27. New Order

On the midnight-black stage of the sky above, Summer’s last full moon took its final bow. It had played its role to completion, and now sank gracefully towards the horizon.

The magician Ashtoreth stood, the silver disk framed between her horns, and held out a hand to Caela.

“Here, this’ll make you feel better. Do you want to know where your friends are?”

Caela nodded vigorously, allowing herself to be hauled to her feet.

Ash preened, drawing herself up to her full height - well over six feet, if you counted her horns and high ponytail. “Good!” She clapped her hands, sending her bangles jingling.

“If you wouldn't mind, I need something that belongs to each of the divinants, and something from each of you. Then we’ll need… a couple of candles, a bowl of water, and a few gold coins.”

While the others gathered the required items, Ash picked up a nearby stick and began drawing a seven-pointed star in the dirt. At each point, she placed a candle - they’d found some in Kazzik’s pack. He’d brought plenty for ‘reading’, though Caela now wondered if that held some cryptic double meaning.

For her item, Caela presented one of her raven-feathered arrows, which Ash planted at one point of the star. On the adjacent point, Johannes plopped down The Beast.

Ash examined the snuffling weasel dubiously.

“I've never cast a spell like this with a living being before,” she said. “Couldn't we use something else - your glasses, maybe, or your crystal ball?”

“Nonsense,” Johannes replied genially, “it will work just fine. The Beast is merely a tool, after all.”

“You’re a tool,” Freija muttered, plucking a curling orchid from her hair and thrusting it into Ash’s grasp, along with something else. “Here,” she added flatly. Was that her usual rudeness, or a hint of embarrassment?

Ash opened her hand. Inside was a small lump of pine, inexpertly whittled into the shape of a deer - although it could just as easily have been a lump of ginger.

“After Mulmais, Lux said he was going to make one for everyone,” Freija said casually, with a sidelong glance at Caela. “He’ll probably do the others when he’s back.”

“Wow!” Ash looked genuinely touched, turning the little wooden animal in her hands. “That’s… that’s really lovely, Freija. A token of deep friendship like this is perfect for this ritual.” She looked at Freija, wide-eyed. “And you got the first of his gifts? You must have a really strong bond.”

Caela turned toward Freija as well, wondering what she would tell Ash. She and Lux had never been close, after all.

Freija shrugged. “I don’t know about ‘bond’. He would do what I told him to do, and in return I would not be verbally abusive to him.” Her tone was lighthearted, but her eyes creased faintly at the memory. “It was a pretty good arrangement,” she went on, in a softer voice.

“But,” she sighed, “I guess he didn’t feel the same way, seeing as he’s gone off with that creep.”

Ash’s cheeks coloured a deeper violet. “Right,” she said, “Yes. Kazzik. He sounds awful, but - you should know, we’re not all like that. Tieflings, I mean. We all share infernal blood, but I’ve never heard of anyone who’s embraced it as much as he has.”

She dropped her gaze.

“Not that I’ve got many examples. Aegiswood is almost entirely elves. I stand out like a…”

“Plum in a peach basket?” Caela offered.

Ash let out a huff of laughter despite herself. “I guess.”

Caela smiled. “So there aren’t many tieflings in Aegiswood? What about your parents?”

There was an awkward pause. Ash looked down, fidgeting with her skirts.

Caela wondered if any of her companions had a normal home life.

“I don’t know my parents,” Ash said simply. “I was left on the doorstep of the Mages’ College when I was a baby. That’s the only home I’ve known, and, well…” She shrugged. “They’re my family, really.”

“A foundling?” Caela thought of the fairy tales she’d grown up with. Being raised by elvish academics seemed less outlandish than being raised by wolves. “I didn’t know that happened outside of stories.”

Ash giggled, nervously. “Neither did I. They only told me when I was fourteen. I felt like a character in a mystery book.”

“Surely you, of all people, could solve that mystery?” Johannes asked as he carefully lit each candle, a spark glowing from his fingertip. “Are we not currently trying to find someone?”

