《The Divine Hunt: Call of the Arcana》


 Prologue: Divine Hunt

    Prologue: Divine Hunt


    3 MONTHS BEFORE THE DIVINE HUNT


    ¡°Sire! Sire!¡± Charles burst into the grand throne room, clutching his tarot cards as if they were lifelines. His voice echoed against the high, vaulted ceilings, where banners of the kingdom¡¯s crest hung proudly. The scent of burning tallow from the great chandeliers filled the air, mixing with the faint hint of ink and parchment from the scribe''s desk. He knew the king was deep in discourse with Jotham, the kingdom¡¯s scribe, regarding delicate negotiations for southern expansion. But this, Charles was certain, held greater urgency.


    His heart thundered as he approached the raised dais. The marble steps gleamed underfoot¡ªhis palms slick with sweat as he gripped the cards tighter. He ignored the disapproving murmurs of the courtiers standing along the edges of the hall.


    Arthur, seated on his throne of gilded oak and crimson velvet, raised a single hand to still the scribe mid-sentence. His brow furrowed as he looked down upon Charles, his stern countenance etched with years of rule. ¡°What is the meaning of this interruption, Charles? I have delayed dispatching the letter to Ionia for far too long.¡±


    ¡°Sire, I beg your patience.¡± Charles stepped forward, breathless, and set the cards down upon the polished armrest of the throne. ¡°You must see this¡ªthese cards! For eight days now, I have drawn the same ones. The Wheel of Fortune. The World. The Fool.¡±


    Arthur¡¯s frown deepened as his gaze shifted to the cards, their intricate designs gleaming faintly in the torchlight. ¡°You know well I cannot decipher these symbols, Charles. Speak plainly.¡±


    The young diviner coughed, a faint flush of embarrassment rising to his cheeks. ¡°Of course, Your Grace. The cards... They are an omen, a message from forces beyond our understanding. Today, when I drew them yet again, the message came clearer.¡± He fumbled in his pocket, producing a weathered parchment. His hands trembled as he unfolded it. ¡°This verse came to me unbidden:


    The wheel shall soon spin,


    The world shall soon call,


    The hunt will begin,


    Will you let thy world fall?


    Arthur¡¯s expression remained inscrutable, but Jotham chuckled, the sound echoing like brittle glass breaking. ¡°Forgive me, Charles, but you sound like a drunken bard weaving tales by the hearth. Surely you don¡¯t expect the king to heed such fantastical nonsense.¡±


    Charles¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line, his temper flaring. ¡°How many times have my readings steered this kingdom to prosperity? Have I not foreseen the floods and droughts? Predicted the enemy¡¯s movements in the west?¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± Arthur¡¯s voice cut through the rising tension like a blade. He leaned forward, his piercing gaze fixed on Charles. ¡°You have indeed served this kingdom faithfully, but even the wisest seers can misread the stars. What would you have me do, Charles? Allocate resources to chase shadows and whispers?¡±


    Before Charles could respond, the great doors to the throne room burst open with a resounding crash. Alice, the kingdom¡¯s messenger, hurried inside, her face pale and her hands clutching several rolled parchments.


    ¡°Sire!¡± she cried, her voice trembling. ¡°Ionia, Loncast, and Rexzlia are mobilizing!¡±


    Arthur¡¯s expression darkened like a gathering storm. ¡°Are we to prepare for war?¡±


    Alice shook her head, ascending the steps with urgency. ¡°No, Sire. These are... strange. Each letter carries warnings¡ªof a wheel, a world... it¡¯s all the same.¡±


    His breath caught. Snatching the scrolls from her, Charles unfurled them with trembling fingers. He scanned the parchments, each penned by the diviners of neighboring kingdoms, their words eerily familiar. ¡°Your Grace, see for yourself!¡± He thrust the letters before the king.


    Arthur read in silence, the tension in the room mounting with every passing second. Finally, the parchments crinkled in his tightening grip. He rose from his throne, his voice heavy with resolve.


    ¡°Prepare the troops.¡±


    25 YEARS INTO THE DIVINE HUNTThe tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°It¡¯s close.¡± Charles¡¯s voice carried over the snow-draped expanse, his breath misting in the frigid air. He adjusted the fur-lined cloak draped over his shoulders, scratching at his thick beard¡ªsurveying the site. Around him, men toiled in the frozen ground, their pickaxes ringing out as they struck the frost-bitten earth.


    The journey had been merciless. For decades, his men waded through barren lands, dense forests, and inhospitable deserts, chasing fleeting omens. The cards were maddeningly vague, their cryptic guidance often leading to dead ends. Charles felt the weight of the kingdom¡¯s hopes on his shoulders, but the strain had begun to fray even the most loyal of followers.


    A sharp, echoing thud pulled him from his thoughts. One of the diggers cried out, ¡°We¡¯ve struck something!¡±


    Charles rushed forward, his boots crunching through the snow. The men stepped aside as he approached the pit, revealing an ornate black box half-buried in the frost. His breath quickened. Dropping to his knees, he clawed at the icy dirt with bare hands, ignoring the biting cold as he unearthed the relic.


    Inside lay a deck of cards, their edges gilded in gold, each shimmering faintly with a mysterious light. Charles reached out, trembling as his fingers brushed the top card. He flipped it, revealing an image so mesmerizing it stole the breath from his lungs¡ªa regal figure, her arms outstretched, the forces of the world swirling between her palms. His eyes lowered to the label at the card''s base.


    The World.


    He barely had time to react before light erupted from the card. It sank into his arm: a searing heat rushing through his veins. Charles screamed, clawing at his skin where the card had merged, but his pain was swiftly overtaken by a surge of power. The frostbitten air crackled with golden energy as his body lifted from the ground, glowing bright in competition with the sun itself.


    Cries erupted from the field below. He blinked down to see his troops embroiled in chaos¡ªa neighboring kingdom¡¯s soldiers had attacked. The allure of the cards was too great. Soldiers clawed at the deck, prying cards loose and shoving them into their skin. Some glowed as power rushed into their bodies, while others collapsed, lifeless. Even his own men turned on one another, the promise of power overwhelming loyalty.


    Charles floated above the blood-soaked battlefield, his perspective growing vast. His glowing eyes surveyed the frost-covered plains where greed had dissolved the unity they¡¯d fought so hard to maintain. He could feel the cards calling to him, whispering their secrets, their limitless potential.


    Power radiated from him as his voice boomed, carrying not just across the tundra, but across mountains, oceans, the deserts.


    ¡°ENOUGH!¡±


    The sound rippled across the world like a divine decree, silencing the clamor of war. The soldiers froze mid-strike, their eyes drawn to the radiant figure above them. Charles hovered in the frigid air, his glowing presence dwarfing the battlefield.


    ¡°This bloodshed,¡± he began, his voice a solemn rumble, ¡°this madness, this insatiable hunger for power¡ªends now.¡± His tone grew heavier, each word steeped in unyielding authority. ¡°You have proven yourselves unworthy of the gift the Divine has bestowed. The cards have whispered their judgment to me, and I shall deliver it.¡±


    He stretched out his hand, and the battlefield erupted into golden light. One by one, the Major Arcana cards ripped free from the bodies of their holders. The air hummed as the 22 cards¡ªeach representing a force of unimaginable power¡ªhovered around him in a glowing circle.


    ¡°These,¡± Charles intoned, his voice carrying an edge of somber, ¡°are the Major Arcana. They bear no number, for their very names command respect: The Magician, The Empress, The Lovers, The World...¡± His gaze swept across the trembling soldiers below. ¡°Each of these cards holds power too great to be spread lightly. Henceforth, each Major Arcana will choose but one bearer. Only one shall wield its strength, and only when the time is right. It could be days; it could be centuries. The Divine will decide.¡±


    He raised his other hand, and the air grew heavier as another wave of cards emerged from the fray. These were less vibrant, yet still radiated undeniable power. Fifty-six cards now aligned themselves with their counterparts, a halo of gold and silver spinning around Charles.


    ¡°These,¡± he continued, his voice resonating with finality, ¡°are the Minor Arcana. Unlike the Major, these cards are numbered and ranked. They represent the more focused aspects of existence, each suit reflecting a different element of the mortal condition: Wands for creativity and energy, ruling the flame; Swords for intellect and strategy, commanding the air; Cups for emotion and healing, its waters everflowing; and Pentacles for material resources and stability, its ground unmoveable.¡±


    He breathed out an unwavering breath, ¡°Their powers, though lesser than the Major, are no less vital¡­ Together, they are the foundation on which a new balance is built. These cards will choose many bearers, spreading their gifts to ensure no single kingdom rises too far above the rest. Yet even they will wait before choosing.¡±


    He lowered his arms, his golden gaze sweeping across the stunned soldiers. ¡°You mortals will no longer wield this power freely. The cards themselves will decide who is worthy. And should they choose you, remember this: you may not strike the weak with your strength unless struck first. Those without cards shall remain protected by this law, until the end of time.¡±


    Silence hung in the air as the soldiers began to weep, their weapons falling from slack hands, scribes across the world writing every word down. Charles¡¯s voice dropped, his final decree as unrelenting as the dawn.


    ¡°And The World card,¡± he said, holding up his arm where the card had inserted itself, ¡°shall remain with me. Its power is too great, its potential for destruction immeasurable. I will guard it until I am dust and bone, until I am nothing but memory. To those who seek it¡­¡± He allowed himself a faint, bitter smile. ¡°Good luck.¡±


    The cards glimmered one final time before vanishing into the heavens. With a brilliant flash, Charles disappeared as well, leaving the battlefield blanketed in silence and frost.

 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1


    356 YEARS AFTER THE DIVINE HUNT


    ¡°For the last time, there is no way this relationship is going to work,¡± Xander pushed The Lovers card across the table, the edge catching on the wood before it came to rest under the woman¡¯s scrutinizing gaze. Maybe, if she stared at it long enough, the truth would finally sink in.


    This was commonplace, of course. This scene was almost a weekly routine¡ªyoung women stumbling into the shop, desperate to know if their husbands were cheating or if their exes would "come back." The monotony of it grated on Xander¡¯s nerves. How did his parents manage to deal with this for so long?


    ¡°But it¡¯s The Lovers,¡± she argued, her voice sharp, desperate. She leaned forward, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the table. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that mean we¡¯re meant to be together?¡±


    Xander inhaled deeply, summoning every ounce of patience he had left, ¡°Susan, the card is reversed.¡± He tapped it twice, the motion deliberate. ¡°This isn¡¯t about destiny; it¡¯s about dysfunction. You keep coming here hoping the cards will tell you otherwise, but they¡¯re consistent. Your insecurities are creating a wedge. And until you work on yourself, this relationship¡ª¡± he gestured vaguely, ¡°¡ªisn¡¯t going to survive.¡±


    Susan¡¯s shoulders slumped, her face sinking into a dejected expression. Xander knew this wasn¡¯t the reassurance she had wanted. He debated offering her more comfort but decided against it. She needed this¡ªneeded to understand that no magical solution was coming from the cards. The only person who could save her relationship was herself.


    Minutes ticked by as silence filled the space. Xander¡¯s stomach growled in protest, reminding him that his lunch break was slipping away. Even so, he waited, reclining in his chair, his patience wearing thin. Susan¡¯s somber demeanor soon gave way to a hint of resolution.


    She sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right,¡± she said, almost too quietly to hear. ¡°Maybe I need to stop running to you for answers and figure this out myself.¡±


    Xander blinked, caught off guard. This was new. Usually, Susan left in a huff, muttering about how he didn¡¯t understand her situation.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious,¡± she added, reaching for her purse. Her fingers emerged holding a coin¡ªfifty silver, far more than the fifteen his readings cost. She placed it on the table, the weight of it landing with a soft clink.


    He looked down at the coin blankly, ¡°Susan you know I¡¯m not taking this, your session was only fifteen sliver.¡±


    ¡°Then think of it as a prepayment for the weeks I won¡¯t be back,¡± she said, standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder. Her tone was light, almost teasing, but there was a sincerity in her eyes that caught Xander off guard. ¡°Thanks for the tough love,¡± she added before heading for the door.


    He found himself staring at the coin with a small smile. That small moment of clarity clearly did absolutely nothing to curb her stubbornness, but he could tell that it¡¯d been redirected, hopefully for the better.


    His stomach growled again, this time louder, demanding attention. ¡°Alright, alright, calm down,¡± he muttered, patting his stomach. Stretching, he flipped the sign on the shop¡¯s door from Open to Closed. A groan escaped him as his gaze fell on the cards still scattered across the table. His mom would kill him if he didn¡¯t cleanse them properly before putting them away. Somehow, she always knew when he skipped that step.


    He grumbled to himself, grabbing a stick of incense from the rack, ¡°She doesn¡¯t even have a card, how in the hells can she even tell?¡± With practiced motions, he gathered the cards and passed them one by one through the fragrant smoke, all while complaining under his breath. Once the cards were cleansed, he returned them to their case and placed the incense in its holder.


    Finally free, Xander trudged upstairs to the apartment above the shop. The aroma of fresh herbs hit him as soon as he opened the door, making his stomach practically take over his body. He followed the scent to the kitchen, where his mom was tossing a large salad. His dad stood nearby, slicing fruit with an uncharacteristic level of focus.


    ¡°How was it with Susan?¡± his dad asked, barely glancing over his shoulder before turning to Xander with a grin.


    Xander narrowed his eyes, ¡°Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t notice you conveniently telling me it was my turn whenever she was about to walk in.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± He gave an innocent look, ¡°I¡¯d never do my own son like that¡ªow!¡±


    Mom gave him a smack on the shoulder, ¡°How dare you do my baby boy like that? No salad for you.¡±


    Xander snickered at the exchange, leaning against the counter. Normally, he hated being treated like a kid, but watching his dad squirm was always worth it. ¡°Well, look what your scheming got me.¡± He held up the fifty-silver coin, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Oh honey look at our boy, growing up so fast,¡± His dad nudged mom with his shoulder playfully, making her turn around.


    Her eyes landed on the coin, and her expression shifted to concern. ¡°You didn¡¯t charge her that much, did you? Susans¡­ particular but she doesn¡¯t deserve¡ª¡±


    ¡°No Mom of course not,¡± He lightly scoffed and shook his head, quicking stopping that train of thought. ¡°She insisted. I just gave her some tough love, and she appreciated it.¡± His stomach growled again, almost petulantly. ¡°Is the salad ready? I¡¯m starving.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    She eye¡¯d him for a few moments, as if gauging his sincerity about Susan before smiling. ¡°Yes honey It¡¯s ready.¡± She nudged at the dining table with her head.


    He practically pounced to the table, right leg bouncing as he waited for her to plate it. His stomach was quieter than before, seemingly now more patient than his mind was. ¡°Thanks Mom,¡± He said as she placed down his plate.


    ¡°Of course, love,¡± she replied, taking her seat across from him. His dad joined them, settling to his side.


    He got lost in devouring his food for a few minutes, mind roaming on what the next few weeks held. His birthday was coming up in a few days, and Solari¡¯s art festival was practically right after. Usually, it was hosted by The Magician cardholder Maurice and the Lovers duo, Lucil and Eric every year. He had no doubt this year would be different from the previous, probably better if anything. They always seemed to go big.


    His mind returned to his approaching birthday, the one thing he¡¯d wanted swirling in his mind. ¡°So¡­ dearest parents,¡± He gave them an innocent smile, ¡°When are you going to give me a reading?¡±


    For years he¡¯d been practically begging for a reading¡ªhells, probably ever since he could talk. It was what fueled his earlier desire to learn about the cards, in hopes he could just give himself one, yet every time the answers were completely random¡ªhe didn¡¯t get it.


    His mom sighed deeply, rubbing her temples as if warding off a headache, exasperation clear as she stabbed at her greens. Xander knew what that meant¡ªa warning, though he pushed, as he always did.


    ¡°Mom¡ª¡±


    He was interrupted by his dad, who was giving him a much less subtle look of warning. ¡°Son, we¡¯ve told you a thousand times. When you¡¯re eighteen, we¡¯ll read your cards.¡±


    Xander should¡¯ve backed off, he knew he should¡¯ve, but he was so goddamn frustrated. Years of helping run his parents tarot business, seeing everyone else get their cards read except for him? No, he was done waiting. And what difference did a few damn days make, anyway? His jaw clenched, foot tapping in an erratic rhythm underneath the table.


    ¡°My birthday is in three days, are you actually serious right now? Three days!¡± His voice raised, face beginning to get hot. Smart Xander would¡¯ve seen the look on his fathers face and backed down, smart Xander would¡¯ve realized he was raising his voice to a man that made him look like a child in comparison¡ªwell smart Xander wasn¡¯t in the room right now. ¡°It¡¯s been years of me asking and asking, yet you give me that same bullshit response¡ª¡±


    He blinked and his father was standing over him, eyes narrowed and tone carrying an edge of authority, ¡°Go to your room, now.¡±


    Xander bit back a retort, literally¡ªhis tongue throbbing against the teeth he¡¯d sunk into it. The chair legs screeched as he pushed back from the table forcibly, leaving the rest of his salad untouched. This was such bullshit, he growled mentally as he tore through the apartment, each step making the wood underneath groan. He burst into his room¡ªfingers twitching in agitation as he held back on slamming the door closed. He wasn¡¯t that stupid.


    The bed sagged beneath Xander¡¯s weight as he flopped onto it, the springs groaning in protest. His frustration still smoldered, thoughts of his parents¡¯ refusal ricocheting around his mind like an itch he couldn¡¯t scratch. He stretched out, limbs splayed, staring blankly at the ceiling before he repeated his own words under his breath.


    ¡°Three days¡­ I can wait three more days,¡± he murmured, gaze drifting to the window, where the Vale unfurled before him like a painted canvas.


    The city was nothing short of a masterpiece, home to some of the most revered Arcana holders: The Sun, The Empress, The Lovers, The Magician, and The Star. Their presence shaped the city into a living, breathing tribute to creativity.


    Buildings were works of art in themselves, adorned with kaleidoscopic murals and mesmerizing optical illusions that seemed to shift under the sun¡¯s light. Some walls bore sprawling portraits of past Arcana holders, their visages etched with reverence for the roles they played in the city¡¯s foundation. Other structures intertwined with nature; vines wove intricate patterns across stone and glass, their verdant leaves accented by the soft hues of blossoms. Trees stretched overhead, forming canopies that cast dappled shadows on the pathways below.


    The streets¡ªno, paths were winding and organic, feeling like arteries, connecting the lifeblood of Solari Vale to its heart¡ªthe people.


    Xander¡¯s frustration ebbed as he soaked in the scenery. His annoyance about the long-delayed reading slightly melting away, replaced by a flicker of excitement. The festival was only days away, and anticipation buzzed like static in the air. Solari Vale¡¯s art festival wasn¡¯t just an event¡ªit was an eruption of creativity and magic, an unspoken contest where each year sought to outdo the last. People from all over came to participate in the days-long event, artists and non-artist alike.


    Last year¡¯s festival lingered in his memory, vivid as ever. Maurice, The Magician, had brought one of Eric¡¯s sketches to life. Watching it happen had been nothing short of breathtaking. Xander could still feel the hum of raw energy as the building materialized¡ªits form rising from the earth, consuming a pile of resources Joline had meticulously prepared. The structure had shimmered with an otherworldly glow in its creation, its design impossibly intricate, a testament to what collaboration between cardholders could achieve.


    Maybe this year Dexter and his band will perform¡­ he mused, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Rising musicians always had a chance to shine at the festival¡¯s evening performances, once the art markets and innovation showcases wound down.


    Last year¡¯s lineup, however, had been a disappointment. Eris O¡¯Neil had been the headliner, and just thinking about him made Xander¡¯s stomach churn. The man¡¯s ego was as vast as his waistline¡ªa comparison that wasn¡¯t lost on anyone who had met him.


    Xander¡¯s mind flitted back to a bitter memory, his cheeks warming at the thought. He had been thirteen, naive and starstruck, when he¡¯d spotted Eris at a local brewery. Gathering all the courage he could muster, he had asked the man for an autograph. Eris had barely looked at him, grumbling something about payment. Xander, fumbling with excitement, had handed over silver for a hastily scrawled signature and a half-hearted word of thanks. Even now, the memory made his skin crawl.


    He shook his head, banishing the thought like swatting away a fly. With a deep sigh, his focus shifted back to the ceiling above. Its cracked plaster patterns seemed to form shapes if he stared long enough¡ªshapes that invited his mind to wander. Unbidden, his thoughts drifted to the future. The family business. The shop. Was this his destiny? To spend the rest of his life as a reader, flipping cards and unraveling other people¡¯s lives while his own sat on hold? The question gnawed at him, insistent and unavoidable.


    A nap wouldn¡¯t hurt¡­ he thought, unabashedly flopping over onto his side and letting out a small yawn.


    His limbs grew heavy, the exhaustion from both the day and lingering thoughts wrapping around him like a thick blanket. The dark tendrils of sleep tugged gently at his consciousness, coaxing his eyes shut.


    ¡°Not right now,¡± he murmured to himself, the corners of his mind retreating from the daunting conversation about his future. He wasn¡¯t ready¡ªnot yet.


    Sleep claimed him, its embrace mercifully quiet. But the bustling city outside his window carried on, oblivious to the boy caught in the crossroads of his destiny.

 Chapter 2

    Chapter 2


    Wind wrapped around Xander¡¯s layered tunic, small bits of dirt kicking up as he whipped around the Vale on his sunray. The board hummed beneath him, a glowing crystal embedded in its alloy frame, catching the sunlight and keeping him moving. It wasn¡¯t the fanciest ride, but it did the job¡ªat least during the day. At night, the crystal¡¯s charge drained quickly, making it more of a hassle than it was worth.


    Solari was bustling as always. Musicians in different sections of the Vale Park, each with their own blend of musical genre which somehow never became too chaotic. Obviously where music thrived, dancers followed. Fire warped around a man¡¯s limbs as he twisted and flipped around to a fast beat, cheers erupting from the passerby.


    Parents strolled with their children in tow, some kids riding on shoulders, others peeking out from the flower-shaped baskets of petalwalkers. Easel buses rolled by at a slow pace, their sides covered in paintings and sketches from emerging artists. People stopped to watch, pointing out their favorites or murmuring about who might make it big this year.


    Xander swerved around a group gathered near a stall, the dirt kicking up slightly as he leaned into the turn. He was out running errands¡ªagain. The shop had been slammed all week, which wasn¡¯t unusual this time of year. It was a bit tiresome to have to gently tell people that they were in fact not going to make it into the competition¡ªthough he reassured them the cards were not infallible and that the weaves of fate were ever changing, whatever that meant. But Technically it wasn¡¯t a lie, technically.


    Ahead, the scents of baking bread and burning incense mixed in the air. He slowed as he neared the marketplace, the usual buzz of activity already in full swing. It was hard not to feel a little excitement, even with all the errands. The festival was coming, and no matter how many times he¡¯d seen it, the energy in Solari this time of year was contagious.


    Misty¡¯s Mystics stood out even in the vibrant mess of the Vale. The mural covering the storefront was a blend of rich purples and blues, the painted letters dripping like melted wax into the dark brick walls. It was one of those places that never really changed, no matter how much the rest of the world shifted.


    Xander unclipped his sunray from his boots, folding the board and slinging it over his back. The bells on the shop door jingled as he stepped inside, the familiar chime pulling a small smile to his face. The air inside was warm and fragrant, heavy with the scent of lavender and a dozen other herbs. This place had a way of easing tension he hadn¡¯t even realized he was carrying.


    The woman behind the counter glanced up, her sharp green eyes brightening when she saw him. Misty, as always, was tending to her plants, her hands deftly trimming leaves while she hummed.


    ¡°Oh, Xander! What a pleasant surprise.¡± She waved him over, holding up a potted plant with clear pride. ¡°Look at this¡ªit¡¯s beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    He stepped closer, tilting his head as he inspected the plant. At first glance, it didn¡¯t look like anything special. Just another green stem with broad leaves. ¡°Uh¡­ sure?¡±


    She chuckled knowingly and tapped the side of the pot. ¡°You¡¯re looking in the wrong spot, dear. Down here, at the base.¡±


    He quickly glanced at it, not sure how to burst her bubble. ¡°Misty there¡¯s nothing¡ª¡± Wait. He leaned closer and his eyes widened. It was faint, but it was there¡ªtraces of golden light could be barely seen pulsing from the base.


    ¡°Woah,¡± he breathed, ¡°What is this?¡±


    Misty grinned, resting her hands on her hip¡ªthe glass bangles on her wrist shifting in response with a satisfying clink. ¡°This, my boy, is Solvine.¡± She let the name hang in the air, clearly expecting some sort of dramatic reaction. When his blank stare lingered, she sighed. ¡°It grows Solite!¡±


    Xander blinked, the words taking a second to sink in. ¡°Wait¡ªthis thing can grow Solite?¡± He whistled, looking at the little plant with a new respect. ¡°How the heck did you get your hands on this?¡±


    Her aged fingers moved to flip her dark purple hair, the smugness not lost on him. ¡°Let¡¯s just say Joline and Soloman are letting me test it out before the big announcement. They¡¯re both participating in the festival this year, and they wanted to see how it performed in a controlled environment without being fed with her power.¡±


    The names hit him like a spark. The Empress and The Sun holders? Misty knew them? He stared at her, his mouth slightly open. If they were bringing things like this out to play, this year¡¯s festival was definitely going to be interesting.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look so surprised,¡± she scolded, quick to move on. She grabbed the plant holder and sat it on her windowsill. ¡°So what did you need? The usual?¡± She asked as she watered the Solvine.


