Page 36 of Found in Obscurity

He’d never had an affinity for herbs or plants, he’d killed even the simplest succulent in his city apartment, and rituals sent him to sleep, much to his grandma’s continued consternation. Potion work turned out like most of his attempts at cooking—burned and barely recognizable. Heating things up was the height of his skill set. Crystals lay inert under his touch and the moon never sang to him. The elements treated him like any other normie on the street.

It didn’t matter how many books he’d read as a kid, all through to adulthood. He knew the theory, but the application never worked. It had only solidified his decision to bail out of this life.

So flipping through the dusty tomes now felt like an exercise in futility.

Had anything ever called to him? His grandmother had certainly never mentioned anything, and he’d bet his left kidney that she would have held that over his head if she could have.

He flipped another page in the book The Owner had given him, scanning the intricately drawn runes on the page. He traced them with the tips of his nails, wishing he could make sense of them. Kit was nosing the book he’d chosen next to him, flipping the pages for him even though Lorin wasn’t reading them. It was such a sweet gesture though that Lorin didn’t have the heart to stop him.

Time passed like that. Lorin couldn’t tell exactly how long from this deep into the shop. There wasn’t any natural light that reached back here. What was curious, however, was that no other person entered the shop while he was there.

It was eerily empty. Just Lorin, Kit, and The Owner.

Eventually, Kit grew tired of being a page turner and curled up in his lap. He seemed a little sulky, and Lorin felt bad, giving him a few extra pets and deciding that he’d grab a treat for him on the way home.

Which should probably be around now. He didn’t want to be caught out in bad weather before he could get back to the cabin.

He closed the books and was about to gather his things when a long, slender shape slinked into the chair opposite as if emerging from the shadows themselves.

Lorin screamed. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Kit popped his head back up to see what was going on.

The Owner smiled, about a hundred white teeth on display. “Any luck?”

Lorin fought down his shiver. “No. Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow—”

“Take it with you. On the house.”

“Oh…uh…I couldn’t—”

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” The Owner said.

Lorin was rendered speechless at the blunt forthrightness. “Thank you?”

The Owner said nothing in response to that, instead reaching into his pocket and laying a rectangular silk pouch on the table between them.

“Have you ever drawn cards?” The Owner asked suddenly.

Lorin sucked in a sharp breath, inching backward in his seat like the innocuous cards would jump out of the pouch and attack him. Lorin had always been fearful of his own fate. “No. Never.”

“Just as I thought.” The Owner tilted his head then. “Would you like to?”

Lorin clenched his jaw. “No.”

“I don’t offer the chance to just anybody, you know.” The Owner smiled, leaning in. “Only a special few.”

“No offense, but I've had about enough of my fate being dictated to me for one month,” Lorin said, remembering the flower crown and looking down at the marks on his fingertips.

The end of a cane landed in his palm, and he jerked his head back up, startled. Kit gave a muffled growl.

The Owner was staring at him with a mysterious gaze that seemed to sink further and further inward, like a spiral. Lorin was afraid if he got sucked in he’d never find his way out. It was terrifying.

“A single card,” he said, his voice a whisper.

Lorin swallowed, his mouth completely dry, heart hammering in his ears.

It was like the room had become suspended in time. Everything was dead stillness and unnerving silence. He clutched Kit closer on his lap, feeling him curl up tighter, his ears going flat like he’d sensed the oppressive power that had blanketed the room like a heavy cloak.

“Fine.”