Sophia was overcome by despair. Endless years filled with unsuccessful attempts, visits to doctors in their pristine white coats, and bitter pills of hope that dissolved without relief, accompanied by the mounting silence in her home—it grew louder and more reproachful with each passing month. Gradually, she resigned herself to the idea that motherhood for her would be limited to caring for houseplants and her cat, Marquis. Then, on a particular night when sleep blended with tears, She appeared.
It was no dream but a tangible presence. The bedroom air thickened, scented with wormwood and the aroma of aged yellowed paper. A tall, slender elderly woman with piercing, needle-sharp eyes stood at the bedside. Sophia instantly recognized her from an ancient photograph—Anastasia, her great-grandmother, a figure around whom family legends quietly hovered. Tales whispered that her herbal remedies could heal any wound and that even casual words she uttered invariably came true with unsettling precision. She was known simply as “the wise one” or, to put it plainly, a witch.
Though Anastasia’s lips did not move, her voice echoed clearly in Sophia’s mind, as if a hot needle pierced directly into her consciousness: “My blood, listen well. I will grant you a child. A daughter. But remember: she will inherit my gift. It will awaken within her, and you must never hinder it. I myself do not know its nature, but let what is destined come to pass.”
Sweat-drenched, Sophia awoke, enveloped by a strange calmness resembling resigned surrender. Then, a miracle unfolded. At the appointed time, a tiny girl was born, whom they affectionately named Alice.
Alice was more than just beautiful; she seemed woven from both light and enigma. Her lips were bright scarlet, shaped like delicate bows; silky chestnut curls framed an angelic face; and her eyes—those eyes! Not simply green but the color of fresh spring leaves after a storm, immense, fathomless, and bearing an old soul’s wisdom. When Sophia first gazed into those depths, a chilling tremor ran through her, as if eternity itself was staring back at her, a newborn ball of life already knowing and understanding all. Over time, this sensation became less frequent but lingered as a faint, uneasy spark deep in her heart: what if…?
Years rushed by vibrantly and swiftly. Alice developed not by days but hours, embodying the joy of her parents and provoking the envious admiration of neighbors. By age three, she could swiftly decipher shop signs. At four, she confidently recited multiplication tables and would spend hours poring over a starry sky in illustrated atlases. Once, their bustling neighbor, Agrippina Petrovna, came by to borrow some butter for baking. Sitting on the floor engrossed in a book, Alice lifted her penetrating gaze and, waiting until the neighbor quietly closed the door behind her, calmly proclaimed:
“Grandmother will pass away soon. Quietly, in her sleep.”
She spoke as if stating a simple fact, like announcing the onset of rain, before retreating to her room. Sophia remained frozen, her face pale, her stomach knotted by dread.
Just three days later, Agrippina Petrovna’s daughter tearfully confirmed the ominous message: her mother had died silently during her afternoon nap. Sophia’s hope that the prophetic dream had been a mere trick of a despair-driven mind shattered instantly. Her daughter was truly different.
Soon, a second prophecy arrived, this time offering hope rather than fear. Sophia’s husband, Artem, returned from the factory, exhausted and pale from fatigue. Alice approached, pressing her cheek against his calloused hand and whispered:
“You’re tired, Daddy. But don’t worry, soon you’ll be a big boss. Sitting in a beautiful office.”
Artem laughed, lifting his daughter into his arms and twirling her around:
“If only you’d whisper such things into my guardian angel’s ear!”
As it turned out, Alice’s words traveled precisely to where they were meant to reach. Just days later, the factory’s shop foreman died suddenly of a heart attack. Artem, one of the best masters, was promoted to fill his position. Returning home gleaming with pride, he immediately cradled Alice:
“Sweetheart, how did you know?”
She met his gaze with those profound eyes and answered plainly:
“I know other things too. You kiss Aunt Lyuda from accounting on the cheek when Mom’s not around.”
Artem was stunned, blood draining from his face. Thankfully, Sophia was not nearby.
“That’s… just gratitude, darling. A workplace thing. Don’t tell your mom, okay?”
Alice shook her head, a flicker of mature sadness crossing her eyes:
“She’ll find out soon enough. And you will leave us. It’s a pity.”
Observing his daughter with a hidden, primal fear, Artem felt utterly exposed and powerless in front of this tiny prophetess.
The prediction came true with unnerving accuracy. Lyudmila, the accountant, seized the opportunity provided by Artem’s new status to call Sophia and spitefully reveal all details of their illicit year-long affair, hoping the enraged wife would oust her husband directly into her welcoming arms.
Sophia’s world crumbled. She sat in the kitchen, silently weeping into a crumpled handkerchief, until Alice approached, embraced her neck, pressed her warm cheek against her mother’s, and whispered:
“Don’t cry, Mommy. Dad is good, but weak. We will have someone better — rich and kind. I see him.”