    Snapping out of his daze, Xander nodded. ¡°Yeah, uh¡ªMom¡¯s out of incense and herbs. Just the regular stuff.¡± He pulled out a cloth bag from his pocket and started towards the shelves, grabbing the items with practiced ease.


    ¡°Just grab what you need kid, it''s on me,¡± She called out from the front as he was deep in the aisles.


    ¡°Wait what?¡± He peeked his head out from behind the herb rack, eyebrows raised. ¡°Did I hear that correctly?¡±


    She snorted, ¡°Business is going to be booming once I¡¯m able to sell these suckers, consider it an early birthday gift.¡±


    His eyebrows shot up. She remembered his birthday?


    ¡°Get that damn look off your face.¡± Her bangles jangled loudly as she flicked her wrist, as if offended he would even question her. ¡°I¡¯ve known you since you were in diapers, boy.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡± Xander quickly fled back into the aisle, redness creeping into his face as he picked out the rest of the assortment he needed. The next few minutes of shopping passed by in a flash. He clutched the bag under his left arm as he stepped out of the aisle, giving Misty a quick wave, ¡°Thanks Misty, I¡¯ll tell mom you said hi.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d better,¡± she lightly grumbled, disappearing behind the door as he stepped back out into the Vale.


    He reached back for his board, letting the energy of the Vale wash over him once more. The warmth of Misty¡¯s shop still lingered, but the bustling streets ahead pulled him forward, his sunray humming to life as he set off again.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    The ride back home was leisurely, his rush from earlier now completely gone. Xander didn¡¯t really need to rush in the first place, but he couldn¡¯t help himself sometimes. He''d get these tingly sensations, a feeling like if he¡¯d gone any later the stock would¡¯ve been out. He chalked it up to some sort of anxiety, not like being early was a crime.


    Tapping the front end of the sunray, he activated cruise mode. The board glided smoothly along the path, its hum blending in with the surroundings. The streets were even busier now, lunchtime drawing workers out into the open.


    His board skidded to a halt as he caught sight of a growing crowd near the park. Xander tilted his head, curiosity sparking, and steered closer to get a better look.


    At the center of the gathering stood a half-broken statue, its centerpiece a massive solar crystal glinting in the sunlight. Beside it was a figure that immediately caught his eye: striking blond hair that seemed to glow faintly in the light, paired with a rugged orange coat stained with grease.


    Stella Ray


    Even from a distance, there was no mistaking her. The Star Card holder had a reputation that preceded her¡ªfamed for her restoration abilities. She could bring anything back to its original state, or so people said. Xander had never seen it himself, but he wasn¡¯t about to miss the chance now.


    Golden threads of light flickered to life in her hands, snaking outward and wrapping around the broken statue. A collective hush fell over the crowd as the light expanded, enveloping the entire structure. The glow grew brighter for a moment, then faded just as quickly, leaving the statue pristine, as though it had never been damaged.


    Gasps and murmurs of awe rippled through the onlookers.


    A chuckle from beside him broke the reverence. Xander turned his head slightly, catching snippets of conversation from two people standing nearby.


    ¡°Heh, apparently it makes her hungry as hell to pull those moves,¡± one of them quipped. ¡°Wish I had that goddamn metabolism though.¡±


    Xander smirked, shaking his head as Stella unwrapped some sort of bar and took a big bite out of it. He backed away from the crowd, still clutching the bag of incense and herbs, and resumed his ride.


    The shop was quieter than when he¡¯d left, save for the low murmur of his father¡¯s voice carrying through the lobby¡ªtalking to what he assumed was a customer. The wooden steps leading to the loft creaked under his weight as he climbed them. When he opened the door to their home, he was immediately met with a whirlwind of movement.


    His mother zipped past him, an earring in one hand and a heel in the other, looking uncharacteristically frazzled.


    ¡°Sorry, honey!¡± she called over her shoulder as she darted through the apartment.


    Xander raised an eyebrow, watching as she hurriedly strapped on her shoes. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d seen her this rushed. Normally, she was the epitome of calm and organization¡ªan early bird, just like him.


    ¡°What''s the occasion?¡± he asked, setting the bag down on the kitchen table.


    ¡°Overslept,¡± she answered quickly, snatching up the second heel and sliding it on. ¡°I got invited to a get-together with some of the other shop owners. Your father and I¡¯ll be back late. Dinner¡¯s in the threshold.¡±


    ¡°Cool. Have fun.¡± He shrugged, heading toward his room. Over his shoulder, he added, ¡°Oh, Misty says hi, by the way.¡±


    Xander had his own plans for tonight, he closed the door to his room behind him, exhaling as the quiet settled in. His eyes drifted to the blank canvas propped up against the wall, untouched since he¡¯d brought it home last week.


    It had been calling his name for days now.


    With a small, determined smile, he walked over to his desk, rolled up his sleeves, and began pulling out his supplies. It was just him, his paints, and the kind of silence that let his thoughts flow freely.


    It was time to answer the call.


    He twirled the light pencil in his hands, biting his lip in thought¡ªhe had a couple ideas for what he wanted to paint, one being an environmental piece. Maybe the crop fields outside the walls? He¡¯d only been there once, tagging along with his mom when she went to see Joline¡ªthe Empress holder work. That day had been... something. Watching Joline feed the fields with her power and seeing the crops explode into color was like watching a dream.


    ¡°That¡¯d honestly be a good place to start,¡± he muttered, but something inside him tugged back, like a quiet, persistent nope. His brows furrowed. That feeling didn¡¯t show up often, but when it did, it was usually right.


    His shoulders slouched and he pushed back from his desk. Sighing, he glanced at the canvas leaning against the wall. Freehanding a piece could go either way¡ªon one side of the coin some of his best work had been made freehanding, though others¡­ not so much. Did he want to take that chance?


    He slouched onto the floor in front of the canvas, stretching his legs out as he leaned back onto his arms. The hardwood was cool under his palms, a contrast to the indecision burning in his mind. The fact that the canvas was so expensive didn¡¯t help, and he only really had one shot at it¡ªonce it was ruined, it was ruined. He stared at it like it might answer all of his questions.


    A few beats passed, and of course, it hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°Damn it all,¡± he grumbled, pushing off the floor.


    Xander¡¯s paints were scattered in a box by his desk. He grabbed a few tubes, fingers brushing over the colors he used most often. In the process, a half-empty bottle of green rolled out and hit the floor with a splat of dried paint. He sighed, tossing it back into the box. His tunic hit the bed as he reached for an older shirt¡ªone that was already stained beyond saving. The fabric was soft, familiar. It felt like getting into a battle uniform, if battle uniforms were held together by paint stains.


    Brushes? Check. Palette? Check. Water¡ªcrap. He bolted out of his room and into the kitchen, filling up an old ceramic cup with water. As his mind wandered to the canvas, a splash hit his hand, snapping him back to the present.


    ¡°Hells,¡± he muttered and snapped out of it, shaking his hand dry and pouring out the excess.


    The hallway closet was next, home to the miscellaneous items of the loft. Where were the damn towels? He squinted up at the shelf, seeing them tucked in the right side. He yanked two down, and headed back to his room. Flopping onto the floor, he threw one towel in front of him and draped the other over his lap.


    Guess the time is now.


    With a deep breath he closed his eyes, his unbidden thoughts rising like incense smoke. And this time, he let them. He needed this release now more than ever.


    The thoughts began to lead to subsequent emotions he¡¯d also kept buried¡ªuncertainty, frustration, longing. It all boiled to the surface. His hands moved instinctively, uncapping paints and squirting colors onto the palette in quick succession. The first swipe was a broad medium shade of blue, the large flat brush moving with a purpose.


    As the color spread, his thoughts swirled. Feelings of stagnation clawed at his mind, his place in the world, his place in his own life¡ªunknown. What am I even doing with my life? The brush moved faster. What do I want? Faster. Am I just gonna do readings forever? His teeth clenched, and he swapped brushes, layering darker strokes over the lighter ones. But what else is there?


    The problem was that he didn¡¯t know¡ªhow could he know? What has he seen, what has he really been through? He didn¡¯t want to disappoint his parents, he wanted to continue the legacy¡ªthe lineage that¡¯s been passing through their family for centuries. But it just¡­ didn¡¯t feel right, although it didn¡¯t feel terrible either.


    The contradiction gnawed at him, and the strokes grew more frantic, his movements urgent. Paint smeared across his fingers, splattered on the towels, and flecked his tunic. Shapes emerged, colors collided, and emotions bled into the canvas.


    The room fell into a rhythm¡ªthe scrape of the brush, the slap of paint against canvas, the muted thud of his hand reaching for another tube. Paint was everywhere, even smudges were left on his cheek where he¡¯d absently scratched an itch.


    Hours slipped by in a haze, the world outside his room fading into nothing. Every emotion, every restless thought, alchemized and swept into a tide of transmutation he couldn¡¯t stop even if he wanted to.

 Chapter 3

    Chapter 3


    He panted, leaning back against the base of his bed as he stared at his painting in full. The room once bathed in light from the outside world now much darker, save for the solite crystal powering the hanging light in his room.


    Paint was everywhere, his towels? Soaked. His tunic? Drenched. But by the arcana was it worth it. The painting that was sitting across from him had his full attention. It was, without a doubt, his best work yet.


    It was haunting¡ªlike a memory caught mid-breath. Deep, swirling blues bled through the background, a mirror of his melancholy. In the forefront, a painted figure of himself sat at the familiar wooden table, its surface scattered with cards. Chains snaked around his arms and legs, binding him to the chair, to the table, to his fate.


    The painting was shown in mid-action¡ªwith the painted figure of Xander in the process of flipping a card. It wasn¡¯t just about what the card signified; it was about the weight of the moment, the frustration, the uncertainty. The painting was meant to make the viewer feel the teasing grip of the unknown, the frustration of wanting answers but never quite reaching them.


    Xander exhaled slowly, feeling a lightness that hadn¡¯t been there before. The weight that had settled on his soul in recent days felt a little less heavy. The questions still lingered, but their edges didn¡¯t cut as deep, It¡­ was nice.


    With a groan, he pushed himself upright, his muscles aching in protest. Most of the cleanup was handled by the towels, though his tunic? A lost cause. He peeled the damp, paint-streaked shirt off with a grimace, wrinkling his nose at the smell of sweat and pigment.


    ¡°To the bin you go,¡± He muttered, throwing the cloth in the trash with a sigh.


    The towels were spared, for now. They weren¡¯t beyond saving¡ªyet. He nudged them into the corner of the room with his foot, intending to let the paint dry first. A glance at the mirror on his wall made him stop short, though.


    A huff of laughter escaped him. He looked like a toddler who¡¯d been let loose in an art supply store. Paint smudged his cheeks, streaked his neck, and caked his fingers.


    ¡°Mom would¡¯ve had a field day with this,¡± He snorted, padding to his door.


    Shaking his head he lumbered out into the hallway, movements heavy with exhaustion¡ªspare clothes sagging in his hands. A quick knock against the wall activated the lights in the modest bathroom, revealing its simple, functional layout. He tapped the tiles next to the shower head, hot water sprinkling out with a satisfying hum.


    ¡°Ahh.¡± His muscles loosened under the warmth, but he didn¡¯t linger. There was work to do. The paint clung to him stubbornly, resisting the soap and scrubbing. Ten minutes turned into nearly twenty as he fought the streaks off his skin. Once he was sure it was all off he tapped the tiles in the same rhythm¡ªthe water''s flow stopping.


    Drying off quickly, he slipped into fresh clothes, the heaviness of exhaustion settling over him again¡ªtenfold. All he wanted now was sleep.


    A small growl echoed in the space. Well maybe food then sleep.


    Feeling marginally more human, he padded to the kitchen, tossing his paint-stained pants into the wash as he passed. The freshhold door clicked open, revealing a neatly packed container. It was filled to its brim with noodles and mixed vegetables, labeled with his mom¡¯s distinctive handwriting.


    His favorite.


    A small grin tugged at his lips as he pulled it out. If it were up to him, he¡¯d eat this every night. His mom would call his taste ¡°tragic¡± and his dad would nod along in agreement, but he didn¡¯t care. Some things didn¡¯t need defending.


    Xander plopped the container into the flashoven. The solite crystal embedded in the back hummed softly, feeding the metal box with its energy. It was miles better than what they had before¡ªthat cooker took ages. This was quick, efficient, hot food in seconds. A beep let him know it was done. Once he grabbed a fork he took out the container and sat down at the table, a small sigh escaping him.


    Just as his fork sank into the noodles, the door opened. His parents stumbled in, his mom leaning on his dad, her movements a little too loose to be normal.


    Was she¡­ drunk? He raised an eyebrow, that was not like his mother at all.


    She spotted him and flashed a smile, swaying toward him with her husband steadying her. "You¡¯re up late, honey."


    ¡°Finally put the canvas to use,¡± He smirked, his painting sessions commonly had him up at all hours of the night.


    His dad perked up, clearly interested. "Oh? I¡¯ll have to check it out tomorrow, then."


    The words seemed to make mom¡¯s brows knit in thought before she smiled and suddenly blurted, words just slightly slurred, ¡°Happy birthday Xan Xan!¡±


    Oh right¡ªhis birthday. He¡¯d been so caught up with everything that he¡¯d completely forgotten.


    His dad chimed in, the realization dawning on him as-well, ¡°Right¡ªHappy birthday son!¡±


    "Thanks," Xander said, offering a faint smile, taking another bite of his noodles. He was surprised when his mom sat down across from him, giving him a drunken grin.


    ¡°You want your reading now?¡±


    He froze mid-bite¡ªhis heart starting to beat like a drum. The moment he¡¯d been waiting for, finally happening. A part of him had almost believed it was a joke, that once he hit eighteen, they¡¯d laugh and say, ¡®Sike!¡¯


    He closed his mouth, swallowing hard, trying to keep his cool. "Like, right now?"


    ¡°Mary, honey, I don¡¯t think¡­¡± His dad started, looking conflicted¡ªwhether it was due to mom¡¯s drunken state or the reading itself, Xander had no clue.


    Mary waved off his dad¡¯s reluctant hesitation. "My personal cards, can you get them please?"


    ¡°I really think this can wait until¡ª¡±


    ¡°Jermaine, my cards,¡± She emphasized, even in her inebriated state she was a force to be reckoned with.


    Xander could only watch as his dad relented, trudging to their shared bedroom. Xander, now fidgeting, tried to focus on his food, but the anxiety made each bite feel heavier. His mom was watching him, smile never leaving her face.


    Jermaine returned, cards in hand, and Xander¡¯s breath hitched. It was happening.


    It was time.


    Mary grabbed the deck, running her fingers along the smooth white edges, her expression shifting from playful drunkenness to a sudden, steely focus.


    Her knuckles knocked sharply on the top of the deck before she looked at him intently¡ªher gaze piercing into him, sending an unnerving chill down his spine. Was this what it was like to be on the receiving end of a reading? Xander recalled all his recent sessions with customers, noticing they wore similar looks to one he currently had. Guess so.


    ¡°So my question¡ª¡± He began.


    She held a hand up, speaking quietly, ¡°I already know your question son¡ªthough that isn¡¯t what you need.¡±


    He frowned, bits of annoyance creeping up into his jaw. Wasn¡¯t this supposed to be his reading?


    She seemed to ignore his frown entirely, continuing to prepare the cards with focused precision. Moments of silence passed, the air thick with tension, before her finger twitched. In an instant, three cards shot out onto the table, landing with a soft thud. He jerked back, staring at her in disbelief. Wasn¡¯t she just completely drunk only minutes ago?


    He glanced toward his dad, who simply shrugged, his face unreadable. Guess mom¡¯s got some tricks up her sleeve.


    She flipped the cards over one by one, and Xander¡¯s eyes widened. Three cards. And they were all Major Arcana. What the heck was going on?


    ¡°The World, The Fool, and The Wheel of Fortune,¡± Her fingers tapped each card, her gaze drilling into him. ¡°You feel stuck. Stagnant. Like there¡¯s a whole world out there, and you¡¯re just wasting away in complacency¡ªlike you don¡¯t have any control.¡±


    His stomach twisted. The accuracy was almost suffocating. Being on the receiving end of a reading was terrifying¡ªhe¡¯d unlocked a new kind of patience for any future customers he¡¯d have.


    Mary¡¯s focus suddenly snapped upward, her eyes unfocused as if possessed by something else entirely. Her hands twitched unnaturally, and her mouth moved, though no sound escaped. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    This was not normal. Xander¡¯s eyes shot to his dad in panic, but Jermaine only looked back at him with a resigned look¡ªas if he¡¯d known this would happen all along. His grip tightened on the edge of the table, the fabric of his pants crumpling beneath clenched fists.


    ¡°Write this down,¡± His mom looked down and snapped, voice sharp.


    Panicking, Xander scrambled for paper. His dad, seemingly prepared for this, passed him a piece of paper and a pen without a word. This was getting strange¡ªand fast.


    ¡°The wheel shall soon spin,¡± Mary murmured, her voice distant, as if recalling a memory. Xander¡¯s hands shook as he hurriedly scribbled down the words. ¡°The world will soon call. Your journey will soon begin. Will you let the world fall?¡±


    He paused, waiting for more, but the words hung in the air. Silence stretched out before she abruptly gathered the cards and pushed back from the table, disappearing down the hallway with an eerie calm.


    Xander turned to his dad, his voice shaky, ¡°What¡­ the hell was that?¡±


    Jermaine sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, looking conflicted. ¡°You¡¯ll know soon enough.¡± And with that, he followed her down the hallway, leaving Xander alone at the table.


    Noodles long forgotten, Xander¡¯s eyes drifted over the words he¡¯d just written, each pass more agonizing than the last. The wheel shall soon spin? Will you let the world fall? What did that even mean? It was vague and endlessly frustrating.


    He shoved an annoyed forkful of noodles in his mouth, the pasta pieces now cold and unappetizing.


    ¡°Well happy birthday to me,¡± He muttered darkly.


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s broad hands clamped onto Xander¡¯s shoulders, steering him toward another exhibit. The crowd parted instinctively, a ripple of movement as people scrambled to get out of the bigger guy¡¯s way. The faint scent of cologne lingered as Jor¡¯dan leaned in close, his breath brushing the back of Xander¡¯s neck¡ªa hot gust laced with frustration.


    ¡°Bro, it¡¯s your birthday.¡± Jor¡¯dan¡¯s voice was a low rumble, punctuated by a light swat to the back of Xander¡¯s head. ¡°I know you¡¯re still thinkin¡¯ about that reading your folks gave you, but stop letting it ruin your day.¡±


    Xander sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his thoughts. His friend was right, as usual. But the disappointment gnawed at him like an insistent tide. Even earlier, during his parents¡¯ attempts to cheer him up, the dull ache of unanswered questions had refused to fade. He couldn¡¯t help but feel guilty¡ªungrateful even¡ªbut no matter how hard he tried, the frustration remained. He¡¯d expected clarity from the cards, a sign, something¡ªbut all he¡¯d gotten was a riddle that left him more tangled than before.


    The sudden shadow falling over him broke his reverie. Jor¡¯dan loomed like an immovable boulder, hands planted firmly on his hips, his dark eyes narrowing in mock severity. The stance looked slightly ridiculous coming from his rugged best friend, but Xander knew better than to laugh.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got three seconds to smile before I slap the sulkiness outta you,¡± Jor¡¯dan warned, raising a broad hand in threat.


    The worst part was? Xander knew he wasn¡¯t lying. He¡¯d have exactly three seconds before he saw the light.


    ¡°Bro,¡± he protested weakly, not in the mood for the tough-love routine.


    ¡°One.¡± Jor¡¯dan arched a thick brow, his expression unyielding.


    ¡°It¡¯s my damn birthday, dude¡ªseriously¡ª¡±


    ¡°Two.¡±


    Xander grit his teeth, irritation bubbling up like a geyser¡ªonly to deflate just as quickly. Annoying as Jor¡¯dan could be, he knew his friend was trying to help. That didn¡¯t mean it didn¡¯t drive him crazy.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Xander huffed, plastering on a halfhearted smile that didn¡¯t come close to reaching his eyes.


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s gaze sharpened, ¡°Try again.¡±


    Damnit¡ªXander ran a hand down his face, exhaling slowly as the tension ebbed. He let his eyes drift, searching for something¡ªanything¡ªthat could shift his mood. His best friend was here with him, it was his birthday. He, at least, was grateful to be here. The soft glow of the museum lights bathed the room in a warm amber hue; he let the warmth ground him.


    The smile he gave was faint but miles more genuine, ¡°You¡¯re right, sorry.¡±


    Jor¡¯dan clapped him on the shoulder, giving him a cheeky grin¡ªclearly pleased with himself. Xander rolled his eyes but couldn¡¯t help the quiet chuckle that slipped out.


    Finally, his gaze lifted to the statue Jor¡¯dan had dragged him to¡ªa towering marble figure, its surface smooth and glimmering under a beam of light streaming through a circular window from above. The artistry was breathtaking, every detail etched with precision that made the figure seem almost alive.


    ¡°Why this one?¡± Xander asked,  his fingers brushing tentatively against the cool stone.


    Jor¡¯dan shrugged, his nonchalance breaking the moment¡¯s solemnity. ¡°Dunno. Just looked pretty cool.¡±


    Xander let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he turned his focus back to the statue. ¡°Yeah,¡± he murmured, the words lingering in the quiet air, ¡°it is.¡±


    Jor''dan was never really one for the arts¡ªa peculiar trait among the locals of the Vale, where creativity was as vital as breath. Still, Xander couldn¡¯t help but linger, his gaze drawn upward to the marble figure. The woman¡¯s form was striking, her hands clutching her chest as if holding something unseen, while shadowy tendrils coiled around her body like a creeping curse.


    In a way, it mirrored the painting he¡¯d created¡ªa visual outcry of feeling trapped, of losing control. His chest tightened at the thought, but the ache was softer now. The act of painting had exorcized some of that weight, leaving him with wisps of reflection rather than the storm it had been.


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s impatient tug jolted him from his reverie, yanking him along to another part of the exhibit. Xander let himself be dragged, redirecting his attention to the lively reception area. The soft, airy notes of a band drifted through the space, harmonizing with the murmur of voices from attendees. Conversations blended like the backdrop of a well-composed painting, grounding the museum in a quiet yet unmistakable warmth. It was part of what made this place so intoxicating¡ªits energy, its life.


    A snippet of conversation drew his focus. To his left, an artist crouched, deeply engaged with a small girl who spoke in a torrent of words, her excitement radiating in squeals and hand gestures. He¡¯d only heard bits and pieces¡ªwords of encouragement from the older man and excited squeals of response from the girl.


    A softer smile found its way to Xander¡¯s lips. This was the magic of Solari¡ªthe Vale always had a way of lifting the heart.


    He didn¡¯t notice Jor¡¯dan stopping until he bumped into his broad back. ¡°What the¡ª¡± Xander began but stopped short, peeking around his friend¡¯s shoulder. His breath caught in his throat, his eyes widened.


    Holy shit¡­


    Before them stood a painting that shimmered as if alive, a galaxy swirling in radiant hues. Stars and planets danced in chaotic harmony, their light bending and twisting into the outstretched hand of a young woman at its center. Her fingers seemed to cradle the cosmos itself. Xander¡¯s mind raced to identify it, the realization settling quickly¡ªit had to be a depiction of The World card.


    More a myth than anything. Most people didn¡¯t even think it existed. Hundreds of years had passed without a single verifiable holder, yet some believed fiercely in its existence. His parents were among them.


    The memory of their conversation last year flickered to life, as vivid as the painting before him. They¡¯d been walking home from the art festival after supporting some of the local artists in the market later in the evening¡ªthe thought had come out of nowhere.


    ¡°How are you so sure it¡¯s out there?¡± he had asked, his shoes crunching against loose gravel on the path.


    ¡°There¡­ are things you don¡¯t truly understand honey,¡± Mary¡¯s voice was uncharacteristically soft¡ªcatching him off guard.


    ¡°Just know it''s out there,¡± His father echoed, though his voice was tighter¡ªexpression unreadable.


    The memory dissolved, leaving Xander gazing at the painting with quiet awe.


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s low voice pulled him back. ¡°This is a goddamn beauty.¡±


    Xander nodded along, still in awe. This was definitely going to win the art competition this year¡ªwithout a doubt. The sheer talent on display left him marveling at how many gifted people lived in one place. A flicker of longing crept into his chest as he stared at the painting. Maybe one day his painting¡¯s would adorn the museum walls too.


    After a few moments, it was Xander¡¯s turn to yank his friend out of a trance. He¡¯d seen enough of the museum for one day¡ªhis artistic thirst thoroughly quenched by that last piece. Now, his stomach growled in protest, making it clear what his next priority should be.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Xander tugged at Jor¡¯dan¡¯s arm, grinning at the low grumble of complaint that followed. He wasn¡¯t used to seeing his friend this captivated by art. Usually, Jor¡¯dan¡¯s interest didn¡¯t extend much further than Xander¡¯s own work, and even then, he¡¯d assumed it was just the guy being a good friend. But maybe there was more to it.


    The Vale was alive with its usual midday bustle, the golden hour sun painting the buildings in hues of amber and honey. Some structures gleamed so brightly they seemed to be carved from solite itself. Xander unclipped his sunray from his back, its soft hum a satisfying confirmation as it powered on beneath his feet.


    ¡°Follow me,¡± Jor¡¯dan called over his shoulder as he hopped onto his own board, a fluid motion that sent stray auburn strands falling into his face. He pushed them back with a practiced swipe before shooting off, small plumes of dust kicking up in his wake.


    Xander followed, his own board leaving faint trails behind as they cruised through the streets. Solari didn¡¯t have strict districts, but it was easy to tell when they were crossing into the more upscale parts of the Vale. The greenery of the park blurred past, and Xander arched a brow as they sped beyond its boundaries toward the wealthier side of town.


