While Klein was rushing home to climb above the Grey Fog for another divination, Melissa's first contact with Stephen had also wrapped up for now.
Melissa was the Moses Ascetic Order's replacement representative, sent to take over from Solicitor Derlin. Stephen was the last person to have met with Derlin — and held a letter of introduction Derlin had left for exactly such a visitor.
After a brief conversation, the two of them came to an easy understanding and agreed to return together in three days to explore the underground vault where Derlin had met his end.
After parting from Stephen, Melissa went back to her rented room at the hotel. She pushed the door open to find her teacher already inside, as she always seemed to be — a figure in a black dress with something like starlight woven through the fabric, sitting quietly by the window, head tilted back to look at the deep crimson moon.
"Teacher."
Melissa gave a polite greeting. "I've made contact with the person. We've arranged to explore the underground vault together in three days."
The woman in the black dress let her gaze rest on Melissa for a moment, then raised a hand — and a thin, transparent, finger-width creature flew out of Melissa's body and perched between her pinched fingers.
It was a worm with twelve circular rings, slowly squirming. A faint shimmer crossed the woman's fingertips, and the worm immediately stopped moving — shrivelling rapidly, losing all vitality.
"!!!"
Melissa stared at the thing in crawling horror, covering her mouth. "Teacher — what is that?"
"A Worm of Time."
The woman said, without inflection. "Don't worry. This was simply someone's way of saying hello to me."
"A greeting?"
Melissa's expression went thoroughly blank.
Her teacher apparently had no intention of explaining further. Melissa had learned by now not to push — if her teacher chose not to explain something, there was only ever one reason: it wasn't something Melissa was ready to know yet.
The woman in the black dress moved to the writing desk, sat down, and drew from the shadows a sheet of parchment and a feathered quill. She rested her cheek on one hand, thinking, then wrote a single line.
"Do you truly not want revenge, Alsokhod?"
She released the pen. It remained standing upright on the paper.
A few seconds later, the quill began to write on its own:
"No."
Tap.
The moment the final letter was complete, the quill fell to the desk and lay still.
The woman in black reached out one finger and tapped the desktop softly, three times. Then she opened her mouth and began to hum — a melody, clean and beautiful, like something heard from a great distance.
...
Monday afternoon, two forty PM. Klein arrived in the Grey Fog's mysterious hall a little early.
Last night he'd run multiple divinations on the ring, and every result was the same: no harm. When he'd tried a dream-divination to trace the ring's origin, he saw nothing at all.
But that blankness itself told him something.
He then turned to the blank note and divined that too. This time the result finally shifted. In the dream, the man wrote only a handful of words: "Amon is inside me."
"What does that mean?"
The name Amon — Klein had heard it from the Hanged Man before. Some ancient Fourth Epoch family, shrouded in mystery, having left almost no trace in recorded history.
Was this "Amon" the same as the family Alger had mentioned? And why would the man say Amon was inside him?
Klein sat in the ancient hall with the bronze chair, turning it over and getting nowhere.
After a while, he shook his head and let it go. The man was a stranger he'd encountered by chance. Why was he so fixated on it?
He unwound the black eye from his right wrist, poured spirituality into it, and projected an image of himself across the long table — a second presence, separate from the seat of The Fool. His secondary identity. Time to get comfortable with how it worked.
From this point on, for anything he needed to raise or ask, this secondary persona could do it in his stead — and he had the Sequence 5 Marionettist to thank for that.
At three PM, beams of light rose through the hall, and the blurry red-tinged forms of Justice, the Hanged Man, the Sun, and the Lovers took shape.
Hm?
One fewer than usual.
It didn't take long for the others to notice that Miss Lovers hadn't appeared. Curious eyes moved to Mr. Lovers.
Vincent was briefly thrown, then guessed the reason. For the next four weeks, it would be him in control during body-swap time — and the same was true whenever Klein convened the Tarot Club. The first few sessions had already confirmed that Bernadette couldn't independently enter the Grey Fog.
Which meant all those theories about the two Lovers being a demonstration of Mr. Fool's mysterious power — those had aged poorly.
Vincent put on a suitably puzzled face. "I'm not sure what's happened, either."
The group turned to Mr. Fool.
...
Don't look at me. I don't know either.
But he could only put on a composed expression, gather his thoughts quickly, and say with calm authority: "For the next four weeks, Mr. Lovers will attend the Tarot Club alone."
This was simply a statement of fact — Klein had deduced that the reason Miss Lovers was absent was connected to Mr. Lovers being in control. What exactly had happened, he couldn't say, so he said only what he knew.
He then gestured toward the far end of the table. "This is our new member — Mr. World."
Audrey had noticed the new arrival immediately. She'd been quietly wondering if it might be Fors or Xio. Then Mr. Fool said "Mr.," and a small private disappointment surfaced — before she set it aside and gave a polite curtsy. "Good afternoon, Mr. World."
The World — that is, Klein's secondary persona — suppressed his voice and replied with a calm, flat tone: "Hello."
After the greetings settled, Klein's gaze swept across everyone, landing on Vincent.
"Mr. Fool — the simple commission you gave me last week has been completed."
Klein's heart gave a small jump. Just yesterday, Cesimir had told him Lanevus had disappeared without a trace — and now Mr. Lovers was offering a surprise.
He leaned back slightly. "Oh?"
"Based on the intelligence I've gathered, that con man Lanevus is now in the hands of MI9."
"MI9?"
Audrey was surprised. She'd heard of the organisation from her father — the royal family's intelligence arm, sometimes called the crown's talons.
She asked curiously: "Did Lanevus swindle someone in the royal family?"
"Not exactly."
Vincent said: "As I understand it, the True Creator implanted some form of divine essence into Lanevus's body, making him the ideal vessel for that evil god's descent."
"Because of this, the Aurora Order has been searching for Lanevus for some time, intending to use him to complete a ritual and bring the True Creator to Backlund."
"Oh."
Audrey went still for a moment. I've been in my house sipping champagne and dancing, and this whole time you're telling me an evil god is one step away from descending?
To be continued…
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