The memory filters through, and I listen in as my mother convinces Trello to begin spreading rumors to undermine her reputation, to convince other faculty members and advisors to break ties, to discredit my mother’s research, and to ultimately banish my parents from the Academy altogether.
Give us a convincing reason to turn our backs on magick forever, Anna,my mother implores. She holds me in her arms, a baby no more than a few weeks old, pink and wrinkly in my white blanket.Her life depends on it. We have to protect her, no matter what. Promise me! Promise me you’ll do whatever it takes, tonight and always…
“Your mother believed—shewantedto believe—that if it looked like she and your father were breaking ties with magick, they might have a chance at cutting off the Magician’s connection to her magick, and more importantly—at hiding you. At pretending you were a natural child born of natural means, raised in a life of normalcy where the Magician couldn’t reach you.”
“But… but Iamnatural.” I blink away the vision, meeting Trello’s eyes again. “I’m a natural-born witch, daughter of Connor and Melissa Milan.”
“A witch—of course. Born to Melissa Milan—yes. But Connor…” Her eyes soften, filling with a sympathy that makes my blood run cold.
“Wait. You’re telling me he’s not my real father?” I ask. And then—dark, cold, horrifying—another realization dawns. “Holy shit. Is my father… Is the Magician… Is he?”
“No, of course not. Yourfatheris Connor Milan, the man who raised you. The man you’vealwayscalled father.”
I let out a sigh of relief, but Trello shakes her head, the pity in her eyes intensifying. “But biologically speaking… Well, biologically speaking, I suppose the only way to describe it…”
She spreads the rest of the cards across the table, revealing every one of them, the minors and majors of the Tarot, all the suits, all the symbols and imagery that make our magick possible.
“Your father is Magick itself, Starla.”
“That’s… not possible,” Doc says, his voice startling me after holding silence for so long. He reaches for my hand across the table, squeezing it tightly.
“So much about her seems impossible,” Trello tells him. Then, turning back to me, “Yet here you are. You can heal yourself. You’re a Spirit-blessed emanation of the Major Arcana, further blessed by the four princesses of the Tarot. You can dreamcast, dream share, dream retrieve. You’ve already developed a bond with your familiar that most witches spend decades developing. You located the Arcana objects. Is it really so hard to believe?”
I blink away fresh tears, my brain threatening to shut down. This is crazy. This is bananas. This is so far out of the realm of comprehension, I’m starting to think I’m still stuck in the dream realm—like I never even came back from that trip with Baz and Kirin.
Hell, maybe they’re not real either. Maybe none of this is real.
Maybe my entire life is no more than some other witch’s dream, and if and when she decides to wake up, I’ll just… stop existing.Poof!
“Everything the Magician wants,” Trello says, “everything he’s chased, across the boundaries of time and space, for millennia—youalready have the power to command.Youcan unite the Arcana objects and reclaim magick for the witches and mages who seek to honor it.Youhave the power to unite the Light Arcana in the battle against the coming darkness. And when the rest of the world wants to give up, to lay down their arms and walk away from this fight,youhave the power to inspire hope. To give us all a reason to keep living. To keep loving. To keep fighting, no matter what the cost.”
Fire burns inside my chest, magick singing through my veins. But it’s all too much to process, too much to carry.
“I don’twantthat power,” I say. “I don’t want any of it.” I rub the pentacle tattoo on my wrist, willing my magick to fade, willing myself to wake up out of this witch’s nightmare and return to my mundane life in Tres Búhos. “I would trade everyounceof magick inside me if it meant I could have my parents back. If it meant I’d be stuck in some dusty-ass desert town working at a tiny little tea shop for the rest of my life. If it meant I didn’t have to face the Magician or this dark destiny or… or any of it.”
“Search your heart,” she says softly. “I think you’ll find that’s not exactly true.”
I open my mouth to tell her I don’tneedto search my heart, but Goddess, she’s right. I hate her for it, but she’s absolutely right. As much as I’d give anything to have my parents back, losing them is what set me on this path. It brought magick into my life. It brought love and friendship into my life. It brought a deep sense of purpose, a fate I could no more outrun than mother could outrun hers.
I squeeze Doc’s hand and nod, letting out a deep breath of acceptance.
Magick. Fate. Destiny. Hope. All of it endlessly shifting, but always bringing me right back here, right back where I belong.
“Thank you,” I finally say—a phrase I wasn’t sure I was capable of offering the woman seated across from me. “Thank you for telling me about my mother. About all of this.”
“It is your story, Starla. Your legacy. It was always meant for you to hear.”
At this, the candles finally flicker out, the last of the spell releasing us from its hold. Trello sweeps her Tarot deck into a neat stack, save for a lone card that flutters to the floor beside me.
I crouch down to retrieve it. It’s Trump eleven, the Justice card, featuring a stern-looking woman dressed in chainmail and a rich burgundy cape, holding a sword in one hand and a scale in the other. Perched at her side on a rocky bench, a brown-and-white owl looks on, a darker version of my Jareth.
The moment my fingers touch the card, Iknow.
“It’s you!” I gasp, clutching the card and getting to my feet.
Trello rises from her chair and nods once, then extends her arms, whispering an ancient incantation I haven’t the knowledge to translate. All around her, red and silver runes glow bright in the air, swirling around her on an invisible current. When they finally fade, she’s standing before us with the sword and the scale, the cape draped elegantly over her shoulders.
It’s only a moment, and then the magick fades, revealing regular Anna Trello once again.
