Clay cleared aside vines and sand to reveal a trapdoor buried under a shallow layer of earth. Prying up the ancient, rotting wood, he stared into a darkness underneath. A rickety ladder descended into the shadows.

The scent rising up was a scent of damp, mildewed rot. An old and dust-choked scent.

Some skeptical part of him saw a death-trap; the rest of him was already climbing down the ladder.

He entered into a subterranean space, defined by long sharp stalactites and the steady drip of water trickling down them. The bottom was totally flooded. Eels, crabs, and other creatures scuttled about in the dim thread of light coming down from the open trapdoor. Somebody had built rickety wooden platforms across the water, going out from the shallows towards a cavern mouth in the distance…

It was a hidden port. Just large enough for a few of the small, unsteady looking rowboats that were tethered to the docks. Hammocks were hung over the sand from posts that supported the ceiling.

And piled high on the ridge of sands where the ladder ended were crates upon crates of rum, alongside other treasures. Clay saw rolls of cloth, ingots of a material like blue silver, little pots of preserved chilis, and stranger things entirely…

Broken pieces of pottery and stone tablets laid down amidst straw, as if they were the most precious of the bunch.

“I’ll be damned. A smuggler’s cove, right? And…” He smiled faintly, awarding himself an imaginary point. One ‘not a clueless idiot’ star for ol’ Clay. “If this is the ‘source of the rum’ I’m supposed to look for, that makes the Lustful Tortoise a ship?”

“Yes yes, very good.” The serpent said.

“I’m just glad I don’t have to deal with an actual horny tortoise.” Clay admitted.

“See, and I was thinking that would be infinitely more amusing.” With a sigh, the serpent pointed to something with its tail. Clay followed with his eyes…

Standing out from the shallows was a massive stalagmite that had been chopped in half, leaving a smooth surface where the cut had been made. A kind of table. In front of, rising out of the gloom of the cave, was a statue of a goddess. The steady drip, drip, drip of the water from above had cloaked her in a veil of limestone over generations, sedimentary rock slowly obscuring the features of her face; but she spread her arms out and welcomed all.

「 Quest Obtained - Was This Your Card?

Forge a new Arcana using the altar’s might,

finding your strength as a Chosen.

Reward - Three Fate Arcana. 」

“And that’s the altar I’m looking for. One thing after another, all coming up Clay.”

“Yes, and the sooner we get this done with, the sooner my duties will be done.” For once they were in agreement. “Offer the Essentia- the crystal tooth- to the altar.”

He stepped forward, his bare feet sinking into shallow water and soft- minimally crabbed- sand. He didn’t have a prayer or a name for the goddess being called to, so he just ducked his head, and dropped the crystallized fang onto the altar’s surface.

Instantly, a design flared to life, golden light filling up the previously-invisible grooves etched into the altar. The light dripped down, until the altar was completely covered with glowing designs of twisting, runic natures…

A cold fire blazed up, releasing no heat at all as it consumed the tooth. As the outer stone cracked away, the single golden letter caught inside drifted upwards, dancing about within the flame.

Clay felt his heartbeat catch inside his chest. This…

This was magical. Everything else had been impossible, yes, the mermaid, the snake, even the crabs in their own hideous way; but this was magic. It was showy, flashy, full of little touches of theater. It was power.

The ghostly image of a card appeared in the flame. It was slightly bigger than his palm, a tarot instead of a playing card. Printed on the surface was a ghostly blank of the goddess who stood over the shrine in statue form.

“Reach inside.” The snake instructed.

Are you sure this isn’t another trick to murder me? Clay thought, but he’d already felt the total lack of heat from the flames. Reaching out he dipped his fingers into the fountain of flames. It felt refreshing, like fresh, cold water.

“Take the Essentia and add it to the card…”

Clay did as he was commanded for once, catching the Essentia in his hand and feeling it flutter about in his grip, like a butterfly. Pinching it with two careful fingers, he pushed the struggling thing into the card.

There was a ripple and it fell still, flattening to the surface.

“Now you need to add a purpose. A prayer to one of the gods who’ve blessed you will work, or one of your Skills…”

Clay thought for a moment. “Why? What’s happening, exactly?”

“You’re forging an Arcana- a spell.” The serpent said, as if that should be obvious. “And I, only because its my job, mind you, am helping.”

“Okay, okay, I’m making a spell…” Just the words felt incredible in his mouth. His heartbeat was accelerating. “What does the ‘purpose’ add?”

“It determines shape and function. The Essentia you sacrifice will grant their natures, their essences, to the spell. But the skill or prayer you offer will give it the shape; a spell born from a Swordsman skill will always be a sword spell.”

Clay repeated the words back under his breath until they made sense. The card was a spell. The rune he’d taken from the ape’s tooth was Essentia, which gave the spell a spin, a twist, but the core structure came from…

A skill, or a prayer.

Clay wasn’t the praying type.

“Crude Instruments. I want to use the Crude Instruments skill.”