“I need a thread of connection,” Ash said wistfully. “Without anything physical that was theirs, or even any memories… decades after we’d parted, there was nothing I could grab on to.”

Her voice wavered a little, and Caela saw sparkling tears welling in her eyes. Just as she reached out to lay a comforting hand on Ash’s shoulder, the tiefling shook her ponytail vigorously and redirected her attention to the empty spot on the circle.

“Unlike Kazzik, who you still have a strong link to – even if it isn’t a happy one. He can still help us.” Her brows furrowed. “Despite everything he’s done to exploit your trust.”

Caela knelt at the circle and placed something else she’d retrieved from Kaz’s abandoned gear - a cigar. Looking more closely at it, she could now see a symbol she didn’t recognise on its scarlet band - one as spiky and alien as the writing in Kazzik’s spellbook.

“It’s not like that,” she said quietly. “Kazzik may have hidden his intentions, but so did Lux. So have all of us. If we’d been more honest with what we were thinking, maybe we – Kazzik included – could have prevented all this mess.”

“Well,” Freija announced, “in the spirit of honesty: when I did that tidal wave, I sort of hoped it would get Kazzik a bit.”

She saw Caela open her mouth and pressed on. “But I’m on my best behaviour now! No more fights. I promise to get along with everybody in the party. Even if I do sometimes think about drowning them.”

Scooping up Hayl’s abandoned bridle, she dropped it on the sixth point of the star with a jingle.

They all stared at the seventh point, still sitting empty.

“That’s for your last party member,” Ash said helpfully. “The thief, right?”

Caela’s fingers curled around the cloth-bound lump in her hands, feeling the cold edge of the dagger even through the canvas.

“No,” she said decisively, stuffing the bundle deep into her bag. She felt Freija’s eyes on her. “He isn’t with us any more.”

Ash looked between them, confused.

“You mean… there’s no connection? Oh. Oh, no. I didn’t know how badly things had gone.” She cringed. “I suppose I’ll just have to redraw the circle… unless…”

She trailed off, looking bashful.

“What?” Caela asked.

“I just had a thought… but no, it’s nothing. Unless… do you still have that letter I sent you?”

Ash looked ready to fold up like paper herself, fingers steepled nervously. Caela retrieved the battered lilac parchment.

“Ah!” Johannes exhaled. “You would put yourself as the seventh, and this would be your link to Lux, correct?”

Ash blushed again. “If you’d have me, that is.”

Caela beamed. “We couldn’t do this ritual without you. Of course you’re welcome.”

Ash placed the amulet at the centre of the magic circle, firelight glinting off its metallic rays. Then, finally, she emptied her waterskin into the wooden bowl. Eyes closed, she murmured a few words in a language Caela halfway recognised. The water lit from within, as if the bowl had been filled with liquid moonlight. Incantation finished, she upended the bowl. The water ran into the lines in the ground like iridescent quicksilver.

“Marvellous!” cried Johannes, smiling ear to ear. “See? The Beast is working perfectly, just as the flower does. They’re both alive - the only difference is in the arrangement of the components. Besides, I needed my glasses to see this marvellous ritual, and my orb to take readings.” He lifted the orb higher, its surface catching the silvery glow.

Glowing flakes of magic drifted up from the ley lines. Ash stared, entranced. When she turned to Johannes, her white eyes had become canvas to an array of dancing hues.

“You were right! I’ve only ever seen College Professors with familiars. I always wanted one, but… they wouldn’t teach me.”

She couldn’t resist a hopeful pause.

“A master arcanist never shares with outsiders,” Johannes observed.

Ash’s face fell.

“However,” he added hastily, “I myself think such traditions outmoded. I would certainly appreciate discoursing with a fellow mage of imagination.”

Ash brightened instantly. Her tail flicked in excitement as she knelt over the circle, unfastening the catch of a dangling crystal necklace. She let the glittering pendulum swing over the circle, tracing arcs and segments between each item.

“I’m letting it catch hold of the connections between you,” Ash explained, focused on the spell. “Once it finds them… there!”