    Jor¡¯dan lived nearby¡ªan unspoken perk of being part of the Solari combat ranks. Xander didn¡¯t envy him, though. He couldn¡¯t imagine fighting the beasts his friend faced regularly. He¡¯d seen the aftermath in hushed conversations and grim stories. That wasn¡¯t his world. Besides, Jor¡¯dan had a card¡ªhe didn¡¯t. He¡¯d never seen him in battle, but he assumed his friend''s King of Wands card gave him a huge edge.


    The history class tidbits came back to him as they rode, thoughts weaving around the lore of the divine hunt. After the hunt, the cards weren¡¯t just given to humans but to animals as well. He shuddered, remembering the fiery bear he¡¯d glimpsed not too long ago, a beast wreaking havoc near the wall before the combat team had taken it down. It was terrifying enough without the flames¡ªno animal that size needed extra powers.


    Jor¡¯dan finally stopped in front of a building, its facade gleaming with an ethereal shimmer. Green-stained glass mingled with deep blue, refracting the light in a way that made the interior appear submerged, as though the ocean itself had taken residence within its walls.


    His breath caught as his eyes landed on the name.


    The Sirens Touch.


    ¡°You¡¯re insane,¡± he blurted, his gaze snapping to Jor¡¯dan, wide with disbelief. ¡°Dude, I can¡¯t afford this.¡±


    His friend only smirked, utterly unfazed. ¡°Who said anything about affording it? I¡¯m payin¡¯, of course.¡±


    Xander stood frozen as Jor¡¯dan unclipped his board and slung it over his back, moving as casually as if he hadn¡¯t just brought Xander to the most expensive restaurant in the entire Vale.


    ¡°Dude no way¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t even start that bullshit,¡± Jor¡¯dan cut him off, growling, ¡°I¡¯m treatin¡¯ my friend for his birthday¡ªnow hurry up.¡±


    Xander clamped his mouth shut, swallowing the retort forming on his tongue. There was no arguing with Jor¡¯dan, not unless he wanted to end the conversation with stars spinning around his head.


    ¡°Fine,¡± He muttered to himself, folding up his board and following him inside.

 Chapter 4

    Chapter 4


    The interior of The Siren¡¯s Grace was even more breathtaking than its exterior. The oceanic theme was unmistakable, with hues ranging from tranquil baby blue to the deep, rolling thunder of a stormy blue which adorned the table cloth and walls. White accents, reminiscent of foamy waves, cascaded across the blues, creating an entrancing, almost hypnotic effect.


    Wow¡­


    Xander¡¯s hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, the fabric suddenly feeling uncomfortably cheap and out of place in such a refined setting. Jor¡¯dan was in front of him¡ªan air of confidence around him that he¡¯d wished he had in this moment.


    A hostess with a tight ponytail approached them, clipboard in hand. Her professional smile revealed a small, shimmering tooth gem as she greeted them. ¡°Do you have a reservation? Currently, The Siren¡¯s Touch is¡ª¡±


    Jor¡¯dan flicked a sleek blue card from his back pocket and handed it to her without a word. The hostess¡¯s eyes widened slightly, but she recovered quickly, her demeanor shifting to one of polished efficiency. She grabbed two cutlery rolls from a nearby desk and gestured for them to follow her up a spiral staircase that curved around the bar.


    Xander trailed behind, taking in every detail. The soft, wave-like music filled the air, blending seamlessly with the gentle murmur of conversations and the faint clink of glasses. A mosaic dance floor shimmered below, made of tiles in shades of blue and green, like sea glass. Couples moved across the space with practiced elegance, each step perfectly in time with the rhythm.


    They must be regulars. His jaw loosened in awe. How the hell are they moving like that?


    By the time they reached the upper level, Xander stumbled slightly, almost tripping on the final step once he saw the balcony. The open area was far more spacious than he¡¯d expected, with fewer tables, each draped in embroidered wave-patterned cloth. The view overlooked the bustling Vale, he could almost see across the park from this height.


    He shot a suspicious glance at the back of Jor¡¯dan¡¯s head. Just how much does the combat guild pay?


    The hostess handed them off to another server, a young woman in a dark blue dress that shimmered subtly under the light. He fumbled with the soft material of the menu as she asked what drinks they¡¯d like¡ªstruggling to find the drink options amidst the seemingly endless amount of food choice.


    Sensing his hesitation, the waitress leaned over and pointed to a small section at the bottom right. ¡°The drinks are here,¡± she said kindly.


    He offered her a grateful smile and looked over the options as quickly as he could, not wanting to waste her time. Xander raised an eyebrow as Jor¡¯dan announced what he¡¯d be drinking¡ªSnatina. Curious, his eyes darted to the description. Made from the king of cups holder snake venom? Sweet taste? His gaze slid to the price, and he nearly choked. Two gold? For a drink?! Even if the substance was hard to get, two gold for just the drink? No way.


    Xander opted for a more modest SolTiva, a popular refresher made with locally grown fruit¡ªmost local places had them on hand. As the waitress nodded and disappeared, Xander turned to his friend, incredulous.


    ¡°What. The. Hell?¡± He demanded, shaking the menu for emphasis.


    ¡°Problem?¡± Jor¡¯dan replied, his grin smug. ¡°Can¡¯t a man treat his best friend in peace?¡±


    ¡°Treat?!¡± Xander hissed, giving him a light kick under the table. ¡°This is a full-blown feast! And how the hell did you even get a reservation here? I¡¯ve heard it takes months just to get in the queue.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s to say I didn¡¯t queue months ago?¡± Jor¡¯dan raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed by the kick.


    Xander blinked, caught off guard. A sudden warmth bloomed in his chest, an unspoken emotion tightening his throat. He glanced at Jor¡¯dan, words failing him.


    ¡°Aw, don¡¯t get sappy on me now,¡± Jor¡¯dan teased, waving a dismissive hand. ¡°It ain¡¯t that deep.¡±


    But it was that deep. Jor¡¯dan knew it, Xander knew it.


    And he wouldn¡¯t forget it.


    His eyes quickly darted to the menu, hiding the redness that threatened to spread across his face. The endless array of dishes provided the perfect distraction, giving him a moment to steady his thoughts. Jor¡¯dan might¡¯ve been rugged on the outside, but very few got to see the soft side he reserved for his closest friends and family. Xander counted himself lucky¡ªthough the man¡¯s insistence on spoiling him like this was almost too much to handle.


    Glancing up, he noticed Jor¡¯dan looking over the menu as nonchalantly as ever, as if nothing just happened at all¡ªanother thing he envied about the man.


    The menu itself was an ornate masterpiece, almost as if it were a window into the sea. The edges of the pages shimmered faintly, mimicking the glint of sunlight on water, and the ink swirled like currents in an endless ocean. Each dish was described in painstaking detail, complete with artistic sketches of the food that seemed almost alive. He¡¯d wondered if they¡¯d gotten Eric to do the art¡ªthat¡¯d explain a lot.


    His gaze wandered over the seafood section, which unsurprisingly dominated the offerings. Euphoria en ¨¦cailles caught his eye¡ªmore so what it was made of. Made from the scales of ten of cups wild caught fish? How the hell do they even get this stuff? Solari¡¯s supposed to be miles inland¡ªthough his geography knowledge was sorely lacking.


    Geography class floated back into his mind¡ªlearning about the different regions and cities of Terradin, though only sparsely remembered where they resided. He also vaguely remembered the teacher describing the world before the Divine Hunt. Continents, large disconnected landmasses, once dotted the planet. Now, everything was different. The event had reshaped the planet, uniting the lands under a single vast sprawl, bordered by the oceans.


    His teacher had also talked about rumors¡ªwhispers of untouched continents across the sea, unscathed by the event. Xander shuddered at the thought of the creatures that might thrive in those remote regions, lurking.


    Eyes focusing back on the menu, the ¨¦cailles seemed like a good choice, coming with alot¡ªthree sides? Lying would be saying this place wasn¡¯t worth it, but with the majority of the options being over five gold? It boggled his mind.


    A familiar sensation crept into the back of his neck¡ªa whisper to look for the cheapest option. His friend was already treating him to this meal, he should be minimal with his selection. Shaking his head, Xander forced himself back to the menu. He scanned for something cheaper, something that wouldn¡¯t make him feel like a total leech.


    Tidal Tempura for one gold, was the cheapest course on the menu. It came with a modest one side and toast¡ªperfect. Xander appreciated what his friend was trying to do for him, but he couldn¡¯t allow himself to just spend so much of his dime.


    ¡°The Fire Breath Steak sounds like it¡¯d hit the spot,¡± Jor¡¯dan said casually, barely looking up from his own menu. ¡°What¡¯re you getting?¡±


    Xander hesitated, eyes glancing at the ¨¦cailles he¡¯d originally looked at before answering, ¡°Uh I¡¯ll get the Tidal Tempura, sounds pretty good.¡±


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s menu lowered slowly, his dark eyes locking onto Xander with an intensity that made him squirm. ¡°So you just happen to pick the cheapest thing on the menu? Are you trying to piss me off, bro?¡±


    ¡°What? No¡ªit¡¯s just, these prices are insane!¡± Xander gestured to the menu for emphasis. ¡°I can¡¯t let you spend this much¡ªOw!¡±


    His sentence was cut off as Jor¡¯dan¡¯s foot made contact under the table. Xander glared at him, rubbing his shin. ¡°What the hell, man?¡±A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Pick. Something. Else,¡± Jor¡¯dan said, his tone brooking no argument.


    Xander groaned at his stubbornness but was secretly appreciative¡ªhis eyes landed back on the dish he¡¯d wanted and muttered, ¡°Then¡­ then I''ll get the ¨¦cailles.¡±


    Jor¡¯dan scanned the menu, his expression softening just enough to show satisfaction. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about. One of my buddies hunted one of those things before¡ªnasty buggers, apparently. You¡¯re in for a treat.¡±


    His ears perked in interest, about to ask for more details when the waitress approached, balancing their drinks effortlessly. Her polished smile seemed practiced but genuine as she placed their glasses before them.


    She gave them both a quick once-over and asked warmly, ¡°Do you need more time to choose? The menu can be a little overwhelming¡ª¡±


    Jor¡¯dan raised a hand casually, cutting her off with a nod. ¡°Thanks, but we¡¯re ready.¡± He didn¡¯t miss a beat, pointing toward Xander. ¡°He¡¯ll be getting the ¨¦cailles, and I¡¯ll have the Fire Breath Steak. Medium rare, please.¡±


    Xander was surprised when the waitress just nodded along, not bothering to write anything down¡ªas though she¡¯d memorized the entire menu backward and forward. Her eyes glinted knowingly, catching Xander¡¯s subtle shock, and she offered him a playful wink before gliding away with a smooth efficiency. His broken train of thought was reformed, thoughts about the guild making him curious.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t really thought about it much,¡± Xander started, twirling the SolTiva in his glass absentmindedly, ¡°but what do all you guys do in the guild? I know you fight the beasts who get too close to the wall¡ªthat¡¯s about all I know though.¡±


    Jor¡¯dan gave a faint shrug, his gaze drifting as if recounting a memory. ¡°Well, that¡¯s part of it,¡± he said, his tone gruff. ¡°There¡¯s different sections of the guild. Some of the guys are real good at huntin¡¯, tracking the nastier ones before they get anywhere near us. Then there are the couriers¡ªcrazy bastards, the lot of them¡ªwho live on the road, moving between regions and giving back reports.¡± He paused, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his glass. ¡°And, of course, there¡¯s the wall defenders. They¡¯re the front line when something big comes knocking.¡±


    Xander nodded along, listening intently as he went through all of the different guild specializations. When he was younger, everyone at school wanted to get a card¡ªmost having big dreams of adventuring all of Terradin. He chuckled at the thought.


    ¡°What about you?¡± Xander asked, cocking a brow. ¡°From the stuff you¡¯ve told me, it sounds like you do a mix of different things.¡±


    Jor¡¯dan smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching as if suppressing a laugh. ¡°Eh, guess you¡¯re right,¡± he said, scratching his chin. ¡°Those with stronger cards get a bit more leeway. We¡¯re not tied down to one role, so I do a little bit of everything.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Xander started, resting his elbow on the table and leaning forward, ¡°What exactly does ¡®leeway¡¯ mean in guild terms? Sounds like you¡¯re saying the stronger your card, the more you get to cherry-pick the fun jobs.¡±


    Jor¡¯dan gave a low chuckle, shaking his head. ¡°Fun? Sure, if you¡¯re into waking up at dawn and fighting off creatures that could bite your damn head off.¡± He took a sip of his drink, savoring it before continuing. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s not all glory. The stronger cards, yeah, they get more options, but it¡¯s not as cushy as you think. More options just mean more ways to screw up.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Xander assumed those with the stronger cards had more of an influence, being able to make mistakes without getting backlash for it.


    ¡°Say you¡¯ve got a card with a lot of combat power. Everyone expects you to handle the worst of the worst¡ªprotect everyone else. But if you mess up? It¡¯s not just on you¡ªit¡¯s on your squad, sometimes even the whole town you¡¯re supposed to protect.¡± He took another sip, his expression darkening. ¡°The stakes are higher, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Xander took a small sip of his SolTiva in thought, the fruity taste a dichotomy of the more serious tone the conversation had taken.


    The silence that followed wasn¡¯t awkward¡ªit was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding.


    His attention was pulled to the side as the sound of heels clicking against the balcony floor sounded. The waitress approached, balancing their plates with a practiced ease that made Xander¡¯s stomach grumble in anticipation. The savory aroma of grilled fish and spices filled the air as she placed his dish in front of him, the shimmering scales practically glowing under the soft light.


    ¡°Enjoy,¡± she said with a warm smile, before heading off to another table.


    Jor¡¯dan didn¡¯t waste a second, cutting into his steak and giving an approving nod. ¡°You¡¯re gonna love that,¡± he said, motioning to Xander¡¯s plate with his fork. ¡°They don¡¯t mess around here.¡±


    As Xander took his first bite, the rich, buttery flavor melted on his tongue, a strange warmth spreading through his chest. He blinked, glancing at Jor¡¯dan, who raised an eyebrow in amusement.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± His friend asked, smirking.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Xander admitted, a reluctant grin tugging at his lips. ¡°This is the best damn thing I¡¯ve had.¡±


    Jor¡¯dan gave a satisfied nod. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. Happy birthday, bro.¡±


    For once, Xander didn¡¯t argue. He just smiled, savoring the moment¡ªand the meal.


    Xander wobbled his way up the stairs to his apartment, the satisfying weight of his meal from the Siren¡¯s Touch settling heavily in his stomach. Each step felt like trudging through syrup, and he let out a contented huff as he reached the landing. The worn metal doorknob was cool to the touch as he twisted it open, stepping into the shadowed warmth of the loft.


    The faint murmurs of his parents¡¯ voices drifted from their bedroom, blending with the soft crackle of a burning incense stick that filled the air with an earthy aroma.


    He trudged down the narrow hallway to his room, tapping the wall a few times to turn on the light and kicking off his shoes with a satisfying thud. His jacket landed haphazardly on the growing mound of clothes in the corner. The room was its usual chaotic sanctuary¡ªart supplies strewn across his desk, sketches pinned to the corkboard, and the faint scent of acrylic paint lingering in the air.


    Xander turned, scanning the space. Something felt¡­off. His eyes landed on the empty spot behind his desk where his latest painting should¡¯ve been. His brows furrowed in confusion. The hells?


    Stepping back into the hallway, he padded toward his parents¡¯ room, the soft carpet muffling his steps. He knocked a few times, opening the door when a muffled acknowledgement came from the other side.


    ¡°Hey, have you guys seen my painting?¡± he asked, leaning against the doorframe.


    Inside, his parents were sprawled out on their bed, each absorbed in their respective books. It was quite cute actually¡ªthey each had on a pair of reading glasses, though he was sure they didn¡¯t really need them.


    His mom, Mary, lowered her glasses slightly and gave him a knowing look. ¡°Oh, right! You know Sally¡ªthe one who did your prints last time? We thought you¡¯d want some prints, so we sent it to her for you.¡±


    Xander blinked, the tension in his shoulders easing. That actually made sense. He¡¯d been meaning to get prints made but honestly had forgotten about it.


    ¡°Cool,¡± he nodded. He liked sharing his work in the shop¡¯s downstairs lobby and reading rooms¡ªusually just hanging up the prints next to the customized wall art they had. Customers occasionally complimented the pieces, surprised when they learned he¡¯d made them. He¡¯d assumed they were just being polite, but he liked offering prints anyway. Apparently his parent¡¯s friends liked his work as well so they¡¯d ask.


    ¡°That piece was beautiful, boy,¡± his father said, giving him a faint smile. But as he spoke again, the warmth in his expression dimmed. ¡°Though I can¡¯t help but ask¡­is that how you really feel? Like you¡¯re being forced to work here?¡±


    Xander hesitated, caught off guard.


    His mom chimed in immediately, her tone gentle but firm. ¡°You know we¡¯ve always supported you. If this isn¡¯t something you want to be doing, we¡¯d never force you.¡±


    He shook his head quickly, stepping farther into the room. ¡°No, no¡ªit¡¯s not like that. It¡¯s just¡­more about me feeling like I¡¯m not in control of my life.¡± His voice wavered, the words spilling out faster than he meant. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I want to do, and that¡¯s the problem.¡±


    Mary set her book aside and stood, crossing the room to cup his cheek in her hand. Her touch was warm and grounding, her gaze steady.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be in such a rush to grow up,¡± she said softly, her words carrying an undercurrent of something deeper. ¡°You have your whole life ahead of you. Enjoy the present¡ªthe normalcy, the stillness. One day, you might find you¡¯ll miss these moments. So, just for a little while longer, be a kid.¡±


    Her words struck a chord deep within him, triggering something he didn¡¯t fully understand. After a beat of silence, he nodded¡ªmurmuring, ¡°Yeah¡­you¡¯re right.¡±


    She smiled gently, patting his cheek before glancing down at his stomach. ¡°Someone had a feast,¡± she teased, her tone lighthearted, clearly trying to lift the mood.


    From the bed, Jermaine snickered. ¡°Looks like you ate the whole damn menu!¡±


    ¡°Hey!¡± Xander scowled, though a grin tugged at his lips. ¡°Jor¡¯dan took me to the Siren¡¯s Touch. He practically forced me to stuff myself.¡±


    His dad let out a low whistle. ¡°Damn, must¡¯ve been nice. Honey,¡± he turned to Mary, ¡°when¡¯s the last time we went there?¡±


    Mary settled back onto the bed, tapping her chin thoughtfully. ¡°Had to be a few years ago¡ªour anniversary, I think. Definitely set the bar.¡± She looked back at Xander, a soft smile curling her lips. ¡°That Jor¡¯dan is a good boy. You¡¯d better bring him around the shop next time you two get together¡ªI haven¡¯t seen him in ages.¡±


    ¡°I will, Mom,¡± Xander said, shaking his head as he started to leave. ¡°Night, guys¡ªand¡­sorry about earlier. I had a great birthday.¡±


    They both gave him matching looks of understanding.


    ¡°Of course, son,¡± Jermaine said softly.


    Xander nodded, retreating to his room. He flopped onto his bed with a contented sigh, the full weight of the day sinking into him. His stomach was full, his heart warm, and the comforting scent of sandalwood still lingered in the air. Within moments, he drifted off into a deep, satisfied sleep.

 Chapter 5

    Chapter 5


    The next few days blurred together, the streets of Solari bustling with life as the population swelled. Travelers from distant regions poured in to partake in the festival, bringing with them a patchwork of cultures and appearances. It was always fascinating to see people from places he¡¯d only heard about in passing¡ªsome with distinct, striking features, while others stood out more subtly, their origins revealed only through the colors and styles of their clothing.


    Xander found himself caught in the pre-festival chaos, helping out a family friend by ferrying cases of canvases from Johnil¡¯s studio to the stall near the park. A small grunt escaped him as the weight of the box joined hands with gravity¡ªhis arms hot and throbbing, the ridges of the cardboard biting into his palms.


    His view was half-obstructed by the towering case, and he kept peeking around it, wary of accidentally plowing into someone. The streets were an orchestra of motion¡ªvendors hauling supplies, artists securing displays, and festival workers hammering stakes into tents. It was a communal scramble, everyone racing to beat the clock before the festival began the next day.


    Luckily, the crowd seemed to sense his predicament. People moved aside as he approached, giving him a wide berth. Not that they were doing it for him, he thought wryly¡ªthey were probably more concerned about the precarious tower of canvases wobbling in his grip. A misstep would be catastrophic, and not just because of the paintings. If this thing landed on him, Xander thought grimly, he¡¯d probably get an impromptu audience with the Arcana.


    With a relieved sigh, he finally lowered the case onto the wooden counter of Johnil¡¯s stall. His arms throbbed with gratitude, the tingling rush of blood feeling both painful and satisfying. If Jor¡¯dan had been around to witness the ordeal, he¡¯d definitely have been laughing his ass off. Xander would, of course, blame it on being cardless. He smirked, they¡¯d both know that wasn¡¯t the case.


    He didn''t mind helping out, though. His dad had asked him to lend a hand, and he couldn¡¯t say no. Johnil had been a family friend for as long as he could remember, the kind of guy who always showed up when you needed it.


    Xander smiled faintly, a flicker of nostalgia warming his chest. When he was younger the man would let him come into his studio and play with some of the paints that were already close to running out. Those afternoons were magical¡ªhis tiny fingers smudged with color, his imagination spilling onto scrap canvases. He firmly believed that was why he loved art so much¡ªit never lost that childlike excitement when new ideas zoomed into view.


    ¡°I think that¡¯s all of ¡¯em,¡± Johnil said, leaning against the scuffed desk in the center of the booth. The older man stretched¡ªa few pops responding back that had Xander chuckling.


    ¡°Hey, this¡¯ll be you sooner than you think,¡± He scolded lightly, reaching out in faux warning.


    Xander raised both hands in mock innocence, a grin spreading across his face. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t doubt it¡ªbarely managed to get that case here with my arms still attached.¡±


    Johnil chuckled, shaking his head, but his tone softened. ¡°I appreciate the help, though, Xander. Would¡¯ve been hell getting all this here by myself¡ªI¡¯m not as young as I used to be.¡±


    Xander waved him off with a casual shrug, ¡°No worries, I wouldn¡¯t even be an artist without you¡ªyou ask, I''m there.¡±


    A quiet moment stretched between them, comfortable and warm. The kind of silence that carried more meaning than words could.


    Johnil¡¯s dark brown eyebrow raised¡ªas if having a sudden thought, expression turning inquisitive, ¡°Did you submit your art to the competition this year?¡±


    Xander¡¯s grin faded, replaced by a small wince. He knew exactly where this was heading. With a reluctant sigh, he rubbed the back of his neck. ¡°No, not this year. It¡¯s just¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just nothing,¡± Johnil snapped, a sudden fierceness in his voice that even caught Xander off guard. ¡°Boy you have talent, you work hard¡ªyes, but you could be there on that stage.¡± He firmly pointed to where the Pentacles card holders were forming a stage, the platform gleaming in the park¡¯s center.


    Xander opened his mouth to respond, but Johnil wasn¡¯t finished.


    ¡°If you¡¯d just get out¡ª¡± he poked Xander¡¯s forehead with surprising force, ¡°¡ªof that big orb you call a head and submit your work, you¡¯d be a shoo-in for the top five.¡±


    He wanted to believe it, he truly did. This conversation wasn¡¯t the first he¡¯d had with Johnil¡ªeven other people in general. Xander knew it was illogical to assume that everyone was just being polite¡ªthat they were lying through smiles, like they would with a child who¡¯d shown them scribbles.


    But he also knew it was deeper than that. The self doubt started young¡ªhis body a playground for the seeds of doubt to take root, branches extending into different parts of his life. How long could he ignore it? What sense did it make to cry about stagnation¡ªacting as if some invisible force was truly holding him down? His recent painting flashed in his mind: chains coiling like vines around him, making it all seem outside of himself¡ªoutside of his control. The problem was never external¡­ it was internal, and he needed to accept that.


    He let out a sigh¡ªhe¡¯d agreed with Johnil in the past numerous times, nodding along and promising to take action, only to let the days slip by in the same pattern. But this time¡­ this time, something felt different.


    Xander gave the older man a genuine look as he spoke, words filled with a silent vow to himself¡ªto do better. ¡°Next year I¡¯ll submit a piece. I promise.¡±


    Johnil studied him, those sharp blue eyes searching for any sign of doubt. Xander resisted the urge to squirm under the weight of that calculating look. Though finally, the older man¡¯s expression softened, the lines around his eyes crinkling.


    ¡°You¡¯d better.¡± He grumbled, though the edge in his voice was dulled by affection. ¡°If not, I¡¯ll prove I¡¯m not too old to toss you over my knee.¡±


    An awkwardness washed over Xander, his gaze landing on the nearest¡­ anything that wasn¡¯t Johnil¡ªsurely he was joking?


    Before the awkwardness could consume him a mischievous glint flickered in Johnil¡¯s gaze. He waved a hand dismissively, a hint of amusement in his tone. ¡°Alright, now git. I know you¡¯ve got other things to do.¡±


    Scratching the back of his head, Xander gave him a sheepish wave before stepping back into the crowd.


    Now where the hell is Sydney at?


    He blended into the chaotic mess of the Vale, weaving through the tangled currents of people. The warm air carried a mix of spices, fresh bread, and the tang of Solite dust kicked up by passing boards. Two guys sped past, their laughter trailing behind like a wave, boards going right over the uneven ground.


