Chapter 8

  He’d been staring at the mirror for over an hour, his gaze dragging over his reflection again and again, as if sheer willpower could undo everything. Xander felt alien in his own skin. The face staring back wasn’t what he knew, wasn’t what he wanted, wasn’t... damnit.

  When he was being dragged off the stage yesterday, exhaustion had taken him halfway to the palace. He’d woken up in a bed of silk sheets and pillows—a far cry from the familiar, slightly worn ones at home.

  The wheel floated behind his head, quiet and unyielding. Sometimes it was perfectly still, other times it idly spun, a silent reminder of the uninvited chaos that now anchored itself to him. It wasn’t just its presence—it was the way it seemed to move with a meaning he couldn’t grasp, as though it knew something he didn’t.

  He’d tried touching it earlier, only for his fingers to pass right through. It looked tangible, almost solid, but it wasn’t. Some kind of projection, maybe? Some magical illusion? He didn’t know. He didn’t have a single clue what to think, and that uncertainty gnawed at him like a parasite.

  A flicker of anger started to rise in his stomach, he didn’t necessarily want this card, or any card for that matter. His life was fine. Slow, sure, even stagnant at times, but it was his. He thought of the promise he’d made before the festival: to put himself out there more, maybe set up a studio, sell at the local markets, and still have time to help his parents when things get hectic. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was enough.

  He’d just started to get his life together, just started to piece together the puzzle that was his life but this—he swiped uselessly at the wheel again—this had shattered it all.

  The memories of the stage lingered like a bad taste. The looks on the faces of the crowd had burned themselves into his mind. Awe. Envy. Longing. People gazing at him like he was someone—or something—greater.

  He didn’t feel greater.

  The only thing he longed for was a do-over, to rewind the stars and rewrite yesterday out of existence.

  His hands tightened on the counter as he let out a sigh. With a shake of his head, he tapped the wall, plunging the bathroom back into darkness. He opened the door to return to the bedroom and jumped at the sight of Maurice, seated calmly on the edge of his bed.

  “Ah, Xander. I was starting to get worried—you’d been in there for a while,” Maurice said, his voice measured, his smile gentle enough to ease some of Xander’s tension.

  “It’s just…” Xander motioned vaguely to the top of his head. “You know.”

  Maurice nodded, his expression growing more serious. “That’s exactly what I’m here to talk to you about. There are things you need to know. A lot of things.”

  Xander exhaled, a small sigh of relief escaping his lips. The thought that had lingered in the back of his mind was irrational—he knew it was—but it had been there nonetheless.

  The sight of Maurice sitting on his bed had set the hairs on the back of his neck on edge, his imagination conjuring fleeting, ridiculous ideas. Was he here to hurt him? Take him out? He dismissed the foolish thought as quickly as it came, though it still left a lingering unease.

  “Let's take a walk, shall we?”

  Xander nodded numbly, trailing after the taller man into the hallway. He hadn’t gotten a good look at these corridors before—being unconscious had a way of complicating things. Now that he was awake, he realized just how much he had missed.

  The halls stretched out like something from a storybook, high arched ceilings giving the space a grand, almost otherworldly feel. Massive windows flooded the area with light, making the marble beneath their feet gleam and highlighting every intricate detail carved into the walls.

  They walked in silence for a while, and though it was beginning to itch at Xander, he assumed Maurice was giving him a chance to take it all in before they began. He didn’t mind. If anything, the distraction was welcome.

  His gaze wandered to the marble statues lining the halls, towering tributes to the cardholders of the past. Each base bore a name etched in clean, deliberate script, every letter carrying the weight of reverence. Between the statues hung rich tapestries embroidered with moments from Solari’s early history—snapshots of its creation, of battles fought and alliances forged.

  Xander vaguely recalled a lesson from school about card synergy, how the earliest holders tended to group together by shared themes in their card meanings. It was an interesting thought, though it only raised more questions. What kept their successors tied to the same regions? Sure, cardholders lived longer than most, but what would happen if Maurice died and the next Magician was chosen halfway across the continent? He tucked the question away, making a mental note to bring it up later.

  Finally, after a few minutes of walking, Maurice’s voice broke the silence, the sound echoing softly against the stone walls. “So, Xander, let’s start with something simple. Can you tell me what you know about the cards? I think it’s best if I understand where you’re at before I begin.”

  He nodded, fumbling with his shirt as he waited a few moments, collecting his thoughts. “I know the basics, you know—Major arcana, minor arcana. For me, my knowledge is more… tarot meaning based and less about how… the cards really interact in the word.”

  Xander’s shoes echoed softly against the marble floors as he continued, “I’ve noticed the similarities between traditional card meanings and the powers they grant holders, but anything beyond that? I’m not really sure. I know about the Divine Hunt, how the power’s first came into our world—though not much about what happens after. Functionally, I mean.”

