"Be careful with that box, Myra," Ashlyn snapped, glancing back. "Those bottles are worth more than your life."
"Yes, My Lady," Myra panted, adjusting her grip.
Ashlyn turned back, her mind already calculating the next step. She wasn’t watching where she was going.
She turned a sharp corner around a fabric stall and slamd directly into soone.
"Oh!" Ashlyn cried out, stumbling back. She grabbed the edge of the stall to steady herself.
The person she had hit was a woman. She was dressed in simple, grey robes, her hair covered by a plain veil. She held a wooden staff, and her eyes were covered by a thin, white cloth, suggesting she was blind. A priestess.
Ashlyn quickly smoothed her dress, annoyed but mindful of her public image. "My apologies," she said, her voice polite but clipped. "I did not see you there."
The priestess didn’t move. She stood perfectly still in the bustling market, an island of calm. She turned her head slowly, her blindfolded eyes seeming to fix directly on Ashlyn’s face.
Ashlyn felt a shiver run down her spine. The woman’s presence was heavy, unsettling.
"You..." the priestess whispered. Her voice was raspy, like dry leaves.
Ashlyn frowned. "Excuse ?"
The priestess took a step forward. She reached out a hand, her fingers hovering near Ashlyn’s aura.
"You radiate auspiciousness," the priestess declared. Her voice rose slightly, catching the attention of a few passersby. "A golden light surrounds you."
Ashlyn blinked. Auspiciousness? That sounded good.
"Your household," the priestess continued, tilting her head as if listening to a voice only she could hear, "will produce a Commander. A great man who will lead the greatest armies of the kingdom."
Ashlyn’s heart skipped a beat. A Commander. That was exactly what Carlos was trying to beco. That was exactly what happened in her past life.
"And you," the priestess said, pointing a finger at Ashlyn’s chest, "you will rise swiftly. You will sit high above others."
Ashlyn felt a thrill of validation. It was true. It was all true.
She smiled, a genuine, delighted smile. She curtsied deeply, showing respect to the seer.
"Thank you for your blessings, wise one," Ashlyn said. "Your words bring great comfort."
She turned to Myra. She gestured to the maid’s pocket.
"Give the priestess a silver coin," Ashlyn instructed. "For her temple."
Clara fumbled with her load, shifting the boxes to one arm. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a shiny silver coin. She placed it in the priestess’s outstretched hand.
The priestess closed her fingers around the coin. But she didn’t leave. She stood there, her head cocked.
"My Lady," the priestess spoke again, her voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper that only Ashlyn could hear.
Ashlyn leaned in.
"You have accumulated rits," the priestess said slowly. "In your last life."
Ashlyn froze. The blood drained from her face. The noise of the market seed to fade away, leaving only the sound of her own heartbeat.
Last life?
"To gain this opportunity," the priestess continued, "you must grasp it firmly. Do not let the past slip through your fingers again."
Ashlyn stared at the blind woman. Her mind was reeling. No one knew. No one knew she had lived before. No one knew she had died in a fire and woken up in the past. It was her deepest, darkest secret.
"She knows," Ashlyn thought, terror and awe mixing in her chest. "She knows I was reborn. She is not just an ordinary priestess. She is truly a seer. A real one."
Master Orion had been a showman, a paid actor. But this woman... she had seen the soul.
The priestess turned to leave. She tapped her staff on the cobblestones, walking away into the crowd.
Ashlyn couldn’t let her go. This was a sign. This was guidance.
"Please wait!" Ashlyn called out.
She rushed forward. She reached out and grabbed the priestess’s hand. Her grip was desperate.
"Priestess!" Ashlyn said. "Wait!"
The priestess stopped. She turned her head slowly back to Ashlyn.
"What do you want from ?" she asked. Her voice was neutral, neither kind nor cruel.
Ashlyn looked around. The market was busy. She needed to be careful.
"My husband," Ashlyn whispered, pulling the priestess slightly out of the flow of traffic. "He will soon leave for the assessnt. The military trial."
She looked at the priestess with pleading eyes.
"He has already written to the generals," Ashlyn explained quickly. "He has sent gifts. He has been granted an audience. It is happening soon. But I am afraid. There are... obstacles."
She thought of Marissa. She thought of Derek.
"Could you bless us?" Ashlyn asked. "Could you bless us with your guidance? Tell what to do to ensure his victory. Tell how to secure the future you saw."
The priestess stood silent for a mont. She seed to be weighing Ashlyn’s soul.
Then, she smiled. It was a thin, knowing smile beneath the veil.
"Guidance is not free, child," the priestess said.
"I will pay," Ashlyn promised instantly. "Whatever you need. I have money."
The priestess nodded.
"Very well," she said. "et at the old shrine by the river at sunset. Bring your husband. And bring an offering worthy of a commander."
Ashlyn’s eyes lit up. "I will. We will be there."
The priestess pulled her hand away.
"Wait!" She paused. " Don’t co any longer. I’ve been instructed to give you my guidance."
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