Page 31

The instruction is familiar in concept: the Arcanist draws out their power and funnels it into the ink, staining it and locking it into a card for future use. But it is what follows that completely loses me. For the Minor Arcana, the materials are clear.

Swords are inked with an iridescent black powder made from the crushed feathers of falcons that roost in the Descent.

Wands require the pale ash of burned yew trees, which grow only in the monster-infested Blood Forests.

Cups’ prismatic light blue powder is made from crushing crystals collected by divers in the Drowned Mines.

Coins’ ink comes from green berries that fruit on delicate, thorny plants native to the flatlands that border the distant Desert Reaches.

Any Sword, Wand, Cup, or Coin can be inked with the necessary powder mixed with a bonder like oil or water. Each ingredient is hard to attain and harder to process. But straightforward…unlike inking a Major Arcana.

“So, then, as Majors, we can ink Minors with any powders we want, but our Major cards require something special?”

The three second and third years share a confused look.

“We cannot ink Minor Arcana with anything but the ink required.” Elorin speaks for all of them.

I look to Sorza.

“Can’t say I’ve tried…But I am new to all of this.” She seems skeptical.

“Can you, Clara?” Myrion asks.

“Yes.” Now I’m wishing I’d kept my mouth shut.

“Fascinating.” He strokes his chin. “Every Major’s magic is different but powerful enough that it gives each individual unique additional benefits.

Our Major Arcana is our primary power—and the card is the way we actively access our power.

When successfully inked, the card turns silver.

Every Major also possesses the ability to use other Major Arcana cards—which regular Arcanists cannot use. ”

“A regular Arcanist can use a Major card if they’re blessed by the Hierophant card,” Thal chimes in.

“Well, yes. But generally speaking, using the Major Arcana is something only Majors can do.” Myrion continues, “Finally, there are other powers that come with being the embodiment of a Major—those ‘additional benefits’ I mentioned. These are unique to each Major, and they’re usually smaller, innate abilities that require no card.

“As for me, my primary power is the Lovers. If I or another Major cast that card, it can make two people whose names I know fall in love. My innate ability is that I can often tell at a glance if two people are in love.”

“Can you?” I try to not sound panicked, thinking of Kaelis’s and my display earlier.

“More or less.” His smile is impossible to read. “It’s not like using a card—not a surefire thing. But a pretty good instinct.”

“And you two?” I ask, trying to move along from the notion of Myrion being able to tell Kaelis and I are very obviously not in love. If he hasn’t said anything yet, then maybe he won’t say anything at all. Or…he couldn’t tell.

“People seem inclined to say things around me; they tell me things they might not otherwise admit, especially if I probe,” Elorin says.

“My pain tolerance is ridiculous,” Thal says.

“So yours, then, is you can ink any Minor with any powder.” Sorza appraises me, then hums. “I wonder what mine is…”

“You’ll find out in time,” Elorin says. “But, for now, let’s focus on the main way you access your power—inking your Major card.”

“You’ll have to find what your Major Arcana card costs for you, ” Thal emphasizes. “For example, mine’s crushed poppies picked on a sunny day.”

“How does that make any sense?” I shift my weight from foot to foot, working to not let my insecurity show.

I’ve always been quick to grasp any lesson or concept thrown at me.

But in this room, among these peers, I can’t help but feel, for the first time ever when it’s come to the arcana, that I’m starting from behind.

“The Sun…” Thal reaches into their loose vest and pulls out a vial filled with a crimson powder.

It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Nearly the color of blood.

Yet, when they hold it up to the windows, still bright with the afternoon sun, it splits the light into a dozen rainbows that scatter across the table we’re gathered around.

“It removes any pain from an individual. Pain of the body and of the mind. An enhanced and perfect version of what poppy medicine can do, and a hundred times more addictive.”

“There’s logic to that, I suppose.” But then what inking material is “logical” for a Wheel of Fortune?

“Don’t worry, we’ve all made it through this.” Thal nudges my shoulder, reassuring me. “Remember, the card reflects you and your latent power. The cost is within you. You’ll know it when you find it.”

I merely nod.

“And, like a Minor card, you must have this inking material for every card?” Sorza asks.

“It’s not always a material.” Elorin lightly runs her fingers over the various inking tools, staring straight through them.

“What is it for you?” Her expression and movements make my question delicate.

Elorin’s eyes flick to me. Despite their bright blue hue, they’re even more void of emotion or feeling than Kaelis’s eyes.

“Much like your ability with Minor Arcana, I can use any inking medium—even plain pen ink. But to imbue it with power so that it can be made into a card, I must give up a memory.”

Sorza lets out a soft gasp, her jaw slackening. “Do you get to choose which one?”

“I do. And, thankfully, it can be small.” Elorin sounds exhausted, as if she’s given this explanation a thousand times, even though it couldn’t be more than a couple dozen, given the secret nature of our identities.

“But that is why I must continually ensure I make new memories and be careful in which ones I give up.”

“Even if you can make new ones…the cost is horrifying,” Sorza says.

“It is a sacrifice, but we all must pay our costs in service to the Oricalis crown.” Those are hollow words that Elorin doesn’t believe, I’d bet my life on it.

