Divination Through Cards

I didn't care what Rav would say. She was a very adorable, awkward woman—way more cute than her character in the game suggested.

We ended up losing track of time, and before we knew it, we had skipped dinner. It never went beyond kissing and holding, but we were both very honest about the fact that we only did it for so long because of everything we were trying to not do. Being able to admit that to each other was refreshing…

We enjoyed some late-night snacks, she stayed over, and we slept through until the morning. When she left, she remembered to tell me that she would be taking me to the depths in one or two weeks. We had to time it right, for when the right people were working, apparently.

I was fine with that.

Ravela went on her way, and I went on mine… straight to Otlan’s home.

***

“Cards, a simple question comes to you,” Mava said, shuffling her frayed-edged deck with a grin too wide for her small face.

On the couch nearby, cranky old Otlan grunted and flipped his newspaper. “I never thought I could live in a nightmare, yet here I am.”

“Hush, you,” Mava barked. Then she turned to me with a bright smile. “Are you ready, deary?”

I nodded. “Go for it.”

She shuffled the cards, pulled three, and flipped them, one by one.

“Oho… look at that,” she said. “The Morning Sign, the Gold-Eyed Pup, and the Unclouded Sky. That’s a good day if I’ve ever seen one. Tomorrow’s gonna treat you kindly, Timaeus.”

I blinked. “Really?”

She nodded, as if the cards had whispered the truth into her ears.

I couldn’t help it. She got a grin out of me.

Otlan groaned louder from the couch. “It’s a load of crap. Made-up gibberish from a deck of dirty cards.”

Mava stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re just mad the cards keep calling you the Hollow Bastard.”

“That happened once.”

“I shuffled twice and drew it again.”

I raised a brow. “There’s actually a card called the Hollow Bastard?”

She chuckled and turned back to me. “Ignore him, dearie. I’m feeling warmed up now. Let's try a harder question.”

Curious, I shifted my focus and activated Mana Vision.

Her entire hand looked alive, as if her circulatory system had kicked into high gear. Some sort of magic was activated, entirely without Mava’s knowledge.T here was no greater proof of what she was saying.

“I remember what you told me before: the more precise the time, the clearer the prediction.”

“Yes, dear. The cards love precision and clarity of question.”

I took a breath. “Can you tell me the city’s fate during the last week of the year?”

Mava’s smile faltered, just a little. “What a strange question.”

But she nodded, and shuffled again with more focus. Her fingertips twitched as she murmured something under her breath, barely audible. 

She drew a single card and flipped it over.

Her brow furrowed immediately. “Oh…”

“What?” I leaned in. “Oh, that’s really on the nose.

She tapped the card: a shattered tower with black birds circling it. “This is… not good. The Crumbling Spire. Ruin. Sudden or inevitable. Either way, not gentle.”

My throat tightened. “I see…”

“Destruction is usually paired with revival. In such situations, Destruction is a normal part of life.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “Sometimes, you have to destroy something to make something new.”

She nodded and drew another card. This one made her grimace.

“The Withering Crown,” she said quietly. “Decline. Not rebirth. If there’s a second act, it doesn’t begin here. Destruction followed by this cursed crown… Whatever survives the destruction will be met with continuous decline… In the context of our city, it means the survivors will survive only to die slowly.”

I sat back slowly. My gut churned. That checked out with one vague piece of lore from the later games.

Mava looked at me with an almost apologetic sadness.

“There’s a third card, right?” I asked.

She nodded and began shuffling again. “Let’s give them a good mix again,” she said, unnerved.

Otlan hollered from her spot. “Stop upsetting my wife, brat.”

“Otty! Stop! I’m doing important work here!” she barked back.

She smiled at me, licked her lips, and drew the card.

We both stared at it.

“Mava, it’s black.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Is that good?”

“No. It’s not good at all. It’s finality. Drawn third, it says there is nothing else that can be seen beyond the absoluteness of the other two cards.”

“Well… Shit.”

“This is… the most powerful fortune I have ever drawn...”

“Can I ask about someone else’s future?” I said after a pause. “Specifically, Lady Elsbeth’s. Same timeframe.”

“Hmm…” Mava scratched her cheek. “I remember her well enough. Kind girl. But I’d feel more confident if she were in front of me. Drawing like this, without her… It doesn’t fully connect me to the cards.”

I'd have to bring her around sometime. I’d have to get lucky with seeing her again…

“Do you think the future can be changed?” I asked. “You mentioned absoluteness earlier. Is this an absolute future?”

Mava leaned back, thoughtful. “My mentor once told me this: there are frivolous futures and stubborn ones. A frivolous future might say, ‘You’ll find a gold coin by your shoe,’ and all it takes is a step left instead of right to change it. Or maybe something like staying home. But a stubborn future? That’s like a falling star—too much motion behind it to stop with just a wish.”

I looked again at the Crumbling Spire.

“That destruction card,” she added, “feels stubborn. The other two cards further speak to that fact.”

I began making connections back to the games.

In the original game, you could reload a save and change things—your schedule, your conversations, your choices. Who you married. Day-to-day events you would trigger. Those were probably frivolous futures if they were ever delivered by a fortune teller.

But the ending? That was always the same. No matter how you played, Bastion Reach fell in the prologue, and the final boss would always be the same at the end.

A stubborn future.

Still… there was the second spinoff title.

That game had four endings. Two of them ended with the world worse than ever. Two others gave faint hope. The idea that endings could diverge was what made that game special. Fans were thinking it meant that the spinoff would be the final game in the series. I always thought they meant to make the next one the final game…

If this world were truly tied to those games, and those games were an accurate reflection… then maybe it was possible to change things. The second spinoff title suggested an ending could be changed within reason.

“I wish I could talk to god,” I muttered aloud. “Ask them directly if the future can be changed.”

Mava chuckled, but there was a twinkle in her eye. “If you try to change the future… are you wondering if the future will fight back?”

I glanced at her, surprised. “Something like that. Do you think it would?”

Mava tapped a nail against her deck. “Well, if you’re meddling with destiny… maybe the God of Destiny might notice.”

I straightened up. “Wait. There’s a God of Destiny?”

“Of course. Who do you think we diviners petition?” she said, almost playfully. “The god’s in the cards, dear. Always watching through the cards. Always listening through the cards. Some say they live in the silence between shuffles.”

I swallowed. That part about where they lived seemed a bit too fluffy, but if they were real, they would be the one to ask.

“So… Would a stubborn future fight back?” I asked.

Mava smiled and shuffled the cards. “Why not ask? There are… six cards I hope I will draw right now… But there is a specific version of the answer that I wish for.” She winked. “Want to pull?”

“Absolutely.”