    Sydney had asked him to stop by her booth, unlike him¡ªshe never hesitated to put herself out there. It was a trait he both envied and admired. Her art style was distinct¡ªraw and unapologetic¡ªand he couldn¡¯t wait to see what she¡¯d brought to the festival.


    Squinting through the crowd, he spotted a flash of fiery red hair bobbing above a sea of heads. Sydney was knee-deep in unpacked boxes, her movements frantic as she scrambled to set up her display. Xander pushed his way closer, mumbling quick apologies as he brushed shoulders and sidestepped errant elbows. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    When he finally reached the edge of her stall, he paused, taking in her progress. For someone who looked on the verge of a breakdown, she¡¯d already made a decent headway. Two sturdy tables in the back held her crystal sculptures, the refracted light throwing delicate, shifting patterns onto the shaded walls of the booth. Paintings were propped up along the sides, their bold strokes catching his eye even from a distance.


    ¡°Looks pretty good so far,¡± he called out, his voice cutting through the low hum of the crowd.


    Sydney whipped around, relief washing over her features as she spotted him. ¡°Xander what do you think? Should the sculptures be on the side instead?¡± She didn¡¯t even wait for a response before rushing over to one of the tables, already shifting pieces around.


    He chuckled, the sight of his usually unflappable friend so frazzled catching him off guard. ¡°Nervous? Didn¡¯t think I¡¯d see the day.¡±


    She shot him a playful glare but didn¡¯t deny it. It was her first year after all¡ªshe was only a year older than him, and the age requirement was set at 18, unless you had guardians manning the tables.


    ¡°It¡¯s coming together,¡± he reassured, stepping closer. He pointed to a cluster of sculptures crowded together on the right. ¡°This one should go here, front and center. It¡¯s hard to appreciate it when it¡¯s packed like that.¡±


    He moved to her paintings, lifting one with bold reds and deep blues. ¡°This should either be near the front or displayed on its own,¡± he suggested, carefully sliding it onto the rack on the left. ¡°People need a hook, something familiar to draw them in before they explore the rest.¡±


    Sydney nodded along, her lips pressed into a focused line as they worked together. There was content silence as they rearranged the paintings and made them look more presentable. With the two of them, the contents of her boxes disappeared fast.


    It was set up in three sections, The left rack showcased her more traditional works, bold and colorful pieces that would immediately resonate with passersby. On the right, smaller items and affordable paintings catered to casual buyers who might not splurge on a large piece. And last but definitely not least, the back table was lined with Solite crystal sculptures. Their presence was captivating, one could argue they stood out even more in the back¡ªtheir slow glow in the shade potentially pulling customers in.


    By the time they stepped back to admire their handiwork, the booth looked polished, inviting, and uniquely Sydney.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got this,¡± he said, glancing at her.


    ¡°Thanks, Xander. I was losing my mind before you came,¡± Sydney said, wiping a streak of sweat from her forehead.


    Snickering, he clapped her on the shoulder, ¡°The all-mighty Sydney, defeated by the festival? I¡¯m not letting you live this one down.¡±


    She raised her fists in mock severity, her eyes glinting with amusement. ¡°And you won¡¯t live to tell the tale if you keep running your mouth.¡±


    He raised his hands in a show of innocence, backing away slowly. ¡°Alright, alright, not a word to anyone.¡± He paused by the entrance of her stall, glancing back. ¡°I¡¯m gonna grab a bite¡ªwanna come?¡±


    She smirked but shook her head, her red hair catching the sunlight as she turned back to her work. ¡°Nah, you go ahead. I need to make sure everything¡¯s perfect. First year, big impression¡ªyou know the drill.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I get it. But let¡¯s hang after the festival, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Deal.¡±


    With a wave, he melted back into the crowd.


    Xander debated unclipping his sunray board as he walked. It¡¯d definitely be faster to get across the park, but¡­ well, his skills left a lot to be desired. He wasn¡¯t bad on the board, per se¡ªhe knew how to handle it¡ªbut he definitely wasn¡¯t good enough to trust himself zooming through this throng of people without taking someone out.


    After a few painstaking minutes of dodging festival-goers, he made it back to the food truck area. Smoke curled into the sky, carrying the smell of sizzling meat and spices. The vendors were bustling, prepping massive batches for the next day¡¯s crowds. Xander¡¯s stomach growled in protest. With most restaurants closing for the festival, food trucks were the only option.


    As he strolled closer, a faint vibration buzzed in his pocket, accompanied by a tingling sensation that ran down his leg. He fished out the whisperglass, its smooth surface faintly warm to the touch.


    Holding it up to his ear, he raised an eyebrow. ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Honey!¡± His mother¡¯s voice came through muffled but clear enough to recognize the urgency in her tone. ¡°We¡¯re swamped at the shop right now, are you still helping Johnil, or could you come by and help clear some of these folks out?¡±


    ¡®Yeah no problem,¡± He unclipped his board from his back, ¡°I''ll be there soon.¡±


    The soft hum of the crystal indicated the call was over. Tapping the back of the sunray, he activated the boost. Now that he was out of the dense crowds, he felt more comfortable weaving through the winding paths and narrow streets leading back home. The board hummed beneath his feet, smooth and responsive as he navigated around street vendors and festival decorations.


    He glanced down at the whisperglass, its translucent, yellowish gleam catching the sunlight. It looked almost fragile, but he knew better. The device was made from Solite, designed to recharge itself naturally. He smiled faintly, remembering the day he got it¡ªa little after his tenth birthday.


    The festival had just announced the release of the communication crystals, and his parents had jumped at the chance to get them a pair. It was a way to keep in touch across the Vale, especially during busy times like this. The range didn¡¯t extend beyond the region¡¯s borders, but that didn¡¯t matter much. He wasn¡¯t going anywhere anytime soon.


    As the shop came into view, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. The spray-painted letters on the front, a little faded now, still carried a vibrant warmth.


    When he was thirteen, his parents moved shop from the old place they¡¯d used to live in, a definite upgrade. More so in size than anything. The first thing they asked was for him to make the art for the shop front. He¡¯d argued, of course, claiming they deserved something better than his amateur work. But they¡¯d brushed off his protests, telling him it wasn¡¯t just a shop¡ªit was their home, his home. They wanted him to leave his mark on it.


    Xander blinked quickly, the faint sting of tears catching him off guard. Despite everything¡ªthe doubts, the frustrations, the restless yearning for something more¡ªthis place was home. It always would be.


    With a deep breath, he came to a stop, the hum of his board fading into silence as he stepped off. His fingers brushed the spray-painted letters, a quiet smile tugging at his lips.


    Santuna¡¯s Fortuna


    No matter what, this is where he''d always belong.


    Stepping into the shop felt like walking straight into a warzone. The lobby was a cacophony of sound and motion, packed with more people than he¡¯d ever seen in there at once. Voices¡ªhis mother and fathers, echoed in the hall from separate rooms, overlapping with the chattering of the group in the lobby.


    He¡¯d never seen the shop this packed in¡­ well ever. There¡¯d been times where they¡¯d have the occasional rush, busy days at the shop usually meant a steady trickle¡ª a handful of clients at a time. This? This was uncharted territory. Nearly a dozen people filled the small space, with some standing against the walls when seats ran out. With a quick glance he was able to tell it was mostly foreigners¡ªfestival-goers, probably¡ªwhich really spoke to what kinda day it would be.


    The din of conversation ebbed and flowed. Some spoke in hushed tones, their words carrying the nervous energy of anticipation. Others groaned or sighed, their patience visibly wearing thin.


    Xander took a calming breath, then raised his voice to cut through the noise. ¡°Next in line, follow me.¡±


    A faint scuffle of boots sounded behind him as he turned down the hallway, the soft tread of someone following closely. He pushed open the door to one of the reading rooms and stepped aside to let the client in, finally getting a good look at her.


    The woman¡¯s appearance made him do a double-take. She had a roguish air about her, with tactical boots that looked more suited for a battlefield than a psychic shop. A sturdy belt was strapped around her waist, its many pockets bulging slightly with who-knows-what. Her sharp gaze swept the room, and Xander felt a flicker of unease under its weight.


    Okay¡­ he thought, gesturing toward the chair across from his.


    He ducked into a nearby closet, retrieving the deck of cards and a stick of incense. Back at the table, he lit the herbal stick, letting the faint curls of smoke drift upward as the scent filled the small space. Placing the incense in its holder, he sat down and tried to focus, though it wasn¡¯t easy.


    He tried to ignore the intense stare the lady was giving him¡ªthe woman¡¯s gaze unblinking and intense. Xander couldn¡¯t decide if she looked like she wanted to interrogate him or pounce.


    He cleared his throat and knocked gently on the deck of cards, offering a polite, if slightly cautious, smile. ¡°So, what brings you here today?¡±


    The voice that came out of the woman caught him completely off guard.


    ¡°So, about my ex¡­¡± she began, leaning forward with wide, desperate eyes. Her tone was high-pitched and full of drama, the complete opposite of the intimidating aura she¡¯d radiated moments ago.


    Xander blinked. His eye twitched ever so slightly as her words sank in.


    This was going to be a long day.

 Chapter 6

    Chapter 6


    ¡°Hey, watch it!¡±


    The shove came with enough force to make Xander stumble, his boots scraping the uneven grass. He steadied himself quickly, turning toward the man¡ªa wiry figure with sharp features and a scowl that seemed carved into his face.


    Xander righted himself, looking at the guy incredulously. He hadn¡¯t meant to bump into him, but with the sheer amount of people it was almost impossible not to. Opening his mouth to apologize, he was cut off by a deeper voice.


    ¡°Is there a problem?¡± Jor¡¯dan¡¯s voice carried like a low drum, calm but deliberate. He stepped forward from where he was following behind Xander, his presence towering over the man¡¯s.


    The man¡¯s scowl twitched, and for a moment, Xander thought he might push back, but then something in Jor¡¯dan¡¯s expression¡ªor maybe the sheer size of him¡ªmade the stranger retreat. He muttered something incoherent under his breath and melted back into the sea of bodies. Xander knew he¡¯d had to have been a foreigner, probably from Ashenmoor¡­ they usually had attitudes as nasty as that. He¡¯d dealt with a few at the shop yesterday.


    ¡°You good?¡± Jor¡¯dan glanced back at him, this time leading them forward as they moved through the crowd, each step like trudging through high water.


    ¡°Yeah yeah.¡± Xander waved him off, shaking away the lingering irritation. It wasn¡¯t really a big deal, he was infinitely more excited about the festival¡ªa prick won¡¯t ruin that for him.


    His mind quickly wandered to the events ahead. Usually they¡¯d start off with a small light show, kicking it off with music and a few dancers. It was always a spectacle, but never predictable. Some years they opened with technological innovations; other years, they did the art competition first, saving the innovations until later to end with a bang.


    A bit of disappointment gnawed at his stomach. Reflecting back on his conversation with Johnil, he¡¯d regretted not submitting his painting to the competition. He didn¡¯t even care about winning, or placing in the top five. He just needed to put himself out there. The vow he gave himself in Johnil¡¯s stall burned a deeper, hotter flame.


    ¡°What are you most excited for?¡± He¡¯d heard someone say a few heads next to him, pulling him out of his thoughts


    ¡°Definitely the competition,¡± another answered, dripping with confidence. ¡°I¡¯ve got to be in the top five this year.¡±


    The laughter that followed faded into the air as a sharp chime rang out, cutting through the noise of the crowd like the crack of a bell. The effect was immediate¡ªvoices hushed, bodies stilled, and a collective silence settled over the square, thick and expectant.


    From somewhere unseen, delicate notes began to float through the stillness, soft and lilting like whispers carried on the breeze. A piano, its chords light as silk, painted a fragile melody that seemed to wind through the crowd. Moments later, a violin joined in, its richer tones weaving a thread of warmth into the song.


    Xander strained on his toes, craning his neck as he tried to peer over the wall of heads in front of him. Figures flickered at the edges of his vision, hints of movement on the stage that only stoked his frustration.


    ¡°Damnit,¡± he muttered, shuffling closer alongside Jor¡¯dan, but even with the slight gap they¡¯d pushed through, it wasn¡¯t enough. The shifting sea of bodies blocked his view entirely, and a flicker of irritation rose at the thought of missing the dancers.


    Jor¡¯dan glanced down, his brow furrowing as he caught Xander¡¯s expression. ¡°You want a lift?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± Xander snapped instantly, not being able to see was embarrassing enough, but the very thought of being hoisted into the air like a toddler made his skin crawl. He did not want that ingrained into his memory.


    ¡°Dude It¡¯s not that serious.¡± Jor¡¯dan shook his head, muttering something about stubbornness.


    Without a chance to protest, hands clasped around his middle and he found himself airborne¡ªthe park spreading out below like a living map. In a single smooth motion, Jor¡¯dan had lifted him high, settling him onto his broad shoulders.


    Xander¡¯s face burned and he tried his hardest not to look around to the crowd¡ªthe prickling sensation of imagined stares crept over him, hairs rising on the back of his neck. A small voice in the back of his head whispered that everyone was looking at him. Again, it probably wasn¡¯t true, but it felt like it was.


    He wriggled slightly, trying to twist free, but Jor¡¯dan¡¯s hands clamped tighter around his legs, giving him a look that said ¡®don¡¯t move¡¯.


    Xander grumbled to himself, though he could at least see the stage. The builders really did a great job this year. The stage¡¯s floor was made of polished oak, an intricate arch curved over the platform, glimmering faintly with what had to be Solite.


    The music began to swell, layers weaving together as the tempo quickened. Xander tilted his head slightly, trying to pick out the instruments that begun fading into existence,


    A burst of flames on the stage caught his attention, revealing a young man with golden hair, his grin as dazzling as the inferno coiling around his outstretched hand. Before Xander could fully absorb the sight, another flash¡ªthis time cool and shimmering¡ªbrought forth a woman with flowing blue hair. Her entrance was as fluid as water, and with a graceful bow, she took the man¡¯s hand.


    Xander couldn¡¯t look away. Every movement was deliberate, calculated, yet natural. The dancers glided across the stage as though their feet barely touched the polished wood. The man¡¯s steps crackled with energy, his movements alive with flickers of fire. The woman¡¯s presence was a serene contrast, her sweeping motions like ripples over a still lake.


    Their dance started with them moving in slow sweeping movements¡ªHer hair seemed alive, swaying with each shift of her body, perfectly in tune with the music.


    As the tempo shifted, so did they. Slow, sweeping movements gave way to something sharper, more dynamic. The man¡¯s fire whipped around him in bright, unpredictable arcs, while the woman¡¯s water coiled tightly, then burst outward in elegant strikes. Each motion seemed to tell a story, building tension with every beat of the music.


    It wasn¡¯t just a performance; it was a message. Fire and water, opposites by nature, shouldn¡¯t coexist. And yet, here they were, moving together in perfect balance. It was a tale of defying boundaries, of challenging the impossible¡ªnot because it was easy, but because it was worth it.


    Xander felt the weight of the meaning settle over him, a quiet awe replacing his earlier embarrassment. The message wasn¡¯t lost on the audience, either; the silence was electric, a testament to the spell the dancers had cast.


    When the music swelled one final time, the dancers spun together in a breathtaking finale before coming to a still, bowing deeply as the stage dimmed. The park erupted into thunderous applause. And Xander forgot himself entirely, shouting and clapping with an unrestrained enthusiasm, even as he remained perched on Jor¡¯dan¡¯s shoulders.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Mid-cheer, a sudden gust of wind swept over him, cool and sharp against his face. Xander blinked, his voice trailing off as confusion knit his brow. He tilted his head back, squinting up at the sky.


    What the¡­


    A dragon soared overhead, its body shimmering with liquid ink, leaving swirling tendrils in its wake. Xander¡¯s jaw dropped. He knew that ability anywhere. Eric had to be out of his fucking mind¡ªhow did he even manage this? The dragon¡¯s wings beat steadily, each stroke sending ripples of air across the crowd. The gasps and murmurs of awe around him echoed his own shock.


    He glanced down at Jor¡¯dan, who stood frozen, mirroring his own disbelief.


    The dragon dipped lower, its enormous silhouette casting the stage in shadow. As it approached, Xander finally caught sight of Maurice perched atop its back, his pristine white coat standing out against the dragon¡¯s dark form. A hand raised in a casual wave to the crowd, his grin unmistakable even from this distance.


    But Maurice wasn¡¯t alone. The other Major cardholders sat behind him, each distinct in their own way. Their waves were just as charming¡ªthough Xander¡¯s attention locked on Eric, standing sheepishly next to Lucil, who was all but jabbing her finger at him in an exaggerated gesture, making sure the crowd knew exactly who had created the dragon.


    As the massive creature reached the stage, it dissolved into a puff of ink, bursting into fine droplets that dissipated into the air. The cardholders landed in seamless motions, each one as graceful as their reputation demanded. Xander¡¯s eyes darted between them, trying to take it all in¡ªhe¡¯d never seen them all together like this before.


    The crowd seemed stunned into silence for half a beat before exploding into cheers so loud it made Xander¡¯s ears ring. The energy in the park surged, a palpable wave of awe and excitement.


    Maurice strode confidently to the center of the stage, his hand raised. The roar of the crowd subsided, voices dropping to an expectant hush. All eyes were on him, the anticipation so thick it felt like it could shatter.


    ¡°Now, now¡­¡± Maurice¡¯s voice rang out through a crystal amplifier in his hand, smooth and warm like the start of an old friend¡¯s story. His smirk widened. ¡°How¡¯s that for an entrance?¡±


    The crowd erupted again, laughter and cheers cascading across the park. Maurice chuckled, the sound amplified enough to roll through the park. ¡°I¡¯ll take that,¡± he quipped, pacing the stage like it was his personal arena.


    ¡°Thank you, and welcome! For those who¡¯ve been to the festival before, I¡¯m sure you recognize my face.¡± He paused, gesturing behind him toward the other cardholders, his grin sharp with pride. ¡°But for those of you here for the first time, let me introduce myself¡ªand the extraordinary people who help make Solari the incredible place that it is.¡±


    Maurice said with a warm smile, gesturing toward the elegantly poised woman, ¡°Joline¡ªthe Empress, a fitting card for one as caring as her.¡± Her shimmering blue dress caught the light, and the edges sparkled with crystals so intricate Xander couldn¡¯t name them. She gave a gracious nod to the crowd, her serene presence filling the space. ¡°Usually hosting alongside me are Eric and Lucil¡ªholders of the Lovers card. Yes, plural,¡± Maurice added with a chuckle. Gasps rippled through the crowd, mostly from first-timers.


    Xander smirked, remembering his own reaction years ago. Growing up, he¡¯d been taught that only one person could carry a Major Arcana card. Somehow, Eric and Lucil were the exception to the very rule, a mystery even the scholars couldn¡¯t fully explain.


    ¡°Stella and her brother Solomon¡ªholders of the Sun and Star cards,¡± Maurice continued, gesturing to the duo. Xander couldn¡¯t help but grin at the contrast between them. Stella, with her rugged demeanor and confident stance, stood out beside Solomon¡¯s more subdued calm. Both had hair that shimmered faintly, golden as if kissed by sunlight.


    ¡°And finally, myself¡ªthe Magician,¡± Maurice concluded, sweeping into a small bow that earned a round of appreciative applause.


    Maurice¡¯s grin turned sharp, almost mischievous, as he raised a hand. ¡°This year, we¡¯ll kick things off with the art competition.¡± A murmur spread through the crowd, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. ¡°And for those talented enough to make it into the top five¡­¡± He paused, drawing it out, letting the tension stretch to its limit. ¡°We have a special surprise.¡±


    Xander shifted on Jor¡¯dan¡¯s shoulders, his curiosity gnawing at him. Usually, the festival handed out gold and a healthy dose of exposure to the winners¡ªrespectable rewards, sure, but nothing groundbreaking. A special prize? His mind raced..


    Maurice let the silence linger just a moment longer before dropping the bombshell. ¡°The top five will receive personalized, one-on-one training with Eric¡ª¡±


    The crowd erupted into chaos before he could even finish. Cheers, shouts, and outright screams of disbelief filled the park. Artists practically lost their minds. Eric wasn¡¯t just one of the best painters in Solari¡ªhe was the best, period. A chance to learn directly from him? That kind of opportunity was priceless, worth far more than any pile of gold.


    Xander¡¯s excitement fizzled, a heavy weight settling in his chest. He sighed, the disappointment stinging more than he wanted to admit. He sighed, trying to reassure himself that maybe next year they¡¯d do something similar, but the thought didn¡¯t do much to ease the ache in his gut.


    Maurice waited for the crowd to calm before continuing, ¡°I know you¡¯re all eager to see who made it into the top five, so I won¡¯t keep you waiting.¡± He gestured to the side of the stage, where a crew stood ready. At his signal, they stepped forward, rolling out five canvases covered in thick cloth.


    The Magician gestured toward Eric, who stepped forward with an easy smile, his voice clear as he addressed the crowd. ¡°Like Maurice said, I¡¯d hate to keep you waiting¡ªshall we?¡± He nodded toward a crew member, who unveiled the first canvas with a dramatic flourish.


    ¡°For our number one spot, we have this breathtaking depiction of the World card¡ªcreated by one of our very own!¡±


    Xander¡¯s breath hitched. It was the same gorgeous painting he¡¯d seen at the museum, the one that had both him and Jor¡¯dan in a trance. He¡¯d called it then¡ªof course it was going to win. How could it not? The artwork depicted a celestial woman holding the cosmos, her form surrounded by swirling galaxies and radiant stars. The crowd erupted, cheers and whistles mixing with murmurs of admiration. Even those who weren¡¯t artists seemed captivated by its beauty.


    ¡°Jenette Crawford, if you could please take the stage?¡± Eric¡¯s voice echoed across the park.


    For a moment, there was only the sound of the crowd, then movement. A young girl emerged from the throng, her loose overalls smeared with streaks of dried paint. She looked like she¡¯d just stepped out of her studio¡ªand she couldn¡¯t have been older than Xander. His jaw dropped.


    As she climbed onto the stage, the cardholders greeted her with nods and waves of acknowledgment. Eric stepped forward, offering a handshake. ¡°Congratulations on first place, Ms. Crawford. I must say, the work is marvelous.¡± His voice was warm, his smile genuine. ¡°Would you like to share with the crowd a bit about your process? What does this piece mean to you? If you¡¯re not comfortable¡ª¡±


    Xander stared, agape, as the girl took the amplifying crystal from Eric¡¯s hands and walked up to her piece¡ªstance confident and self assured. A few chuckles and murmurs ripped through the crowd.


    ¡°This piece is a reflection of my belief that the world card is out there!¡± The dichotomy between her appearance and her voice was sharp¡ªthe childlike appearance clashing with her booming voice.


    The crowd reacted instantly, gasps and whispers spreading like wildfire. Even the cardholders on stage exchanged glances, their surprise evident. Maurice looked as though he might step in, but before he could, Jenette pressed on.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± she continued, her tone brisk, ¡°I ground up some Solite dust and mixed it into my paints¡ªthat¡¯s what gives the stars their shimmer.¡± Xander blinked, she was quick to move on.  She gestured to the intricate details of her work. ¡°Obviously, I wanted to emphasize the planets, so most of the dust was used for the stars around them to create the contrast. That¡¯s it.¡±


    Xander blinked. The abrupt shift in her delivery caught him off guard, but he couldn¡¯t deny the brilliance of her explanation¡ªor the simplicity of it. The crowd, initially stunned, broke into another wave of applause.


    Eric still seemed taken aback by Jenette¡¯s abrupt tone, his movements slightly delayed as he accepted the crystal back from her. He leaned down to whisper something, gesturing toward her canvas. She gave a quick nod before stepping to the side, positioning herself beside her work with a neutral expression.


    ¡°Uh¡­ Well.¡± Eric cleared his throat, regaining his composure. ¡°Give it up for Ms. Crawford!¡±


    The crowd erupted into cheers once more. Despite her unpolished delivery, her talent was undeniable, and the awe surrounding her painting hadn¡¯t diminished.


    ¡°Moving on to our second-place winner,¡± Eric announced, his voice steady once again. He gestured to a crew member, who stepped up to the next canvas and removed the cloth with a practiced flourish.


    Xander¡¯s breath caught in his throat, his blood set aflame.


    Eric¡¯s voice boomed across the park, ¡°Xander Santuna, to the stage!¡±

 Chapter 7

    Chapter 7


    No way


    No way


    NO WAY!


    Xander¡¯s breath was stuck in his throat, a wave of cold panic surging through him. He would''ve crumpled to the floor if it wasn¡¯t for Jor¡¯dan¡¯s firm grip tightening around his thighs. He could feel Jor¡¯dan¡¯s fingers pressing into him, grounding him in place, but the sheer disbelief kept pulling him under. His lungs refused to let air in, his chest tight like a vise. His eyes were glued to the stage, blinking rapidly, hoping that the painted image would morph into something, anything, that wasn¡¯t his¡ªhis work. But it stayed. Unrelenting. His painting, on display for all to see.


    The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices ringing out, too loud, too sharp, as if mocking the confusion inside his head.


    Jor¡¯dan shifted beneath him, a small movement that snapped him back into the present. He lifted his head, eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced up at Xander. ¡°Dude.¡± Jor¡¯dan whistled, thick with disbelief. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me you submitted to the festival.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t!¡± The words exploded from him before he even had time to think, the panic clawing at his throat, constricting. ¡°H-How? This...this isn¡¯t¡ª¡± The thought hit him like a freight train. The conversation with his parents. Dots began connecting in his head, she lied¡ªsaying she¡¯d sent his painting off for prints.


    He jerked his head back to the stage, eyes searching again, hoping to find something to deny what was happening. But the same painting stared back at him¡ªhis.


