Part of me wanted to walk away. To keep whatever was happening with the cards private until I understood it better myself. But another part was curious about this strange, intense girl who seemed to see right through me.
Slowly, I reached into my jacket and pulled out the black lacquered box.
Reva's eyes widened slightly. "May I?"
I hesitated, then handed it to her. As soon as the box left my hands, I felt oddly disconnected, like I'd given away a piece of myself.
She opened it carefully, her fingers tracing the edge of the lid. When she saw the cards inside, she went completely still.
"Tarot," she whispered. "The Major Arcana."
"You know what they are?"
"Of course." She looked up at me. "These aren't just cards, Max. These are archetypes. Universal principles given form."
She pulled out the top card—The Fool—and examined it closely.
"This is the only one that's fully formed," she noted. "The rest are blank."
"Not all of them." I reached over and took the second card from the deck. "This one's starting to change."
I showed her The Magician, its outlines becoming clearer by the hour.
Reva studied it with an intensity that was almost unsettling. "It's waking up."
"That's one way of putting it."
She handed both cards back to me. "Do you know what's happening?"
"Not really. Just that this morning, during Hask's class, something... shifted." I chose my words carefully. "It felt like time slowed down. There was fog, and then... well, I think I met him. The Magician."
"Met him?"
"He appeared. Talked to me. Called me boring, actually."
Reva laughed, the sound unexpectedly warm. "That tracks. The Magician doesn't suffer passivity well."
"You talk like you know him."
"I know of him." She took the box from my hands and closed it gently. "The Major Arcana are the oldest symbols in multiple magical traditions. They represent fundamental forces, aspects of consciousness, stages on the journey to self-realization."
She handed the box back to me. Our fingers brushed, and for a second, I swore I felt something—a current, a recognition.
"The Fool is the beginning," she continued. "The one who steps off the cliff without fear because they don't know enough to be afraid. And The Magician is the first teacher—the one who shows The Fool how to manifest will into reality."
"Sounds like you've studied this."
"I have interests beyond being a Calloway disappointment." Her smile held no humor. "My family doesn't appreciate them much."
The wind picked up, blowing her hair across her face. She tucked it behind her ear.
"So what now?" I asked.
"Now," she said, "we figure out what wakes them up."
"We?"
"Unless you'd rather do it alone." She raised an eyebrow. "But I'm guessing you don't have much experience with arcane symbolism and psycho-spiritual awakening."
"Can't say it was covered in my high school curriculum, no."
"Then you need me." She said it with such simple confidence that I couldn't even be offended. "And I... find you fascinating."
The way she said "fascinating" made my skin warm. There was something about Reva that was both unnerving and magnetic—like standing too close to a fire that might burn you but feels too good to step away from.
"What's in it for you?" I asked.
"Knowledge. Entertainment." Her smile widened slightly. "The chance to be part of something unprecedented."
"And if I say no?"
"Then I respect your decision." She shrugged one shoulder. "And wait for you to change your mind when you realize you need help."
I laughed despite myself. "You're very sure of yourself."
"I don't make bets I can't win Max." She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell her perfume—something expensive and subtle. "And you're already curious. Already wondering what I know that you don't."
She wasn't wrong. And if The Magician was waking up—if I actually had a chance at summoning something after two years of nothing—I needed all the information I could get.
"Fine," I said. "We can work together. But on one condition."
"Name it."
"Show me your Anima. The one that got you disowned."
Her eyes flashed with something—surprise, maybe, or approval. "Bold request."
"Fair exchange. You've seen my cards. I want to see what the Calloways found so objectionable."
For a moment, I thought she might refuse. Then she stepped back and closed her eyes.
"Vexara," she said softly. "Come."
The air around her shimmered, condensing into a form that made my breath catch. A fox—but not like any fox I'd ever seen. This creature was the size of a large wolf, with nine tails that moved independently of each other. Its fur shifted between shades of amber, rust, and gold, with tips that seemed to flicker like flames.
But it was the eyes that really got me. Green eyes, the exact same shade as Reva's, looking at me with an intelligence that was distinctly not animal.
"This," Reva said, "is what got me disowned. A nine-tailed fox of Cursed origin."
The fox—Vexara—tilted her head, studying me. All nine tails suddenly oriented in my direction, like compass needles finding north.
"She likes you," Reva said, sounding surprised.
"How can you tell?"
"The tails. They move based on her interest." Reva knelt beside the fox, running her fingers through the fur at Vexara's neck. "She doesn't usually focus on people like this."
Vexara made a soft sound, somewhere between a purr and the crackle of a fire.
"What's she saying?" I asked.
"That you smell like him," Reva replied.
"Like who?"
She looked up at me, her expression unreadable. "Like the one she's been waiting for."