The chain jerked out of her grip, flitting along the glowing tracks of its own accord.

Ash’s eyes darted left and right, deciphering something from its path. “Strange,” she muttered, as the chain turned somersaults around the bridle. “It says your friend Valerios is on his own. In conflict… a war. A war against himself?”

“Oh, dear.” Johannes winced. “It seemed he was halfway through that portal when it closed. Perhaps he’s stuck somewhere in between. Wherever he is, it seems he’s finally found a worthy opponent.”

“That’s the funny thing,” Ash continued, scanning the circle. “The pattern says he’s in a great place. The right place. There’s nothing to fear.”

She gave Caela a hopeful smile.

“He might be too far away for us to reach him, but it looks like he’s doing wonderfully on his own. I’m sure he’ll figure things out.”

Ash swatted at the pendulum, sending it back into the middle. “Enough about Valerios. Tell us about Lux and Kazzik.”

The necklace flitted between the cigar and the carving. Its movements were serpentine, completely different from the sharp-angled dashes that Valerios had provoked.

“They’re together,” Ash said. “It’s fuzzy… Ahn!”

She clutched her head, face twisting in pain and panic.

“I… I’ve never seen…” she stammered. “Even the Head of Divination wasn’t this defensive. It’s like sticking my brain in a psychic beehive.”

She squinted, pushing a stray lock from her eyes.

“They’re close… coming closer… really quickly!”

There was a rumble, and everyone except Johannes leapt away from the circle - with varying degrees of grace.

Caela drew her bow. Mene leapt from his curled position, growling. Freija tumbled into the shape of a hissing fox. Ash, tangling her feet in her own skirts, managed to tumble head over heels. A full second later, Johannes jumped in surprise, but it was far too late. He had a front-row seat as the ground fell away in chunks, leaving a hole in reality that belched a plume of burgundy smoke. Two silhouettes swam within its velvet folds.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” cried a familiar voice, belonging to a familiar horned shape. He raised something to his mouth, and a trumpet sounded.

“No need to speculate, no need to divinate!” he announced. “Wait no longer, because he has arrived - your old friend, but not as you know him. Brought to you by me, Kazzik Byrne-Harbington, it is my pleasure to herald the arrival of the new, the improved, the radiant… LUX!”

A hollow crack shattered the silence, scattering the smoke. Kazzik stood in the centre of the circle, index finger raised skyward, signet ring still glowing. In his other hand he held — Caela had to double-take — an actual trumpet. He tossed the instrument over his shoulder and stepped aside with a bow, revealing the other figure.

Was it really Lux? It certainly looked like him — same golden curls, same sun-toughened hands. He wore the same clothes he’d left in, though now they were pristine, free from the scratches and dirt of their trek. Caela saw her own dumbstruck face reflected in his shining breastplate.

Lux looked uncomfortable at the attention, but otherwise oddly normal.

“Howdy,” he said.

“You!” Freija was the first one to get the words out. She was still crouched in fox-form, hackles raised.

“Surprised?” Kazzik asked. Lux may have returned unchanged, but Kazzik was a different man entirely. Gone was the slick diplomacy, replaced by bursting ego. He was a cat with the cream, the milk, and controlling shares in the entire dairy.

“None of you saw it coming!” he crowed. “It was under all your noses, but you were too busy squabbling to notice. Not until my plan was executed. Ha! Well, it’s too late to be angry.” He tucked his hands into his pockets, smug. “Lux has made his choice, and now he answers to a new master. The same one as I. Someone who’ll actually take care of him.”

He glanced sidelong at Lux with a smile. “As long as he follows the rules, that is.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Caela blurted. She hadn’t broken eye contact with Lux since he’d appeared. Something was different. She couldn’t bear to look away.

“His soul belongs to Mirazh after he dies,” Kazzik said, blunt and businesslike. “If he misbehaves, her agents come to collect prematurely - if you catch my drift.”

Caela shuddered. Fox-Freija snarled at Kazzik.