“Then focus on how it feels to use. Not your limbs, or your muscles. How it feels inside of you…”

Nodding, Clay focused on the moment the skill had appeared. It had only been a split second, but it had burned its way into his skull, crystal clear. A therapist might have said it was trauma.

Clay didn’t like therapists.

In that moment, his whole body had been tight with fear, and more than fear, something else A raw, primal urge to defeat his enemy. It wasn’t just the need for survival; survival would have told him to run away. It was the need to win.

As he concentrated, he reached and brushed a finger against the ghostly card.

It rippled like water.

And an image appeared on the surface. It was a human hand engraved in lines of concentric golden foil, with cobalt blue filling in the spaces between the lines of gilt, gripping a crude bone club that was emblazoned as a single jet-black brushstroke.

「 Minor Arcana - Wild Swing

Unleashes an attack based on Might,

High power but causes a moment of weakness as backlash.

Uses - / / /

(Primal) (Backlash) (Attack) 」

A single, bright chime played.

「 Your Quest Is At An End

You have learned how to use the altars,

forging Arcana and destiny alike.

These skills will aid you on your journey

and bring you closer to the gods.

Take these rewards, our gift,

three fates to guide your destiny.

Reward - A New Fate 」

A watery ripple spread through the air and more cards appeared. Nine in total.

Six of them were copies. Three each of cards named The Candle and The Blaze. They were printed in simple, dark inks.

But the remaining three cards all shone like miniature suns.

「 Fate Arcana - The Stormcaller

Summons a being of storm and thunder

Which serves you faithfully for one hour.

Uses - /

(Storm) (Minion) (Duration) 」

「 Fate Arcana - The Lantern

Discards all cards,

Then draws a new hand

Uses - /

(Light) (Knowledge) (Draw) 」

「 Fate Arcana - Tapestry of Scars

Heal yourself from all wounds and conditions,

And gain immunity to physical damage for one minute

Uses - /

(Blood) (Healing) (Transformation) 」

“You have no idea…” The snake said, voice flickering with irritation. “How many people would throw themselves to their knees and beg for these blessings…”

“In my experience,” Clay replied. “It’s the people who don’t beg who end up getting their wish.”

“Not wrong…” The snake agreed. “But there will be some prayer required. Put your hand into the flame and thank the gods for the blessings.”

Clay submersed his hand back into the flames, closed his eyes, and thought, Well…

I don’t know you. And frankly, the idea of gods? Freaks me out a little.

But…

It sounds like you’re responsible for this world, and I…

I have wanted nothing more than to walk on this earth since I was six. I’ve loved this world like a moth watching a flame through a window. I guess I’ve nearly died a couple times, but even then, that’s a price worth paying.

So thank you.

The cards turned to beams of light that shot into the fire’s core, and the flame roared up, engulfing his arm; he felt the dancing tongues of fire tickle against his skin as they slowly receded, submerging into his skin.

Four designs formed in the four empty spaces along the tattoo.

The Blaze. Wild Swing. The Candle. Tapestry of Scars.

Clay flexed his arm and shook it out. He felt power gathering in his fingertips, dissipating into the air.

“Four Arcana. Four chances to change your fate. You’re officially a Cardwright, chosen of the gods.” The snake yawned, its jaw unhinging. “And I am going to sleep. Wake me when you’re about to die…”

It settled down and became inanimate, leaving Clay to smile vaguely at his own fingers. Magic. Magic magic. He could almost do a little dance.

Instead he went for a second bottle of rum.

Lifting it out of the crate, Clay tugged it open with his teeth, spitting fragments of cork. But as he lifted the bottle to his lips he caught sight of something else, gleaming from the straw-lined depths of a lower crate.

Clay reached down and fished out a tiny silver flask sealed a stopper of sun-yellow stone.

But before he could pop it open, a wind stirred in the empty cavern. It roared past Clay’s ears and he turned to see a tall man in a maroon coat and a tricorn hat standing behind him. The man had a tight beard of golden curls, an eye replaced by green glass, and a long scar stretching across his lips.

He was the image of a pirate.

“You have stolen from me…”

“Oh boy.” Clay stepped back, and then lifted his hands. “You know, from a certain point of view, I guess you could say…”

“Which means you are a fool or drunk. Either way, you deserve what’s coming next…”

Squinting, Clay lowered his hands. “And you’re not actually here, are you?” The man was faintly translucent. It was hard to see in the dark, but he was a hologram, an illusion.

The man lifted his arm, baring a tattoo identical to Clay’s. He pressed his fingers onto one of the four cards inked there.

“Saw-Finger. Come forth.”

There was a rush of power, golden threads of energy flooding in on the wind and binding together until they took shape as a wooden mannequin. Blank-faced, with skinny, ball-jointed limbs. It stood in a low crouch, its arms extending down towards the ground. Past the elbow, they lost all resemblance to human and became long saw-thin clubs tipped with sharksteeth.

Unlike the illusion of the man, the mannequin was unpleasantly real looking.

“Kill him.” The illusion said, and vanished.