Zephyra Point of View

There are few things in life more delicious than returning to your psychic counselling room after a long break.

That first whiff of lavender-soaked floorboards.

That gentle creak of the mystical stool that holds more secrets than my uncle's tax history.

And of course—the chair.

My throne. My soul seat. My spinny-chair of theatrical revelations.

I sat down with a dramatic whoosh, whipped my scarf around my neck like a spiritual fashion icon, and whispered to myself, "Miss Fairy is officially in session."

To my left, there is my crystal ball, polished to a divine gleam with organic cucumber wipes.

To my right, there is shelves stacked with lovingly hand-crafted charms, each labeled in my sacred chicken-scratch script, because nothing says "divine power" like glitter pen and chaotic handwriting.

Prosperity in Chaotic Job Interviews

Love but Only if They're Tall

No Ghosts After 8 PM

Make Mother-in-Law Like You - Charm not guaranteed.

Banishing Awkward Silences at Dinner Tables

Summon Confidence for Karaoke Nights

Prevent Plants from Judging You Spiritually

And standing behind me like a giggling bodyguard in pearls is my mother-in-law. She was clutching a notepad like she was about to intern for Hogwarts.

She laughed so hard she had to sit down and clutch her rosary-slash-reading-glasses-chain. Honestly, I adore her. Even if she follows me around like I'm a glass teacup filled with endangered glitter. Every time I sneeze, she looks ready to summon an ambulance, an herbalist, and a Buddhist monk just in case.

But still. I missed this. I missed me.

Pregnancy had temporarily transformed me into a nesting potato with an astrology app addiction.

Now I was back.

Back in my zone. Back in my glory. Back in my stylish scarf and psychic eyeliner.

I took a deep breath, lit a stick of cinnamon sage incense (for spiritual sassiness), and activated "Seer Mode."

I closed my eyes and slowly tilted my head back like I was connecting to cosmic WiFi.

I let one arm rise slowly, mysteriously, while the other gently tapped the crystal ball like it owed me rent.

I whispered to the air, "Show me what this room needs. What the energy says. What the aura craves."

A single feather from the dreamcatcher above drifted down. I caught it midair like a feathered ninja priestess.

"It begins," I murmured, dramatically standing.

I made the rounds of the room like a shamanic interior decorator, stopping at each candle to relight it with theatrical flair.

"This one shall burn for intuition." Spark

"This one for clarity." Spark

I floated back to my chair, tossed my scarf over one shoulder like a goddess about to deliver a monologue, and spun one full dramatic circle in my chair just because I could.

"Now," I declared to the universe, "let us prepare for whoever walks through that door next. Whether it be a lost soul, a confused romantic, or a man haunted by haunted furniture."

I dramatically picked up my divination cards and gave them a shuffle.

Then another.

Then a flair-filled, over-the-head, theatrical Las Vegas shuffle.

Oh? Weird!

How come the card shows danger and safety hand in hand?

I closed my eyes again and started the divination. I fluffed my hair like it was a magic antenna, adjusted my earrings, and cleared my throat dramatically.

"Spirits of the in-between, clients of destiny, and people with money and unresolved emotional tension—I am ready."

Suddenly, my wind chime jingled.

I gasped, placed my hands flat on the table, and widened my eyes to impossible psychic proportions.

"A client approaches."

I looked at the door. The beads swayed. The air shifted.

And I smiled, arms open, ready for fate.

"Let them come. Let their drama unfold."

Because darling—Miss Fairy is not just back.

And she is in full, prophetic, delightfully unhinged bloom.

I looked up—eyes already half-closed in that "I-see-your-secrets" kind of way—and there he was.

A silhouette framed by the dim light, sharp and deliberate. The kind of presence that doesn't just fill a room, but rearranges the air around it—quiet, precise, and a little dangerous. His movements were measured, as if every step was calculated, weighed, and approved by some unseen council.

I didn't know his name. Didn't need to. His aura spoke volumes: ambition wrapped in shadows, power laced with something colder, something sharper. The kind of energy that promised storms in a glass teacup and whispered of battles fought in boardrooms and back alleys alike.

