Chapter 5: another gypsy is born
The Renaissance fair wore its garish finery like a drunkard’s pride—gaudy banners snapped in the autumn breeze, their tattered edges frayed like the frayed nerves of the patrons meandering between stalls of trinkets and fried dough, the scent of cinnamon sugar clinging to the air like a second skin, thick and cloying. The sun hung low, bleeding gold across the sky, painting the cobblestones in melted copper as Jade stepped purposefully through the crowd, her red gypsy dress whispering against her thighs with every luxurious stride, the gold embroidery catching the light like scattered embers.
Jade was taking care of the gypsy stand, and had one order from Mirela "find a suitable slave for me" "someone meek, someone clever, someone ripe"
Mirela had made her new role clear—recruitment was now her purpose, her devotion writ large in the way she moved through the world, her green eyes scanning like a predator’s, always searching for the next vessel.
Her heels clicked with deliberate rhythm against the wooden planks, the sound sharp and hypnotic, drawing curious glances from the mingling crowds. The fair hummed around her—a living organism of chatter and laughter and the sizzle of fat dripping onto open flames. A group of college students in matching hoodies jostled past, their breath smelling of stale beer and pineapple soda, their voices raised in drunken camaraderie.
A woman stepped to the stand that Jade knew, it was her old student councillor. Jade didn't remember that detail, but she knew the woman was smart and single . Jade was sure this would be the perfect recruit. The woman looked like she needed a break from her stressed life. The woman was in her early 30s , with shoulder length brown hair tied back in a neat ponytail. Her eyes were tired but intelligent. She wore a tweed blazer over a simple blouse, with sensible shoes that had seen better days. Jade recognized the demeanor of someone carrying too many responsibilities, someone who needed to be reminded how to enjoy life. From her perspective as a former student, Jade knew this woman would be perfect.
Professor Kline—named in the rolodex of Jade’s buried college memory as the one who had fought to keep her scholarship—stood with her arms crossed tight across her chest, her professional posture radiating exhaustion. The weight of the fair pressed down on her—loud, garish, overwhelming—but she remained rooted, her gaze fixed on the gypsy stand with a mix of professional curiosity and personal disappointment.
Jade’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile beneath her carefully painted crimson lips. The professor was looking at a cursed necklace in the display, the silver chain coiled like a sleeping serpent, the pendant a crescent moon carved from black onyx veined with crimson. The moment Professor Kline’s fingers brushed the necklace, Jade felt the connection click into place—like a lock turning in a hidden door.
Mirela had told her this would happen. The right moment. The right person.
Jade stepped forward, her red gypsy dress swaying like a flame in the late afternoon breeze. The gold embroidery caught the fading sunlight, scattering flecks of light across Professor Kline’s tired face. The professor looked up, her sharp brown eyes locking onto Jade’s green irises—so vivid now, so utterly captivating.
"Try it on ," Jade said, her voice laced with the melody of a Romanian folk song she didn’t consciously remember but knew nonetheless. "This necklace sings to the wearer. It remembers what you desire most." Her accent was thick.
She lifted the cursed piece from the velvet cushion, the silver chain glinting in the dusk as if alive. The black onyx crescent felt warm beneath her fingertips, almost pulsing with a breath of its own. Without thinking, she stepped closer, her red skirt whispering against the wooden planks as she draped it around Professor Kline’s neck with deliberate slowness. The professor didn’t resist—didn’t flinch—as the delicate chain settled into place.
Jade closed the clasp of the necklace and snapped her fingers once with a crisp, sharp sound that cut through the din of the fair like a crystal shard.
Professor Kline’s pupils dilated instantly, the lines of exhaustion smoothing from her face. Her hands drifted up to touch the pendant, her fingers tracing its raven-black surface. A slow, dazed smile spread across her lips—as if she’d been waiting her whole life to wear something so perfectly *hers*.
"The necklace now controls you," Jade says, her voice a hypnotic blend of command and seduction. "You no longer need your old life. You belong to the necklace and Mirela. You'll wear this veil every day and serve Mirela." Jade said, her voice wrapping around each word like silk.
The professor tilted her head to the side slightly, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were a marionette whose strings had just been pulled. Her fingers remained on the necklace, tracing the crescent moon pendant as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Jade watched with fascination as the professor's pupils dilated further, her breathing steadying into a slow rhythm that matched the sway of the fair around them. The air smelled of roasted peanuts and caramel apples, the distant jingle of a calliope cutting through the hum of conversation.
"Yes, I serve mistress Mirela." Professor Kline’s voice took on an almost dreamy cadence, her words flowing together in a way that made them sound more like a statement of fact rather than an act of submission. The professor's fingers continued to trace the smooth surface of the crescent moon pendant as she spoke, her manicured nails catching the fading golden light streaming through the tall windows of the Renaissance fair pavilion. The sunlight painted her face in delicate brushstrokes of warmth, illuminating the first traces of softness that had already begun to settle across her features—her jawline softening, her shoulders dropping from their previously tense position.