Record: Hidden Truths

1
A ragged woman stumbles through a dim alleyway.
Her skin is filthy, her hair dry and frizzy.
She has not eaten in days⁠; a bony hand presses against her empty stomach as if trying to keep starvation at bay.
Yet a light remains in her eyes as she focuses on the dazzling sights of the main street.
On the lively trade that brought about all this wealth.
And on the splendid palace tower that looms beyond all the beautifully dressed people.
It is close— /so/ close. And yet, it remains impossibly distant.
Would you like a taste of that life?
The words comes from a fortune teller said to see everything—just as she did the secret corners of the woman's heart.
The scryer's hair shines and sways as she approaches the woman.
Her clothes are darker than a memory of midnight.
She whispers: Clean yourself up, head to the beach tonight, and look up at the moon.
Do this, and your fated partner will take you from this wretched life.
The words slip easily into the cracks and crevices that mar the woman's heart.
The woman does as the fortune teller bids: she bathes, brushes her hair, mends her clothes to the best of her abilities, and makes for the beach.
Despite the scryer's reputation for accuracy, the woman wonders if she can truly escape her current life.
Yet the moon above glimmers merrily, so if the plan comes to naught, she will simply think of it as a nighttime stroll.
And as she soothes herself⁠...
Excuse me? A well-dressed man with fervor in his eyes appears at her side.
It is as though the moonlight illuminates only him.
/He's here/, thinks the woman as she holds a breath that might never again be released.

2
A wretched woman and a finely-dressed man gaze at one another on a moonlit beach.
I have never met another as beautiful as you, breathes the man.
He pays no mind to the woman's shoddy clothing.
Jewelry glimmers on the bashful man's neck.
Golden embroidery and polished shell buttons shine on his sleeves.
There is no doubt in the woman's mind: /This/ is the man fated by the fortune teller.
All her words were true.
The woman wants to dance. To sing.
But she suppresses her wild impulses and waits for what the man will say next.
To her great shock, he claims to be nobility and asks for her hand in marriage.
If she accepts, she will never again worry about food or shelter.
Misery will be but a distant memory.
She lays her thin, bony hand upon his.
/Will he notice I am a lowly pauper?/
She allows such doubts to disappear in the depths of her heart.
With powerful arms, the man pulls her gaunt figure into an embrace.
Thus marks the beginning of a dreamlike time.
The following day, the woman visits a small tent.
When she tells the fortune teller what has transpired, the scryer smiles and offers her blessing.
I am happy for you, she says.
But remember this: You must never look upon him with doubt if you wish to hold onto this happiness.
There is an ominous glint in the fortune teller's mysterious eyes⁠—almost as if she sees through all.
And under that gaze, the woman remains convinced of her happiness, boldly claiming she will never doubt her beloved.
But the fortune teller gently reminds her: /Never./

3
The woman is satisfied with her new marriage.
After a lifetime knowing only wretched streets and dim alleyways, this is her first true happiness.
She devotes herself wholly to her husband, working harder than any servant.
But one day while he is out, she finds a scrap of paper under a carpet she is cleaning.
The fortune teller's voice replays in her mind.
/You must never look upon him with doubt./
After a moment of hesitation, she picks it up.
Handwritten numbers snake back and forth across the paper.
It is a bond of debt.
Her husband is a usurer who lends money out at illegally high interest rates.
Though the woman is illiterate due to her poor upbringing, she immediately recognizes what she is holding, and knows it to be a thing most shameful.
But she decides right and wrong are of little consequence if she is to continue this life.
She loves him, after all.

A moment later, her husband storms into the room, his face twisted with fury.
The overturned carpet. The paper in her hand.
These are reason enough for him.
You were going to betray me! he screams.
The woman desperately shakes her head as his threatening countenance looms over her.
But when he leaps at her to reclaim the paper, she stumbles backward.
Her head collides with a jar resting on the floor.
Blood flows. Her vision blacks. A moment later, she is still.

4
You knew this would happen!
Having killed his wife, the man storms the fortune teller's tent and begins to rage.
His breath is ragged, the whites of his eyes large as saucers.
He looks ready to attack her at any moment.
But though passersby are agitated by the sight, the fortune teller seems utterly fearless.
Did I not warn you to never look upon your wife with doubt?
Indeed, that is what the fortune teller told him the day
he and the woman met beneath the moonlight.
The woman gazing at the moon on the beach is your fated partner, she informed him.
But you must never look upon her with doubt.
The fortune teller had put their fates in the palm of her hand and set them to dance.
Her eyes narrow ominously.
Her fingertips twitch mischievously.
Her smile is obvious, even beyond her veil.
At last, the man realizes her true intent.
His anger explodes, and he lunges at her.
But his hands never finds their target.
This man killed his wife.
At her calm voice, hidden guards step out and pin the man to the ground.
The both of you could have remained happy had you not doubted her, she says with a shake of the head.
The man screams as he is lead away, flecks of foam and spittle flying from his lips.
Beneath her veil, the fortune teller grins. It is an expression of ecstasy, as though she has just tasted the sweetest of fruits.