    He could feel his insides twisting, a swell of anger rising against the back of his throat, but another part of his mind stabbed a spear right into that line of thinking. His mother had done this for him, pushed him in a way he couldn¡¯t bring himself to do. This entire time he¡¯d been disappointed in himself for not submitting. Even when next year came¡ªwould he have submitted or would he just have succumbed to another round of complacency?


    ¡°Xander Santuna, please make your way to the stage,¡± Eric¡¯s voice sliced through the fog of his thoughts, amplified and clear


    His mind screamed for escape. Maybe, just maybe if he just stayed silent they would move on, contacting him later about the prizes. The fact that he¡¯d even won hadn¡¯t even clicked yet, adrenaline pumping and fueling his mind to find ways to avoid the spotlight. His thoughts were interrupted by Jor¡¯dan¡¯s sudden movement, starting to push through the crowd.


    Xander¡¯s panic skyrocketed. ¡°No, Jor¡¯dan¡ªno!¡± He tugged uselessly at Jor¡¯dan¡¯s wrist, trying to pull himself free, but Jor¡¯dan ignored him completely, moving forward with a purpose.


    ¡°Jor¡¯dan I''m serious,¡± He panicked, breathing heavily and trying to wiggle free.


    Jor¡¯dan continued walking.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do this!¡± Xander¡¯s voice was a desperate hiss, a whispered plea against the noise of the crowd. His body wriggled against Jor¡¯dan¡¯s hold, but it was no use. The faces around him blurred into one giant blur of eyes that seemed to pin him in place.


    His heart beat like a drum, surely at a rate impossible for humans. The mixture of looks from the people around him made it worse. Chuckles of amusement and looks of sympathy all transforming into a single spiraling narrative in his mind. They were laughing at him.


    ¡°Let me go!¡± His hands slapped the back of Jor¡¯dan¡¯s head, auburn hair shifting under his frantic touch. The action, fueled by desperation, sent a shock of guilt flooding through him, but it didn¡¯t matter.


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s dark brown eyes locked onto his in an instant, unwavering. ¡°If you do that again.¡± Jor¡¯dan¡¯s voice was low, controlled, yet there was a dangerous edge to it. ¡°I¡¯ll throw you up onto the stage instead. Got it?¡±


    Xander¡¯s fist clenched so tight his nails dug into his palm, the retort that had surged to his lips dying there. He focused on taking slow, controlled breaths, trying to calm the rapid pounding of his heart as Jor¡¯dan weaved through the last part of the crowd. The blood boiled underneath his skin, making his cheeks flush with a heat he couldn''t escape.


    As they neared the stage, Jor¡¯dan¡¯s hands landed firmly on his shoulders after setting him down, guiding him up the steps. Xander didn¡¯t dare to look at the other cardholders standing nearby. His gaze stayed locked on the polished oak floor beneath him, each step feeling like an eternity.


    A soft voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, and he looked up, swallowing.


    Eric was standing in front of him, a gentle, reassuring smile on his face. ¡°Hey, you¡¯re okay. I promise, everyone is more amazed at your artwork than anything else.¡±


    The words should have been comforting, but instead, they did nothing to ease the panic gnawing at Xander¡¯s insides.


    A small frown tugged at Eric¡¯s lips. ¡°If you want we can¡ª¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Jor¡¯dan¡¯s voice cut through the conversation, harsh and final. He pulled Xander to the front of the stage, steering him toward the front of his painting with his hands still firmly locking Xander into place. ¡°He¡¯s doing this.¡±


    The hells?! His body tensed, a glare flashing toward Jor¡¯dan, but his friend was undeterred, his grip as unyielding as ever. He wanted to die, melt into a puddle right on the stage as his eyes swept over the thousands of people in the park.


    Then, cutting through the tension, a familiar voice pierced the quiet. His mom. Her voice rang out across the park, loud and full of pride. ¡°That¡¯s my baby! That¡¯s my son!¡±


    His heart lurched, something unfamiliar and warm swelling in his chest. Then came his father¡¯s voice, even louder. ¡°That¡¯s my damn boy!¡±


    A ripple of laughter spread through the crowd at their enthusiastic shouts, but something inside Xander loosened. His parents were here. They were proud of him. They were with him. The weight of his nerves, just a little bit, started to ease. As Eric offered him the amplifying crystal he gingerly took it. Looking down at the bluish crystal with a careful gaze.


    A rough hand on his shoulder brought him back to the moment¡ªJor¡¯dan¡¯s hand grounding him with its solid weight. He glanced to the side, catching even Janette¡¯s approving thumbs-up. That small gesture, simple as it was, anchored him in reality. She didn¡¯t even know him¡­ but she was here too.


    With a shaky breath, Xander turned his attention back to his painting, focusing hard on the canvas, the only thing that made sense in that moment. ¡°I¡ªI called this piece¡­ Stagnation¡¯s Allure.¡± His voice trembled, but he forced himself to speak, to fill the space with his words. He kept his gaze fixed on the painting, avoiding the thousand eyes on him, feeling slightly calmer the longer he stared at the piece.


    ¡°For those who don¡¯t know me, I read the cards in my parents¡¯ shop,¡± Xander began, his voice wavering slightly, ¡°and as the years went by, I started to feel stuck¡ªnot by them, but by myself¡ªlife itself.¡±


    He cleared his throat, wiping his palms on his loose shirt before continuing. ¡°I trapped myself in a cycle of stagnation, asking myself if I would forever be left to read the cards of others, my own story left untold. The chains you see in the painting depict both external and internal forces¡ªeach one leaving its mark and holding me down¡­ an excuse. Even today, I didn¡¯t submit my painting¡ªmy mom did.¡±


    He shifted, trying to steady his breath as murmurs filtered through the crowd. ¡°I didn¡¯t think I was good enough, even when the ones close to me already told me I was. The unseen card in my hand was originally painted to reflect how I felt¡ªlike life kept all the answers just out of reach. But¡­ the answers were right in front of me this whole time. This piece¡­ has a new meaning for me now. I¡¯m leaving those feelings behind and moving forward¡ªwith my own hands on the wheel.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Xander¡¯s voice trailed off, and for the first time, he allowed himself to lift his gaze from the canvas. Instead of the laughter or judgment he feared, a wave of cheers washed over him. Jor¡¯dan gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, a proud smile on his face. Xander¡¯s heart swelled as he searched the crowd. There, he saw his mom, holding onto his dad as she wiped her tears away. His chest tightened, the emotion nearly overwhelming.


    When he looked back to the stage, the other cardholders gave him encouraging smiles, and Eric clapped, offering him a nod of approval. Xander felt his pulse slow, his nerves finally starting to ease.


    ¡°That was beautiful, Mr. Santuna,¡± Eric said, his voice warm. ¡°Now¡ª¡±


    Suddenly, Maurice¡¯s voice cut through, sharp and frantic. ¡°Watch out!¡±


    Before anyone could react, a beam of light slammed into Xander, and a scream ripped from his throat. He collapsed to the floor, his body wracked with pain. The air shimmered in golden light, and everything else¡ªthe crowd¡¯s worried shouts, the laughter, the noise¡ªfaded into nothingness.


    It was like being pulled apart from the inside, a searing, unbearable sensation that seemed to twist reality itself. His body jerked involuntarily, an invisible force overwhelming him¡ªlifting him in the air. White hot flashes of pain tore through every muscle, every fiber, every cell of his being. His mind flooded with flickering threads, golden strands floating in an endless cobweb.


    A golden wheel shimmered to existence, taking forefront in the center of the webs¡ªthen, as suddenly as it had begun, the pain began to dull, replaced by a steady ache. He felt the coolness of the oak beneath him, his body landing back on the ground with a thud. He groaned, disoriented, the sunlight blinding his vision.


    Jor¡¯dan was above him in an instant, his expression wide with panic. Xander tried to speak, but his voice cracked. ¡°W-What happened?¡±


    ¡°Xander!¡± His mother¡¯s voice rang out, frantic and close.


    ¡°Let us through!¡± His father¡¯s roar followed, booming with worry.


    Xander blinked, trying to focus, but his mind felt like it was spinning, struggling to make sense of the world around him. Everything seemed sharper, clearer in a way that was both disorienting and unsettling. His body felt foreign, like he had been dropped into someone else''s skin.


    Then, without warning, the sun vanished¡ªits light fading like a candle snuffed out¡ªand he jerked back, heart racing. A pair of piercing blue eyes loomed directly over him, wisps of slightly golden hair brushing against his chest. He held his breath as Stella''s gaze bore into him, inspecting him with an intensity that felt almost clinical, her sky-blue eyes narrowing with calculation.


    Without a word, she turned away and spoke to the small circle of onlookers gathered around him. ¡°Yup. He¡¯s been chosen, alright.¡±


    Xander¡¯s thoughts spiraled. Chosen? Chosen for what? Panic surged through him, threatening to overtake his breath, but before he could explode with questions, Maurice stepped closer. His body language was careful, unassuming, almost as if trying not to startle him further.


    ¡°Mr. Santuna, I need you to¡ª¡±


    ¡°What the hell happened?¡± Xander interrupted, his voice sharper than he intended, the usual reverence missing entirely. He felt like he''d been struck by lightning, yet there had been no rain, no storm to explain the shock to his system.


    He could still see it¡ªthe webs, the spinning wheel, the force that gripped him. His head throbbed at the memory, the overwhelming surge of it all. He needed answers, now. He pushed up weakly, his back resting against something solid, the thick legs of Jor¡¯dan providing an anchor.


    ¡°Careful,¡± came Jor¡¯dan¡¯s quiet murmur, concern coloring his tone as he steadied Xander.


    Joline, who had been standing off to the side, nudged Maurice''s shoulder and nodded toward Xander. ¡°Show the boy.¡±


    Maurice sighed, but obeyed. From his belt, he produced a thin strip of solite¡ªthe reflective material catching the light. He held it up to Xander¡¯s face, the smooth surface catching the faintest glimmer of light. Xander¡¯s breath caught in his throat. His reflection stared back at him, but something was terribly wrong. His once-dark brown eyes had shifted¡ªgone was their warmth, replaced by a dull shade of gold that mirrored his hair, now a pale blonde hue. It was as if his very essence had been changed.


    The real shock, though, came when he looked up. His heart skipped as he saw it: a massive wheel¡ªgolden and ethereal¡ªhovered just behind his hair, almost the size of his entire head. It floated in a halo-like formation, its edges shimmering faintly as though it were part of a dream.


    ¡°What the hell is this?¡± His voice was shaky, the confusion clawing at him.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been chosen, kid,¡± Stella said bluntly, her hands planted firmly on her hips as if she had just announced the weather. ¡°Wheel of Fortune.¡± She whistled, an idle sound that seemed almost too casual for the weight of the moment. ¡°Been about¡­ what? A hundred years since the last one?¡±


    Before Xander could respond, Soloman, her brother, elbowed her in the ribs, shaking his head with a look of practiced exasperation. His own golden eyes found Xander''s, only brighter, glowing with an intensity that mirrored Xander¡¯s. He shrugged and gestured toward his sister, offering a sheepish smile. ¡°Sorry about that. She can be¡­ insensitive.¡±


    Before Xander could process what was happening, he was enveloped by the concerned presence of his parents. They dropped to their knees beside him, their faces full of worry, their hands trembling as they cradled his head in their laps. His father¡¯s expression was tight, his jaw clenched, yet the worry in his gaze was unmistakable. His mother, however, wore an expression of pure concern. Her soft hands gently cupped his cheek, her touch warm and grounding amidst the swirling chaos in his mind.


    ¡°How do you feel?¡± She began poking him on the chest, the sides, and his legs.


    Xander groaned, flinching at the unexpected pokes. His muscles ached as if he¡¯d run for miles without stopping. ¡°Stop, stop, please¡ªI¡¯m fine,¡± he muttered, though the fatigue in his voice betrayed him.


    Jermaine stepped forward, placing a firm yet steadying hand on Xander¡¯s chest. His presence was grounding, his father¡¯s concern etched into every line of his face.


    ¡°Dad?¡± Xander managed to whisper, his voice small. He sought answers, but his father¡¯s lips remained pressed together, his expression unreadable.


    Before anything more could be said, the noise of the crowd swelled. Whispers turned into rippling murmurs, a tide of tension and unease rising as thousands of eyes remained fixed on him.


    Xander shifted, attempting to rise, but his legs felt like jelly. Jor¡¯dan¡¯s steady hands caught him before he faltered, keeping him upright.


    Maurice, sensing the growing restlessness of the crowd, raised his voice to address them. ¡°Please, remain calm! Everything is under control.¡± His words carried authority, but the unease didn¡¯t dissipate entirely. With a subtle gesture, he turned to Joline. ¡°Take them to the palace. Now.¡±


    Joline didn¡¯t need to be told twice. Her crystals chimed softly as she moved, motioning for Xander¡¯s family and Jor¡¯dan to follow. Jor¡¯dan carried Xander with ease, shielding him from the prying eyes of the crowd. The park¡¯s noise began to fade, replaced by the sound of their hurried footsteps on the cobblestone path.


    Everything was moving too fast for him, his mind raced to process everything. Out of everyone¡­ Why the hell was he chosen? He wasn¡¯t special¡ªhe¡¯d never been noteworthy. If anything, he was a picture of mediocrity, someone who¡¯d spent his life sitting on the sidelines.


    His tarot knowledge surged forward, unbidden. The Wheel of Fortune comes after stagnation¡­ the turning of the wheel marks a shift¡­ action¡­ fate.


    He clenched his fists weakly, his knuckles brushing against Jor¡¯dan¡¯s arm. The card wouldn¡¯t just wait for someone like him. Would it?


    And then Stella¡¯s words struck him again like a bolt of lightning. A hundred years¡­ A shiver ran down his spine. A century of waiting? For him? The very idea felt absurd. Yet, the Wheel had chosen. Had it been waiting for the moment he¡¯d finally take control of his life? For him to break free from the loop he¡¯d been trapped in for so long?


    The stage blurred into nothing as they carried him toward the far side of the park. Gradually, the palace¡¯s spires rose above the horizon, their silhouettes stark against the fading light. But Xander¡¯s mind remained trapped in a whirlwind, anxiety circling him like a predator closing in on its prey.


    His thoughts raced, darting between fragments of memory with startling clarity. Jor¡¯dan¡¯s words from the restaurant resurfaced, their weight heavy in his chest: A higher-ranking card comes with more responsibility¡­ more risk¡­ more expectations.


    If it was like that for Jor¡¯dan, someone who seemed so capable, so steady¡ªwhat in the hell would it mean for him? He clenched his teeth, frustration mounting as the questions piled on, unanswered.


    Lost in the chaos of his own mind, his body felt weak, like he was moving underwater. Then, another sudden realization struck him.


    The reading.


    His breath hitched as he pieced it together. His mom¡ªshe¡¯d said something about a wheel, hadn¡¯t she? The words replayed in his mind, a quiet echo rising into something more. He muttered them under his breath, almost afraid to hear them out loud.


    ¡°The wheel shall soon spin¡­ The world will soon call¡­ Your journey will soon begin¡­ Will you let the world fall?¡±


    As the words fell from his lips, the Wheel behind him stirred to life. Silent and deliberate, it began to spin, a soft golden glow radiating outward. He didn¡¯t notice, too absorbed in his thoughts, but those around him froze.


    His family exchanged wary glances, and even Jor¡¯dan paused, his hands tightening their hold ever so slightly. The light pulsed with quiet intensity, an unspoken announcement that none could ignore.


    But Xander remained unaware, his gaze unfocused and his voice trembling. The Wheel had turned, it''s quiet revolution marking the beginning of something none of them were ready for.

 Chapter 8

    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¡ªa 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¡ªit 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¡ªhe swiped uselessly at the wheel again¡ªthis 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¡ªor something¡ªgreater.


    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¡ªyou¡¯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¡ªhe knew it was¡ªbut 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¡ªbeing 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¡ªsnapshots 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¡ªMajor 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¡ªthough 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¡ªat least the Major Arcana¡ªchoose 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.¡±


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    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¡ªthe 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¡ªthey¡¯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¡ªthat¡¯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¡ªhis 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¡ªthere 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¡ªit 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¡ªthe other Majors who were already here¡ªit 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¡ªtruly relieved¡ªthat 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¡ªit always had been¡ªbut 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¡ªwell¡­ 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¡ªand 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¡ªa 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¡ªa signature¡ªthat 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.

 Chapter 9

    Chapter 9


    The chatter of passing staff and the faint clatter of dishes being cleared away grew louder as they walked, signaling they were drawing closer to the dining area. Xander¡¯s gaze wandered as they moved, taking in more details of the space. The high-arched ceilings and intricate carvings on the walls still managed to awe him, though he tried to play it cool. Maurice was chatting idly with Janice ahead, his voice carrying a relaxed tone that put Xander somewhat at ease.


    As they approached what was the supposed dining room, he could hear the faint voices of what sounded like he parents and others he didn''t fully recognize. He still wasn¡¯t entirely sure what to expect from breakfast. His family was probably bursting with questions¡ªand if they weren¡¯t, Jor¡¯dan certainly would be.


    The doors opened to reveal a more modest dining room than Xander had imagined. After being taken through the expansive hallways and the miniature park-sized courtyard, he¡¯d expected grandeur on a similar scale. Yet the space was relatively understated, with soft lighting coming from the floor to ceiling window¡ªa long oak wood table adorned with white cloth fitting in the middle of the space.


    His face lit up as he spotted his parents and Jor¡¯dan seated at the table, their familiar presence immediately grounding him. Across from them sat Lucil and Stella, both wearing expressions that Xander couldn¡¯t immediately decipher.


    The conversation at the table faltered as he stepped inside, awkward silence settling over the group. His mom¡¯s eyes were sharp with concern, while his father¡¯s softened in visible relief. Jor¡¯dan, on the other hand, wore his annoyance plain as day.


    ¡°Hey, guys¡­¡± Xander said, lifting a hand in a half-hearted wave.


    ¡°Here.¡± Jor¡¯dan¡¯s hand patted the empty seat between him and Mary with no room for negotiation.


    As Xander approached, he could feel Lucil and Stella¡¯s gazes sweeping over him. Their expressions weren¡¯t hostile, but there was something about the way they studied him that made his skin prickle. He didn¡¯t know them well enough to guess what they were thinking, and the uncertainty only made him more self-conscious.


    His mom turned in her seat to face him fully, her concern spilling into her voice. ¡°Are you feeling better?¡±


    ¡°If not,¡± Dad added, leaning slightly forward from his spot beside her, ¡°I¡¯ve got a buddy, Marcus¡ªan excellent doctor. I can give him a call and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Xander interrupted with a small, grateful smile. ¡°But I think I¡¯m fine. No aches or anything.¡±


    ¡°Where were you?¡± Jor¡¯dan huffed from his side, giving him a nudge. His tone was sharp, but the flicker of worry in his eyes softened the words.


    ¡°You and the silver fox sure had a long talk,¡± Stella snorted, her gaze flicking between Xander and Maurice with an amused glint.


    ¡°It¡¯s only a couple gray strands. Must you point it out every chance you get?¡± Maurice retorted as he swept into the room, his white coat billowing slightly behind him. He shot Stella a mock glare as he took the seat across from his father.


    Green eyes caught Xander¡¯s attention, and he turned to find Lucil staring at him. Her gaze was intense, her expression unreadable. A spike of anxiety ran through him. Is she upset I got a card? Does she not trust me?


    ¡°That wheel is so damn cool!¡± Lucil suddenly exclaimed, practically leaning over the table to get a better look.


    The tension melted from Xander¡¯s shoulders, but awkwardness lingered. ¡°Uh¡­ thanks?¡± He scratched the back of his head, feeling the gazes of everyone at the table settle on him. Turning toward Maurice, he asked, ¡°I forgot to ask, but did any of the other Wheel holders have¡­ this?¡± He gestured to the shimmering wheel that floated above him.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Stella said bluntly, shrugging as she leaned back in her chair. ¡°I know because my grandpa was the last person to see the previous Wheel holder before they disappeared or whatever. He definitely didn¡¯t have some glowing wheel floating above his head like that. Makes me curious about you.¡± She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Xander.


    In perfect timing, a steaming plate of food was set in front of him, drawing his attention. The aroma was mouthwatering, and his gaze settled on the bread¡ªfluffy yet flat, with butter melting down the sides, giving it a golden gleam. Hunger, sudden and overpowering, took hold as Xander grabbed his fork and dove in without hesitation.


    The pancakes were a perfect balance of sweet and savory, each bite better than the last. He barely registered the sound of someone clearing their throat, too focused on the meal. When he finally looked up, cheeks puffed with food, he froze at the sight of everyone staring at him.


    He quickly swallowed and cleared his throat. ¡°Uh¡­ I¡¯m not usually this hungry¡­¡±


    The awkward silence lingered for a beat before the table erupted in laughter. Lucil was snickering, her dark brown curls bouncing as she leaned back in her chair, covering her mouth. Xander groaned, glancing toward his mom, who shook her head in amused disbelief.


    ¡°Damn, kid,¡± Stella said, still chuckling. ¡°I might have some competition on my hands.¡±


    Maurice, trying and failing to hide his amusement, elbowed her lightly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Xander, it¡¯s normal during the transformation. Your body¡¯s adjusting to the changes¡ªyou won¡¯t always be this hungry.¡± He paused, giving Stella a pointed look. ¡°Unless, of course, you¡¯re a pig.¡±


    The table shook as Stella nearly leaped at Maurice, restrained only by Lucil, who was laughing too hard to take the effort seriously. ¡°Yeah, silver, you¡¯re lucky she¡¯s holding me back,¡± Stella grumbled, crossing her arms with a huff.


    Xander¡¯s embarrassment eased slightly, knowing it was a normal reaction, but it didn¡¯t completely dispel his self-consciousness. He was about to take another bite when something struck him: only he and Maurice had plates. He glanced around the table, confused.


    He turned toward Jor¡¯dan, eyebrows raised in a silent question.


    ¡°While you were taking your sweet time, we already ate,¡± Jor¡¯dan grumbled, nudging him with a shoulder. Then, leaning in slightly, he added in a quieter tone, ¡°Also, we gotta talk.¡±


    Xander rolled his eyes but gave a small nod, continuing to focus on his food. The table buzzed with comfortable chatter, his parents peppering Maurice with questions about their earlier conversation. It wasn¡¯t quite an interrogation, but the line of questioning toed the edge.


    Eventually, the probing simmered down, replaced by lighter, more casual conversation. His father and Maurice began discussing the festival and everything that happened after their departure. Meanwhile, his mom chatted with Lucil and Stella. Overlapping voices made it hard to catch details, but from the snippets he overheard, he figured it was some variation of  ¡®woman stuff.¡¯


    The scene warmed him. Seeing his family, his friends, and even himself in a place as lavish as this felt surreal¡ªand oddly satisfying. For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to imagine this as a new normal, but the thought didn¡¯t sit right. The card in his body, the wheel above his head¡ªthey were weights he couldn¡¯t shake. Nothing about this felt settled, not yet.


    A stray thought flickered, unbidden. It stretched like a loose thread, tugging at memories that hadn¡¯t made sense in the moment. The reading his parents had given him. At the time, he was too caught up in the emotions and the whirlwind of events to fully process it. But now, it loomed in his mind, more ominous than ever.


    His father¡¯s resigned expression during the reading came back first, acceptant. Then, his mother¡¯s voice¡ªmeasured, deliberate¡ªdelivering the message. It wasn¡¯t just strange; it was as though they already knew.


    Even now, as they sat here at the table, they didn¡¯t seem as surprised as they should¡¯ve been. Their reactions felt too composed, too accepting of everything that had happened.


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s response was expected¡ªconfusion and frenzy hidden beneath his usual stoic demeanor. But his parents? They looked like they¡¯d already made peace with something he hadn¡¯t been told.


    ¡°You knew,¡± He muttered, more to himself. The soft shifting sound from his mother¡¯s seat told him she¡¯d heard.


    ¡°Xander, I¡ª¡± she began, but he cut her off, his voice sharper this time.


    ¡°You knew.¡± He found his jaw clenching unconsciously, voice rising. ¡°How?¡± he asked her sharply, heating rising up the back of his neck. They knew, and they didn¡¯t tell him?


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    The weight of his accusation hung in the air, the murmuring at the table ceasing as every pair of eyes turned toward him and his parents.


    His father leaned forward quickly, his voice calm but firm. ¡°We didn¡¯t know anything, son. All we had were... ideas.¡±


    ¡°Ideas you didn¡¯t think to share with me?¡± Xander shot back, his tone laced with frustration. ¡°The person it¡¯s affecting?¡±


    Mary held up her hands in a calming gesture, her voice soft and pleading. ¡°Please, honey. Give us a chance to explain?¡±


    Xander took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling heavily, and gave a reluctant nod.


    ¡°When you were born¡­¡± She began, her voice steady but tinged with emotion. ¡°That very same night your father and I did a reading, something simple¡ªjust asking if you¡¯d be in good health.¡± She paused, her gaze distant as she stared down at her plate. ¡°We pulled just three cards¡­ The Wheel of Fortune, The World, and The Fool.¡±


    Xander¡¯s eyes widened, sucking in a breath. Those were the exact same cards he''d gotten for his birthday. How the hell? The initial irritation he¡¯d had began ebbing away to interest.


    Mary pressed on. ¡°At first, we thought it was just... an interesting coincidence. But every year, on your birthday, we did the same reading. And every single year, we pulled those same three cards.¡±


    Jermaine spoke next, his tone deliberate. ¡°We¡¯re professional readers, Xander. Decades of experience, and we¡¯ve never seen anything like it. No matter how we shuffled, no matter what deck we used¡ªit was always the same.¡±


    Mary hesitated for a moment, her voice quieter when she continued. ¡°That first reading, I heard something¡ªa whisper. It was faint, almost like it wasn¡¯t meant for me. I only caught a few words. Something about a wheel... and a journey¡­¡±


    Across the table, the other Majors were watching with rapt attention, their stares heavy with curiosity. Xander couldn¡¯t find it in him to care. If anything, their presence might help shed light on the mystery.


