“An immaculate heart to see through— as the heart is considered a great lens of clarity able to hover the past, present, future, finite, and infinite.”— Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Pride radiated from Na’reem’s expression as he lounged his back against a wall, watching the chaos of booming voices yelling on top of another. He didn’t worry. Being oracle of the present meant he was hyper aware of what was happening in wherever he chose upon to watch at no limits— and this time he was focusing on the dumb odd look on his brother’s face.

The man had been on the verge of murder moments ago, his notorious mood creating another unstoppable storm that would have sent him on a rampage of paranoia and obsession for weeks to come since behagthis tend to bring out the worst of them. It wasn’t too long ago that he had finally persuaded Me’ren to believe the several socio-economic problems cropping up across the lands. It took Na’reem years to make his brother understand that these might be the consequences of going against divinity.

Now he was indulging the madness of Natura Brumcia in the form of a gutsy girl named River. He carefully told her about the devil’s fruit with as much detail as possible next to amber fires that had begun swaying, flickering atop its fat logs. She asked a lot of questions, curiosity strong in her like a kid. There was a soothing, lilting tone to her voice that was almost a bit shrill.

After a little while, she sucked in a breath as Me’ren finished his story.

And then it began.

Now it made sense that the gambling tables had grown quiet over time. They were listening. Soon as it was over, a god tribespeople protested. The guy had heard a different story from when he was younger and told his version instead.

He can’t believe he was taken by surprise on this outcome. He had millennia of knowledge lodged into its brain. Never had he gone so distracted before. It was his job to watch for fair play on the tables and he had been utterly distracted.

It was because of the way River spoke back to Me’ren and asked questions, his overzealous murderous older brother had gradually turned calm. As if soothed by her voice alone. Tension in his shoulders had worn away, easing massive weight of burden off it. He hadn’t known his older brother had a tranquil mode that took a millenia off him. But there it was, happening across him. Strangely mesmerized by the girl talking with animated delight across him. A girl, he repeated to himself. Me’ren had never shown interest to a particular tribespeople in that way. Much less a girl.

The gaming tables were pushed aside as more tribespeople lurched to their feet, yelling amongst themselves about their own version of the devil’s story. It was a popular folklore across all tribes meaning some parts of the story got lost in translation. Most of Me’ren’s audience disagreed by what he told, voicing their own variation that was told to them on bedside by their mothers. The chaos quickly turned passionate, and it got out of hand when someone threw insults about their mother. It escalated from there. Insults were thrown, spittle flying across the room as though they were rabid dogs with mouths foaming at the sides. Everybody got jabbed with insults. He knew sooner or later, a fight would break out. And his goddamned Ylia, the guardian to his hearth, was in the center of the fray tossing in her own version and looked ready to die for it.

He could almost laugh. Who knew god tribespeople and dark tribespeople would have shared the same loyalty for a single story that was already mired and ravaged by time? It was such a little thing to be upset about. And there they were. Going at it as if the other had just pissed in their own territory.

It was times like this that reminded him how different he was compared to them.

No god tribespeople born on this earth are ever made the same. His was the power of present time. His age already lost to a couple of millenia. Perhaps it was time to go back to sleep again. Hibernate for a decade. Already, the din of a rabid crowd was wearing out his patience. If he could sleep a century, then he’ll be able to tackle the tribal issues better with no reservations.

River stared at the maddening crowd, taking it all in before twisting around to scan the space around her prize which was seated above their mantelpiece inside a glass display box.

During their heated argument, she enlisted Na’reem’s help to straighten up a gambling table from the floor so she could grab her prize and prop it at the center of the table. As she was doing this, Me’ren stood back and gave Na’reem a helpless look. If Sul’ahvi were here, he would at least have a clue about what’s to happen. This helplessness around not knowing without their third brother was a thousand blades of pain pressing inside his mind. Dream sickness already beckoning its siren call to him. He shook it away. He wasn’t going to let his brother Me’ren carry on alone without him. No one else understood. They needed to stick together.

Setting on top of the table in front of everyone, she opened the top wooden lid, and not a moment sooner the strong spicy scent wafted out in the open fully distracting everyone from their argument. They visibly reared back from its scent.

“What?” She said lightly, “You can’t possibly believe the stories, right? It’s what parents tell to little children to scare them from acting out terrible ideas. We are all adults here.”

“Sun tribe fool.” Ylia growled, creases forming between her brows. She wore her brown hair in a ponytail which sharpened and pulled her features tight. “This is the devil’s fruit. Rotten, evil, and fucked-up to the core. And it is to be treated like it is. With great reverence and a healthy amount of fear. You mess with the devil fruit, it messes with you. Put it down gently, and make your repentance.”

