That
morning, the pull of curiosity lured me toward a quaint corner of the city, one
unmarked on my daily maps. Friends had chattered about a novel café nestled
there, a hidden gem with perfect pies. As I wandered in search of this culinary
oasis, a peculiar storefront caught my gaze. It bore a resemblance to a fortune
teller's sanctuary I had once visited - a memory that brought me an
uncomfortable shiver.
I intended to ignore the shop, but my steps faltered when I saw a luna moth battering against the window pane desperate for freedom. A sudden whisper of déjà vu. Compelled by a mingling of compassion and an unspoken yearning, I entered the shop under the guise of a rescuer. With careful hands, I liberated the moth into the city's embrace.
"A man of a kind heart," commented a voice, silken and warm. Turning, I met the shopkeeper's eyes, which twinkled like stars above his snowy beard. He smiled at me as if we were old friends.
"It's but a trifle," I replied, hoping to deflect. "Besides, moths have taken a peculiar interest in me lately. It's as if they are following me."
"How intriguing," he mused, his eyes alight with curiosity. "In my many years, I have never heard of a stalker moth."
I chuckled, dismissing it as a flight of fancy. Yet, there was an ease about him that unraveled my reservations, and I found myself recounting the dream that had disturbed my previous night.
He listened, nodding thoughtfully. "These moths are not your pursuers but your patrons," he suggested. "The one you freed was merely fulfilling its role as your guide, leading you here."
His words left me pondering. Was it fate or mere coincidence that brought me to this threshold?
The shop was a haven of tranquility, with the smell of burning frankincense mingling with the sweet scent of resins, and music that seemed to slow the very passage of time.
"We're convening a spiritual séance," he offered with a gentle invitation in his voice. "Would you care to join?"
Skepticism warred with intrigue. "I'm not a believer," I admitted, yet even as I spoke, my protest felt hollow.
"There's no need for belief to seek understanding," he countered gently. "Speaking with spirits can unveil many truths. Their insights are often... unexpectedly profound."
And so, curiosity, that most human of instincts, nudged me toward the precipice of the unknown. "Why not?" I thought. "It may yet prove to be an enlightening diversion."
As I
consented to the experience, the shopkeeper led me to the séance room, the
heart of mysteries within the shop. It was a place set apart from the mundane,
a sanctuary where the veil between worlds was thin. The walls held frames with images of mediums involved in séances, the silent witnesses watching me with anticipation.
The centerpiece was a robust table, its surface worn by hands and time. Around it, chairs with crimson cushions invited the participants to sit and shed the weight of the corporeal world. A tall candelabrum with burning candles stood at the table's center. Their flames were flickering as if touched by invisible spirits.
Shelves laden with books on esoteric lore, globes charting celestial paths, and instruments of divination hinted at the depth of knowledge that the shop and its owner possessed. As the soft music continued to play, weaving a spell of serenity, I took my place at the table, a skeptic in a room of believers, ready
to witness the unseen.
The séance
began with the gentle hum of the music weaving through the air, a haunting
melody that seemed to echo from a distant, forgotten time. At the head of the
table, the lady, who looked as though she had stepped out from a
Victorian portrait, closed her eyes. Her lips moved in rhythm with the
tune, her voice a soft chant that rose and fell like the tide.
The room held its breath as the medium's chant crescendoed, culminating in the clear ring of a bell. Her
announcement was simple, yet it carried the weight of centuries: “The spirits are here. Ask what you came to ask.”
A shiver crawled up my spine, a primal reaction I couldn't control. My skepticism battled with the
part of me that wanted... needed to know. “What do you know about the Brotherhood of the Luna Moth?” I asked, my voice a whisper barely rising above the music.
Silence draped over the room, thick and expectant, broken only by the medium's deep, rhythmic breaths.
Then, without warning, her eyes snapped open—white, utterly devoid of iris or pupil. Her head tilted back in an unnatural arch, and her breathing turned to a gurgling rasp that raised the hairs on the back of my neck.
I wanted to flee, to call for the shop owner's aid, but I was rooted to the spot. Her head snapped
forward, and those white eyes fixed on me with an intensity that seemed to peer into my very soul.
“You are given so many signs, yet you are riddled with doubt,” she spoke, her voice unnaturally low
and resonating with an authority that belied her frail form. “It is not only you who lurk in the void. There are powers within the void that seek you out. Cease your neglect of their calls. Heed the signs before it is too late. Come, and play your part in this game or else... regret the consequences!”
Her message struck me, leaving me petrified, an icy grip of fear clutched my heart. As quickly as the
trance came, it left. The medium's body relaxed, her breathing returned to normal, and her eyes found their natural color once more. She smiled, a stark contrast to the ominous conduit she had just been.
“Oh dear, look at you! You are as white as a marble wall! I take it this was your first encounter with
the spirits?” Her voice was now tender, motherly. “Fear not. They mean to assist you on your path to enlightenment. Come, let us ask Wilfred for some tea.”
She led me, my legs moving as though they were not my own, back into the main shop. The shopkeeper,
Wilfred, greeted us with a chuckle. “You look as if you've seen a ghost! Hardly the skeptic now, are we?”
His laughter was a lifeline back to reality. He handed me a cup of tea, the steam carrying the
fragrance of herbs that promised calm. I took a sip and felt the warmth seeping into my bones.
“Thank you,” I managed to say, the experience leaving me at a loss for words.
Wilfred's eyes twinkled with a knowing look. “Sometimes,” he said, “a cup of tea can be the best medium to bring us back to ourselves. Drink up. The path of enlightenment is seldom a tranquil journey, but it is always a revealing one.”
This experience is made with:
..::THOR::..
Midnight Library Set (available at the Access Event or in the shop after event ends)
Midnight Library Chair
Midnight Library Ladder
Midnight Library Bookshelf
Midnight Library Bookstand
Midnight Library Astronomy Book
Midnight Library Globe
Midnight Library Books 1
Midnight Library Books 2
[InsurreKtion]
The Seance Set (available at Seraphim Outlet with 50% discount)
Table
Armchair
Console
Chandelier Silver
Candlelight Silver
Spirits Bell
Spirits ##1 - 7
VARONIS La Chandelle // Skybox
Titans
Victorian Apothecary
Rug
BookShelf 1
Sconce
[n.i] nefarious.inventions
tintypes
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