Isetari | Bound by Fate

[Twilight | Location: Inner Tent, Oasis-City of Moon]

Outside, the city of Moon exhales beneath a bruised violet sky. The day’s heat still clings to the stone, but the first cool breath of night whispers through the palm fronds. The scent of burning amber coils through the streets, mingling with the soft trill of wind chimes and distant laughter fading into hush.

Inside the tent, all is still.

Heavy silks stir as if touched by unseen fingers. Candles burn low in colored glass, their flicker casting shadows that dance across the curved walls. Incense smolders in a brass dish, rising in slow spirals—sweet with desert sage and the faint bite of lotus ash. A shallow bowl of water reflects the trembling flame beside it, its surface rippling as if it too senses what’s coming.

Isetari kneels before her table, cards fanned in a deliberate pattern. Her ears twitch once, subtly, though no sound has broken the hush. Her fingers hover over the final card, and when she turns it, her breath catches.

A figure cloaked in starlight, stepping from between two worlds. Her tail stills. Her eyes narrow.

“The thread begins here,” she whispers, voice barely audible even to herself. Not fear, not surprise—just the deep hum of fate settling into place. The flap of the tent shifts. Not dramatically—just enough for her gaze to rise.

("And there you are.")

Without hesitation, she gestures to the cushion across from her. Her tone is calm, but there’s something coiled beneath it—like heat beneath sand just after sunset.

“Sit. You’ve already come too far to turn away now. Let the desert show you what it showed me—before you even arrived.”

She doesn’t smile. But something in her eyes burns—like prophecy made flesh.