Murmurs erupted. “A stupid cousin of mine took a bite of it and we had to take him down, four of us. He was hysterical, face raw, bawling his eyes out. He was never the same man as he was before. Later that night, he took a turn for the worst. Wouldn’t say anything about it. Even his wife was tight-lipped about it. All he said was that he was up all night living his worst nightmare. That’s it. Changed man, I’m telling you. Goes about his life now with a healthy fear of a goddess in his eyes. Don’t mess with it. Don—“

River pulled it out by the yellow stem, observing it close. Since the color was different shade of blue from what she was used to, she couldn’t tell for sure if it was ripe. But it was firm and plump to the touch, nothing that could alert there was wrong with it from her chef’s intuition. It was a little bigger than her than fist, larger than normal but that’s all it was.

“Lady put that down. Wash your hands after, by Brumcia!”

A dark tribe guy shook the guy next to him with tightening fists. “She looked at it. She looked at it with her eyes.” He lifted two fingers with inches apart. “This close!”

“Yeah, man. I saw it.”

“This is evil?” They jumped backwards as she pushed her thumbs into the blue pepper, rending it into two halves open. Inside was a lighter color of cyan with seed bits encased in membrane tissues. “It doesn’t look like it.”

“Are you kidding me?” The guy looked at her like she was out of her mind. “There is no evil that can equal the likes of it.”

As the room got serious, anxiety began to loop tendrils inside her chest. What if they were right? She thought.

But then, she took a strong whiff of it, leaning down, her nose pressed to the gnarly blue skin is the reapers! It’s the exact same thing. Already, she imagined cooking with butter and eggs. A slow dreamy sigh leaving her body.

Their paling faces was getting a little old. She needed to find a kitchen, chicken, some spices and a good solid amount of alone time.

She tipped her chin up at, “Now for my part of the deal. I guarantee you. It’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before.”

His brows could have raised past his hairline, a glow of humor spreading across his features. “Do you know who I am?” There were only a select few in this world who knew who he truly was, an oracle of time. To others, he was nothing but a simple dark tribe trader.

A knowing glint consumed her gaze, holding his hostage in a staring match that had everyone holding their breath. “I know who you are.” she said quietly, the unmistakable challenge in her voice crackled like visible lightning in the air between them.

Ylia stepped in, “Well? Let’s see it. No time like the present.”

The other guys burst into nervous laughter with eyes shifting around, unsure on what to make of this. But they seemed to resolve on one thing and that is to look to Ylia for guidance on what to do next.

“Tell you what.” Ylia crossed her muscular arms, “If you got something really interesting for us, more interesting than a season’s worth of gossip, mind you. Then I’ll hand over these entire apothecary to you.”

“You can do that?”

She stifled a giggle, “I own it. So yeah. It’s yours if you live up to the hype.”

River looked back to Na’reem who was watching with a frown and responded promptly to Ylia, “Throw in the brothers Na’reem and Me’ren and their services to me and you will get the deal worthy of your entire life.”

She nodded, not resisting to spread a full grin coming across her face. “The brothers are our most prized benefactors. Without their service, our dark tribe majesty wouldn’t have been able to conquer the tribes on his own. We highly value them, even more than this cozy shop could fiscally generate.”

“My kind of entertainment is one of a kind, can’t be replicated. And can only be done every few times in a single year. I’ll be doing it here, a grandiose spectacle worthy of your attentions, I’m sure.”

The big burly guys softened, proceeding to a genuine chuckle.

“She’s fucking crazy. Come on. Do it quick. Make it count. We don’t got time for this.”

Ylia rolled her eyes, “Eager to get back to your games I see. Very well. Entertain us well, stranger. And you will be getting the brothers as well as these fine skilled men and women who work tirelessly at their forge. For about a week.”

Someone snickered in disbelief. The person lost among the crowd. “If she doesn’t prove worthy, we get to keep her services for about a decade’s worth.”

A malicious idea sparked within Ylia, “To add to that, we get to keep your hair you use for a crown above your head. Shear it down. All of it. Down to its root.”

At this point, there was no backing out. With a conscious moment, she willed her anxiety to disappear and smiled “You got yourself a deal.”

Na’reem went to her side in an instant, “Are you sure about this? Your crown is tied to your sun tribe identity. Take it away and you won’t belong anywhere.”

The severity of his worry had a direct line to her heart, clenching it into a twist that took her breath away. “I got this.” she whispered, pushing the words past her lips. If there was anything in this world River Florencia was best at, it was the ability to withstand great amounts of pain. It’s what she was trained for.

And if spending her time with eccentric cuisine bloggers taught her anything, it was the art of a spectacle.

The reminder gave her strength.

He straightened to his full height. “Of course. How silly of me to ask.” And yet his gaze glued to her, searching. A stern countenance in his manner that refused to pull further away from her. “How exactly are you going to make a once in a lifetime entertainment that is worth more than the price of gold in a dingy basement?”

“Easy,” she sat back on the chair, arms resting on the table. “Get me a pitcher of orange milk, plenty of towels, and the most offensively lascivious ornate fan you got.”