Origin[]
Bonne journée, mi amor. I am Célestine Couture, the Sorceress, the Mistress of Cards, Ace of Spades. The Death Card. The calling card I left on my townsfolk, all those years ago.
I was a young girl growing up in the rural Montrésor village, in southern France. It was AD 1793, the year of my fifteenth birthday. Fifteen was the time when all the young women in my village spoke eagerly of marriage to the handsome young men.
But not me. I could never marry. No one could find out the secret, the curse, that first my mother and I and now I alone religiously kept from the village and from my own father. I stared out the small window at the flirting couples, a dripping plate in my hand as I sank back into memories of my mother.
My curse was my mother's fault, though I could not blame her for it. She told me the story regularly, how she would lose every child that she conceived. The midwife's called her cursed by the Devil and ostracized my poor mother for her lack of fertility. In a last desperate attempt to have a child, my mother prayed to the Devil himself, begging him to let her have a living child. She told him she would do anything for one.
“Anything?” I would always ask. My mother always nodded and said.
“Yes, Celíne. Anything.” And so I was born. A beautiful baby girl with curly black locks and eyes of blue. Or so my mother always said. A completely normal baby in every way...except one. From a very young age, I could make things float. I eagerly practiced this as a toddler, seeing how many things I could make fly into the air. They responded to my emotions. Soon my mother was forced to bow to my every whim outside of the home for fear that I would throw a temper tantrum and reveal our secret.
”Célestine!” My father called me out of my memories of my mother. I came hurriedly, drying my hands on the apron I wore over my dress. My father stood outside, arm around the shoulders of a young man named Barrak.
”Father, Barrak.” I curtsied before them, my loose black curls cascading over my bodice. I felt my father’s judgmental eye on my undone hair and hid my shame. As the daughter of a man of some importance in the village, I should be put together at all times. My father continued to frown at me for a minute before he went on.
“I have finally found a suitable husband for a beautiful girl like you, mi Célestine. This is Barrak. His father is the mayor and he will be delighted to have a charming daughter-in-law like yourself about the house as he gets older. The marriage is set for tomorrow.“ He beamed at me, clearly expecting me to be pleased. I drew in my breath, twisting the apron between my fingers. My fear must have showed on my face, for my father's smile faded and he gave me a strange look. “What is wrong? Are you not happy?“ I quickly forced a smile to my face.
“Of course I am happy. I just was....caught up in the moment.” His smile returned and he led Barrak off, still beaming. I quickly darted into the house and slammed the door, just in time to see plates and my father’s deck of cards float up off the table and hover there in midair. I reached out and picked out one of the cards. The Ace of Spades. The Death Card. I dropped it like a hot coal, fear making my hands shake. What did it foretell for my marriage? What did it entail for me?
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting the objects fall into place on the table. Just in time. There was a second knock at the door; neighbors come to wish me good tidings for my marriage. Even as I turned to answer it, I could see the Ace of Spades lying face up on the floor, like a bird of ill omen. A shiver ran down my spine, and the cold feeling lingered even as I greeted the smiling faces.
Later, as night fell, I was sitting at the small table, head in my hands, trying to ignore the cards floating about my head like a small flock of geese. I could already hear what the townsfolk would say if they knew about my powers. Spawn of Satan. Daughter of the Cursed One. I groaned, tugging on my loose black locks. This wedding would be a disaster if I couldn’t hold myself together. But how could I stop the levitation from responding to my emotions?
It was high noon in Messidor in 1793 and I, Célestine Couture, was to be married to Barrak Auclair. I stood at the altar, hands folded shyly in front of me; white veil covering the fear on my face. Barrak’s hands were hot and heavy on my arms, and I felt a chill slither down my spine at the prospect of him finding out about my powers. The priest’s wedding homily droned on and I focused my gaze on the Bible clasped firmly in his hands. Under my horrified eyes, it lurched, reacting to my fear, and slowly started to float into air.
Gasps rang out in the crowd, and the priest stepped back and crossed himself twice. Barrak stumbled back, pulling me away from the floating book. My mother’s voice echoed in my mind as the panic took ahold of me.
“They must never find out about you, my Celíne. They will harm you if they do.” My veil twitched and then rose up off my head, revealing my terrified, guilty face. I knew the crowd would see and sense the guilt.
”She’s cursed!“ A voice cried from the crowd. “She’s a witch! Her mother was cursed and she’s the same!”
“Witch!’
”Sorceress!”
