Silence falls over us. Obviously, this is one of the hidden cards we hope to find, showing up in the outcome position. On some level we all knew a missing card was coming, but still, seeing the Prince of Wands specifically lying there feels charged. Like the card might burst into flames on the table, coursing with magic and meaning.

“Okay, now that is downright freaky,” Cleo says, putting down her phone. “Anyone else just get the chills?”

“That’s wild,” Logan says, leaning in to examine our card. “Wait, why did you and Chase draw the Prince as a centaur wandering the desert with a flaming wand?”

“Most cards we researched showed the Prince of Wands being pulled in a chariot by horses or lions, so we made him pulling his own chariot as a centaur.”

Logan gives me a look, but I just shrug.

“What? We were kids.”

“Hey, centaurs are still completely awesome,” Cleo adds.

“Agreed,” I continue. “As for wandering the desert, the Prince of Wands is a courageous and gifted hero, but he risks losing his way if he becomes too headstrong.”

“Right. Well, if we’re pulling a message, it might be that we will actually find the card,” Logan extrapolates. “But is the Prince warning us to beware of someone betraying us? Or is he telling us to be wary of focusing only on our own needs in our search?”

“That’s all well and good,” Chase interrupts, his attention suddenly shifted. “But whatever direction we’re looking for probably really has something very specific to do with this.”

Earlier, Maggie’s guidance got us the compass, so Chase puts that toolset on the table.

Click here

Earlier, Maggie’s help got us the charms, so Chase puts that toolset on the table.

Click here

“Here’s the Perillian booklet quote on the Prince of Wands,” Chase continues. “Can looking behind bring you forward, can looking within broaden your horizons without? I figure that has to have something to do with the compass, but—”

“Oh my goddess.”

The words tumble out of my mouth. Logan and Chase’s questions spark an idea in my brain so brightly, I reach across the table and snatch up the compass.

“Hey, what are you…?”

Ignoring Chase, I examine the compass. It’s a little bigger than my hand and made of intricately carved bronze pieces. Its face appears simple enough, but the front isn’t what I’m interested in. Right now, I only care about looking behind.

On the back of the compass, I see a little barcode sticker in the lower left corner. I use the tip of my nail to scrape it off, and once I do, I gasp at what I see underneath: a small button set into the back of the compass, too small to press with my finger. Looking around the table, I grab Chase’s pen.