    Mary reached out, her gaze softening as she locked eyes with her son. ¡°Honey, we were at our wits¡¯ end trying to figure out what it all meant. We¡¯ve been at this for a long time. If we couldn¡¯t understand it, how could we possibly explain it to you?¡±


    Xander¡¯s frown deepened, his thoughts spinning. He couldn¡¯t deny his mother¡¯s point¡ªif even she and his father, with all their expertise, couldn¡¯t decipher what was going on, how could he have done better? Still, knowing they¡¯d kept something so monumental from him stung.


    ¡°I had a vision on your thirteenth birthday, on one of the first nights we slept in the new house.¡± She sighed and brushed her hair back. ¡°It was blurry, but what I apparently needed to see was crystal clear. The same wheel behind your head, turning as you faced a vast ocean. You were heading towards something¡­ a huge landmass in the distance.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Stella piped in, suddenly leaning forwards. ¡°You can¡¯t be talking about the lone continent¡ª¡±


    Maurice quickly shushed her, nodding his head in apology at her interruption.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what It was,¡± she continued, undeterred. ¡°I couldn¡¯t make out the destination or the purpose, but there were others with you on that ship. Their faces were blurry, like shadows, but I could tell they were important somehow.¡±


    Jermaine sighed, the weight of years of unanswered questions evident in his tone. ¡°We did everything we could to figure it out. Consulted other readers, searched historical records, even reached out to your mother¡¯s grandmother.¡±


    Xander winced. ¡°Grandma Grandy?¡±


    Mary nodded, her lips quirking with a hint of dry humor. ¡°You can imagine how desperate we were.¡±


    His initial frustration ebbed further, replaced by a creeping curiosity and a faint unease. Just because she¡¯d seen it didn¡¯t mean it would happen... right? He remembered something he¡¯d said to a customer once, about the weaves of fate and how they were ever changing. Still, the image lingered in his mind.


    Mary leaned back in her seat, her shoulders slumping slightly as Jermaine¡¯s hand moved gently over her arm. ¡°Over the years, you kept asking us for a reading,¡± she said softly. ¡°We had to make excuses¡ªtelling you to wait until your eighteenth birthday. But as the day got closer, you grew more restless, and... you were right to be. I knew I couldn¡¯t keep putting it off.¡±


    Her expression turned more somber as she admitted, ¡°The night before your birthday, I didn¡¯t actually meet with the other shop owners. Your father and I¡­¡± She hesitated, then let out a small, almost bitter laugh. ¡°We went drinking. I was on edge. We both were.¡±


    Jermaine picked up where she left off, his voice steady but heavy. ¡°If it felt like we knew what was going to happen during your reading, it¡¯s because, in some ways, we did. For years, the same message came up, time and time again.¡± His jaw tightened briefly before he sighed. ¡°But something changed after your birthday. While you were out with Jor¡¯dan, we decided to do another reading.¡±


    Mary nodded. ¡°We thought maybe¡­ just maybe, something might shift now that you were officially eighteen. And it did. The cards were clear this time¡ªthey told us to submit your painting to the competition.


    Jermaine¡¯s gaze met Xander¡¯s, earnest and almost apologetic. ¡°We had no idea why. We didn¡¯t even know what submitting it would lead to, and the cards refused to give us anything more. All they did was repeat the same sequence again and again after that.¡±


    Mary placed a gentle hand on Xander¡¯s shoulder, her eyes filled with sincerity. ¡°I swear to you, honey, if we could have figured it out¡ªif we could¡¯ve made sense of it¡ªI would have told you. I promise.¡±


    Xander sighed and nodded. ¡°I just wished we could¡¯ve tried to figure it out as a family. Even if you didn¡¯t understand what it meant, it was still about my life¡ªI think I deserved to know.¡±


    Jermaine leaned forward, his expression equal parts apologetic and understanding. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he said firmly. ¡°And we¡¯re sorry we didn¡¯t include you¡ªbut please don¡¯t mistake it as a lack of trust. We didn¡¯t want to weigh you down with something we couldn¡¯t explain ourselves.¡± He offered a small chuckle, hoping to ease the heaviness. ¡°If given the opportunity you¡¯d overthink yourself into the next century.¡±


    Xander managed a small, reluctant smile at that.


    Before he could respond, Maurice broke the moment, his brows furrowed in thought. ¡°Seline needs to see the boy,¡± he muttered, almost to himself. ¡°If this is what I think it is¡­¡±


    Stella let out a sharp scoff. ¡°Are you serious? That woman¡¯s got a stick so far up her ass she probably wouldn¡¯t even notice he was standing in the same room.¡±


    Lucil leaned forward with a teasing grin. ¡°Oh, come on, Stella. You¡¯re just mad she didn¡¯t acknowledge you the last time you met her.¡±


    ¡°Cause it¡¯s rude!¡±


    They continued going back and forth. Xander, however, barely registered their exchange. His head was starting to pound, the sheer weight of everything he¡¯d learned pressing down on him. The vision, the cards, the unanswered questions, the fucking wheel floating above his head¡ªit was all too much. He rubbed at his temples, wishing, just for a moment, that he could hit pause and sort through the chaos.


    A warm hand rested on Xander¡¯s shoulder, steady and grounding, like an anchor keeping a ship from drifting too far into a storm. He leaned into Jor¡¯dan¡¯s side, his eyes closing as he muttered softly, emotions swirling within him like a tangled knot. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do anymore¡­¡±


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s voice was low, a comforting rumble meant only for Xander. ¡°No matter what, I¡¯m with you.¡±


    The words wrapped around him like a weighted blanket, chasing away the cold that had started to grip him. For a moment, Xander let himself bask in the reassurance. Maurice was right¡ªhe truly was blessed to have such a strong support system. His parents had kept secrets, but their intentions had been pure, and he was sure they wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake again. Jor¡¯dan had been his best friend for years, unwavering and steady, and Xander knew that wouldn¡¯t change. He had people he could trust, people he could lean on when the weight became too much.


    That would be his anchor¡ªhis grounding force¡ªno matter where this strange, unpredictable wheel decided to take him.


    The voices around him blurred, fading into the background as he focused on his breathing. In and out, slow and steady, a rhythm to match the calming beat of his heart. He used those precious seconds to clear his mind, bracing himself for the next wave of revelations.


    When he opened his eyes, the tension in his chest had eased just enough. He exhaled deeply and turned his attention back to the conversation.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way we can know for sure,¡± Maurice said with a heavy sigh, his gaze landing on Xander as he reopened his eyes. ¡°I was just sharing my thoughts with your parents.¡± He offered Xander a gentle smile. ¡°Of course, this is something you¡¯ll have to decide for yourself. The High Priestess, Seline, lives in Ascension¡¯s Hallow. You¡¯ve heard of it, yes?¡±


    Xander gave a faint nod, the name stirring faint memories from his schooling. Ascension¡¯s Hallow¡ªknown as a sanctuary of knowledge¡ªwas described as a scholar¡¯s dream. Nestled high in the northern mountains, it was a hub of research and study dedicated to the arcana, divine mysteries, and the shifts within their world. It was a place he¡¯d only ever imagined¡ªread in textbooks.


    Maurice continued, ¡°Seline has¡­ a gift¡ªshe can see both the past and future of anyone with just a glance. She¡¯s also one of the very few who can receive direct messages from the divine. Her insights have been pivotal to much of the knowledge we¡¯ve gathered about the arcana. I trust her judgment.¡± His gaze flickered toward Stella with a pointed look, as if preemptively addressing her skepticism.


    Stella rolled her eyes but said nothing, and Maurice pressed on. ¡°There¡¯s been growing chatter about the lone continent¡ªenough to make me believe people are getting restless, eager to uncover whatever lies there. It¡¯s your mother¡¯s vision that concerns me. Why were you on a ship heading toward it? What¡¯s so significant about that place that you¡¯d risk your life to step foot on it?¡±


    Xander frowned, his brow knitting as he tried to piece it together. ¡°Is it just¡­ hard to get to?¡± he asked cautiously.


    Maurice hesitated, his expression thoughtful before he answered. ¡°I can¡¯t say for certain. But¡ª¡± he raised a hand to silence Lucil, who opened her mouth to interject, ¡°¡ªthere are rumors. Whispers of beasts on the continent¡ªcreatures that make even the worst predators on Terradin seem harmless by comparison. But again, it¡¯s just that: a rumor.¡±


    Xander rubbed his temples, a headache building as the weight of the day yet again pressed on him.


    ¡°Just think about it, okay?¡± Maurice adjusted his coat, brushing nonexistent dust from the fabric before standing. ¡°Head home, clear your mind.¡±


    Xander gestured toward the wheel behind him. ¡°What about this?¡±


    ¡°People¡¯ll just stare,¡± Stella said with a grunt. ¡°Nothing to worry about.¡±


    Lucil nodded in agreement, her tone reassuring. ¡°Yeah, pretty much. You¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Maurice, now at the entrance of the dining room, turned back one last time. His tone softened, tinged with an understanding that made Xander¡¯s chest tighten. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Xander. I know you didn¡¯t ask for this. None of us did. But if you ever need anything, the palace is always open to you.¡±


    With that, Maurice disappeared, his coat flaring behind him as he exited the room.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Xander muttered, slumping back into his seat.

 Chapter 10

    Chapter 10


    Peace.


    Or at least, something close to it. For the past week, Xander¡¯s world had shrunk to the size of his pillow and bed. He rolled over, clutching the pillow tightly to his chest. The fabric wasn¡¯t the fine silk of the palace linens, but it was familiar¡ªit smelled like home.


    Outside, Solari¡¯s streets buzzed with life as always, the sounds of distant conversations and clattering footsteps filtering in through the window. The city¡¯s restless rhythm had always been a comforting backdrop for him, but now it only added to the spiral of thoughts looping endlessly in his head.


    Xander was so over everything. The walk home from the palace had been a nightmare. He couldn¡¯t remember ever feeling so exposed. People had stared at him, their eyes lingering a little too long, their whispers just loud enough for him to catch fragments of his name. The familiarity of Solari, the streets where he¡¯d once slipped through crowds unnoticed, now felt foreign. Even the people he knew¡ªneighbors, shopkeepers, old friends¡ªlooked at him differently. Their gazes were full of emotions he couldn¡¯t quite name.


    By the time they reached the shop, Xander had practically bolted to his room, the comforting scent of paint and turpentine grounding him the moment he stepped inside. He collapsed onto his bed and stayed there, exhaustion pinning him down like a heavy blanket.


    At first, the lethargy could be explained away. The transformation, the shock of everything¡ªhis body and mind simply needed rest. But by the third day, it was clear there was more to it than that. He didn¡¯t want to get up, didn¡¯t want to leave his room. His prize money from the competition¡ªthirty gold coins pouched neatly on his dresser¡ªmight as well have been a pile of rocks for all he cared.


    Even Eric reaching out didn¡¯t move him. His parents had mentioned that Eric wanted to schedule their one-on-one time, but the thought of picking up a brush felt pointless. What did painting matter when he had this stupid card? What did anything matter when his future might involve a ship and an unknown continent no one dared to set foot on?


    The thoughts pressed down on him like stones, each one adding to the weight that kept him anchored to his bed. He barely ate, barely drank. His parents left food at his door every day, coaxing him to at least try, but even that felt like too much effort. A soft rumble vibrated through his stomach, making him debate getting up.


    Nah.


    He rolled over again, letting himself sink deeper into his bed, the world muted by the softness of his pillow.


    The faint creak of the door broke the fragile quiet. Without lifting his head, Xander muttered, voice muffled through the fabric, ¡°Not right now Mom¡­¡±


    ¡°Wow. This is pathetic.¡±


    Xander froze, his whole body stiffening at the unmistakable voice. He turned his head, glaring toward the doorway. ¡°What the hell are you doing here?¡±


    Jor¡¯dan stood there, arms crossed and utterly unimpressed. His eyes swept over the room, taking in the chaos: discarded clothes strewn across the floor, empty food wrappers cluttering the desk, and an overall air of neglect hanging in the space.


    ¡°Your parents told me you were in a funk,¡± Jor¡¯dan said, voice dry as sandpaper. ¡°But this? This is just sad.¡±


    Xander groaned, flopping back onto the bed and waving him off like an annoying fly. ¡°Just leave me alone. I¡¯m not in the mood for this right now.¡±


    Jor¡¯dan didn¡¯t move. Instead, he approached the bed, wrinkling his nose in clear disapproval. ¡°Dude, when¡¯s the last time you showered?¡±


    Heat rose to Xander¡¯s cheeks, and he buried his face in the pillow with a groan.


    ¡°Okay, that¡¯s it.¡±


    Before Xander could protest, he felt himself being hauled to his feet, Jor¡¯dan¡¯s grip firm and unyielding. Xander stumbled, blinking up at his friend in disbelief.


    ¡°You¡¯re taking a shower,¡± Jor¡¯dan said, his tone brooking no argument. He shoved Xander toward the dresser. ¡°Then you¡¯re coming outside with me.¡±


    Xander¡¯s irritation flared. He turned back, jaw clenched. ¡°I said, I¡¯m not in the mood for this.¡±


    ¡°Hurry up,¡± Jor¡¯dan replied flatly, as if Xander hadn¡¯t spoken at all.


    Their gazes locked, Xander¡¯s defiance meeting Jor¡¯dan¡¯s unwavering determination.


    When Xander didn¡¯t move, Jor¡¯dan¡¯s expression darkened, his patience evaporating. Without a word, he strode to the dresser, yanked it open, and grabbed the first set of clothes he saw. Tossing them over his shoulder, he turned back and gripped Xander¡¯s arm, dragging him toward the door.


    ¡°Let go of me!¡± Xander growled, digging his heels into the floor like a stubborn child being dragged to a punishment.


    Jor¡¯dan didn¡¯t slow. With a strength that felt more like a force of nature than a person, he tugged Xander along until they reached the bathroom. The tiles were cool beneath his feet as Jor¡¯dan shoved him inside, his posture uncompromising. ¡°Shower. Now,¡± he commanded, arms crossed, his glare daring Xander to argue.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever the hell I want, and right now? I want you out of my goddamn¡ª¡±


    Xander¡¯s words ended in a startled screech as Jor¡¯dan grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it off with ease. His face went crimson as Jor¡¯dan¡¯s hand moved toward his waistband, the horrifying realization of what was happening hitting him like a slap.


    ¡°Okay! Okay! I¡¯ll shower!¡± Xander yelped, his voice cracking slightly.


    Jor¡¯dan let go, stepping back and crossing his arms again, his expression as stern as ever. ¡°Five minutes,¡± he warned. His tone was low and threatening in a way Xander didn¡¯t know Jor¡¯dan was capable of. ¡°If you¡¯re not done, I¡¯m coming in and washing you myself.¡±


    With that, Jor¡¯dan turned on his heel, the door clicking shut behind him.


    Xander let out a long sigh, leaning against the wall to steady himself. That was way too close. Shaking his head, he peeled off his pants and stepped into the shower. The warm water hit his skin, washing away the grime of the past week.


    Still, he couldn¡¯t help but grumble under his breath. ¡°He really was about to strip me like a damn kid¡­¡± He shuddered at the thought, his cheeks still warm with residual embarrassment.


    Jor¡¯dan had always been like that¡ªhands-on and relentless. Ever since they were kids, he¡¯d made it his mission to drag Xander out of his funks, no matter how stubborn he got. Being four years older seemed to have given him an inflated sense of authority, and Xander swore Jor¡¯dan enjoyed bossing him around just a little too much.


    As he finished his shower, drying off and dressing with slow, begrudging movements, he tried to shake the irritation clinging to him like soap scum. Opening the bathroom door, he found Jor¡¯dan leaning casually against the wall, a smug smirk tugging at his lips.


    ¡°Wow. You don¡¯t smell like shit now,¡± Jor¡¯dan said, his tone dripping with mock approval.


    Xander¡¯s eyes narrowed, his irritation flaring anew. ¡°You think this is funny? You crossed the line, dude.¡±


    ¡°The line?¡± Jor¡¯dan snorted, pushing off the wall to face him fully. ¡°The line was crossed when your parents asked me for help.¡±


    Xander blinked, the words finally sinking in. They asked for Jor¡¯dan¡¯s help?


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    ¡°They were worried about you, man,¡± Jor¡¯dan continued, his smirk fading into a more serious look. ¡°You¡¯ve been locked up in here, not eating, not moving¡­ If your parents have to get me to drag your scrawny ass out of bed, then yeah, I¡¯ll cross whatever line it takes.¡±


    ¡°Tch,¡± Xander sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before leaning against the wall as well. ¡°Whatever, I¡¯ll bite.¡±


    Jor¡¯dan grinned and pushed him gently down the foyer. His hands faintly kneaded the muscles in Xanders shoulders¡ªthe pressure somewhere between encouraging and insistent. Xander grumbled to himself, the soft creak of wood holding their weight as they walked down the stairs and into the main shop.


    The smell of burning sage and lavender incense greeted them in the shop below, mingling with the soft murmur of his mother¡¯s voice as she performed a reading for a customer in one of the private rooms. The atmosphere was familiar, comforting in its way, but Xander barely noticed, his thoughts still tangled in the weight of everything he¡¯d been trying to escape.


    When they stepped outside, the bustling energy of Solari Vale hit him full force. The sunlight made him squint as his eyes adjusted. There were still glances¡ªcurious, and fleeting in his direction. It was an improvement from the intensity of the week before, but the awareness of it still made his skin itch¡ªhis gaze firmly finding the ground.


    Jor¡¯dan tugged at his arm, guiding him through the crowded streets. The man¡¯s pace was steady, and Xander didn¡¯t bother questioning where they were going; Jor¡¯dan¡¯s priorities were predictable¡ªif they weren¡¯t heading to food, then it would be food-adjacent.


    And of course he was right. They turned the corner, Xander catching sight of a restaurant¡¯s weathered sign swinging gently in the breeze, its visibility flickering in between the throngs of people in the street.


    ¡°I¡¯m not really hungry,¡± he mumbled, though the low rumble in his stomach betrayed him. It wasn¡¯t entirely a lie¡ªhe wasn¡¯t sure if he had the energy for food, no matter how badly his body needed it.


    Jor¡¯dan completely ignored him, steering Xander inside without breaking stride. The earthy, welcoming interior of the restaurant came into focus¡ªthe walls painted in soft greens and browns, accented by planters brimming with herbs. Vines were hung from the ceiling, some trailing down the walls, their lush greenery blending with the natural light streaming through wide windows. It was a pretty calming place.


    Xander glanced at Jor¡¯dan, still surprised he¡¯d picked this spot. For someone who usually thrived on meals that involved at least half a pound of meat, a salad-centric place like The Greenhouse seemed oddly out of character.


    The host, an older man dressed in olive-green overalls and a crisp white shirt greeted them with a warm smile. The surprise flickering across his face as he took in Xander¡¯s appearance wasn¡¯t lost on him, eyes obviously landing on the top of his head. He thankfully seemed to quickly recover, the mask of professionalism reasserting itself.


    ¡°Welcome to The Greenhouse. Table for two, or are you expecting more to join you?¡± the host asked, his tone polite and friendly.


    ¡°Just us,¡± Jor¡¯dan replied gruffly, his hand lightly pressing Xander¡¯s shoulder to guide him forward.


    The host nodded and led them deeper into the restaurant. Xander kept his head down, focusing on the polished light wood of the floors instead of the inevitable glances being cast in their direction. He could feel the weight of passing stares, their curiosity subtle but persistent.


    The booth they were shown to was tucked in a corner, half-shaded by the long, looping vines cascading down from above. The natural sunlight filtering through the windows created a soft, dappled effect on the table. It should have been calming, but Xander still felt an edge of discomfort.


    It was only a few minutes after they were seated that the waiter arrived. Jor¡¯dan, without missing a beat, ordered for both of them before Xander even had a chance to open his mouth. The move grated on Xander¡¯s nerves, but he bit his tongue, letting out a quiet huff.


    As the waiter walked off, Jor¡¯dan turned his full attention to Xander, his dark brown eyes narrowing in assessment. ¡°Alright, spill. Besides the¡ª¡± He pointed toward the wheel hovering behind Xander¡¯s head, ¡°What¡¯s got you all moped up?¡±


    Xander groaned, slumping further into his chair as he exhaled heavily. ¡°It¡¯s everything,¡± he admitted, running a hand through his short buzzed hair. ¡°The wheel, the vision, the stares¡­ It¡¯s like this constant weight. I can¡¯t even breathe without someone looking at me like I¡¯m not me anymore.¡±


    Jor¡¯dan nodded thoughtfully, his fingers scratching absently at the lined beard on his chin. ¡°Yeah, I figured. I wanted to check in with you after all that palace shit, but guild business came up. Some of the men needed extra hands, and you know how it goes.¡± His voice softened as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. ¡°Listen, Xander, I get it. Shit¡¯s weird right now. Trust me. You remember when I was chosen?¡±


    Xander blinked, his mind flickering back to that chaotic day years ago. Jor¡¯dan had burst into the shop, arms literally on fire, frantically waving them around like he was being chased by demons. It had been one of the only times Xander had ever seen his friend genuinely panicked.


    ¡°Man, I was a mess,¡± Jor¡¯dan admitted. ¡°Didn¡¯t sleep for days after. And it wasn¡¯t just me, either. You remember that kid from your class? The one who got picked for a card?¡±


    ¡°Jonathan,¡± Xander supplied. The memory of the boy was bittersweet¡ªJonathan had always been calm and collected, but after receiving his card, the pressure had broken him. He¡¯d had to take counseling just to keep himself together.


    ¡°Right,¡± Jor¡¯dan said, his tone dipping. ¡°It¡¯s not easy for anyone. Everyone¡¯s got their way of dealing. Some people fall apart, some fight it head-on. Me? I had to learn to lean into the chaos and make it my own. You?¡± He gave Xander a knowing look. ¡°You¡¯ve always been the type to bottle it up and keep it all inside. It¡¯s not gonna work forever man.¡±


    He sighed as the salads landed on the table, the vibrant greens and roasted toppings gleaming under the light streaming from the windows. A quiet settled over them as they ate, the sounds of utensils clinking against plates filling the space between them. There was more to say¡ªXander could feel it¡ªbut for now, his hunger won out. And the truth was, the salad did look delicious.


    Minutes passed in silence before Jor¡¯dan finally broke it, his tone soft yet edged with resolve. ¡°You¡¯re gonna need to learn how to fight,¡± he said, stabbing a forkful of greens. ¡°Especially if what your mom said is true. I ain¡¯t letting you get yourself killed out there, on some damn ship, because you weren¡¯t prepared.¡±


    Xander froze mid-bite, his eyes snapping up to meet Jor¡¯dan¡¯s. ¡°What? No. No way. Nope,¡± he said firmly, shaking his head for emphasis. ¡°Hells, I¡¯m not even leaving Solari! None of that bullshit can come true if I just dont leave.¡±


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s gaze darkened, his fork clinking softly against the edge of his plate as he set it down. ¡°I don¡¯t care what you think,¡± he said sharply. ¡°Anything could happen. You feel it, don¡¯t you? The tingling coming off me?¡±


    Xander huffed before nodding reluctantly, memories of his conversation with Maurice surfacing¡ªthe way card holders could sense each other. The tingling he felt from Jor¡¯dan wasn¡¯t as strong as Maurices but it was there.


    Jor¡¯dan leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave as his words took on a weight Xander wasn¡¯t ready to bear. ¡°You think we¡¯re the only ones who feel that? Just humans? What about the animals outside the walls, huh? You think they don¡¯t sense it too?¡±


    Xander¡¯s stomach tightened as Jor¡¯dan continued.


    ¡°If you ever leave these walls¡ªand let¡¯s be real, something¡¯s gonna force you to one day¡ªyou¡¯re gonna get attacked. Some beasts are harmless, sure, but others... Others are hunters. They don¡¯t just hunt for food; they hunt for energy, for power. And you¡ª¡± He jabbed a finger in Xander¡¯s direction, his voice hard as stone. ¡°You¡¯re prime prey.¡±


    Xander shuddered at the thought of facing one of the beasts outside the walls. ¡°As long as I don¡¯t leave the walls, then it won¡¯t matter,¡± he muttered.


    Jor¡¯dan snorted, his expression knowing. ¡°Don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t do my research,¡± he said sharply. ¡°What happens when you start getting some tugging bullshit you can¡¯t ignore? What if the damn wheel forces you to go? What then? You¡¯re just gonna roll over and die?¡± He started to scowl, his frustration palpable. ¡°I¡¯ll be damned if that happens, so you¡¯re training with me. That¡¯s final.¡±


    Xander¡¯s irritation flared, the heat rising to his face. He opened his mouth, ready to lash out, but the waiter¡¯s arrival interrupted him¡ªthe bill in hand. Jor¡¯dan handed over the coins without another word, standing up and gesturing for Xander to follow.


    I¡¯m not some damn dog, He thought while grinding his teeth, standing and clenching his fists as he trailed behind. His irritation simmered, building with each step. Xander was sick of Jor¡¯dan bossing him around like he had no say in his own life. It was absolute bullshit.


    As they weaved through the bustling streets, Xander found himself marching with a scowl plastered on his face. He barely noticed the young girl approaching him, her wide eyes filled with innocent curiosity.


    ¡°Hey mister¡ª¡± She began.