“And the cost binds us all together,” Myrion adds. “It’s a sacrifice that only we can give, and only we can understand.”

They all share a look that suggests there’s something more. Though I wouldn’t know how to ask. So, instead, I focus on the practical implications of what she’s saying. “How do you ink a memory?”

“Much like how the raw materials for the powders must be properly processed to turn them into ink that can be used for tarot, it’s the act of sacrificing the memory that charges whatever pigment I have to use, making it magical.

” Elorin plucks an oversized sheet of paper from the pile, handing it to Sorza.

Charges the pigment… I stare down at my hand briefly, thinking of how many times I’ve pricked my finger with a pen tip to ink a Minor with whatever powder I wanted.

Maybe Thal is right, the cost is somewhere within me and I’ll simply know, much like instinct led me to believing and discovering I could ink any card by mixing my blood with the ink.

I’m pulled from my thoughts when a slip of paper is placed into my hand. My eyes meet Elorin’s.

“To begin,” she continues, “start by meditating on the essence of your card—what it means. Draw what comes to mind. Don’t force anything, and let the symbols and feelings flow. Follow them. Let them guide you to their inner workings.”

She almost sounds like Mother. A fact I ignore.

“How does Eza already know how to ink his card?” I assume it’s not a secret that he does. And, if it is, I’m more than happy to ruin Eza’s secrets.

“Being good friends with other Major Arcana gave him a bit of a leg up before entering the academy,” Myrion explains.

“Ah, so just like everything else, the nobles start ahead of the rest of us,” Sorza murmurs. I wish I could commiserate more with her, but I fight to keep my face passive, or a bit guilty even, as I’m supposed to be one of those “nobles.”

“You should focus on your own cards, for now.” Elorin taps on the table, her long nails as multicolored as her hair.

Sorza and I each sit at our own inking tables, and the hours slip away, interrupted only when Myrion is kind enough to bring us some light refreshments in place of missing lunch.

For the first time ever, my pen is still.

I can’t seem to think of a single mark. I replay my memories—of Mother and Arina, of surviving on the streets in Eclipse City, of the Starcrossed Club, of street fights, and of cold winter nights where the only thing that could do battle with the shivers was a warm body next to mine.

I search for a sign or some kind of through line.

Something that would make it all make sense when looked at through the lens of what I know the Wheel of Fortune to mean.

Every possibility dances before me, taunting me, always just out of reach.

Luck is on my side. It’s the only thing I can think of. Another sign of this supposed Major, I realize. Yet, now, when I need it more than ever, this luck doesn’t materialize. If that is an innate power of my Major, I certainly can’t call upon it at will.

The Wheel of Fortune can signify a change in one’s luck, but also a major shift in their circumstances. Being acted upon by a force beyond their control. Apt, for never have I felt so out of control.

Mother… I wish I could ask her.

You don’t need to worry about the Major Arcana, she’d said firmly. They’re not something that Arcanists can ink, or use. It’s best not to concern yourself too much with them. In fact, much like the fortress across the bridge, avoid them at all costs.

Had she known my hidden identity, then? She’d always turned down any discussion of the Majors outside of passing mentions in fables.

Perhaps, though, with a bit too much conviction…

She’d had to have suspected something was different about me when I discovered that I could ink any Minor with any ink.

Did you know? A question I’ll never get to ask. Answers lost forever, taken by her murderer. I rub my neck in thought. If only I could see her one more time…Everything began to unravel the moment she died.

“You’re trying too hard.” Thal’s warm breath has me jumping. I didn’t even hear them get that close.

“Better than not trying at all.” I set my pen down and rub my eyes, just now noticing how dark the room has become.

“It’s all right to struggle, but don’t worry, you’ll find it. We all do. Sometimes, it’s the things we can’t see in ourselves that have the most power. You’ll figure it out soon, I’m sure.” They pat my back and lean away. “We’re going to head to dinner. You should come, too.”

The other three stand at the base of the stairs.

“I’ll join soon, I’ve a bit more I want to do.” I am not letting this get the better of me, even if I have to be here all night. “Go ahead without me.”

“Are you sure?” Sorza asks. She can no doubt see how gaunt my face is.

I nod. “I feel like I might be close to a breakthrough.” It’s a lie, but it has them leaving me alone with my thoughts, and my work.

The pen tip hovers over the parchment, blots of ink dripping off its tip. Draw something, anything. My fingers tremble, aching with the weight of the blank sheet before me.

Draw. Something.

I take a shaky breath, trying to push down the rising frustration that threatens to swallow me whole as the shadows stretch longer and longer. The glaringly blank paper mocks me. I put the pen down and shake my head. Why am I struggling so much? For who? Kaelis? The thought is ghastly.

These Majors might be real. I might be one of them. So what? I can figure out the truth and what it means for me beyond the walls of the academy—beyond the reach of Kaelis, because he’s the last person I’d want to have this power.

My gaze sweeps across the room, confirming what I already know: I’m completely alone.

I might still be exhausted and malnourished.

My body hardly feels like my own. But I have a deck of freshly inked cards at my hip and the knowledge that my sister found a way out of this place.

And if Arina could find it, then so can I.

I’m leaving Arcana Academy.