“Hey,” Kazzik added, mock-defensive. “All her agents play by the same rules, even me. Luckily for you, it’s easy enough to stay in her good books. My lady is a hands-off employer.” He smiled. “Lux and I just have a few chores to take care of in Aegiswood.”

“What kind of ‘chores’?” Caela asked, suspicious.

Kazzik winked. “The top secret kind. Don’t worry – nothing that’ll get in the way of your quest. In fact, it might even be the key to the whole thing.” He spread his arms wide. “We can be a happy family again, see?”

“Your soul…” Johannes was still lodged on something Kazzik had said earlier. He stroked his chin, looking at Lux. “Why would you ever sell such a thing, my boy?”

Kazzik’s eyes lit up. “That’s the best part.” He turned, almost reverently, to Lux. “Go on. Show them your Candlelight.”

“Lux, what happened to your sword?” Caela asked, noticing his empty scabbard. “Without it, you can’t-”

“He doesn’t need it any more,” Kazzik said, positively beaming.

Lux raised his hand. His brows drew together in concentration. There was a hiss like a bursting steam pipe, and crossed lines of smoke condensed in his hand - a blade, and a crossguard. Candlelight flowed down his arm, coating the smoky skeleton with liquid gold. In a moment, he held a sword of pure light.

Lux tensed his shoulders and flexed. Another crack, and two skeletal wings of smoke erupted from his back, quickly feathered with Candlelight. He flexed his golden wings and swung his sword easily in his hand.

In that moment, he was truly angelic. He belonged on a cathedral ceiling.

“Woo!” Kazzik whooped, pumping his fist. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He looked genuinely, almost childishly gleeful.

Lux laughed - caught in the same energy - until he met Caela’s stare. His smile faltered. His eyes dropped.

“Anyway. Enough showboating.” Kazzik surveyed the magic circle laid out beneath him, then stooped to retrieve the amulet - which vanished neatly into his waistcoat pocket - and his cigar. With a flourish, he lit it on the edge of Lux’s wingtip.

“We need to find out where this thing came from,” he said, after taking a drag. “The owner was using it to crack into other planes of existence. That’s no good for Mirazh, and certainly no good for our frail little realm. Plus, it was sent from San Aria, and I bet that’s no coincidence. You wanted answers about Vozloc and his employers-turned-enemies, right?”

Caela allowed herself to relax, just a little. It almost sounded like they were on the same path again. “Yes. We did.”

“What’s the plan, then?” asked Lux, letting the golden wings and sword dissolve into drifting sparks.

“We finish the delivery,” Kazzik said. “See where it ends up, and take them out. Okay?”

“No! Not okay!” It was the first thing Ash had said since the portal opened. She stared at Kazzik and Lux, wide-eyed. “We’re not giving that thing back! It’s far too dangerous!”

Kazzik squinted at her. “Oookay. Didn’t account for a new arrival. Something to circle back on.” He pointed and clicked his tongue. “Anyway - you’re right, mystery woman. That’s why we’ll disable it first.”

“But… what about Valerios?” Caela asked.

Lux froze. “That’s right. We came back through the amulet. He needs to as well.”

Kazzik pursed his lips. “I feel for the big lug,” he said tensely, “but he jumped through of his own accord, and hells know where he ended up.” He shrugged. “We can’t find him, and I’m not risking leaving this thing active.”

“And I’m not leaving anyone behind,” Lux said stubbornly.

They stared each other down. Lux’s face was set, blue eyes steady and serious.

Kaz’s gaze flickered over the rest of the party.

“Fine,” he said at last. “He’s got until morning. After that, he’s on his own cosmic journey.”

—

“I can explain.”

Lux watched Caela nervously, his face not quite managing to break into a smile.

They sat beside the faltering campfire. Soon, the sun peeking over the horizon would take over from the wilting flames, bathing them in real warmth. For now, both were orange and feeble: not quite there, not quite gone.

“Why?” Caela asked. “Just tell me. Even if it’s horrible, I need to hear it. Why did you do it?”