  Maurice nodded thoughtfully, a small hum escaping his lips. “I see… your knowledge is more grounded in the table of cards in front of you rather than their broader application.”

  As they walked, Maurice led him into a courtyard. The space was alive with vibrant flowers and miniature gardens, the air carrying the soft scent of roses. At its center was a small, clear pool surrounded by bushes and blossoms. Benches were scattered throughout, making the area feel less like a courtyard and more like a small, private park.

  Maurice gestured for Xander to sit beside him on one of the benches. Once seated, he leaned back slightly and began, “When I was chosen for my card, I was actually mid-show.” A distant look crossed his gray eyes, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “It was during my second act at a festival near Heiros Haven. When the card chose me, my entire world flipped upside down. Having this kind of power isn’t for just anyone… and that’s exactly my theory.”

  Xander raised an eyebrow at that. “Theory?”

  Maurice smiled, giving a small nod. “Yes. You’ve heard of Charles, the first and only holder of the World card, and how he declared that the cards would choose their holders?”

  “Yeah…” Xander nodded along.

  “My theory,” Maurice said, his tone laced with intrigue, “is that the cards—at least the Major Arcana—choose individuals who either embody the essence of the card or have the potential to do so.” He pointed to himself. “Take me, for example. I was chosen while doing what? Magic. Joline, the Empress, was chosen as a young girl while she spent her days tending gardens and caring for her mother. Eric was a painter, fully immersed in his craft when the card found him.”

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  He turned his gaze to Xander, his finger now pointed directly at him. “And you? You were chosen after making a vow to take control of your life, to steer your own course. The Wheel of Fortune saw that spark in you. There’s a pattern, a purpose in who or what the cards choose.”

  Xander blinked, skepticism immediately surfacing. “But Stella said it herself—the Wheel of Fortune didn’t choose anyone for a hundred years.” He sighed, leaning forward and clasping his hands. “I find it hard to believe that in all that time, there wasn’t a single person worthy of it.”

  A flicker of understanding passed through Maurices gaze. “That is true, though that's speaking to logic. These cards… while rooted in their meanings and rules defy the very thing humans have known for hundreds of years before the hunt. We theorize, yes, but there’s no telling what they’re true motivations are, or what exactly they are here to do.”

  He leaned back against the bench, his eyes drifting skyward. “The big brains over at Ascension Hallow have been poking and prodding at that very question for years.” A sigh escaped him as he rubbed a hand down his face. “Sorry, I’ve gone a bit off track. Let me refocus. Do you have any questions?”

  Xander fiddled with the lining of his pants, allowing some of his worries to surface. “What… does this mean for me now? Will I have to join a guild or, I don’t know, become a council member or something?”

  Maurice let out a soft laugh, the sound catching Xander off guard and making him look up. “Of course not, boy. If that’s what you want, then sure, maybe we can arrange something. But you’re not obligated to do anything. Yes, card holders help where we can, but we’re only the icing of the cake of society. Mortals are the backbone—they’re still the majority, after all.”

  A wave of relief washed over Xander, and the tension in his shoulders eased as he sank deeper into the unexpectedly soft material of the bench. “That’s good to know. So I can just… continue how I was? Nothing really has to change?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say that,” Maurice said quickly, raising a finger. “Things won’t ever be normal for you again—that’s just the nature of these cards.” He trailed off for a moment, as if carefully choosing his next words. “The last Wheel of Fortune holder was recorded to have these… sensations. Tugging feelings he couldn’t ignore, leading him in seemingly random directions. The records on him are sparse since he was always on the move, never staying in one place for too long.” Maurice shook his head. “Hells, we still haven’t figured out what the Fool’s holder ability even is. Last I heard, they’re out there, wandering and doing who knows what.”

  He placed a reassuring hand on Xander’s shoulder. “Look, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and an even stronger support system by your side. That boy? Your parents? Fierce, I tell you.” Maurice chuckled, stretching as he stood—his gaze sweeping over the courtyard.

  “I actually have two more questions,” Xander blurted out, the lingering thought from the hallway finally surfacing. Maurice nodded, encouraging him to continue. “If you were chosen near another region, how did you end up here? The statues I saw—there were two other Magicians, a Sun holder, all the same Majors who stay in Solari now. How do the same cards, with different holders, always end up here, no matter where they’re chosen?”

  Maurice ran a hand through his slick black hair, the silver strands catching the light. His brow furrowed as he let out an uncharacteristic huff and sat back down. “That… is actually a good question.” He leaned forward slightly, hands clasped. “When I was chosen, I spent my early days traveling. I’d been to most of the regions as a performer, but after receiving the card, my outlook on life changed entirely. It wasn’t just about entertaining anymore—it was about understanding the world in a deeper way.”

  “As time passed and my travels came to an end, I felt this pull to settle down. But where? That was the question. I remember passing through Solari on my way to the Reach, and it was like something clicked. The culture, the people—the other Majors who were already here—it all just fit. Next thing I knew, a decade had passed, and I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.”

