realm of comprehension, I’m starting to think I’m still stuck in the dream realm—like I never even came back from that trip with Baz and Kirin.
Hell, maybe they’re not real either. Maybe none of this is real.
Maybe my entire life is no more than some other witch’s dream, and if and when she decides to wake up, I’ll just… stop existing. Poof!
“Everything the Magician wants,” Trello says, “everything he’s chased, across the boundaries of time and space, for millennia—you already have the power to command. You can unite the Arcana objects and reclaim magick for the witches and mages who seek to honor it. You have the power to unite the Light Arcana in the battle against the coming darkness. And when the rest of the world wants to give up, to lay down their arms and walk away from this fight, you have the power to inspire hope. To give us all a reason to keep living. To keep loving. To keep fighting, no matter what the cost.”
Fire burns inside my chest, magick singing through my veins. But it’s all too much to process, too much to carry.
“I don’t want that power,” I say. “I don’t want any of it.” I rub the pentacle tattoo on my wrist, willing my magick to fade, willing myself to wake up out of this witch’s nightmare and return to my mundane life in Tres Búhos. “I would trade every ounce of magick inside me if it meant I could have my parents back. If it meant I’d be stuck in some dusty-ass desert town working at a tiny little tea shop for the rest of my life. If it meant I didn’t have to face the Magician or this dark destiny or… or any of it.”
“Search your heart,” she says softly. “I think you’ll find that’s not exactly true.”
I open my mouth to tell her I don’t need to search my heart, but Goddess, she’s right. I hate her for it, but she’s absolutely right. As much as I’d give anything to have my parents back, losing them is what set me on this path. It brought magick into my life. It brought love and friendship into my life. It brought a deep sense of purpose, a fate I could no more outrun than mother could outrun hers.
I squeeze Doc’s hand and nod, letting out a deep breath of acceptance.
Magick. Fate. Destiny. Hope. All of it endlessly shifting, but always bringing me right back here, right back where I belong.
“Thank you,” I finally say—a phrase I wasn’t sure I was capable of offering the woman seated across from me. “Thank you for telling me about my mother. About all of this.”
“It is your story, Starla. Your legacy. It was always meant for you to hear.”
At this, the candles finally flicker out, the last of the spell releasing us from its hold. Trello sweeps her Tarot deck into a neat stack, save for a lone card that flutters to the floor beside me.
I crouch down to retrieve it. It’s Trump eleven, the Justice card, featuring a stern-looking woman dressed in chainmail and a rich burgundy cape, holding a sword in one hand and a scale in the other. Perched at her side on a rocky bench, a brown-and-white owl looks on, a darker version of my Jareth.
The moment my fingers touch the card, I know.
“It’s you!” I gasp, clutching the card and getting to my feet.
Trello rises from her chair and nods once, then extends her arms, whispering an ancient incantation I haven’t the knowledge to translate. All around her, red and silver runes glow bright in the air, swirling around her on an invisible current. When they finally fade, she’s standing before us with the sword and the scale, the cape draped elegantly over her shoulders.
It’s only a moment, and then the magick fades, revealing regular Anna Trello once again.
Doc blinks up at her, his mouth open wide, his hand pressed against his heart. “But how… All this time…”
“You’re the Justice Arcana,” I say, a surge of anger keeping me on my feet. “Justice! Yet you lied to us, you kept us in the dark about your knowledge about the Magician and my destiny. You made a bargain with the Dark Hierophant, risking the lives of your own students and faculty. You… you… Goddess, I don’t even know where to begin!”
All the goodwill she fostered tonight evaporates in the wake of this new treachery. I’m so mad I’m practically shaking with it,