Her voice was hollow. It still didn’t feel real, having him back. She wasn’t even sure that he was back. “Did we all hurt you that badly? Is this because the group was falling apart? Is this my fault?”

Lux shook his head vigorously. “Never. You did right, even with a party messier’n a hoedown in the hog pen. No, I reckon we all did you wrong. I’m sorry for makin’ you worry.”

Caela looked at him properly, examining his worried expression. His face had been cleaned of grime, and there was a healthy flush in his cheeks. It wasn’t a face that belonged here, at the end of an arduous journey. Still, she could see the familiar furrows in his brow, the lines that deepened when he was anxious or confused. She knew them well. They belonged to the same Lux who she’d started her new life with.

“What Kazzik said… it’s all over, isn’t it? Your soul belongs to someone else now. You’ll have to do whatever she says. Even if it takes you away from us.” She drew in a breath. “Even if it sets us against each other.”

Lux shook his head again. His eyes were intense.

“It’s not like that, Caela. I’ve got a plan.”

Historically, Lux Plans were a cause for mass panic, but she paid careful attention, as one might when watching a clumsy man arm a bear trap.

“I bargained with Mirazh for power,” he said quietly. “I need that to protect everyone - ‘specially if Aegiswood’s harbourin’ those monsters that ordered Vozloc around. I can’t lose anybody else, y’know?”

He raised his hand and flexed. With a hiss, shadowy lines sprang from each fingertip. Candlelight wrapped each wick like molten wax, forming a handful of golden talons.

Lux closed them into a spiked fist. “But I ain’t plannin’ on being a huntin’ dog like Kaz, and I ain’t doin’ anything I don’t believe in. If she thinks I owe her, she can come collect. Till then, I’m followin’ my own path.”

Silence pooled between them.

Caela reached out, hesitated, then gently opened his golden fist. The talons radiated heat like steel left out under the blazing sun. Her fingertips danced over the shimmering surface, never lingering for more than a heartbeat.

“How do you know?” she murmured, pushing down each talon one by one, the way she’d play with Mene’s claws. “She could be in your head. She might find leverage. What if she makes you do something terrible?”

Lux smiled, confident and earnest.

“I already thought about that one, but it’s easy. I’ve been relyin’ on you - and I still can, right?”

Caela nodded.

“To keep the others safe?”

“Always.”

Lux held her gaze, searching it, then nodded - satisfied. “I know you will. You’ll be there for me, in the end. Same way I was there for Aix.”

Caela’s blood turned to ice. “You don’t mean…”

Lux’s expression was grim.

“If it comes to it.”

—

The sun rose.

Over the next few hours, so did the rest of the party.

It was strange having so many late risers for once. Sitting in the long shadows of the standing stones, Caela and Lux patiently waited while Freija crawled from her tent and Johannes arose from his old-man slumber. It was a little while longer before Ash staggered bleary-eyed into the morning, yawning into the back of one heavily-bangled hand.

“No Valerios, I suppose?” she mumbled, attacking her hair with a brush.

Seeing her plight, Freija knelt behind her. “Here,” the elf said, plucking the implement from her grasp and working through the tangles in smooth, even strokes. Ash couldn’t see it, but Caela caught glimpses of ghostly blue critters combing through her hair at Freija’s command.

Lux looked up from the porridge pot he was stirring and shook his head.

“‘Fraid not. Big guy can take care of himself, but he’s cuttin’ it close.”

Caela glanced at the one tent still occupied. After his ridiculous presentation, Kazzik had fallen into a deep, smug sleep borne of complete and unwarranted self-assurance. Now, he was giving himself a lie-in, and Valerios a few more hours of hope.

“We should do something to pass the time,” Freija said, setting down Ash’s hairbrush. “Lux? Know any good card games?”

“Oh!” Ash exclaimed. She didn’t yet seem to have noticed the purple asters Freija had woven into her ponytail. “I could read your fortunes, if you like!”

Caela sat up. “You know how to do that?” she asked, curious. “Properly?”

Ash adjusted her hems, modest but pleased.

