Eight months ago.
Amidst the clamor of the marketplace, Mercuria appears to be searching for something.
She navigates through the crowd with a bundle of herbs in her hand.
Mercuria: Another one.
She spots a little ball of energy curled up in a corner and hurries over to it.
Mercuria: Gray, lifeless, moaning in pain.
She crouches down and presses her forehead against the small cluster of energy.
Mercuria: "Mother." It's saying, "mother."
With a flick of her fingers, Mercuria disperses the energy. It slowly reassembles.
Footsteps approach from behind her.
Soraya the Diviner: Huh? Aren't you the new girl at the market? What are you doing here?
Mercuria: Huh?
The woman's shadow casts over Mercuria's own. Mercuria turns and gazes upward, her eyes narrowed.
In the sunlight, her hair appears singed, dry, and rebellious.
Her facial features are distinctly Germanic, making her Romani attire seem almost like a costume.
Having gained Mercuria's attention, the woman turns her head to the side and shouts.
Soraya the Diviner: Yo, Bianca, get over here!
Bianca, the tarot reader, is sitting at a nearby open-air bar, savoring a glass of tequila.
Bianca the Tarotist: What?!
She responds with equal volume.
Soraya the Diviner: There's a girl here, or am I tripping again?
Bianca the Tarotist: Nope!
Bianca glances at Mercuria and brusquely spits out the slice of lemon she'd been chewing on.
Bianca the Tarotist: Just let her squat there and watch the ants, man!
Soraya the Diviner: Ugh, I'm not feeling well these days. I'm always dizzy, like someone's whispering in my ear and won't stop.
Bianca sets down her glass and walks over to Soraya, rubbing her palms.
Soraya the Diviner: Always pulling jokers when I'm playing cards, even though I swear I took them out, you know?
Bianca the Tarotist: Did you finish the meds Phoebe gave you?
Soraya the Diviner: You're always so over the top. You think Maich and Cooper got the same bug as me?
Soraya the Diviner: You felt any weird vibes lately?
Bianca the Tarotist: Well ...
Bianca pulls out a deck of tarot cards, shuffles them, and draws three.
Bianca the Tarotist: Wheel of Fortune, Four of Coins, Page of Coins.
Bianca the Tarotist: I keep pulling these cards lately. Is that weird or what?
Amidst their exchange, Mercuria quietly lights up the herb bundle in her hand.
Under the smoky haze, the ball of energy starts to fade away.
Mercuria scans her surroundings, ensuring the energy has completely vanished.
She swiftly locates some that have eluded capture.
Mercuria: Hem.
Mercuria extends her hand and lightly taps the hem of Soraya's skirt.
Soraya the Diviner: Whoops. Thanks. Must've picked up some dirt when I wasn't paying attention.
Bianca the Tarotist: Yeah, maybe your costume got caught on something. Ten bucks, and I'll lay out your spread.
Soraya the Diviner: This ain't just some "costume," it's my meal ticket—folks always trust a "gypsy" with their readings.
Soraya gently caresses her cuff, as if suddenly recalling something.
Soraya the Diviner: Besides, I can do my own readings, Bianca!
Amidst their dispute, Mercuria has already trotted away.
Bianca the Tarotist: …
Soraya the Diviner: Hmm? Where's she going?
Mercuria makes her way to a faded hemp tent. The sounds of disorder emanate from within.
Customer II: What you tryna pull, man? I came for lotto numbers, not alphabet soup!
Dexter is attending to a visibly irate man. He seems resigned to absorbing the full brunt of his complaints.
Customer II: You hit me with six letters? Dexter? Break it down for me, will ya? Please?
Dexter the Unlucky One: Emm, ugh ... Well, it's like this ...
Dexter's left leg begins to quiver. He's nervously rubbing his hands together.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Um, each letter stands for a number, like A is one, B is two, you get it?
Customer II: And what about the other twenty-four numbers?
Dexter the Unlucky One: The other twenty-four?
The customer hits the table so hard that the basket on top of it goes flying into the air.
Dexter recoils, enduring this furious storm.
Customer II: Lottery numbers go from one to fifty, ya moron! I ain't payin' ya for this crap!
With a final slap of the table, he departs.
Upon the customer's exit, Mercuria approaches.
Mercuria: You can't seem to focus at all.
Mercuria's voice, though emotionless, is more pleasant than the customer's bellowing.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Hello, Ba ... Oh! Sorry, Ms. Barbara's next in line.
Mercuria: I'm just a drifter, not a customer. Name's Mercuria.
Mercuria: As for that lady, I asked her to wait outside for a moment.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Sorry, I've been super out of it lately. So, are you like our new neighbor or something?
