Tony narrowed his eyes, pausing at the entrance to the tent. The flickering candlelight danced across his face as he stepped inside—cautious but unafraid. He didn’t sit immediately.
“I followed a name,” Tony said to the crone, his voice quiet but steady.
“They said someone here knows things others shouldn’t. Things I need,” Tony said, keeping his gaze fixed on her.
He glanced at the cushion, then slowly lowered himself onto it. His hand remained near his coat pocket, just in case.
“You said you were expecting me,” Tony added, locking eyes with the crone.
“I was expecting you, Tony,” the crone said, her eyes glinting in the candlelight. “It is rare someone comes seeking truths they don’t want to hear.”
Tony’s jaw tightened. “Then you already know why I’m here. But I’ll tell you anyway, if you’re willing to listen,” Tony said.
“Speak, then,” the crone said. “But be warned, some knowledge comes at a price.”

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