As I stood in the sunlight, trying to understand how this could possibly be a vision—it felt more like I was looking backward, not forward into the future—a woman strode purposefully into the room.
Her hair was tightly drawn back into a bun, and her clothes were old-fashioned—a simple dress with a small bustle at the waist, and a white pinafore covering it. Ignoring me completely, she walked over to the fireplace, and, kneeling down, proceeded to sweep up the ashes fallen from the grate.
“Hello?” I called, wondering if she’d seen me.
I was ignored, and, approaching the fireplace, I realized she had no idea I was there. Clearly, this was a benefit of the visions—never having to explain how I’d just miraculously appeared in a place, or what I was doing there.
I kept watching the woman as she cleared the ash, noticing the perspiration building on her forehead and the attractive silhouette of her face, before I eventually realized she was blind. It hadn’t been immediately noticeable because of the effectiveness of her work and the sure way in which she’d crossed the room—it was only after some time that I realized her sight was fixed at a point ahead of her, not on the task she was performing.
“Are you going to be down there all day?” A sharp voice pierced through the room. I turned to see another woman at the door, much older than the blind woman, grossly overweight, with a rolling pin clutched in her chubby hand.
“I’m sorry,” the blind woman replied meekly, brushing faster.
I frowned at the woman in the doorway, wishing I could say something. The fact that she could sweep a fireplace at all was a feat in itself.
“Lord above,” the large woman cried, “what she and the master were thinking when they hired a blind scrap like you, I’ll never know!” She waved the rolling pin in the air, tutting dismissively at the woman before storming off—no doubt to berate someone else. I strode swiftly to the doorway, noticing the frantic action that lay outside the room. There were servants everywhere, dressed in a finer manner than the blind woman, but just as preoccupied in their work, carrying tables and chairs along the hallway, and sweeping and dusting the main entrance.
I was about to leave the blind woman and investigate when she cried out. Turning, I saw her bent double in pain. The dustpan brush tumbled to the floor, sending soot flying everywhere. I hurried over to her, forgetting I couldn’t help, but froze on the spot as she arched her back in pain. Shadows started to appear on her skin, taking the form of strange runes flittering across her face and arms. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her mouth open and gasping for breath.
She was an Oracle! The realization surprised me and I took a closer look at her figure, noting she had no breasts—suggesting an absence of reproductive organs that I knew the Oracle twins also lacked. But what was the daughter of a jinni and a witch doing here? Living as a lowly servant?
Before I could discover more about what was going on here, I felt the headache return, my vision blurring, and the room starting to spin.
When I opened my eyes, and the headache receded once more, I found myself back in the same house. This time, it looked more familiar—the wallpaper was starting to age, and I was on the second floor where our bedrooms were, surrounded by the same oddities that existed there now—the stuffed animals, the piles of books and worn-out carpet. As I was looking around, noting the still silence of the house, a young boy ran out from one of the rooms, clutching a leather-bound notebook, the same book Serena had found. It was the diary of the Oracle “Elissa”, and he waved it about in the air, laughing as he tore past me.
“You little monster!” A laughing voice echoed down the hallway, and the same woman I’d seen in the last vision—the Oracle—stepped out from the same room the kid had just exited. Her face was lit up in a smile, the stern hairstyle gone, leaving tumbling auburn locks flowing across her shoulders. She started to chase the boy, running past me. I wanted to reach out and stop her, suddenly realizing she was no longer blind. Her eyes were fixed on the corridor, but I was absolutely sure she was taking it all in. I followed the pair of them into another room—the last in the hallway, where the girls were currently sleeping.
“Give it back!” the Oracle exclaimed.
The boy dove under the sheets of the bed, hiding beneath them as he giggled. The Oracle leapt on the bed, throwing back the sheets. She grabbed the boy, tickling his stomach and making mock-growling noises as he laughed helplessly and called out for someone to save him.
“Elissa’s a monster!” he crowed. “Help me!”
“Better a monster than a thief, little man!” She laughed, blowing raspberries into the back of his neck. I smiled despite myself, glad that the Oracle was laughing, and clearly very much in love with the little boy. Somehow her circumstances must have changed—whether it was because she’d regained her sight, or something else, I couldn’t tell.