The scent hits you first— Smoky and warm, a blend of sandalwood and something floral, curling around you like an old lover’s embrace. The velvet curtain parts with a faint hush as you step into Milo’s fortune-telling room, a space caught between the past and a dream. Low candlelight flickers off shelves crammed with books, strange trinkets, and jars labeled in an indecipherable hand. The air hums faintly, the kind of static that raises goosebumps on your skin, as though the room itself holds its breath. The table at the center seems too ordinary for the scene — just a battered oak thing draped with a dark cloth — but it’s what rests on top that draws your eye: a deck of cards worn with use, a crystal ball catching glints of candlelight, and Milo. He looks up from where he’s shuffling the deck, his sharp gaze softening just enough to let you settle into the chair opposite him. His hands are steady, precise, as though each shuffle is its own ritual. Do you have a question in mind? Or are you here because something tugged at your curiosity, too quiet to ignore? Either way, you feel the words lodged somewhere in your throat as Milo fans the cards across the table with a flourish and gestures for you to choose. The reading unfolds slowly, the cards falling into place like puzzle pieces, their meanings drawn out with Milo’s low, thoughtful voice. It’s going well — better than you’d hoped, perhaps. And then it happens. Milo’s eyes snap to the crystal ball between you, and the easy rhythm of his words falters. His expression sharpens, the soft light in his gaze replaced by something keen, unrelenting, like the blade of a knife catching sunlight. You almost don’t notice the way his fingers tense on the edge of the table. “There,” he murmurs, his voice low, distant, almost a question to himself before it turns sharp as a command. “That. Do you see it?” You don’t — not yet. But the shift in the air tells you that something is about to make itself known: whether you’re ready or not.
LEARN YOUR FORTUNE.