Prophet of the Gods

Chapter 3: The Test

The next two days passed in a blur. Mira accompanied Gen to visit Celeste's on the other side of town. Celeste's Otherworldly Emporium was a magical place. Marble floors (fake of course), pearly white pillars, and a domed ceiling made of mosaic tiles. Genevieve could still remember the awe and wonder she experienced stepping into the shop for the first time at 10 and she only wished she could experience it again. 

The shock and excitement she felt at seeing the rows and rows of vials, flasks, and potions. The aisles of painstakingly organized powders, salts, and soaps. The tables piled with amulets, gemstones, and minerals. The bookshelves crammed with taro cards, palm reading kits, and grimoires. Anything special and magical you ever dreamed of, everything you could possibly want, all of it was there. 

Technically, it wasn't all "legal" but Celeste was good and trusted in their town. Her shop has been open for decades without any worry of being shut down. 

And Celeste.  With her chocolate colored skin as smooth as silk, ebony hair, appraising amber eyes, and her many spiritual tattoos and amulets, she was a sight as amazing as her store. Her dresses were floral and flowing, her shoes never without a heel, and eyes never bare of bright eye shadow. Most importantly, her face never devoid of a smile. 

Saying goodbye to her was hard. Celeste had always been there for her and she felt embarrassed about ever doubting that she would never give her secret up. Celeste gave her a jar of Sleeping Pills free of charge and hugged her so tightly she could smell the rosemary lavender scent of her perfume. 

Now Genevieve was all set. She had a canvas bag filled with everything she needed: her pajamas, a few dresses, one especially nice dress ("Maybe you'll go to a ball!" said Mira earlier), her Puring Salt, the Sleeping Pills, some layers even though she'd be nice and warm in the castle, and a hairbrush from Mother. Gen was going to miss sitting with her in the parlor and talking to her as Mother brushed the knots from her hair and braided it. 

Mira was already sniffling as she followed Genevieve outside their home. Gen opened her arms and Mira ran to her immediately. As she hugged her sister, she looked at her humble home. It was small with thin wooden walls, two windows, and a sagging roof, but it was their house. The missing piece of the front door was from when Mira was playing  a game of Nacck with some friends and one kid hit the ball too hard and it went straight through the flimsy door. The crack in the front window was when Genevieve tripped on one of Mother's baskets, and hit the wall. Her head ached for days. The dusty old door mat was a gift from Father's sister when she came to visit a few years ago. 

Soon she could feel tears coming into her eyes. She wiped them quickly. It was too early for crying. Mother was next to say goodbye. She pulled Gen close, and they swayed in their embrace. 

"Be strong," she said, wiping her eyes too. "I love you so much and I'll miss you so much, but don't waste this opportunity Genny."

"I won't," she promised. She'd do her best to keep that promise. 

Father was last, and perhaps the most difficult. He was a man of few words, and sentiment always left him a bit flustered, but he was genuine and kind. 

"Gen," he said simply, and she rushed into his arms. She gave up on holding back the tears. "This is a good thing," he said. "You're going to wow those stuffy aristocrats." Father's opinions about the royals were similar to her own. 

She smiled, "We'll see. I'm one of three candidates. They could be better than me." They probably are. Most other prophets she's heard of (it's a rare gift) seem to be richer and more well off. They can afford expert tutors to help them improve and hone in their talent. She was never even tested, let alone taught.