The lecture hall is bustling with changelings, the sound of shuffling and whispered conversations overwhelming. I stand in awe at the precipice. Balconies ascend above me; the domed ceiling is made up entirely of windows, and light shines through it, illuminating the grand space. I’ve seen marvels designed by mortal hands, but nothing like this. Carvings of the same tarot card figures and imagery I’ve seen outside each of the Hearths are chiseled into the columns around the room. Living trees line the edges, their branches holding small reading lamps with live bats and birds roosting in the limbs and leaves. It’s too magnificent of a scale for mortal engineering, and I back against the sidewall, clutching my note bag tightly.
“Oh, thank gods, you’re here!” Ember’s warm smile envelops me, and I relax a fraction. Scooping her hand around my arm, she leads me up into the audience, decidedly aiming for an empty section of seats beside Morgan. Everyone here appears to be from the Selection. She sits, and I take the seat beside her.
Morgan leans over her to talk to me. “I heard it’s just you and the prince in that last Hearth. You don’t have to … sleep in the same room, do you?” His hands grip his notebook, knuckles whitening.
“No. It’s a big house.”
“I don’t trust him,” Morgan hisses.
I don’t trust anyone. I shift the subject. “Do you have to share rooms?”
Morgan shakes his head and Ember whispers, “No, but I overheard that anyone in a house lower than Justice has at least one roommate.”
“Lower?”
“In power. The Fool I guess is the lowest on the might scale, whereas the World is considered the highest.” Ember looks to me meaningfully, but I don’t feel any more powerful than I did last night. This body might have changed to something stronger, built faster, but no sudden gifts like what Draven showcased sift in my veins. Ember rattles off, “The lower on the scale, the more common the Arcana, too, which is why most are put in those categories, druid-born or changeling.”
“How’d you find out all this?” I raise a brow, and she laughs.
“Turns out the Star Arcana are a pretty chatty group.”
An older druid steps onto a platform in front of the black chalkboard. Despite his silver hair, and the gentle twinkle to his eyes, he’s built lithe and strong, his movements not stiff but swift enough that I believe he could hold his own in a fight. Heslides one chalkboard over, revealing another with prewritten notes beneath it.
He announces, “I am Professor Atum, and this is the only class in which all of you, my students, are changelings. I, myself, was once one, too.”
The auditorium quiets, shock coiling within my chest at the casual statement of that. He seems both whole and content, and I don’t know what to make of the idea that there are those of us who would find happiness here, in the home of our tormentors.
He tells us, “The first set of tarot cards was found in the forest of Eidolon in the North, thought to be a gift from the druids’ mightiest god, Azazel, to help a nearby village survive a harsh winter. Since then, every set of cards has been made from a tree within that forest, which is why keeping your set together, keeping that tree and its magic intact, is so necessary. I’m sure you all have many questions—”
“What use are the lower of the Major Arcana?” a young man with messy hair asks from the front row. “I was only given the Emperor.”
Professor Atum casually sets a large spherical marble on a desk between the board and us. He places his tarot deck beside it, opening and casually shuffling them out. With a motion like he’s pulling a marionette upright, a card slips out, suspended in the air on invisible strings. It floats until it hovers before his outstretched palm, a twinkling golden glow surrounding it.
“The Magician. This card is nearly the lowest of Major Arcana, found on the might scale just above the Fool, and three spaces below the Emperor.”
His spare hand parts the air over the orb, and as he does, it transforms, its material turning to pure gold before our eyes. I cannot fathom how much money it would fetch, the problems it would solve in the mortal realm.
“Yet it still can transform materials. Even change lives, through the power of alchemy.” There’s a moment of silence as Professor Atum assesses us. “Every single one of you holds the potential to enrich our world through your efforts—but first, you must understand how we use magic for the greater good. The Major Arcana, which direct what forms of magic we are attuned to. The Minor Arcana, which enhance the Major Arcana. And the deck’s storytelling ability, what each card represents in metaphor, offering guidance and even divination when used altogether. Tarot cards, like the druid community, are strongest when kept together.”
He steps out from behind his desk, arms crossed. “In this class you will learn what each does and how that contributes to the kingdom of Sedah. You will learn to understand our cultures and customs and how we use magic to support every aspect of them. Write this down.”
I GLANCE AT A CLOCKover Professor Atum’s head almost an hour later, my hand cramping from vigorous note-taking. Somehow, there are still five minutes left before this class ends, and I force myself to break, rubbing my right hand to work out the stiffness. I’ve made a column with the Major Arcana and their powers, but they don’t all make sense to me. The Tower wields lightning, the Emperor uses telekinesis, and Death controls shadows. They don’t fit quite right. Not like Strength, whose power is an enhanced version of its name, or the Lovers’ ability to draw out the truth in relationships and improve fated mating bonds.
Whatever the hells those are.
I don’t know how I’ll ever keep it all in line. Reading the list and knowing I’ll eventually be able to wield all these powers leaves mein disbelief. If there’s one thing in this world I’m sure of, it’s my ability to distrust anything that seems too good to be true.
Better that than to prove myself a fool.
A bell rings, and I’m pulled out of my thoughts as everyone packs up. I gather my things and we scoot along the lecture hall’s row to the stairs, slipping out of the room into the hallway.
“Did any of that make sense to you two?” I ask.
Morgan chuckles.
Ember looks through her notebook. Somehow, she’s managed to adorn each page with neat little drawings. Her penmanship is beautiful, everything tidy and thorough. Meanwhile, there’s still ink smeared up the side of my hand.
“I think so, but I’m not sure what the ability to wield light and fire means as a life skill,” she says thoughtfully, reflecting on her own powers of the Star.
