“Then I thought: what if she hadn’t? What if she needed a reminder, just as I did? When I learned illness would bring me to my own end, I used my remaining time to make one final deck—and I mailed that deck to Flo, out of the blue. As I write this letter, having already set up the missing card adventures and tests that I hope will work wonders, I wonder myself: will Flo be the one to find this letter?

“If it really is you reading, my long-lost first love, just know I am so thrilled to be found by you now. But more likely, if I know Flo, she gifted this deck to one she loves most. I have foreseen much, but it doesn’t take vision to see that. From here, this story is no longer mine to tell. I just hope, whoever is reading this letter, you open this final gift I have left for you and use what’s inside to continue writing our story. Ever thine, Carson Perilli.”

Silence bakes us for some time. Thoughts dazzle in my mind, blinding like sunshine rippling on water. I expect to feel undone, but instead I feel stretched long and thin, like a pane of glass. In my hands I hold the truth, finally.

“Perilli didn’t send my grandma the deck because she was some special follower,” I say automatically, charged like a battery. “He sent her the deck because she inspired his entire tarot philosophy.”

The words might now be obvious, but they need to be stated on this mountaintop. It all makes sense, suddenly. The reason this journey has felt so familiar, so resonant, so tangled. Grandma has been written all over it, from the start. But why did she lie about it? Why keep it a secret from everyone she loved most?

No one speaks for a while, but Cleo does place a hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t think that’s the end of the story, either,” Chase finally says, pointing down at the throne base box.

I look and see there’s a latch in the flat panel where this letter rested. Reacting immediately, I pull this latch up and almost laugh when I see what’s underneath. Two small chests rest in the base, jewelry-box-sized versions of the one from Coupled Cottage. The left box reads LEGACY, while the right reads PURPOSE. A quick inspection shows they’re both bolted to the base and attached to two tanks, presumably full of some dissolving liquid in standard Perillian fashion.

I also find a long key nestled between the chests, with the Hebrew letter Mem painted on it—just like Perilli’s symbol for The Hermit also brought to life. I know above all else that Mem represents water—which means it truly represents flow. Mem is also associated with The Hanged Man, a figure I seem inextricably tied to. You’d think seeing all this would make things feel difficult, especially since it’s clear to me by now that opening one box will flood the other.