Last time on Tarot Tales

Page 3 of Tarot Tales by Hive account@kd-neeley.

The Fool had been given instructions to bathe before receiving water from the pool in the Temple of the High Priestess.

It is now Hive account@zakludick's turn to add a link to the story in Page 4 of Tarot Tales.

Page 4

The Fool stared down at the muddied water while his dog lapped at the surface. Nothing bad happened to her, so he assumed that all the instructions had been followed through correctly.

The Fool shrugged. He leaned down to the water and scooped up some of the brown-tinged water. Had he and Prashanta really been that dirty? How many weeks had they been on the road?

It was not like he really kept track of such things. It had been Spring at the time when he had set out, the air fresh and warm. Now the forest held a neutral temperature that gave the impression that it was holding its breath. Sooner or later, the cold winds would rise and Summer would end.

The Fool flinched as the water cupped in his palms turned clear.

He bent his face over his hands and took a sniff. It smelled better than any water he had ever smelt. The aroma was that of a primordial lake at the beginning of the world. Unblemished and raw.

The Fool drank the water and closed his eyes as the liquid ran through his dry mouth, over cracked lips and quenching the numbness in his throat. The taste was surprisingly regular, though the water was a bit cooler than the air around him so it was immensely refreshing.

When he opened his eyes The Fool saw that the entire pool was now crystal clear. The bottom of the pool was lined with square-cut stones of even better construction than the pathway. The Fool was too thirsty to inspect the craftsmanship further.

He dove forward, intending on putting his mouth straight on the water. Instead, he overbalanced and fell face first back into the water. The Fool would have giggled if he had the air to do so. Instead, he closed his eyes and smiled as he sucked in a mouthful of water and drank it. He had his head and shoulders in the water.

Pulling back he laughed as he sucked in a gulp of air.

"WOOF! WOOF!" Prashanta's tail wagged and she bounded up and down. The wild dog began running to and fro. She was clearly excited and felt exuberant. He did not try to stop her.

The Fool stood and looked around to see if the High Priestess was anywhere to be seen. As his eyes scanned over the water there was a glint that caught his eye. Something shone at him from the bottom of the pool. He had not seen anything in the crystal clean water earlier.

The Fool put his face closer to the water and squinted. Something large and silvery shone on the floor of the pool, it may have been hidden until now because of the angle of the sun. Without further thought The Fool dove fully into the water and swam out to the shining object.

What had seemed like six feet turned out to be twenty. He got to the center of the pool and looked down at the silvery square. It was twice as large as he had thought, containing a shining half and a dull half that did not quite reflect the sun's rays. Only now it seemed to be seven or eight feet down.

The Fool was forced up to the surface to replace his air and he dove downwards again. A momentary glimpse had revealed that Prashanta was watching him, disorientingly close.

There was something strange going on here, but The Fool questioned nothing. This was the way the world sometimes was. He kicked and paddled downwards and found the object that had caught his eye.

A mirror.

He was close enough now to look into the silvery side of the mirror. Sure enough, he saw himself. He looked as he always knew himself to be. His shoulder-length blond hair drifted in the water around his head, it was streaked in locks of shocking red hair. He smiled at his own fluffed up image.

With fluid ease, the image of himself shifted. He seemed to grow older, his jaw became longer and fuzzed with stubble. His eyes contained their usual sparkle but light crow's feet framed them. A sign of a life lived full of laughter and joy. His hair no longer drifted in the water around him but was still unkempt and fell well past his shoulders, framing his face.

He was dressed in a green jacket, frills decorated the sleeves and burst from the front of his chest. It felt very festive and exciting. There were colored lines in swirls and scrolls running in every direction on the jacket. Simultaneously, a red feathered cap appeared on his head.

Even though he knew he was submerged under the water, his mirrored version was dancing on solid ground. He was laughing and singing. Something else tugged at The Fool's attention under the water. The mirror had two sides.

His older reflection was no longer smiling and was gesturing at him frantically, a look of disdain on its face. The Fool looked back and forth between the reflection and the dim gray side of the mirror. He needed to know what was on the other side.

He ignored himself and swam over.

He looked at the dirty glass, not expecting to see anything. It hardly cast a reflection at all up at him. However, an image did seem to radiate out from it. It was not like the shining of light, it appeared to roll from the dark mirror like mist.

He went ever closer. The water surrounding him darkened precipitously, it made the mist's glow easier to see.

Again he saw himself... the bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep, the worry... the madness. His attire was almost the same as he had seen earlier, though it seemed like a long time ago. The green of his jacket was faded, the feather in his cap broken. His appearance looked... dirty and haphazardly. There were food stains on his sleeves and on his collar.

The vision brought him something almost antithetical - sadness, doubt, fear... strange emotions for a Fool...

Was he a Fool? What did it mean? What was his identity worth? Was it noteworthy? Depression hit him like a physical hammer and drove all the air from his lungs in a painful sob. The bubble contents of his lungs rushed up past his face and trailed off above him.

With the expulsion of air he began to sink toward the misted image...