Tarot Academy 4 - Sarah Piper Page 0,74

revealed

Heart and soul shall be concealed

His voice grows louder and more menacing at every recitation, magick crackling in the air around him, white flames licking along the wooden staff. The horses pummel the dirt path, the sound of it like the ancient, unstoppable heartbeat of the earth itself, thudding up through the ground, rattling my very bones.

The charioteer is relentless, driving her horses harder and faster, every crack of her whip making me flinch. Their speed is almost impossible to comprehend, the two horses finally blurring into a single gray beast, powerful and massive, unstoppable.

The druid continues to shouts his spell, and a single tear slips down my cheek.

I am awestruck.

I am paralyzed.

I am unworthy.

A bolt of lightning strikes the earth before me, and the Chariot and her massive steeds barrel into me, through me, an explosion of fire and magick that rips me in two.

The pain is like nothing I’ve ever felt—burning and tearing, a loss so deep and fathomless I’m certain I won’t survive. I don't want to survive. I fall to my knees and clutch my head, howling in agony, begging for death.

The pain is too much, too vast, too everything…

And then it stops.

Suddenly I feel… nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I open my eyes to find myself standing on the dirt path again, unharmed, unbroken. Before me, another man stands. The same red hair, the same golden-brown eyes. He is my mirror.

But where I am full of shadows, he is goodness and joy, childlike wonder, happiness. White light emanates from his very being, nearly blinding me.

He reaches out for me, his smile compassionate, his eyes holding a hint of sadness in an otherwise serene face.

But there’s nothing he can offer me now, nothing he can promise.

“Ansel, it is time.” The druid presents me with the gift I’ve longed for my entire life.

My hand wraps around the wand, my magick instantly fusing with it, reverberating back to me with a sense of completion and wholeness and sheer determination.

Instinctively, I know what must be done.

Gripping the wand, I call on my fire magick, directing it toward the mirror image standing before me. His shoes ignite first, the fire eating a path up his legs, his torso, his face.

I watch in fascination as he burns, his skin glowing bright red like a smoldering ember, then blackening. I watch as it turns the color of bone. I watch as he collapses in a pile of ash and memory.

“Be gone, Ansel McCauley,” I whisper, and the breeze heeds my call, picking him up and carrying him away.

“Where is he?” I ask the druid once he’s gone, more curious than concerned.

“He has been called to atone. You needn’t concern yourself with him anymore, Ansel. You have other work—greater work—to accomplish now.”

“What must I do?”

“First, tell me what you recall of the life of Ansel McCauley.”

I close my eyes, trying to give his request the consideration it deserves. Ansel McCauley… Did I know him?

Images flash through my mind like a movie—a childhood by the ocean, the scent of cocoa butter and sticky cherry popsicles, the warmth of the summer sun on fair skin. A chubby little girl stomping through sand castles, squealing with delight as the waves chased her along the shoreline.

I shake my head, and the ocean blurs into a house. An ear pressed to the wall as a man and a woman threaten and scream, beg and shout. Accusations of infidelity, of a young ginger-haired mage, unwanted and unloved.

Everything ends, everything begins again.

The house blurs into a campus. School. Witches and mages. The Academy. Friends that call themselves brothers. There are classes and professors, a bar where students sing karaoke. There’s a woman too, with crazy hair and a terrible singing voice, her skin as sweet as honeysuckle.

She’s singing to me, calling me home… Her eyes are the deepest shade of… blue? Hazel? I’m losing the image. Losing the feel of her touch in my hair. Losing the taste of her kiss.

In its place, I taste fire. Power.

Everything ends, everything begins again.

The last of the images finally fades, and moments later, blinking up at the druid, I can’t even remember what I was thinking about.

“Nothing,” I say honestly. “I recall nothing.”

This seems to please him greatly. He gestures behind me, and the charioteer steps forward, her tattered green cape fluttering in the breeze.

“We have a task for you,” the druid says. “A test, if you will.”

“Does it involve…” I smirk at them, unable to contain the inner joy bubbling to the surface. The word