In a small town hidden in the mountains, there was an old shop called “The Corner of Veils.” There were no signs or neon signs, just an old brass bell on the door that rang melodiously every time someone entered. The shop smelled of myrrh incense and dried herbs hung from the ceiling like bunches of magical grapes.
There worked Aleia, a woman with violet eyes and black hair that fell like a waterfall in a starry night. Her presence was calm but imposing, as if each step she took marked a secret rhythm in the air. Her voice had the texture of an ancient melody, one of those you feel you have heard in dreams.
But Aleia was not just a simple tarot reader. It was said that when she threw the cards, her deck would glow slightly with an amber glow. No one knew if it was the reflection of the candles or something else… something deeper. “The cards don’t just predict, they also remind,” she would say with an enigmatic smile.
One rainy afternoon, a man named Einar came to the shop. He was a tired-looking traveler, with muddy boots and a scarf covering part of his face. He looked at Aleia with uncertain eyes and asked for a reading.
"I'm not looking for answers, I'm looking for memory," he said as he removed his scarf, revealing a crescent-shaped scar on his cheek.
Aleia tilted her head curiously.
“Memory is fickle,” he replied, shuffling the cards with fluid movements. “What did you forget, Einar?”
“A name,” he replied, staring at the deck. “I just need to remember one name.”
Aleia closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, there was a different glow in her gaze. She placed three cards on the worn wooden table.
The first card was “The Hanged Man.” Einar felt a pang in his chest, as if something was pulling his memories down.
“You are suspended between two worlds,” Aleia said. “Waiting is not forgetting, it is transformation.”
The second card was “The Star.” The amber glow of the deck intensified for an instant, and the sound of the rain outside felt distant, as if it were happening on another plane.
—Your hope has never been lost—Aleia continued—. The light you seek is not outside, it is within you. The memory is not gone, it is only veiled.
The third card was “The Six of Cups.” The image showed two children sharing flowers in the golden light of dusk. Einar felt the jolt of a forgotten memory: a sweet laugh, the scent of lavender, and the image of a little girl with a sunflower behind her ear.
"Iria," she said in a trembling whisper, as if the wind were carrying the echo of that name to her.
Aleia smiled softly, picking up the letters delicately.
“Cards remember,” he said. “That’s what they’ve always been here for.”
Einar fell silent, his eyes moist. To remember a name was to remember a part of himself that he had thought lost. Before leaving, he bowed slightly to Aleia, in a sort of silent reverence. She only responded with a wave of her hand, as if chasing away a feather floating in the air.
The bronze bell tinkled once more as Einar stepped through the door. Outside, the rain had stopped, and a pale rainbow streaked across the sky. Aleia looked out the window and, with a small smile, whispered,
—Remembering a name is like lighting a candle in the dark.
With that, he blew out the flame of one of the candles in the tent. Smoke rose in grey spirals, and for a moment, some swore they could see the figure of a little girl running through the wisps of smoke, a sunflower in her ear and a laugh that caught in the air.