“It’s a party trick, really. I’m hardly better than a travelling circus.”

“Then you’ll fit in rather well with our travelling circus,” observed Johannes. “I think I would quite like to go first.”

-

Ash’s reading was a humble affair. From her robe of myriad pockets, she extracted a palm-sized box of dark wood and cracked it open to reveal a stack of paper cards. She lifted the deck from its prison with ceremonial care - and the caution of someone handling a venomous spider. Then, all at once, her hands became a blur: shuffling, riffling, flicking the cards from hand to hand in a seamless cascade.

Caela couldn’t tell if the performance was a display of magical fortitude, or simply well-practiced dexterity. Probably, she decided, both.

With a final thwick  Ash folded the deck together and moved to a wide, flat rock. Grimacing at the dirt, she draped an embroidered blanket over it before kneeling.

She gestured for Johannes to sit opposite her, then placed a single card in front of him.

“This is your past,” she intoned. Another card. “This is your present.” A third. “And this is your future.”

She glanced up at her audience, and for the first time seemed embarrassed.

“This is a standard reading. I- I’ll do this for everyone, if you like.”

Holding Johannes’ intrigued gaze, Ash tapped the first card with a lacquered fingernail and flipped it over. Johannes leaned in, making no attempt to hide his curiosity. He craned his head, looking rather like a scruffy owl as he tried to decipher the intricately-inked miniature.

A stooped old man stood on a rocky mountaintop, holding a staff and a lantern.

“The Hermit, reversed.” Ash’s lips moved silently as she scanned the image. “This is… a man in isolation…”

“A man of wisdom!” Johannes agreed. “Although I’m not sure I could ever live in a cave.”

“It’s symbolic,” Ash said patiently. “Of wisdom, and solitude. Someone self-taught?”

Johannes nodded, beaming.

“But maybe…” She hesitated. “I wonder how much you actually like that life?”

She moved on quickly, turning the next card. A blindfolded woman held two swords aloft.

“Two of swords. You are - or will soon be - faced with indecision. Moral paralysis. A difficult choice.”

Johannes hummed noncommittally.

“And here, in your future…”

Everyone gasped. It wasn’t hard to guess what the skeletal figure holding a scythe meant.

“-Death,” Ash blurted. “But it’s not what it looks like! It’s not literal. It’s about change. Endings, and new beginnings. Metamorphosis.”

Johannes’ eyebrows rose.

“Well,” he said mild, “I think I understand you. And Death must be in all of our futures, one day, aha?”

No one laughed.

Horribly flustered, Ash turned to Caela. “Caela! Would you like to try? Now that, um, that last card is out of the pack?”

Caela offered her a sympathetic smile and nodded.

Ash straightened, laying out three new cards. She flipped the first.

A man hung upside down from the branch of a tree.

“The Hanged Man…” Ash began, tentatively.

Freija snorted. “This is all rather bleak!”

“Your past involved sacrifice,” Ash said softly. “Letting go.”

Caela thought of Menelaus, his ashen body bathed in moonlight.

“Your present…” Ash revealed another reversed card. An injured man leant on a staff, eight others looming behind him. She grimaced. “The Nine of Wands, reversed. Exhaustion. Being worn thin.”

Caela nodded ruefully. “My present doesn’t feel great,” she admitted.

“That’s this card,” Ash agreed. “Not great. So let’s… move on to…” She flipped the final card and brightened. “Aha!”

Finally, it seemed, a positive message. A proud figure stood on an ornate chariot, pulled by - were those lions? Sphynxes?

“The Chariot!” Ash beamed. “This one is all about taking action. Embarking on a journey. Mending bridges. See? Things will get better.”

Relieved, she turned to Freija. “Would you like me to read yours?”

Freija twirled a new flower into her hair. “Go ahead. But no bad ones, ok?”

“I… I don’t control your future,” Ash said faintly. “I only read it.”

Freija raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “So?”

Stammering, Ash drew three more cards. The first: a regal man in ornate robes and a golden crown.

“Your past is… the Hierophant, reversed. That’s a type of priest.”

