Intertwined Fates. Ariana Bazhenova

into the shower, letting the cool streams of water wash away the fatigue after a long flight and the unexpectedly tiring St. Petersburg heat. You need to get used to it. In just a couple of days, a job at a large IT company awaited me, a pure humanities student. With a diploma from the psychology department in hand, I could only do an internship in the marketing and advertising department – and this interested me. I couldn’t wait to find myself among smart and inventive people working on new technologies.

      Although the world of complex formulas and technologies was inaccessible to me, I was always desperately drawn to this environment. Almost all my school friends were studying to be programmers, engineers, designers, and I envied them whitely, realizing that they would be doing important work for humanity in their offices and laboratories. I thought that I, a humanities student, had no way into their world, a mysterious world – also magical in its own way. But as soon as I saw the logo of the IT corporation where I was supposed to work, a premonition awoke inside me – someone was already waiting for me there, and I had to go quickly.

      But who could it be?

      New friends? Mentors? Or love?

      I got out of the shower, wrapped my long blond hair in a towel and sat down at the table in the corner of the room that served as a kitchen, dining room and bedroom at the same time. I pulled a cup of invigorating mint tea closer, looked out the window at the quiet courtyard and tried to collect my thoughts. But they stubbornly returned to the recent past, which I so wanted to leave behind, and thought that the wings of the plane would reliably carry me away from it.

      Since my youth, I was able to foresee certain events. So at the age of seventeen, I already saw in my dreams and clearly imagined what my first love would look like, and one glance and a couple of phrases between us at the university were enough for us to recognize each other’s souls without a doubt. My foresight did not fail me a few months ago either. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, calming my aching heart. On that winter day, the sun was shining especially brightly, we were chatting with a young man who had already become a groom, and laughing heartily, but even then I clearly knew that this was our last conversation. I looked into his expressive blue eyes behind the glasses, listened to his low voice, and my heart was filled to the brim with light sadness from the realization of the inevitable.

      A few days later he wrote to me that he had decided to break up, because «I have more ambition than he does,» and he had no intention of moving to St. Petersburg with me.

      That evening I slid down the wall, sobbing loudly and desperately trying to pinch myself to wake up and understand that it was a dream again, and not even a prophetic one. I lit a cigarette right there, sitting on the floor and not finding the strength to even go to the window. The remaining months before flying to the «city of angels,» I lay in bed, practically without getting up, watching the heroes of the next TV series with a dull gaze.

      And then I made an effort, defended my diploma, packed my things and flew away to meet a new life. Maybe happiness awaits me here, in this gloomy city?

      ***

      I tried not to pay attention to the power that allows me to sense many things and fulfill small desires with the power of thought. My parents passed on to me everything they knew. I also learned a lot from the old books in the university library.

      But I really lacked a wise mentor who would help and teach me how to manage this power. During my youth, I had several strange episodes. People immersed in various spiritual teachings and practices showed great interest in me, but they only wanted to talk – no one offered me their mentorship, no one took on the task of teaching me. Once I worked part-time on weekends in a bakery, and I had the chance to work side by side with an elderly woman, cheerful beyond her years. In her cunning eyes, framed by wrinkles, a mischievous sparkle danced – she definitely knew more than others. She had a complicated history – according to her, she came from an old Indian family and had shamans and healers among her ancestors, but the growth of cities spares no one, and her parents left their native settlement, cutting off their and her path to secret knowledge. But the woman did not give up – the stories of her grandmother were deeply imprinted in her memory, and then from the right books and from like-minded people, she managed to collect information on how to control her power bit by bit.

      One day, we went out for lunch together. Suddenly, she grabbed my wrist and nodded towards the open door of the warehouse, where no one could hear us. Her high voice and gesture were clearly impatient.

      – We need to talk. Literally five minutes, – she blurted out

      I nodded carefully, and we entered a dim room filled with boxes. She turned to me, and her dark eyes sparkled with strange energy and impatience. I looked at her with interest, trying to maintain composure and a polite smile on my face.

      – I saw how they treat you, – she blurted out with poorly concealed anger. I understood – she was talking about the incident when my boss, who was not particularly smart, was passionately teaching me how to live, and I, as always, listened silently so as not to get into a conflict and do everything my way again. – You are a special, strong person. I have only met two people like you in my life, and I have had a long life.

      I thoughtfully lowered my gaze, waiting for him to continue. The fact that they called me special caused mixed emotions. Probably, «special», «chosen» are beautiful epithets for Hollywood blockbusters, but in life it feels different. You are simply different, and if you do not learn to manage your features and strength, then you will live a senseless life, trying to avoid yourself.

      – Only I see and feel that you do not know your strength at all and do not know how to manage it, you suppress the fire inside, trying to be like everyone else. It’s a pity that you obviously weren’t taught how to work with energy and magical practices in your time, otherwise you would now be more confident and would be twisting reality as you please, – she shook her head. – Now you will have to study it on your own, but you will cope. You have a lot of power, and people will always be drawn to you as a source to pump it out of you. You need to learn how to use your energy… to kill in order to protect yourself.

      Interest flashed in my gaze. Despite the fact that her words could sound strange and even frightening, I understood what she was talking about. A lot of people have always been drawn to me, and I quickly became exhausted from their attention, so I learned to become «invisible» on an energetic level – usually I went into my thoughts and ceased to exist here and now, and they stopped touching me.

      – I was younger than you when I killed you with my energy for the first time, I just smeared you on the wall. I was eighteen then. And you are already nineteen. Learn, the sooner the better! – She nodded again in confirmation of her words, looked me straight in the eye and pulled me towards the exit.

      This episode now, two years later, was still vivid in my memory. According to her, I had to find my own way into the world of magical power. But how to do it?

      Fortunately, a few months ago I suddenly felt that I needed to buy Tarot cards. Many people in Siberia were interested in the topic of magic and fortune telling, and finally I also decided to delve into this topic. As soon as I got my hands on the box with my first deck, unpacked it and began to shuffle it, a strange warmth and calmness spread through my hands and body. I learned to read the layouts almost immediately – and now I turned to them in moments of doubt to expand my understanding of the situation.

      And yet, if only I had a mentor here in St. Petersburg!..

      ***

      I immediately realized that this was a dream.

      Making my way through a curtain of thick gray fog, I walked along a leaning concrete fence topped with barbed wire. In the distance, a black flock of crows circled in the air. I lowered my eyes and