    ¡°Fuck off,¡± he snapped before he could stop himself. The words left his mouth like venom, and guilt hit him immediately, heavy and sharp.


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s head whipped around, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. Without a word, he strode over, grabbing Xander¡¯s arm with firm grip, and dragged him into a nearby alley.


    ¡°What the hell is your problem?¡± Jor¡¯dan growled, shaking him slightly as his glare bore down on him.


    Xander opened his mouth to retort, anger bubbling to the surface, when a strange sensation rippled through him. It was like a thread being gently pulled from deep within his chest. It tugged him, faintly but insistently, to the left.


    He tried to ignore it, his jaw tightening as he prepared to argue, but the feeling surged again, this time sharper and more forceful. A voice¡ªhis own, but faintly foreign¡ªwhispered into his mind: Move.


    Xander¡¯s teeth ground together as he obeyed, stepping sharply to the left. The wheel behind his head clicked audibly for the first time, the sound echoing in his ears.


    Before he could fully register anything, a flower pot crashed down two seconds later, shattering against the ground where he¡¯d just been standing. Dirt sprayed across the alley, shards of pottery scattering in every direction.


    ¡°What the¡ª!¡± Jor¡¯dan jumped back, his wide eyes darting between Xander and the mess on the ground. ¡°Dude you good?¡± he asked, concern and confusion clear in his tone.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry!¡± A voice shouted from above, he looked up¡ªa young man leant out of his window, waving in apology.


    Xander¡¯s stomach twisted in knots as his eyes flicked back to the shattered pot. His breath came short and shallow, his mind racing.


    What the hell was that?

 Chapter 11

    Chapter 11


    ¡°So what you¡¯re saying¡ª¡± Jor¡¯dan¡¯s brows furrowed as he strode forward, his tone tinged with a mix of frustration and curiosity, ¡°¡ªis that you felt a pull to the left, like some insistent feeling to move?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Xander huffed, exasperation lacing his voice. He¡¯d repeated the explanation five times now, and the memory still lingered sharply in his mind. ¡°I mean, that obviously has to do with my ability, right?¡±


    Maurice¡¯s words about the Wheel of Fortune surfaced again. Scarce knowledge, rare manifestations, and¡­ something about a tug? Was this what he had meant? The event replayed in Xander¡¯s head, knotting his thoughts tighter with every step.


    Lost in his musings, he didn¡¯t notice Jor¡¯dan slowing ahead of him until he walked straight into his friend¡¯s broad back. Xander snapped his head up, his eyes widening at the imposing structure before them.


    The Solari Combat Guild loomed tall, its pale stone facade bathed in golden sunlight, the oak wood supports weathered but strong, exuding an air of timeless resilience. Above the archway entrance, vines sprawled like nature¡¯s tapestry, their vibrant green tendrils thick with blossoms that swayed gently in the breeze.


    ¡°Uh¡­ why are we here?¡± Xander asked, his voice thick with suspicion. His chest tightened with an uneasy anticipation as he glanced at Jor¡¯dan.


    ¡°I¡¯ve decided training is actually going to start now,¡± Jor¡¯dan replied, his tone casual, as though he were discussing the forecast rather than combat lessons. He continued walking without so much as a backward glance.


    ¡°Nope. Nope, nope, nope.¡± Xander shook his head, his heart pounding faster. ¡°Dude, no. I said I¡¯m not¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, Jor¡¯dan¡¯s hand was around his arm again, dragging him forward with the same relentless determination he¡¯d shown all day. The gesture sparked a fresh surge of irritation in Xander, his feet dragging stubbornly against the soft grass as he dug his heels in.


    The archway loomed closer, the engraved crest of the guild¡ªa sword and shield emblazoned with a blazing sun¡ªcatching his eye. Every detail seemed to mock his resistance, as if the building itself approved of Jor¡¯dan¡¯s audacity.


    ¡°Seriously, Jor¡¯dan, I said no!¡± Xander snapped, yanking his arm but finding no freedom.


    Jor¡¯dan merely grunted, his grip unyielding as he hauled him through the vine-draped archway. The scent of greenery mixed with the faint tang of steel, wafting through the air in an unsettling blend of serenity and intensity.


    Xander stumbled as they crossed the threshold, frustration boiling over. ¡°Do you ever stop to think about what I actually want, or is empathy not a setting in your fucked up brain?¡±


    Jor¡¯dan shot him a dark look, his jaw tightening. ¡°One more word¡­¡± he warned, his grip tightening just enough to make the threat clear.


    Xander huffed, his eyes scanning the main lobby as they entered. It wasn¡¯t as busy as he¡¯d expected, the space quiet except for distant echoes of voices. The floors were polished stone, their pale surfaces catching the golden sunlight streaming through the expansive windows. His gaze drifted down one of the branching hallways, where a group of men stood in a loose circle, chatting animatedly.


    They were clad in standard tactical gear¡ªsturdy boots, loose-fitting tank tops, and pants striped with Solari¡¯s signature colors. The vibrant hues stood out against the muted tones of their clothing, a subtle yet clear marker of their allegiance.


    ¡°Justin!¡± Jor¡¯dan¡¯s voice cut through the space, loud and bouncing through the space.


    One of the men turned, revealing a freckled face and dirty blonde hair. A wide grin spread across his features. ¡°Yo, Jor¡¯dan! Whatchu need?¡± His gaze shifted to Xander, who was still scowling and shooting pointed looks at Jor¡¯dan. Recognition lit up the man¡¯s eyes. ¡°Wait¡ªis that the kid from the festival?¡±


    Xander felt his stomach tighten as the rest of the group turned, their attention snapping to him. Their gazes were heavy, curious, and annoyingly amused. He could feel the faint hum of their card energy, like distant vibrations pressing against his senses. It wasn¡¯t sharp enough to discern specifics, but he could tell they were mid-level holders.


    Deciding to lean into his frustration, Xander plastered a pleading expression on his face, silently begging the group for help. It earned him a snort from Jor¡¯dan.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind him,¡± Jor¡¯dan said dryly, turning back to the group. ¡°Is the yard free?¡±


    Justin nodded, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. ¡°Yeah, everyone cleared out after Mr. Smith told us to take the day off.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Jor¡¯dan said, already moving forward. He didn¡¯t let go of Xander¡¯s arm, steering him down a different hallway with brisk efficiency.


    Xander allowed himself a moment to glare at the back of Jor¡¯dan¡¯s head, his annoyance still simmering. He¡¯d never been inside the guild before¡ªthere hadn¡¯t exactly been a reason to visit a place so combat-focused. But now that he was here, he couldn¡¯t help but take it in.


    The hallways were a blend of glass and stone, the walls almost entirely made of reflective panels that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. A closer look revealed why: solite crystals had been infused directly into the glass, their subtle glow an efficient power source.


    ¡°Smart,¡± Xander muttered under his breath. Most buildings used larger crystals embedded in rooftops for energy, but integrating solite into the windows themselves was a clever¡ªif undoubtedly expensive¡ªdesign choice.


    The hallway curved slightly, leading them deeper into the guild. Xander caught glimpses of training rooms through the glass walls, some filled with racks of weapons and others entirely bare, seemingly designed for hand-to-hand combat. His unease grew with every step, the realization that this wasn¡¯t just a casual visit settling heavily in his chest.


    The hallway opened into a sprawling training yard, sunlight pouring down onto the packed dirt and patches of grass worn thin from constant use. Xander stumbled slightly as Jor¡¯dan hauled him forward, his arm aching from the relentless grip.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting real tired of you pulling me around every time I don¡¯t want to do something you say,¡± Xander scoffed, yanking his arm free with a huff.


    ¡°Then maybe you should listen more,¡± Jor¡¯dan retorted, unfazed, leading them to a section of the yard that seemed purposefully worn down. The dirt beneath their feet was compacted, crisscrossed with scuff marks and gouges from weapons and boots alike.


    Xander stood stiffly, eyeing the area warily. Every fiber of his being screamed resistance. Training wasn¡¯t just unappealing¡ªit felt wrong. Sure, there were dangers outside the walls, and the Wheel could pull him into god-knows-what situations, but that wasn¡¯t enough to overcome his deep aversion to this.


    ¡°So what the hell are we¡ª¡± he began, only to be cut off by the sudden blur of Jor¡¯dan¡¯s movement. Before he could process what was happening, Jor¡¯dan¡¯s fist shot forward, stopping mere inches from his face. Xander yelped, stumbling backward in a flailing attempt to avoid it, nearly falling onto the ground in the process.


    ¡°What the hell?!¡± he roared, his voice cracking slightly from the adrenaline. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he glared at Jor¡¯dan.


    Jor¡¯dan crossed his arms, unfazed by the outburst. ¡°I wanted to see if you¡¯d feel that tug again,¡± he said matter-of-factly, his tone calm despite the chaos he¡¯d just caused. ¡°Clearly, you didn¡¯t... so I must be doing something wrong.¡±


    ¡°Of course it was wrong!¡± Xander snapped, jabbing a finger in Jor¡¯dan¡¯s direction. ¡°You nearly took my damn head off!¡±


    Jor¡¯dan snorted, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t. I was planning to stop before actually hitting you.¡± His expression darkened slightly, his brow furrowing in thought. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s the problem. Maybe it sensed my intent¡­¡±


    Xander¡¯s stomach sank as he caught the glint in Jor¡¯dan¡¯s eyes. It was the look he¡¯d learned to dread¡ªa mixture of determination and recklessness. He raised his hands in protest, trying to keep some distance. ¡°Jor¡¯dan, please, let¡¯s just talk about this¡ª¡±


    But it was too late.


    The Wheel spun, a low hum reverberating in his chest as a sharp tug urged him backward. He moved instinctively, stepping just out of reach as Jor¡¯dan¡¯s fist cut through the air, missing the tip of his nose by mere centimeters.


    The whoosh of displaced air brushed against his skin, his heart hammering in his chest. Xander fell onto the ground and stared at Jor¡¯dan, wide-eyed and breathless, the reality of what had just happened sinking in.


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    Jor¡¯dan straightened, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. ¡°There it is,¡± he said, his voice low but triumphant. ¡°Hmm now we know¡ªwhen it¡¯s life or death, the Wheel¡¯s got your back. Question is, how far can you push it?¡±


    Xander stood frozen, his chest heaving as he struggled to steady his breathing. His hands shook slightly at his sides, his mind still reeling.


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s expression softened just a fraction, concern flickering in his eyes. ¡°Xander¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare fucking speak!¡± Xander snapped, his voice raw as he glared at him. He took a shaky breath, trying to quell the storm in his chest. ¡°You actually tried to punch me¡­¡±


    Jor¡¯dan pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling through his teeth. ¡°And it clearly worked. Look¡ªI¡¯m sorry, but this isn¡¯t going to be sunshine and rainbows. Training is hard. You¡¯re going to get hurt.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to train in the goddamn first place!¡± Xander exploded, his voice cracking with frustration. ¡°What the hell are you not getting?¡±


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s gaze darkened as he stepped closer, his tone dropping to a dangerous low. ¡°What you¡¯re not getting is that you¡¯ve been sheltered your entire life, Xander. I¡¯m trying to help you before you get yourself killed by the first thing that so much as sniffs you outside those walls.¡± His words carried a sharp edge, his posture rigid and commanding.


    Then, cold and direct, he said, ¡°Get up and try to hit me.¡±


    Xander blinked, disbelief cutting through his anger. ¡°What? No, why the hell would I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Because if you don¡¯t start attacking in the next three seconds, I¡¯m going to start attacking you.¡± Jor¡¯dan¡¯s voice was ice, the sudden shift chilling Xander to his core.


    Xander¡¯s anger flared back to life, his teeth grinding as he pushed himself to his feet. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his thoughts a storm. Jor¡¯dan¡¯s dragging, his bossiness, his absolute disregard for Xander¡¯s feelings¡ªit all clawed its way up from the depths of his mind. Even now, Jor¡¯dan stared at him with a blank expression, as if Xander were just some ridiculous joke.


    The frustration boiled over. Without thinking, Xander swung a fist wildly, only to hit nothing but air as Jor¡¯dan sidestepped with ease.


    ¡°Are you serious?¡± Jor¡¯dan barked, his voice dripping with disappointment. ¡°Don¡¯t piss me off, Xander. That punch was¡ª¡±


    Xander growled, cutting him off as he swung again, and then again, his fists flying in reckless anger. Each attempt missed its mark, Jor¡¯dan dodging effortlessly, his expression unchanging.


    His fury only grew, fueling his erratic movements. Xander¡¯s punches became more wild, his form increasingly sloppy. Each miss felt like a slap to his pride, and Jor¡¯dan¡¯s calm, almost mocking demeanor made it worse.


    Finally, after another missed swing, Jor¡¯dan shifted. In a single fluid motion, he aimed a sharp punch toward Xander¡¯s stomach.


    The Wheel tugged at him in warning, but his reactions were too slow. The blow connected, knocking the air from his lungs. Xander crumpled to his knees, clutching his abdomen as he gasped for breath, his chest heaving in pain and humiliation.


    Xander could feel the Wheel spinning wildly behind his head, the invisible force generating a tangible breeze that ruffled his hair.


    ¡°Get up. Now,¡± Jor¡¯dan demanded, his tone cold and demanding, his arms crossed as he loomed over Xander.


    The anger bubbling in Xander¡¯s chest boiled over into unthinking rage. He lunged from the ground in a clawing motion, more animal than calculated, swiping at Jor¡¯dan. It was an instinctive, feral act, born of frustration rather than strategy.


    Jor¡¯dan was already shifting, stepping back to dodge when the Wheel surged. With a sudden, audible click, golden threads erupted from Xander¡¯s fingertips, twisting and writhing toward Jor¡¯dan like sentient strands of light.


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s eyes widened in surprise, but his reaction was instantaneous. Flames erupted around his feet, scorching the grass as he launched himself backward in a blur, the golden threads narrowly missing him. They dissolved into shimmering particles as quickly as they had appeared, leaving Xander staring at his hands in shock.


    A wide grin split Jor¡¯dan¡¯s face as he clapped his hands together. ¡°Now that¡¯s what I¡¯m talking about!¡±


    The burning anger in Xander¡¯s chest was suddenly doused by cold realization. He stared at his palms, his mind racing. What the hell was that?


    The memory of Stella at the park flashed before him¡ªher golden threads wrapping around the statue, restoring it with precision and grace. But this¡­ this was different. Her threads were thicker, almost tangible ribbons of light. What had just burst from his hands was thinner, sharper, more like a web.


    Jor¡¯dan crouched in front of him, his grin softening into something more genuine. He placed a hand on Xander¡¯s shoulder, his voice low and steady. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I went cold on you, bro. But I¡¯m not sorry for what I did.¡±


    Xander looked up at him, his breath hitching at the uncharacteristic tightness in Jor¡¯dan¡¯s voice.


    ¡°You¡¯re my best friend, damn it,¡± Jor¡¯dan continued, his voice thick with emotion. ¡°The thought of something happening to you? It pisses me off, especially when I know I could¡¯ve done something to help. That¡¯s why I¡¯m pushing you. Because I can. Because I have to.¡±


    Xander swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He let Jor¡¯dan¡¯s words sink in, the weight of them heavy but grounding. Slowly, he nodded, forcing himself to see things from Jor¡¯dan¡¯s perspective. The thought of standing by while Jor¡¯dan got hurt stirred a protective anger in him, one that felt startlingly familiar.


    ¡°I get it,¡± he muttered finally.


    Jor¡¯dan gave him a firm clap on the shoulder before rising to his feet. He extended a hand, waiting patiently until Xander grasped it and allowed himself to be pulled up.


    As Xander dusted himself off, Jor¡¯dan assessed him with a fleeting, calculating look. Then, his voice took on that same assertive tone.


    ¡°Again.¡±


    The warm water of the shower soothed Xander¡¯s sore muscles, a small groan escaping him as he leaned back against the naturally chilled tiles. It sent a small shudder down his back, the coldness of the wall contrasting with the warmness of the water.


    Xander ducked back under the shower a minute after, scrubbing at the sweat and grime clinging to his skin. The water was scalding, but he welcomed it, letting the heat work into the small bruises dotting his chest and arms. He winced as his fingers brushed a particularly sore spot. Jor¡¯dan had said cardholders healed faster, but he wasn¡¯t feeling the perks just yet¡ªhis entire body ached.


    His thoughts drifted back to the rest of training.


    Grudgingly, he could admit it had been productive. They¡¯d uncovered a bit more about his ability, though it was still confusing as hell.


    After a brief break, Jor¡¯dan had dragged him to a line of dummies set up across the training field. They were nothing like the props Xander had thought they were¡ªthey were infused with Solite. Each punch caused the dummy to pulse with light, the brightness indicating the strength of the impact. Xander¡¯s form, as expected, was a mess. His punches were awkward, and the light barely flickered most of the time.


    ¡°What did he expect?¡± Xander muttered under his breath, scrubbing at his arms. ¡°I¡¯m a painter, not a damn fighter.¡±


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s expectations didn¡¯t stop there. After the dummies, he¡¯d insisted Xander try to summon the golden threads again. Xander concentrated, reaching out with his hands, his mind, his everything, but the threads refused to appear. Of course, nothing could ever be that easy.


    Naturally, Jor¡¯dan had taken this failure as an excuse to start attacking him again. The tug from the Wheel continued to guide him, but always at the last possible second¡ªso close to impact that dodging felt like an impossible feat. He¡¯d tried his best, scrambling out of the way when he could, but every hit left him more frustrated.


    ¡°What¡¯s the point of the damn tug,¡± he muttered, shaking his head at the memory, ¡°if I can¡¯t even react fast enough?¡±


    After another break, it had been his turn to attack. Xander had thrown punch after punch at Jor¡¯dan, each one meeting empty air as Jor¡¯dan dodged effortlessly. Even when he¡¯d tried to replicate the clawing motion that had summoned the threads earlier, nothing happened.


    Then, out of nowhere, something did happen.


    Jor¡¯dan had launched another attack, his fist closing in on Xander¡¯s face when a shimmering golden orb suddenly enveloped him. The punch stopped dead, the barrier holding firm.


    Jor¡¯dan¡¯s curiosity was immediate. He¡¯d tested the shield cautiously at first, tapping it with his flame-tinged fingers. But as he started striking it, his patience wore thin. He pulled back and unleashed a full-force punch. Cracks spidered across the orb¡¯s surface before it shattered completely, dissipating into golden shards that vanished before they hit the ground.


    The wave of fatigue hit him harder than expected, dragging his shoulders down as if the shattered barrier had siphoned something from him. Jor¡¯dan noted his exhaustion and said they¡¯d call it a day.


    By the Arcana, Xander had never been more relieved.


    When he finally got home, the relief was short-lived. His parents were on him the moment he walked through the door, their faces etched with worry as they peppered him with questions.


    Xander hesitated, unsure how much to share, but ultimately decided to tell them about the training. Their worry didn¡¯t disappear, but to his annoyance, they seemed to agree with Jor¡¯dan.


    It should¡¯ve been reassuring, but it wasn¡¯t. Xander didn¡¯t want to train. He didn¡¯t want to be prepared for danger¡ªhe just wanted to avoid it altogether.


    Questions continued to eat at him like vultures over a carcass, refusing to let go. Why did threads form the first time and not something else? Why didn¡¯t the barrier form the first time Jor¡¯dan punched him in the stomach?


    He sighed as the water shut off, dragging his hand across his face. Each answer seemed to birth more questions, tangling him deeper into the mystery of his abilities. How did the Wheel even decide what to manifest? Why him, of all people?


    Drying off, he tossed the towel aside and trudged to his room. The idea of going back to the Palace crossed his mind¡ªmaybe Maurice or someone else could offer insight¡ªbut Maurice had already told him all he claimed to know. It still could be useful to get their perspective, perhaps there was some Major Arcana secret he was missing out on. The Magician''s words about the High Priestess also lingered in his mind, and he realized he hadn¡¯t even given Maurice¡¯s suggestion any thought.


    Xander groaned as he flopped onto his bed, his limbs sinking into the mattress. The weight of the day pressed down on him, and his face found solace in the pillow.


    The questions still clawed at him, but exhaustion dulled their edges. He didn¡¯t know what the Wheel had in store for him, where it would guide him, or how far it would push him. All he knew was that survival was the bare minimum he could hope for.


    The faint, rhythmic clicking of the Wheel began behind his head, its presence like an uninvited observer. The sound was almost mocking, an acknowledgment of his thoughts.


    ¡°Damn you,¡± he muttered into the pillow, a curse meant for the Arcana and all their enigmatic ways, before sleep finally claimed him.

 Chapter 12

    Chapter 12


    The blazing Sun beamed down, its warmth soaking into his skin as he weaved through the throngs of people. The Vale was beginning to breathe again, the remnants of the festival fading like embers and the tourists pulling back from the Vale like a low tide. According to Jor¡¯dan, the guild had raked in hefty profits lending out members as impromptu caravan guards¡ªmany travelers willing to pay a premium for a safe and swift journey home. He couldn¡¯t blame em¡¯,


    Xander steered right as a woman stumbled into the main path, a towering box in her arms that obscured her view. His fingers tightened on the edges of his pants, remembering the chaos of helping Johnil the day before the event a couple weeks ago. She reminded him of himself then, awkward but determined, so he gave her a bit of grace. Around him, the cleanup from the festival continued: people hauling crates, disassembling booths, and hauling materials back to apartments, studios, or storage spaces. What little remained of the vibrant stalls in the park were battered and half-disassembled, clinging to the last flicker of festival life. It wouldn¡¯t be long before the Vale sparkled again.


    Familiar wisps of red hair flashed in the corner of his vision. Squinting, he spotted Sydney, her arms laden with supplies as she packed up her stall. A small chuckle escaped him. She¡¯d probably been a hit¡ªshe always was. Sydney had a knack for drawing people in, a natural charisma that turned every interaction into an opportunity. Doubting her success would¡¯ve been a mistake he didn¡¯t dare make.


    He shifted his weight and turned dextral of the park, gliding toward the more polished areas of the Vale. His mother had talked him into taking Eric up on his offer, and truthfully, it hadn¡¯t taken much convincing. Second place in the competition wasn¡¯t something to scoff at, and the idea of letting the opportunity slip away felt wasteful. Xander still carried a kernel of doubt, still a little pessimistic about it all. He hoped getting back into his element and painting would do wonders for his psyche¡ªArcana knew he needed the distraction.


    The hum of his sunray was faint beneath the rhythm of the city. His eyes wandered idly, catching snippets of the bustling streets, the lingering aftermath of festival chaos. A faint tug prickled his awareness, a soft but persistent thread pulling his gaze to the left. His eyes flicked toward the distant wall of the Vale, catching the shimmer of sunlight against its surface.


    The nudge.


    Xander¡¯s stomach tightened, his jaw clenching as he snapped his head away, muttering under his breath, ¡°Forget it.¡±


    The sensation had started a couple of days after his first training session with Jor¡¯dan¡ªjust faint nudges, like threads gently pulling him toward the wall or, more accurately, what lay beyond it. He had no intention of listening, no interest in humoring the damned Wheel. Maybe, he thought, it¡¯d take the hint and leave him alone. It didn¡¯t.


    And then the weirdness began.


    During his next sessions with Jor¡¯dan, the Wheel¡¯s tugs seemed¡­ delayed. His reactions were slower, his movements not quite syncing with the Wheel¡¯s nudges at all. A few bruises from Jor¡¯dan¡¯s punches stood as evidence of it, and he wasn¡¯t happy. It was subtle, but Xander couldn¡¯t shake the suspicion: was the Wheel punishing him for ignoring it? The thought was both infuriating and unnerving.


    He groaned, pushing the thought away as the nicer buildings of the Solnair district came into view. Its streets were clean and buzzing with activity, and its architecture¡ªa harmonious blend of wood and stone¡ªoozed quiet wealth. Eric¡¯s studio stood out even here. Oak and spruce wood supported the bottoms of the building, while stone and vines wrapped topside giving the studio a contemporary feel.


    Xander skidded to a stop in front of the studio, spotting Eric through the wide glass windows. The Major Arcana holder sat cross-legged on the floor, brushes spread out around him like puzzle pieces he was trying to arrange. Taking a deep breath, Xander folded up his sunray and pushed open the door. A soft chime signaled his arrival, drawing Eric¡¯s gaze up from his work.


    The man greeted him with a warm smile, setting down the brush in his hand and rising to his feet. ¡°Welcome, Xander. I¡¯m glad you decided to come by.¡±


    Xander offered a sheepish shrug. ¡°Yeah, my mom convinced me.¡± His hand unconsciously brushed at the golden Wheel hovering above his head. ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to lead you on before. I just¡­ didn¡¯t see the point at the time.¡±


    Eric nodded, his understanding as effortless as his presence. ¡°No harm done.¡± He gestured for Xander to join him. ¡°Come on, take a seat. I think I know exactly what you need¡ªa good paint and vent session. From Major to Major.¡±


    A small smile tugged at Xander¡¯s lips as he nodded and sat down. The smell of paint and turpentine filled the studio, grounding him as Eric moved around with practiced ease, gathering supplies. The man moved like he was part of the space itself, every motion deliberate, every tool exactly where it needed to be.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Xander said, taking the towel Eric handed him and draping it over his lap. He scooted aside as Eric placed the brushes and paints between them, along with a thick canvas backed by a dark, polished frame. The professional finish made Xander¡¯s own supplies at home feel painfully amateur by comparison.


