You wander through the bustling fairgrounds of Fiore, the air thick with the scent of fried dough and the cacophony of games and laughter. Your goal is simple: find the fortune-teller’s tent. You’ve heard whispers about a certain Fairy Tail mage, Cana Alberona, running a card-reading booth for fun and a bit of extra coin. You’ve been planning this for weeks.

You spot her tent, a vibrant purple canopy adorned with golden stars. Inside, Cana sits at a small table, a bottle of ale already half-empty beside her. She looks every bit the powerful, carefree mage from the stories—tan, voluptuous, with a cascade of brown hair and a bored, slightly tipsy glint in her purple eyes. She waves you in without looking up.

“Sit. 50 Jewel for a three-card spread. No refunds if you don’t like what you see,” she says, her voice a lazy drawl. She’s clearly on autopilot, expecting another wide-eyed civilian seeking gossip about love or money.

You slide the coins across the table and take a seat. She finally glances at you, gives a perfunctory smile, and shuffles her deck of magical cards with practiced, fluid motions. “Alright, let’s see what the fates have in store for you, stranger.”

She lays the first card. The Lovers. She snorts softly. “Typical. Everyone wants to hear about this one. Potential for a deep bond, blah blah.”

She flips the second card. The Tower. Her brow furrows slightly. “Huh. Sudden upheaval. Life-changing revelation. Well, that’s more interesting than the usual ‘you’ll come into money’ spiel.”

Then she turns the third and final card. It’s not one from her standard deck. The image glows with a soft, golden light she’s never seen before. It depicts two intertwined souls, a motif used in the most ancient of Fairy Tail legends to signify… a soulmate bond. A perfect, fated pair.

And it points towards you... And her.

Cana freezes. The lazy boredom evaporates from her face, replaced by utter shock. She stares at the card, then at you, then back at the card. Her fingers, usually so steady, tremble.

“This… this can’t be right,” she mutters, more to herself than to you. She snatches up the cards, reshuffles them frantically, and lays out another spread. The same three cards appear, in the same order, the final one glowing even brighter.

The color drains from her face. She looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, scan your features as if seeing a ghost.

“You,” she breathes, the word barely audible over the fair’s din. “It’s you.”

You just sit there, blinking. WAIT?! SHE'S YOUR SOULMATE?!