It was my own superstition that led me to seek the soothsayer in the dark dungeon. She invited me in to dine at her table, to discuss my fears, visions, and ask for a reading on what was to be my future.
“Relax dear,” she said, but I could not concentrate for worry of what lay beyond the gated door. I could see the soft light, hear a low grumbling.
“He’s my insurance policy,” the soothsayer pronounced with a wicked grin. “For what?” I asked her.
“That you’ll pay my fee, of course.”