“I know what a hierophant is, Ashtoreth,” Freija said sharply, to Caela’s surprise; she hadn’t. “So I haven't been very priestly?”

“Not very… traditional, perhaps?” Ash thought about it. “Maybe someone who challenges the status quo. Someone who values personal freedom.”

Freija had nothing to say to that, although Caela thought her languorous slouch suddenly looked a little more posed.

“In the present, you have the Three of Cups, reversed.” Three dancing women raised their goblets. “This one’s about fun, indulgence, and treating yourself.”

“That’s good!” Freija cut in. Her face fell. “Oh. But you’re going to tell me it’s reversed, so I’m partying too much, loving myself too much.”

“Pretty much,” Ash said apologetically. “But in the future, you have The Empress.” She tapped the reclining woman in her flower-strewn dress. “That’s a great one! It’s all about connection with nature, harmony – and of course, female leadership.”

Ash - and Caela - had been expecting a burst of enthusiasm, but Freija was even less excited for this card. She wrinkled her nose as if it emitted a terrible stench.

“Okay, um, next person!” she declared.

All eyes turned to Lux. He was sitting some way away, gouging a bit of wood into a rough approximation of an animal. Feeling their gazes, he looked up.

“Alright,” he said. “Guess I’m game. Go on.”

The first card showed an armoured knight with a raised blade.

“This is the Knight of Swords - reversed,” Ash said, indicating the first figure.

“I thought all knights had swords?” Lux asked, without a hint of irony.

“This one’s a special one,” Ash said patiently. “This one is restless. Inexperienced. Full of energy, but no direction to channel it. That’s what I get from your past.”

Lux scratched his stubbly chin. “Direction… yeah. I reckon I was needin’ a few buckets of that before now.”

Before now. Caela gritted her teeth.

Ash flipped the second card. A winged figure descending upon a group of tiny people.

“Well,” she continued, “It’s not my place to say, but the cards suggest now’s the time to rethink some of your past judgements. Because that’s the reversed Judgement card. It’s a burial of guilt, doubt, and reflection.”

Lux frowned. “What about my future? Does my… do things work out for everyone else?”

Ash gave him a queer look. “This isn’t about everyone else. It’s all about you.”

She turned the last card. A blindfolded man stood amid swords driven into the earth.

“The Eight of Swords is an interesting one. See how the man is nearly surrounded by harmful forces - these swords?”

“Not surrounded,” Lux pointed out. “See? Here, he can get out.”

“But he can’t see it, can he?”

Lux sat back, blowing out his cheeks.  “I feel sorry for the little guy. Damn.”

Ash opened her mouth - then stopped at the sound of slow clapping.

“This is fun!” Kazzik said, filling each word with crimson disdain. “I haven’t been to one of these shows since I was a boy. D’you do the one with the rabbit and the hat? Or was that bit of costuming outside your price range?”

Ash glared at the young warlock. Caela had been wondering how the two tieflings would get on - perhaps Kazzik’s silver tongue would win over Ash, who admittedly seemed rather suggestible. To her surprise, though, their new companion seemed to see Kazzik very straightforwardly: as a thoroughly rude young man.

Ash gathered her skirts around herself in a huff. “Oh, I’m sure that’s all you see it as, rich boy. You clearly don’t understand what real magic is, considering you bought yours. With your soul.” She pouted in disgust.

Kazzik laughed, clearly getting the reaction he wanted. “Oh, yes. And you spent all those years learning, for… what, exactly? Card tricks?”

“Divination!” Ash snapped. “The future!” She turned her head deliberately, ponytail flicking. “But if you’re too scared to face yours, then…”

“Now, I didn’t say that, Miss Prophet.” Kazzik lounged into a sitting position, tail curling around his legs. “I’m an open-minded man.” He leaned forward, smiling wickedly. “Impress me.”

With a look of determination, Ash flipped over the first card.

A boy sat beneath a tree. Three empty cups sat before him, a fourth offered by a formless cloud. A very strange smile passed over Kazzik’s lips as he examined the shape.

