Tarot Academy 4 - Sarah Piper Page 0,67

Star,” the woman shouts, her auburn hair snapping in the wind like a flag. She stands tall in her golden chariot, eyes wild with hatred and hunger, her feral horses charging forth as if they’re running straight from the mouth of hell.

She’s bearing down hard, dark magick giving her speed and strength. Hooves pound the earth, sending clouds of red dirt billowing in their wake, rising like smoke to obscure the landscape.

All around me, the Petrified Forest trembles.

I stand my ground, raising my sword, calling on the strength of my Princesses and all the magick in my veins, power crackling through me like lightning. “Come for it, bitch!”

“You will die before the night is over…”

“Stevie?” a voice calls. Urgent. Scared. Baz? “Fuck, I don’t think she can hear us. Stevie?”

Hands grip my shoulders, a tsunami of fear hitting me from all sides.

“Come back to us, my Star.” This voice is gentle but firm, hands sliding up to cup my face, warm breath tickling my lips. “Come back.”

My eyelids flutter open, the cave slowly sliding back into focus. Before me, Doc’s eyes soften, his breath escaping in a rush of relief.

“Vision?” he asks.

“I’m not… I’m not exactly sure.” I close my eyes again, desperately trying to track down the images, but everything eludes me. I know I saw something—its ghost still lingers at the edges of my memory—but I can’t see it.

All that remains now is the taste of scorched earth on my tongue and the faint impression of a sword gripped tightly in my hand. “The sword… it was calling to me. I’m pretty sure I was preparing to fight.”

The guys exchange worried looks.

“You okay to do the rest of the ritual?” Baz asks.

I nod, glancing down at the sword and taking a deep breath. Its magick still sings to me, but it doesn’t overwhelm me. Doesn’t suck me into any weird visions.

Still. Whatever’s going on here, it’s clear we need to get the hell out—and soon.

Reaching for my bag, I pull out the obfuscation potion I recreated from Professor Broome’s original spell. Quickly and efficiently, I pour the silver liquid in a circle around the objects, just like we did last time.

Then, acknowledging the four Tarot cards still in place at the cardinal points, I repeat the spell of protection three times:

Arcana princes, one and all

We beseech you, hear our call

Now the chalice is protected

When our foes are misdirected

The silvery-white circle rises into an iridescent dome, once again enclosing the objects inside. The magick pulses, a soft hum drifting across my fingers.

“Stevie, what is it?” Doc asks softly.

“I feel like we’re in reaction mode,” I admit. “Always one step behind, desperately trying to patch the holes in the dam when we don’t even know where the river’s coming from.”

“We’re doing the best we can with the information we have,” Kirin says. “The legends, the manuscripts, your mother’s interpretations, our own… It’s an imprecise science at best.”

“And we’ve been wrong about so much of it.” I run my hands along the magick barrier, the Arcana objects glowing faintly in response. “There’s still a lot we don’t know. Will this barrier hold, and if so, for how long? Does Ani have the wand? Does Judgment have him? With Phaines dead, what happened to the Hierophant energy? Did it reincarnate, or is he floating around the dream realm with the others, figuring out a way to break through and get to these objects? To us?” I rub my eyes, a wave of pure exhaustion barreling into me. “And now, most of Mom’s original journals and notes are gone. All we’re left with is the backups, a book she pulled out of the dream realm that’s written in a language so old I’m not sure it even exists in any of our records, and a series of highly inconvenient visions I can’t even remember half the time.”

“People have done more with less,” Kirin says. “So, whether we’ve got one book or even just one page, I’m not giving up.”

“None of us are giving up,” Baz says, all three of my mages drawing close, surrounding me in the warm, protective bubble of their love.

And if love were truly enough to save the day, our enemies wouldn’t stand a chance.

But it isn’t enough. Not for this war.

“We need to tell the others,” I say, finally voicing the thoughts that’ve been weighing on my mind since Doc’s toast on Harvest Eve. “The professors, Carly, Nat, Isla… They’re not just hanging out at Red Sands to hide