The divorce, though painful, was swift. Artem, subdued and ashamed, neither begged for forgiveness nor tried to explain himself. He merely apologized nervously, kissed Alice cautiously at farewell, seemingly fearful of further revelations, and left their lives forever.
From then on, just the two of them remained. Alice reached six years old, her knowledge and speech resembling that of a seventh grader. She absorbed information hungrily, particularly drawn to everything mysterious and inexplicable. The internet became her window into a world she seemed intuitively familiar with.
When Alice turned twelve, they visited a large bookstore, filled with the scent of printing ink and antiquarian bindings. The girl froze before a window displaying esoteric literature. Her gaze fixed on an elegant box holding Maria Lenormand cards.
“Mom, please buy them,” she said—not as a request but a quiet, confident statement of necessity.
“Dear, why do you need these cards?” Sophia sighed.
“Since I’m asking, it means it’s important.”
This was how the cards entered Alice’s world. She studied them with fanatical dedication, spreading them across her bedroom floor and practicing divination under the glow of her desk lamp.
“Mom,” she once ran to Sophia with the deck, “did you know Maria was her name too? I will be like her. Want me to tell your fortune? I already know everything.”
Without waiting for a reply, she deftly scattered several cards on the kitchen table. Her fingers moved over the images with the assurance of someone much older.
“Remember when I said about the rich and kind? Here he is. Right beside you. A man. Strong. With clear eyes. He’s already close. Mom, don’t reject him when he comes. He will be my father.”
“Alright, my little sibyl,” Sophia smiled, stroking her daughter’s hair. “I’ll manage somehow without your ‘king.’”
But, as always, Alice was right. Exactly one week later, while returning from work, Sophia was lost in thought. Nearly at her apartment entrance, a car backing up nudged her to the ground. The impact was mild, but Sophia awkwardly landed on her knee. A passerby gasped. The driver slammed the brakes and rushed out of a luxury SUV, his actions rapid, filled with both fear and guilt.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I looked — there was no one!” He gently helped her to her feet. His dark chocolate eyes brimmed with genuine concern.
“It’s alright,” Sophia tried to reassure, tasting a growing pain in her side. “Just a bruise.”
“No, this is not right. Let me take you to a hospital or a doctor. My acquaintance lives nearby. I insist.”
Persistent and gallant, the man’s attitude won over Sophia. The doctor, a friendly man wearing glasses, confirmed it was merely a bruise.
“Rest for a few days, Sofia Viktorovna,” he advised. Then, with a wink toward her rescuer, added, “Volodya, you’re responsible — make it right. A woman needs care and comfort.”
“With great pleasure,” the man named Vladimir responded to Sophia. “I hope you won’t refuse my assistance?”
Though aching and embarrassed, Sophia felt a bittersweet warmth from the attention of this elegant, perfumed stranger. She nodded. Arriving at her apartment, Alice awaited at the door, unwavering as she looked straight at Vladimir and pronounced without hesitation:
“Here is my future dad. Nice to meet you, I’m Alice.”
Without blinking, Vladimir inclined his head playfully:
“Extremely honored. I aspire to live up to such a trust and be a worthy father to this amazing girl.”
Thus, the Man entered their home. The foretold one proved not only wealthy—a successful IT company owner—but his greatest fortune was his incredible humor, sharp intellect, and a kind, loyal heart. Sophia captivated him from their first meeting. While caring for her injury, he recognized her as the only one he had ever dreamed of. He proposed without hesitation.
Alice won his heart immediately and forever. He admired how this child uniquely blended innocent laughter and profound ancient wisdom in her eyes. Their new family faced no serious troubles.
Alice blossomed. Her gift matured in full force, turning her into a true seer who attracted people eager to seek her insight. Although the Lenormand cards were only a tool to help clients accept the messages more easily, she perceived far beyond their symbolism.
“How do you do it?” Sophia once asked her, filled with pride and a slight tremor as she looked at her grown daughter.
Alice smiled that special knowing smile.
“You know, Mom, when someone comes to me, I simply… open a door. And before me unfolds their whole life’s reel—vivid, variegated, with all its twists, pain, joys, and hopes. I see the threads of their fate from the very beginning to the very end. I just read it, like you used to read me fairy tales at night.”
Thus, Alice described the inexplicable talent she inherited through generations—from her great-great-grandmother Anastasia, the very “knowing” woman, whose whisper from the past shaped their joyous present. Sophia no longer feared; she understood that this gift was not a curse but a unique way to love the world, perceive it deeper, feel more intensely, and offer support to those who falter on their path.
Key Insight: This story highlights how ancestral legacies shape present lives, transforming trials into a source of strength, wisdom, and hope.
In summary, despite challenges, Sophia and Alice’s journey reveals the power of inherited gifts and the profound bonds connecting generations—ultimately guiding them towards fulfillment, love, and a destiny embraced rather than feared.