”Daughter of the Cursed One!”
”Spawn of Satan!”
“Stone the witch!” More objects floated up, responding to my rising fear and panic. Barrak’s hands slipped off my arms, and he backed away from me. I looked around wildly, looking at the crowd's scared, unfriendly faces, at the priest, who crossed himself as soon as I looked at him, at Barrak, who looked absolutely terrified. The crowd started up a chant, their voices rising, getting more and more furious.
“Stone the witch! Stone the witch! Stone the witch!” They surged up onto the altar until I was surrounded by townsfolk. 20 of the bravest men grabbed my arms, dragging them roughly behind my back and holding them there.
“Father!” I cried, tears of fear sliding down my powdered cheeks, leaving streaks. “Father, please!” My father met my panicked gaze before his face hardened and he turned away. The men dragged me away, ripping my dress on the cobblestones, their grips brutal. Most of the crowd followed, still chanting.
I closed my eyes so I would no longer have to see the ferocious faces of my own townsfolk, their fear and outrage twisting their faces into those of monsters. The cards had known last night. The Ace of Spades had known. The Death Card. My death.
The men dropped me in the fields outside of Montrésor and stepped back. A stone struck me hard on the back and I turned to the still chanting crowd, holding out my hands in a last plea for mercy.
“Witch!” A stone caught me full in the jaw. I hit the ground hard, whimpering in pain as my jaw throbbed. More stones followed, scoring hits on my sides and back as I curled up into the fetal position.
“Mother....” I begged softly, tears of pain and fear sliding down my face. “Mother, please help me.” My mother‘s soft voice ran through my memory.
“If they find out, my Celíne, they will kill you. If they find out, then you must fight them.” I whimpered, knowing what I must do to save my life. I stood slowly among a hail of stones and thrust out my hands.
”Please, forgive me.” I whispered to my father, as my powers caught the stones in mid-flight. More tears flew down my cheeks as the stones flew backward and tore into the crowd. I watched as skulls broke and blood colored the air. I watched as my screaming townsfolk sank to the ground in broken heaps. I watched as my powers killed my own father, stones slamming into his skull. Only once most of the town lay twitching in their own blood did I flee for the hills.
My love, you see now why I call myself the Mistress of Cards. They knew what would happen, yet I did not trust them. Now I know better. I deal my cards alone, as I have dealt death to my own townsfolk. I live alone in the hills, and watch as the remains of my townsfolk search for me. They call me Sorceress, Witch, Daughter of the Cursed One. They’ll never find me. The cards have said so, mi amor.
Side Note and clarification:
Messidor, derived from the Latin word for harvest, is one of the summer months in the French Republican calendar. It begins around June 19, or 20th.
Appearance[]
Célestine is a tall, beautiful woman with curly black hair and deep blue eyes. Her skin is pale and there is a scar running down her jaw from where a stone struck her. Célestine’s usual attire is a simple blue gown with a white lace apron over it. Her hair is usually worn loose around her shoulders or up in a chignon. Her waist is extremely tiny thanks to her corset, and she is not particularly well muscled.
Personality[]
Célestine is incredibly superstitious, especially when the cards come into play. Her superstitions can cloud her judgement and force her to handle situations badly, although she regrets her decisions later. Her beliefs that her cards are right are set in stone and she refuses to change her opinion no matter what.
Célestine does not kill unless her victim’s fortune predicts that they will kill another. In such cases, she will kill them with a blow to the skull, usually using her power to assist her. She dislikes to do it, but she fears that some other person will be killed if she doesn’t.
She has a soft spot for those who are outcasts, believing that no one should have to go through what she did because they are different.
Powers and Abilities[]
Célestine has the power of levitation, thanks to her mother’s deal with the Devil, although she tries to keep this under wraps to any travelers that stop by. She also has made a habit of telling fortunes and reading the future with her cards. Célestine is physically quite weak, and she often uses levitation to help her do things. She has almost completely mastered it and the power has stopped responding to her emotions with some hard work.
Facts[]
- She is a fortune teller.
- Célestine hates cheaters and tends to predict poor fortunes for those who try to cheat her.
- Célestine hopes her father still loves her from heaven.
- She has never forgiven herself for what she did to her townsfolk.
- Célestine means “celestial” in French, while Montrésor means "My Treasure".
- It is unknown exactly what the deal her mother struck with the Devil was, although the popular opinion in Montrésor is that Célestine is the daughter of the Devil himself.