Dexter rises unsteadily, pressing his hand to his forehead.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Let me get you some tea.
He heads over to a low camping table. Mercuria follows close behind.
On the table sits a capsized teapot, its tea pooling on the table's surface.
This is clearly a common occurrence, based on the plethora of other stains that have long since penetrated deep into the wood.
There is also a collection of fast-food boxes, a smattering of half-eaten snack bags, and a pile of flattened disposable cups.
Dexter has somehow managed to precariously balance them in a sort of crumpled tower.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Ah, sorry. My place isn't really set up for guests.
Dexter strokes his chin, abashed by the disheveled state of his tent.
But Mercuria's attention is directed elsewhere.
Mercuria: It's seeping out again.
Dexter the Unlucky One: What?
Mercuria squats behind Dexter, suffusing something with the herb bundle.
Mercuria: Your spirit, your energy ... Can't you feel it? It's spilling out of you. I can see it from that table to here.
Mercuria: The entire marketplace is imprinted with your essence. Everyone can feel it.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Sorry, can you not make it sound like I peed my pants or something?
Mercuria rises, a perplexed look in her eyes as she observes Dexter.
Mercuria: Your energy ... It's like a puddle in heavy rain. Chaotic and muddy, with leaves and insects tumbling around inside in panic.
Mercuria: You seek stillness, but find yourself adrift. You've lost your grounding, and it's causing your essence to overflow.
Mercuria: Mother Earth ... Yes, it mentioned "mother."
Mercuria: Are you looking for your mother?
Dexter's eyes widen in astonishment.
Dexter the Unlucky One: No ... I'm looking for her necklace. I lost it, and now she won't stop complaining.
Mercuria: It's not your mother. It's you.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Me?
Mercuria: You're putting too much pressure on yourself.
Mercuria: All your worrying about that necklace is causing your energy to leak right out. You haven't noticed it, but I've seen them—the formless children scattered around, all fixated on the necklace.
Mercuria gently touches the energy ball in her hand.
Mercuria: With every foot and fingerprint, you've left them behind. They're like children who have lost their mother, crying for attention.
Mercuria brings her hands together and up to Dexter's ear.
Mercuria: Now, the whole market can hear their cries.
Dexter shivers. It seems he heard something.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Oh!
Dexter, bewildered yet gracious, softly pushes Mercuria's hands away.
Dexter the Unlucky One: You hit on something, but it's still pretty hard to believe.
Dexter the Unlucky One: This is my arcane skill, not some energy leak.
Dexter stretches out a finger. A glowing ball forms at its tip, quickly transforming into a little figure.
It clings to Dexter's fingertip, looking sad.
Mercuria: They have the same expression.
Mercuria wiggles her finger at the figure. It scurries away onto Dexter's palm.
Mercuria: Oh, I didn't mean to scare you.
Mercuria apologizes to the little figure.
Dexter the Unlucky One: It's kinda unbelievable, don't you think? A stranger shows up and tells you that you're the reason the whole market's haunted.
Dexter the Unlucky One: What's your angle? Why are you coming to me like this? You want me to pay for damages?
Mercuria: No, I'm here to invite you to a healing ritual.
Dexter the Unlucky One: Aha.
He's caught on to her now.
Dexter the Unlucky One: So that's your scheme, huh? Talk crazy about people, get them confused, then hit them with the old "I've got the solution!"
Dexter the Unlucky One: Ha! You almost had me fooled!
Mercuria doesn't argue.
She just looks into Dexter's eyes, as calm as ever.
Mercuria: Listen to your heart.
She lifts her hand, placing her palm on Dexter's cheek.
Mercuria: It won't deceive you.
Dexter the Unlucky One: ...?
???: Hey, hey, Dexter!
???: Hey!
Dexter the Unlucky One: Whoa! Whoa! Mercuria?
Barbara: That girl from earlier? She left a while ago. How come you're sleeping so soundly?
Dexter the Unlucky One: Sorry, I just suddenly felt like I was flying or something. All light and comfy, just ...
Barbara: Got it. Same old.
Barbara pulls a keychain from the basket on the table and thrusts it into Dexter's hand.
Barbara: Could you hurry, please?
Dexter the Unlucky One: …
Dexter, peering at the keychain in his palm, seems to awaken to the peculiar nature of this exchange.
Dexter the Unlucky One: May I ask you a question, Ms. Barbara?
Dexter the Unlucky One: Why do you keep buying the keychains I've touched? They're just giveaways.
Barbara: What?
Barbara: This isn't part of your curse service?
Barbara: "Please take this special gift. I think you'll like it."
Barbara: Did I misunderstand?
