“What did you see?” I ask.
“In addition to the myriad external enemies you’ll likely encounter, all of you will face great personal adversities on this quest. It is only through your bond—your shared strength, love, and loyalty—that you will endure. Ironically, it is that same bond that brings such traumas to light.”
“What sort of traumas? What do you mean?”
Lala’s eyes darken, taking on a sorrowful cast. “The pain and guilt that haunt your waking hours shall come to life here, in whatever ways your subconscious chooses to manifest them.”
“But how does that work if it’s a shared dream? Will we all see the same things?” I cringe inwardly, hoping I don’t have to bare my entire soul to the guys tonight. Not here. Not like this.
“The dream realm is deeply embedded within you, but it is also a place—a place through which you and many others pass. Yet every experience of it differs, as every dreamer creates her own world from the fathomless depths of her subconscious mind.”
I glance down at my wedding dress, wondering what kind of craziness my fathomless depths are up to. “So I’ve got a wedding fetish? No offense, Lala, but I’m not looking for a ring just yet. A sword, yes. Not a ring.”
“That’s not a wedding dress.” She brushes her knuckles along the beaded bodice, her gaze full of concern. “It’s a sacrificial gown.”
“A what now?”
“In times of old, when humans first came to understand the magick the First Fool brought forth, women deemed unworthy of possessing such magick were adorned in fine white gowns and sacrificed in elaborate rites. They believed it would prove to the elemental deities and the First Fool himself that they revered magick more than even life itself.” Lala shakes her head. “The fact that you’re wearing such a dress in your dreams suggests that deep in your soul, you don’t see yourself as worthy of magick.”
The words of Dark Judgment echo, the memory of his viciousness permanently seared in my brain.
You are unworthy of the magick you carry…
“Why can’t my subconscious be lounging on a secluded tropical island, piña colada in hand, hot naked guys rubbing coconut oil on my thighs?”
“That sounds divine, doesn’t it?” Lala’s eyes glint with humor, but once again, it doesn’t last. She reaches toward me as her smile fades, lightly touching my braid. “You don’t believe you deserve such pleasures, Starla. The purple hyacinth flowers speak to a deep regret and sorrow from your past—a forgiveness that has not been granted, but must be, if you are to become whole.”
“You sound like my Tarot cards. Always telling me what I already know, but don’t want to deal with.”
“I am the High Priestess, child. What is my purpose if not to guide you through the murky depths of your subconscious?”
“I know. I just wish my depths were a little less murky.”
Lala’s eyes twinkle. “Much like the cards, I cannot tell you what to do. But I will offer something for consideration, if you’ll allow me?”
Beyond our little rise of land, the rocky towers still smolder, tingeing the air with a dark, sulfuric scent that makes my skin prickle. Whatever happened here, it can’t have been good.
I can only hope Baz and Kirin weren’t in the vicinity when the place got leveled.
Fresh fear surges inside, but I tamp it down. Lala just sensed them close by. She assured me I’d find them.
“Please,” I say. “Offer away.”
“Often the person we most need to forgive is ourself.”
A soft laugh escapes my lips. “Well, that sounds super easy, right?”
So many people have been hurt because of me. Have died. And still, at this very moment, I’m leading two of the men I love straight into the mouth of hell.
Forgive myself? I wouldn’t even know where to begin.
Tears sting the backs of my eyes, but I keep them at bay. Right now, my murky inner demons need to take a number—we’ve got much more dangerous monsters to wrangle here.
“Where do the Dark Arcana fit into this?” I ask, getting us back on track with the highlights reel of my previous dream realm encounters: The Chariot running roughshod across campus, hunting my friends in cold blood; Judgment’s baby-eating, pyromaniacal freakshow; the Magician’s cruel army. “If that’s all just a subconscious projection of my personal baggage, then I’m even more messed up than I thought.”
“The Dark Arcana do not exist in your subconscious,” she says, gesturing for me to follow her back down toward the water, toward cleaner air. “All Arcana energy—light and dark—exists on another plane until it manifests in its physical form. That manifestation typically happens quickly, when one human emanation of an Arcana passes on and another is chosen as the vessel.”
“So there are always twenty-one,” I say, recalling what Doc and the others had told me when I first learned I was the Star. Every witch and mage possesses elemental gifts—air, earth, water, fire, or some combination—and a few rare witches like myself possess spirit magick. But twenty-one of us are also emanations of the Tarot’s major Arcana. As one dies, another is born, cue the Circle of Life song.
