A Tale of Arcane Space: Lost & Found

The eight card: The Magician, reversed. Trickery, illusions, a lack of understanding of the world around them. It seemed so obvious now -- the lone gunner holding his shard-cannon, confounding Lin's senses so that the WarSaint not only failed to block all of the shard-fire, but that he failed to notice he'd been lethally wounded until it was almost too late.

The ninth card: Death. Change. An end to one cycle and the start of another. A transformation of one's self. His own brush with the end, deflected at the very last moment by luck and the determination of his loved ones to save him. His Goddess, kind, beautiful, serious, playful, caring. A true Queen, and his role as her priest which he bore with pride and purpose. He remembered her kiss, and he felt himself become almost painfully erect under the blanket that covered him. He picked up the card, looking upon the image of his worship. He touched the card to his lips for a moment, and placed it back upon the table.

The tenth and final card: The Lovers. Partnerships, union, true understanding, a heart that cared not only for one's self, but for others. Although the Queen's kiss had set his senses on fire, his mind's eye returned to the memory of himself with Danielle and Cori, all of them curled up against each other under the thick quilt of a warm bed, awash in the glow of affection, lust, and the hints of something truly special that lay within the hearts of all of them, which they all saw and understood without any words needing to be said. But he wanted there to be words. Endless words, days of quiet talk about everything and nothing, the baring of each other's souls and the playful sharing of hobbies and joys. A glimmer of what could well be love. He hoped so. He had so much to live for.

He looked down at the ten cards, absorbing their images, and the thoughts each card inspired in him. After a few minutes, he gathered the deck into a neat stack, slipped one of his hair-ties around it to keep the deck together, and set it behind him, next to his prized dagger from Gathor. There was a second dagger there now that he hadn't seen before, a twin to the simple knife that the goddess had plucked from her cloak of blades in the moments before his near-death. Along the blade that seemed to absorb the room's light rather than reflect it, he saw a simple message written there in etched runes: "A gift to my newest High Reverend. Blessings upon you, my priest." He set the blade back down with careful reverence, and lowered the bed's angle so he could take a short nap.

"I am not alone," he said to himself in the empty room. There was a dark blur, and suddenly there was a very large black cat curled up on his chest. Lin scratched the ebony monster's ears, and received a deep basso purr for his efforts. "Hello, Wrath," Lin said with a sleepy smile. "I was wondering where you'd been hiding." The cat gave a large fanged yawn, and Lin felt himself yawn right back.

He was awakened that evening by two gentle kisses -- and all was well.

THE END.