    Eric settled down beside him, clearing his throat as he spread his own towel over his lap. ¡°I know I¡¯m technically supposed to be giving you pointers, but I don¡¯t think that¡¯s what you need right now.¡± He leaned back slightly, grabbing a brush. ¡°How about this? Stop by the palace anytime. I¡¯m usually busy, but on the days I¡¯m not, I¡¯d be happy to give you a few tips.¡±


    Xander blinked at the unexpected generosity. ¡°Y-Yeah, I¡¯d like that. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Eh,¡± Eric waved him off with a flick of his wrist. ¡°Us Majors have to look out for each other. Now, let¡¯s get started, shall we?¡±


    Nodding, Xander reached for a brush, his eyes drifting over the array of paints. Shades and hues he¡¯d never even seen before gleamed in perfectly lined rows¡ªit was like a painter¡¯s dream laid out in front of him. He uncapped a deep crimson and added a dollop to his palette, the rich color instantly drawing his focus.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t want this card,¡± he muttered, almost to himself, as he dipped the brush into the red. He paused, then dragged a thick, deliberate line across the canvas. ¡°I really didn¡¯t.¡±


    Eric glanced at him, his expression steady but inviting Xander to continue.


    ¡°In the competition, I¡¯d finally decided I was going to take control of my life. That I¡¯d choose what came next,¡± Xander murmured, his voice low and raw. The brush moved again, leaving another bold streak. ¡°And then I get chosen. The Wheel of Fortune, of all cards. Like some kind of sick joke.¡±


    A bitter laugh escaped him, the sound hollow in the studio. ¡°The second I decide to take the wheel, it gets yanked out of my hands.¡±


    There was a brief pause, the soft swish of Eric¡¯s brush filling the silence before he finally spoke. ¡°I can¡¯t say I fully understand or relate to your situation, Xander,¡± he admitted, his tone measured. ¡°But what I can tell you is this¡ªthings in life often have deeper meanings than what we think.¡±


    Xander felt a retort bubbling up, but out of respect, he held his tongue, waiting for Eric to finish.


    ¡°What I mean is, with or without the card, choice has always been¡­ complicated. Some might even call it an illusion,¡± Eric continued, his voice calm but firm. ¡°We like to think we¡¯re in control, but so much shapes where we end up. Our environments, our friends, our families¡ªall of it plays a role in molding who we are.¡±


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    Xander started to protest, ¡°But¡ª¡± only to stop short as Eric held up a hand.


    ¡°Just hear me out. From the moment we¡¯re born, we¡¯re influenced¡ªwhether we like it or not. Sure, the cards come in and do it in a more obvious way, but at the end of the day, it¡¯s still you at your core. Think about it for a second. Look at the people around you who¡¯ve been chosen. Don¡¯t you notice a theme?¡±


    The question lingered in the air, and Xander¡¯s brush stilled mid-stroke as he turned the thought over in his mind. His gaze unfocused, memories surfacing of people he¡¯d known who were chosen. Jor¡¯dan came to mind first, a flustered mess when his card found him, but now? Confidence radiated off him in waves, earned through years of dedication. Then there was Jonathan, a kid from his old class, who had grown into one of the most respected builders in Solari.


    Maurice¡¯s theory wormed its way back into his thoughts. The idea that the cards chose people who best embodied their traits¡ªor at least had the potential to. That word lingered. Potential.


    He¡¯d been so wrapped up in the confusion and frustration of why he¡¯d been chosen, so focused on resisting the pull of it all, that he hadn¡¯t truly thought about what it might mean. What it might say about him¡­


    ¡°It¡¯s not easy.¡± Eric¡¯s voice cut through his thoughts, each soft brushstroke against the canvas like roots grounding Xander to the present. ¡°But I don¡¯t believe the cards choose randomly. Even in the worst of men, you can see why they were chosen.¡±


    Xander paused mid-stroke, letting the words sink in. He¡¯d never thought of it that way before. There were cards associated with darker traits, and each card has its reverse. Convicts, murderers¡ªeven they¡¯d been chosen. But why? If the cards knew so much, why pick people who were bound to wreak havoc?


    Lost in thought, Xander picked up a smaller brush and began mixing colors. Ochre yellow, cadmium red, and ultramarine blue blended into a tan-brown hue that mirrored his own skin tone. The quiet between them was comfortable, almost therapeutic¡ªa chance to reflect on Eric¡¯s words without the need to fill the silence.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me asking,¡± he ventured, breaking the calm. ¡°How do you and Lucil share the Lover¡¯s card? I thought the Major Arcana could only choose one holder.¡± He kept his tone gentle, unsure if the question might be a sore spot.


    Eric¡¯s laugh was light and unbothered, his shoulders shrugging as if it was the easiest question in the world. ¡°Now that,¡± he said, dipping his brush into a vibrant green, ¡°I don¡¯t exactly have an answer for. But I can tell you a little about how it works.¡±


    He gestured to the tiger on his canvas, and Xander leaned closer. His eyes widened as the painted animal stretched, sniffing the blank space below as if it were real ground. The illusion was mesmerizing, the tiger¡¯s movements fluid and lifelike.


    ¡°Our powers are split,¡± Eric explained, his brush adding details to the tiger¡¯s coat. ¡°When we¡¯re apart, they function on a smaller scale. It¡¯s only when we¡¯re close that we can fully unleash what the card allows us to do.¡±


    Xander nodded slowly, watching the tiger swat at the painted leaves Eric was adding. It made sense, now that he thought about it. The Lover¡¯s card was about connection, balance¡ªa reflection of halves that made a whole. The idea of it belonging to one person alone seemed almost contradictory.


    ¡°That dragon you saw at the festival, for example?¡± Eric chuckled, the corners of his mouth quirking up as he added another leaf. ¡°No way I could¡¯ve pulled that off without her there.¡±


    Xander felt a pang of envy in his chest. If he could trade this stupid Wheel for Eric¡¯s ability, he would do it in a heartbeat. The thought lingered, simmering, until he forced his focus back to the canvas in front of him. Letting himself get consumed by what-ifs wouldn¡¯t help anything. With a small grumble, he leaned in closer, working to refine the larger shapes he¡¯d already laid down.


    The process was tedious but grounding, each careful stroke a step toward clarity. Rendering was always satisfying¡ªtransforming vague blocks of color into something tangible. But his favorite part, the part that made the hours worth it, was adding the light and shadows. That was when the image came alive, each highlight and shadow breathing life into the piece.rendering¡ªthe lighting. Adding the lighting and shadows always took the piece to the next level.


    Time passed in a blur, both of them absorbed in their work. The room was filled with the soft sounds of bristles against canvas, the occasional shuffle as one of them reached for a new color or brush. The world outside melted away, leaving only the hum of creativity between them.


    Xander finally sat back, rolling his shoulders as he studied the finished painting in front of him. It was simple¡ªalmost minimalist¡ªbut it tugged at something deep within him. A quiet part of his spirit felt lighter, less burdened. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but for the first time in days, he found himself smiling.


    The piece depicted himself in close-up, the background purposefully dark to draw attention to the foreground. The bold red stroke he¡¯d painted at the very beginning had become the focal point, slicing across his eyes like a deliberate statement.


    Eric leaned over, his grin wide as he took it in. ¡°That¡¯s pretty sweet,¡± he said, nudging Xander lightly. ¡°I was wondering at first what that line was for, but now it makes sense. Good work.¡±


    Xander¡¯s cheeks flushed faintly as Eric set down his brush and turned to him with a more earnest look. ¡°And I meant what I said earlier,¡± Eric added. ¡°Come by the palace sometime when I¡¯m there. I enjoyed this.¡±


    The words hit Xander harder than he¡¯d expected. Eric¡ªhis long-time inspiration¡ªhad enjoyed spending time with him? The self-doubt he¡¯d carried into the studio tried to claw its way back, whispering that Eric was just being polite. But looking at the man¡¯s genuine expression, Xander found it easier to silence the voice this time.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Xander managed, a small but sincere smile spreading across his face. He leaned over to look at Eric¡¯s finished piece, eyes widening. ¡°Jeez¡­ this is amazing!¡± The tiger was mid-pounce in a dense forest, the details so intricate it felt alive. Every tree, every stump, every leaf seemed like an interactive part of the tiger¡¯s story, weaving together in harmony.


    Eric chuckled as he began cleaning up the supplies. ¡°Thanks, I¡¯m sure Lucy likes it.¡±


    ¡°Lucy?¡± He blurted, brows scrunching before the realization hit. Xander snickered, ¡°The tiger?¡±


    ¡°Who else?¡± Eric shot him a wry grin.


    The studio filled with laughter as they tidied up. Xander felt noticeably lighter¡ªrelieved in a way he hadn¡¯t realized he needed. He silently thanked his mom for convincing him to come. For just a few hours, the weight of the Wheel had lifted, and he¡¯d been able to lose himself in something he loved.


    They said their goodbyes, Xander promising to stop by the palace once Eric had finished his next project for the Vale. Clutching his canvas under one arm, he stepped onto his sunray board and set a course for home. The relaxed buzz of creative satisfaction lingered as he cruised through the streets, weaving carefully to avoid jostling the canvas. Eric had reassured him it was durable, but Xander wasn¡¯t taking any chances.


    As he reached the south side¡ªthe curving streets that¡¯d lead him back home¡ªa familiar tugging sensation returned. The pull toward the wall.


    Irritation surged like a tide, souring his good mood. Of course, the Wheel couldn¡¯t let him have peace for long. This time, the tug was stronger, sharper, like invisible threads twisting his insides into a tight knot.


    Xander snarled under his breath, ¡°Fuck. Off.¡±


    The words had barely left his lips when he turned a corner to the right¡ªand his stomach twisted in sudden, searing pain. His balance wavered, and he hit the ground with a thud, the canvas tumbling onto the rocky pavement beside him.


    The knot in his stomach felt alive, twisting and pulling as though it were rearranging his insides. Each wave of pain struck sharper than the last, threatening to tear through him. His eyes squeezed shut, jaw tightening as he weathered the storm. It wasn¡¯t just discomfort¡ªit was purposeful, deliberate. The Wheel wasn¡¯t just tugging anymore; it was demanding.


    It¡¯d never been this bad before. The thought hit him like a cold spike of dread: Was the Wheel starting to get angry? Would it eventually kill him if he didn¡¯t listen?


    The pain began to subside, ebbing into a dull ache that left him trembling. He cautiously opened his eyes, the world around him swimming back into focus. The first thing he saw was the distant wall, its towering form looming on the horizon.


    A coincidence? No. He already knew the answer to that.


    This damned Wheel wasn¡¯t taking no for an answer¡ªand that realization sent a ripple of fear coursing through him. His stomach churned, though this time it wasn¡¯t from the Wheel.


    He just wanted to live. To be safe. To have a comfortable life in Solari, painting, helping at the shop, existing without being thrown into the chaos of the unknown. Was that really too much to fucking ask?


    The Wheel clicked behind him, its steady turn loud in the oppressive silence. The sound felt like an answer, firm and unyielding.


    Xander scowled, his fear quickly morphing into frustration. He pushed himself off the ground, swiping at the dust clinging to his clothes, and reached for the canvas. But his hands trembled as he picked it up, the dull ache in his stomach a constant reminder.


    The Wheel had made its intentions clear. He wasn¡¯t sure what terrified him more¡ªthe possibility that it wouldn¡¯t stop¡­ or the fact that, deep down, he knew he couldn¡¯t ignore it any longer.


    Both.

 Chapter 13

    Chapter 13


    Xander gasped as he awoke, hands instinctively clutching at his stomach, where fire seemed to course through every nerve. His chest heaved with sharp, shallow breaths, and a bead of sweat slid into his eye, the sting a mild discomfort in comparison to the inferno that roared inside his abdomen. The heat wasn¡¯t decreasing, and the thick blanket on top of him only seemed to amplify the suffocating burn.


    He tried to kick it off, but his body felt weak, unresponsive. With a frustrated grunt, he managed to yank the blanket away, the heavy fabric hitting the floor with a dull thud. He swung his legs to the side of the bed, intending to stand, but as he shifted his weight, the constricting sensation in his stomach tightened like a vice.


    With a strangled gasp, he collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, his hands scrabbling for leverage on the damp sheets above. ¡°Ahh,¡± he hissed through clenched teeth, forcing his arms to pull him up slightly before they gave out entirely.


    The pain was relentless, each wave more punishing than the last. Yesterday¡¯s tugging felt like a faint whisper in comparison to this brutal assault. Face pressed into the sheets, he panted, his vision swimming with golden threads that danced mockingly at the edges of his sight. He prayed for the agony to end, his thoughts fragmented and pleading.


    Finally, the fire dulled, leaving behind an aching, hollow emptiness. He lay there for a few moments, catching his breath, his muscles trembling like they¡¯d run a marathon. He couldn¡¯t do this anymore¡ªcouldn¡¯t endure whatever hell the Wheel was putting him through.


    With a groan, Xander pushed himself off the bed, every movement sluggish and deliberate, as though his body might give out again at any moment. He stumbled into the bathroom, his hand slapping against the tiles to turn on the light. The warm glow revealed a reflection that made him flinch.


    Shit, was what he looked like. Sweat dripped from his forehead, streaking his skin as it clung uncomfortably to his shirt. His under-eyes were dark, sunken, giving him an almost ghostly appearance. He raised a hand to his face, his fingers trembling visibly. His skin was hot to the touch, feverish, and the wheel spinning faintly behind his head only added to the unsettling image.


    He''d needed answers, now.


    Maurice. Stella. Someone. Anyone. One of them had to know something¡ªanything¡ªthat could help. Records, stories, theories¡­ even vague guesses were better than nothing. He couldn¡¯t keep living like this, waiting for the next strike to take him out completely. Leaving Solari wasn¡¯t an option, there had to be another way.


    The wheel spun behind his head, an ominous presence that seemed to mock him in its silence. Tendrils of fear wrapped around his chest, constricting tighter with every second he stared at its reflection in the mirror.


    ¡°Please,¡± he whispered, his voice cracked and raw. ¡°I¡¯m begging you¡­ pick someone else. Please.¡±


    He didn¡¯t care about potential, didn¡¯t care about the promises of greatness or destiny. He just wanted to be Xander¡ªjust Xander. No grand expectations, no pain, no Wheel.


    But the Wheel clicked softly behind him, unbothered by his plea. Its indifference lit a spark of anger in his chest, and before he could think, he swung his fist into the tiles beside him. The sharp impact sent pain radiating up his knuckles, regret instantly mingling with his frustration.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± he muttered under his breath, cradling his throbbing hand.


    The bathroom felt suffocating, the air heavy with the tension of his unspoken fears. He needed answers¡ªnow. Maurice, someone at the palace¡ªanyone who could tell him how to stop this before it was too late. He couldn¡¯t take another episode like this. The memory of the burning pain in his stomach was enough to make him shudder. It had felt like his insides were turning to ash, and the thought of enduring it again churned his gut.


    Ripping off his sweat-soaked shirt, he stepped into his room, his mind set. Determination overrode exhaustion as he grabbed a dry tank top and tugged it on. Without another glance in the mirror, he burst out of his room and into the hallway.


    The earthy scent of incense wafted through the shop, usually a comforting smell, but today it did nothing to calm him. He marched downstairs, his footsteps heavy on the creaking wood.


    His parents were in the lobby, their hands mid-dusting as they turned toward him. He felt their gazes¡ªsoft, heavy with unspoken worry. Their pity and silent acceptance only fueled the fire inside him.


    He snatched his sunray from its hook on the wall with more force than necessary, his movements sharp and hurried. From the corner of his eye, he caught their concerned expressions, but he didn¡¯t stop.


    The sun hit him like a slap to the face as he stepped outside, its heat adding to the simmering vexation bubbling under his skin. He slammed the sunray onto the ground with a loud metallic clang, startling a few passersby who shot him nervous glances.


    Without a word, he stepped onto the board, his jaw clenched tight. His foot pressed hard on the back, activating boost mode with a sharp whirr. The wind whipped past him as he sped down the streets, his heart pounding with anger and desperation.


    He was done with this ability, done with this Wheel. Maybe there was a way to give it up, to rip it out of his body and throw it into the trash where it belonged. Whatever it took, he¡¯d find a way to make it stop.


    Of course, the idea of giving up the Wheel was highly unlikely, but that didn¡¯t stop him from ruminating on it deeply. The crowds blurred as he moved rapidly past, his frustration momentarily shielding him from caring about the stares or whispers. Let them look. Let them talk. He had bigger things to deal with.


    The palace loomed ahead, its elegant spires and sprawling gardens visible even over the tallest buildings in the Vale. Staff and gardeners bustled about the front yard, tending to flowers and shrubs while others rushed around with stacks of papers in hand. The scene was as busy as ever, though it had a sense of order¡ªa stark contrast to the chaos swirling in Xander¡¯s mind.


    He unclipped his sunray as he approached the entrance, stepping off with a clatter of boots against the stone walkway. His eyes scanned the area, looking for anyone who could point him in the direction of Maurice.


    A flicker of movement caught his eye¡ªan all-too-familiar dress flitting past his peripheral vision. He turned sharply toward it, his memory connecting the dots. ¡°Janice?¡± he called out.


    The woman stopped abruptly and turned, her wide eyes lighting up in recognition. ¡°Uh, yes?¡± she said, her tone polite but uncertain. ¡°What can I do for you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for Maurice,¡± he said, his voice still carrying the edge of his earlier frustration. ¡°Is he here?¡±


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Janice nodded quickly, pointing down the left corridor, the one lined with statues he¡¯d admired during his first visit. ¡°His office is all the way down and to the right. You¡¯ll know it when you see it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± he muttered, giving a curt nod before heading in the direction she indicated. His boots echoed against the polished floors as he marched down the hallway, eyes fixed forward, unyielding. The ornate statues and intricate artwork that had once captivated him now barely registered. He had no time for admiration.


    After a few minutes, a large oak door came into view. Just as she¡¯d said¡ªit was impossible to miss. Its carved panels and polished brass handle spoke to its importance. Without hesitation, he raised a hand and knocked firmly, the sound reverberating through the corridor.


    Shuffling came from inside, followed by the creak of the door opening. Maurice stood there, his brow lifting in mild surprise. ¡°Oh, I wasn¡¯t expecting this,¡± he said, his voice as gentle as ever. His gaze scanned Xander¡¯s expression, his emotions plain on his face. ¡°What can I do for you, Xander?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the Wheel, these powers,¡± Xander snapped immediately. ¡°It¡¯s driving me insane, Maurice. I can¡¯t take it anymore.¡±


    ¡°Woah, woah, Xander. Take a breath,¡± Maurice said calmly, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder before guiding him into the office. He gestured to the plush sofa in the middle of the room.


    Xander hesitated but complied, his breathing still ragged as he sank into the cushions. His eyes darted around the space, hoping for some distraction to keep his thoughts from spiraling. Bookshelves dominated the walls, filled to bursting with tomes that looked older than him. Trinkets and strange objects lined the other shelves¡ªarcane and unfamiliar, though they looked important. A large marble desk sat at the far end of the room, its surface meticulously organized, and an open balcony behind it let in a soft breeze that ruffled the curtains. The peacefulness of the room only served to mock his storming thoughts.


    A gentle clink pulled his attention. Maurice had placed a steaming cup of tea in front of him. Xander blinked, slightly startled, before nodding in thanks and grabbing the cup. The first sip sent warmth coursing through him, soothing some of the tension coiled tightly in his chest. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders easing as he leaned back into the couch, exhaustion weighing him down like a leaden blanket.


    Maurice took a seat across from him, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. His voice was steady but tinged with concern. ¡°Talk to me, Xander. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    Xander gripped his cup tightly, his fingers pressing against the porcelain as he tried to find the words. ¡°It¡¯s these feelings,¡± he finally said, his tone clipped. ¡°They started a few days ago¡ªlight at first, like little nudges. It was easy to ignore. But now¡­¡± He clenched his jaw. ¡°Now, it¡¯s not so much.¡±


    Maurice frowned slightly, his brows knitting together. ¡°Can you explain these feelings in more detail?¡±


    ¡°The first few days, it felt like a gentle tug,¡± Xander began, his gaze dropping to the swirling tea in his cup. ¡°Like something nudging me toward the wall. But the more I ignored it, the sharper the pain got.¡± He let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. ¡°Yesterday, I fell off my sunray because the pain was too much¡ªit felt like my insides were being shredded apart. Today, I woke up and felt like I was on fire. My bed was soaking wet, and I¡¯m pretty sure it wasn¡¯t just from water.¡±


    Maurice was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he ran a hand through his hair. He abruptly stood, crossing the room toward the bookshelves, his fingers skimming the spines of the books as though searching for something. ¡°And do you have any idea why it¡¯s tugging you toward the wall?¡± he asked without turning.


    Xander didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°It wants me to leave Solari,¡± he said flatly. The answer was obvious¡ªit had been for days. Why else would the Wheel pull him in that direction?


    Maurice¡¯s hand paused, his fingers brushing against a weathered brown book. He pulled it free and walked back to the couch, its leather cover creaking faintly as he flipped it open. The couch dipped under his weight as he sat, the book resting heavily in his lap. ¡°This is one of the few records we have of the last Wheel of Fortune holder,¡± he said, his tone measured. ¡°It¡¯s faint, fragmented, but maybe there¡¯s something in here that can help.¡±


    Xander scooted closer, peering down at the book as Maurice flipped carefully through its fragile pages. The leather binding creaked with each turn, and the paper itself looked ancient¡ªweathered with darkened patches and faint stains.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Maurice murmured, stopping on a page and running his fingers across the broken text. His brow furrowed as he tried to piece together the fragmented words.


    Xander squinted but quickly gave up. The strange grammar and faded ink made it nearly impossible to read, and he wasn¡¯t about to give himself a headache trying. Leaning back against the couch, he let Maurice focus, hoping the Magician could find something useful amidst the mess.


    ¡°Like I said back in the courtyard,¡± Maurice eventually sighed, his fingers still tracing the faint lines of text, ¡°it talks about a tug, but nothing like what you¡¯ve described.¡± He flipped to the opposite page, scanning for more clues before shaking his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Xander. I really wish I could help.¡±


    The disappointment hit harder than Xander expected. He¡¯d been holding out hope¡ªgrasping at straws¡ªbut now even that thread was fraying. He stared up at the ceiling, irritation bubbling beneath his skin. Of course the book didn¡¯t have the answers. Why would it?


    A sudden whoosh broke through his thoughts. The curtains flapped as a bird with fiery feathers swooped into the room, its blazing form startling Xander into sitting upright. It landed gracefully on Maurice¡¯s desk, clutching a rolled letter in its beak.


    Maurice, unfazed, strode over and retrieved the message. He gave the bird a gentle pat on its head, which it seemed to take as a cue to leave. With a burst of heat, it darted back out the window and into the open sky.


    ¡°Excuse the theatrics,¡± Maurice chuckled, shaking his head as he unraveled the letter. ¡°Seline¡¯s always been a bit¡­ old-school.¡±


    ¡°Seline?¡± Xander echoed.


    ¡°I reached out to her a few days ago regarding your situation,¡± Maurice explained, scanning the letter¡¯s contents. ¡°I asked if she could divine anything for you. She¡¯d need to meet you in person for her abilities to work fully, but occasionally, she picks up enough just from the messages.¡±


    Xander sat up straighter, his attention sharpening. He¡¯d almost forgotten about the High Priestess amidst everything else going on, but now her name rekindled a small spark of hope. He watched Maurice¡¯s expression, waiting, bracing.


    ¡°Good news,¡± Maurice said finally, though his tone wavered. ¡°She wants to meet you.¡±


    ¡°And the bad news?¡± Xander asked, his stomach sinking before Maurice even answered.


    ¡°She says it¡¯s ¡®not time yet,¡¯¡± Maurice replied, his brows furrowing as he reread the words, clearly as perplexed as Xander.


    A flash of irritation surged through him. ¡°Let me guess it has something to do with this wheel?¡±


    Maurice winced, then nodded reluctantly. ¡°She doesn¡¯t provide specifics, just that you must follow the wheel''s guidance.¡±


    ¡°Damnit!¡± Xander snapped, shooting to his feet. His voice cracked under the heft of his frustration. ¡°Again, again, and again, this fucking card has to get in the way. Ruining everything!¡±


    ¡°Xander, calm down¡ª¡± Maurice started, his tone soft but firm.


    Xander bit his tongue, resisting the urge to scream. He grit his teeth, shaking his head furiously before barreling for the door. ¡°Thanks for the help.¡±


    He didn¡¯t wait for a response, moving swiftly down the hallways, his steps echoing harder with each passing second. His patience was shot, and he needed to get out of the palace before he did something he¡¯d regret.


    Bursting outside, he snapped out his sunray and hopped on, immediately activating the boost mode. The wheel began clicking behind his head, each turn grating on his frayed nerves. The familiar streets of Solari Vale whipped past him in a blur of colors and shapes, but none of it registered. He just needed to get home, he needed to escape.


    As the familiar stretch of his neighborhood came into view, Santuna¡¯s Fortuna stood proud on the right side of the road. He unclipped his board and stepped inside, pausing when he noticed the quiet. The lack of customers was unusual for this time of day. His gaze flicked to the door¡ªthe sign had been flipped to "Closed."


    Probably eating lunch.


    Trudging upstairs, he pushed the door open and froze. His eyes widened at the scene before him.


    Jor¡¯dan sat at the kitchen table with his parents, all three wearing expressions of quiet intensity. His mother¡¯s eyes reflected concern, his father¡¯s firm but equally worried, while Jor¡¯dan¡¯s gaze held a steady determination. The air in the room was thick, almost suffocating.


    The sound of the door made them all look up. His mother immediately tried to speak, her voice soft but uncertain. ¡°Honey, we were talking and¡ª¡±


    Jor¡¯dan interrupted, standing up from his chair. His voice was blunt, unwavering. ¡°I left the guild.¡±


    Xander blinked, his jaw slack with disbelief. ¡°What?¡±