“Your cup runneth over, Kazzik Byrne-Harbington,” Ash commented casually. “Were you bored, as a child? Dissatisfied with comfort? Did you need to swap the silk for travelling clothes?”

Kazzik shrugged, eyelid flickering imperceptibly. “Passing grade, Miss…?”

“Ashtoreth.”

“Ash, but that much is easy to deduce. If I liked the finery, I’d be at home, not squatting over a rock with you, wouldn’t I?”

Ash flipped over the second card without another word. Two intertwined hands stretched away from Kazzik. He tilted his head, flashing his pointed canines.

“Friends?”

“Lovers. Reversed.” Ash’s voice was acidic. “Most people want relationships that are honest, equal and sustainable. Yours are none of those things. Good luck.”

Kazzik chuckled as Ash turned the final card. Caela and Freija gasped in tandem. A horned figure loomed from the ink. Kazzik might as well have been staring at his own portrait.

Ash inhaled slowly. “The Devil, reversed. Your lowest point is coming, and you will meet your darkest self - although, at least…” She stopped herself. “Doesn’t matter. Reflect on your flaws, and maybe you’ll see your dark days coming.”

Kazzik projected smugness so thick it practically shimmered, her disgust rolling off him like water off a seal’s back.

“Ouch,” he said, without any real pain. “That’s awfully personal. If you’re not careful, you might hurt my feelings.”

“I’m not being careful,” Ash retorted, then looked startled at herself. “I’m just telling you what the cards say. It’s not my fault if your fate isn’t… pleasing to you.”

“Don’t you ever get embarrassed?” Kazzik asked, arching his back to lean closer. “Poking around in people’s lives for fun and profit?”

Ash bristled, gathering her cloak around her.

“If anyone should be embarrassed about that, it’s you,” she said sharply. “I know all about your little recruitment scheme.”

She shook her head, genuine disappointment in her voice.

“I’ve spent my whole life facing down jokes about summoning devils and sacrificing babies, and here you are - making a pact with your blood-ancestor.“

Kazzik shrugged.

“Why should I care what the unwashed masses think?”

“Because you’re giving your people a bad name!” Ash burst out. “Doesn’t that concern you, even a little bit?”

Kazzik shook his head, smiling broadly.

“‘My people’? I can assure you, sister, that there’s no one like me.”

Ash broke from his smug gaze, kneeling to gather her scattered cards. Five readings should have meant fifteen cards - but somehow three more lay on the stump, already drawn, waiting. As she reached for the first, it skittered away from her fingertips. The others followed, jumping like startled insects as the earth trembled.

Kazzik turned sharply, hand flying to his book.

“Again? But that’s… impossible!”

Lux raised his hand. Inside it, the amulet buzzed like an angry bee. He released it, and the silvery star shot skyward. It hung in the air for a second before space exploded. Bricks of thin air blasted outward as something burst through a wall in reality.

They covered their eyes as harsh grey light spilled through the portal, casting the new arrival in deep shadow. It thundered towards them on silver-shod hooves, rearing up in a heroic tableau. From the shape came a voice — deep, authoritative and ringing with steely echoes, as if spoken from within a bronze bell.

Despite this new aspect, the speaker was unmistakable.

“HOLD! IN THE NAME OF THE KING, HOOOOLD!”

The figure dropped back to four legs. The portal snapped shut behind it. As the harsh light vanished, the morning sun revealed a familiar face.

Valerios sat astride Hayl. Sweat beaded on his skin, making it glisten like polished steel. He was almost unrecognisable without his mobile armoury, or indeed his armour. Or clothes of any kind.

Valerios thumped his barrel chest and peered down at Ash, who looked ready to crawl behind her rock for safety.

“Oracle, I thank you for giving my companions guidance in their destinies. Do not clear your cards, for I have one more job for you.”

“Yes?” Ash squeaked.

“Tell me my future,” Valerios boomed, “and I will tell you if you are correct.”

 V. Valerios' Mighty Adventure >>