He didn't announce himself. Didn't even bother with a handshake or a smile. Just that look—a silent question, heavy with the weight of unsaid threats and unspoken deals.

The room seemed to hold its breath. So did I.

He hesitated just a fraction before stepping fully inside, eyes sweeping the room like a seasoned hunter assessing prey—and, maybe, the hunter was a little curious about what the prey could see.

"Is this where the self-proclaimed psychic fairy holds court?" His voice was smooth but edged with something sharp, like velvet over a razor blade.

I didn't flinch. Instead, I gave him my trademark sly smile. "Depends on who's asking. But yes, this is the lair of Miss Fairy—part oracle and full-time expert in the weird and wonderful."

He paused, scanning the shelves lined with charms and trinkets—each one screaming of some kind of magic or madness. His gaze lingered on the row of candles flickering with unnatural colors, then settled on my crystal ball, its surface shimmering faintly as if alive.

I gestured to the chair across from me. "Sit. Tell me what brings you to my corner of the universe. Business, pleasure, or something deliciously complicated?"

He sat. Perfect posture. Hands folded neatly, but his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—were sharp as a blade. "I'm Shadowbane," he said, voice low.

"Hello Mr. Shadowbane, although, you are lying, still; welcome to my corner of the world. You can call me Miss Fairy."

I smiled, the kind of smile that suggested I knew a secret he hadn't even admitted to himself yet. "So, Mr. Shadowbane," I said, voice dripping with just the right amount of theatrical mystery, "What's the trouble that brings a man like you to a place like this?"

He hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before his eyes flicked to the row of amulets behind me. "I'm told you have... unique solutions," he said carefully, as if testing the waters. "Situations that don't quite fit the usual mold."

I leaned in, voice lowering into a conspiratorial whisper. "Unique is my middle name. Well, not literally—but it should be." I flicked my fingers casually, and the candles blazed brighter, shadows dancing like they knew more than they were letting on.

He studied me like I was a puzzle, then nodded. "There's someone. Someone... important. They've been... problematic. Interfering."

I raised an eyebrow. "Ah, the classic tale of trouble brewing in high places. But what kind of interference? Business? Personal? Or the messy mix of both?"

I watched him closely, the candlelight flickering across his sharp features, catching the subtle tension behind his carefully measured words.

"I don't deal in chaos for chaos's sake," I said softly, folding my hands on the table. "If you want someone out of the picture, there has to be a reason—a real one. Not just ambition dressed up as necessity."

He nodded, slow and deliberate, as if weighing how much to reveal. "There's a line. One I'm reluctant to cross. But it's been crossed against me first."

I leaned back, letting the silence stretch between us like a thin veil. "Go on."

He exhaled, voice low and steady. "There's a rival. Someone stronger. Smarter. More connected."

I traced a slow finger along the rim of my crystal ball, feeling the weight of the words. "And?"

"He's... effective. Efficient. Every move he makes casts a shadow over mine. Every gain I make feels like borrowed time. My name's on the boardroom door, but his name echoes louder."

I gave a small hum, "Sounds more like admiration than rivalry."

He flinched ever so slightly. "Admiration dies quickly when opportunity is strangled. When doors shut before you even knock."

"Still," I said, leaning forward just an inch, "that doesn't justify walking into a psychic's office asking for... let's say, unconventional solutions."

"I didn't come here for revenge," he said quickly. Then paused. "Not entirely."

I arched a brow. "And what did you come here for, Mr. Shadowbane?"

He looked at me then—really looked. No more scanning shelves or studying candles. His gaze locked with mine, cold and clear.

"To level the field."

I leaned back again, fingers steepled, quietly noting the slight shift in the crystal ball's glow.

"And this... person," I said carefully, "What exactly do you want from me regarding him?"

There was a beat of silence.

"His name is Idris Cruz Valen," he said.

The flames on the candles twitched. The air pulled taut. Even my mother-in-law, who had been quietly flipping through a notebook behind the curtain, froze mid-page.

"And I want him to be a failure."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Hello Sweeties,

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Who is this Shadowbane and why is he against Idris?

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