  Xander’s thoughts churned as Maurice spoke. Was it really a personal decision, or was the card guiding him all along? The idea lingered, pushing him to voice his suspicion. “What if that’s exactly what the founders felt? What if there’s some unspoken agreement between the cards, passed down through holders, ensuring they somehow end up back in the same region?”

  Maurice’s gaze drifted upward in thought, his expression contemplative. “That’s an excellent observation,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I don’t know how it slipped my mind. It makes sense in the grand scheme of things. The cards affect us in far more ways than we realize. It’s foolish these questions aren’t being asked more.”

  Silence stretched between them, both lost in thought. Finally, Maurice spoke, breaking the quiet. “I’ll send this theory off to the High Priestess. That woman is probably the only one who might have an answer.” He sighed, his gaze dropping to his palms. The rings on his fingers shifted, their shapes twisting and reforming as if alive. “There’s so much we still don’t know, so many questions left unanswered. It’s been almost four centuries, and yet it sometimes feels like it’s all still brand new.”

  Images of Jenette on stage flashed in Xander’s mind, the world card yet another mystery left unsolved.

  As if reading his thoughts, Maurice leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “And don’t get me started on the World card…” He muttered, “Me, personally? I’m relieved—truly relieved—that we don’t know where that card is. If the wrong hands got hold of it…” He trailed off, “I don’t even know what we’d do….”

  Xander’s voice was quiet, but the weight behind his words was unmistakable. “But it has to be out there, right?” He mumbled, “What if someone finds it…”

  A solemn silence fell over the courtyard. The soft chirps of birds and the gentle rustling of leaves were the only sounds filling the gap, an almost ironic calm in the face of such heavy thoughts. Xander let his mind wander, his future looming like a storm cloud. Where would he end up? If Maurice’s card had drawn him to Solari, would his own card guide him to a place that felt right? Solari was his home—it always had been—but would it always be that way?

  Maurice suddenly shook his head, jolting Xander from his reverie. “Sorry about that,” he said with a faint smile. “There aren’t many people who ask such thoughtful questions. Most just take the cards and the power they grant at face value, never bothering to dig deeper. But you’ll find those types of people get very upset when you do ask questions. Secretly? They want to know the answers, too. It’s just easier to pretend indifference than admit ignorance.”

  He waved a hand, the tension in his shoulders easing as he let out a heavy breath. “But enough about that. What was your other question?”

  Xander gazed down at his arms, running a hand along his bronze skin. “There’s this… tingling sensation, like the hairs on my arm are standing up. I noticed it after I came out of the bathroom,” he said, glancing back up at Maurice. “I thought it was just because I was still tired, but it hasn’t gone away.”

  Maurice’s face lit up, as if a light bulb had gone off in his mind. “Ah! How could I forget to mention this? The feeling you’re experiencing is perfectly normal—well… as normal as having these abilities can be.”

  “Normal?” Xander asked, skepticism lacing his voice.

  “Card holders have an innate sense somehow embedded in us, the senses can basically pick up on other card holders—and if you focus you can kinda feel their ranking and where they stand.” Maurice shuffled closer. “Try it, I want you to close your eyes and focus in front of you.”

  Xander frowned but complied, closing his eyes. The prodding sensation on his skin lingered, but it soon transformed into something deeper—a subtle yet undeniable knowing. He couldn’t explain how, but he felt Maurice’s presence, his card’s number, his role as the Magician. The knowledge just… was. How did this even work? Could it be because all the cards came from the same deck?

  Maurice’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and Xander opened his eyes. “What we’ve figured out so far is that card holders give off a sort of… current,” Maurice said, his expression growing thoughtful. “Think of it like Solite energy, yes? The sun emits rays, and the crystals transmute that energy into something usable. Now, apply that to card holders. We emit a kind of energy—a signature—that other card holders can feel and interpret. Make sense?”

  Xander’s brows knit together in concentration. “I guess that makes sense,” he admitted, still processing the idea.

  “Mr. Lanosh, sir!”

  The voice startled both of them. A young woman in a flowery dress rushed into the courtyard, her breath coming in quick bursts as she approached. She leaned forward, hands on her knees as she exhaled sharply. “Breakfast has already been served, sir. I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she said, gesturing urgently for them to follow.

  Maurice chuckled and gave Xander a knowing look. “Right, almost forgot about that. I’m sure this place will be in flames if your family doesn’t see you soon. Lead the way, Janice.”

  Xander laughed softly, the mental image of his parents and Jor’dan teaming up to raise hell over his absence flashing in his mind. It was oddly comforting to know they’d probably go to such lengths.

  With a groan, he pushed himself off the bench and stretched, his arms reaching skyward before he followed Maurice and Janice back into the sprawling hallways of the spire.