"Looks like the stronger the target... the worse the odds."
Rowan rcer dispersed the three historical projections standing before him and activated the ability again.
Nothing answered.
Again.
Nothing.
Again.
Failure after failure piled up.
Ten thousand attempts passed before reality finally responded.
A figure stepped from a fracture in ti.
A woman in flowing robes, her presence vast yet restrained, holding a gleaming golden vessel that radiated boundless containnt.
Rowan’s smile spread slowly.
Even this projection carried only a minuscule fraction of the original’s true might.
But ard with that vessel...
It was likely already comparable to the so-called Fallen Mother outside Earth.
"Still not enough."
Rowan dismissed the projection and grew thoughtful.
At his current stage, he could maintain only three historical manifestations at once.
If he advanced further, that limit would rise.
More manifestations.
Higher success rates.
Projections closer to their originals.
If he ever reached the apex of this pathway, success might beco trivial.
If he gathered the remaining unique authorities and characteristics tied to this path, success might even beco guaranteed.
Conclusion:
He needed to move faster.
"I’m heading to the Forsaken Land."
Rowan ignited into fla and vanished.
He already possessed two characteristics tied to the next stage, one refined from the ancient lamp and one taken from Zaratul.
But the ritual itself required preparation.
The key was simple in concept.
Return a lost piece of history to the present.
And Rowan knew exactly where to find one.
Silver City.
A civilization sealed within the Forsaken Land.
A remnant of a bygone age.
If he led its people out and settled them in the Northern Continent, the condition would be fulfilled.
For Rowan, that was a logistical task, not an obstacle.
October 1st.
Afternoon.
The fourteenth Tarot Gathering.
"I’ll introduce three new mbers," Rowan said from the seat of the Fool.
"World. Black Emperor. Hermit."
Since revealing everything to the Evernight Goddess, Rowan no longer needed a proxy to sit upon the throne.
Sefirah Castle had returned fully to him.
He was now, in truth, the Fool.
His forr "Mr. Strength" identity was maintained by a separated spirit worm.
As for the newcors:
World was Klein Moretti, freed from pretending to be the Fool and now holding his own seat.
Black Emperor was Roselle himself, whose soul currently resided within Sefirah Castle and who had eagerly asked to join out of boredom.
Hermit was Bernadette, Roselle’s daughter, now advanced to a higher state after thwarting the Fallen Mother’s attempt to control her father.
The hall felt... heavier.
More complete.
Audrey and the others greeted the newcors politely and began observing them.
Audrey, now a skilled psychological practitioner, noticed the differences imdiately.
Black Emperor carried an innate authority, the kind born from long rule.
World felt calm, restrained, almost gentle.
Hermit was difficult to focus on, like trying to study mist.
"Respected Fool," Alger said, producing several sheets of paper.
"These are the final five pages of Roselle’s diary."
Roselle’s eyelid twitched.
Rowan skimd the pages.
Most entries recorded state affairs.
So... did not.
One passage caught his eye.
Lady Adela recently introduced to a distant cousin. Equally beautiful. Equally dangerous.
Adela favors elegance. Her cousin favors innocence.
Light. Flexible. Disarmingly cooperative.
Yes, I know they’re witches.
But life is short. Worth the risk.
Besides, they’re using to stabilize themselves.
I’m using them for fun. Fair trade.
Rowan glanced up.
Gave Roselle a subtle thumbs-up.
Roselle buried his face in his hands.
Audrey’s gaze flicked between Black Emperor, Hermit, and World.
Black Emperor looked mortified.
Hermit looked irritated.
World looked... amused.
They definitely knew each other.
"From now on," Rowan said calmly, storing the pages,
"you don’t need to collect Roselle’s diaries anymore."
Everyone paused.
They assud the Fool had gained what he needed.
Which wasn’t wrong.
But the truth was simpler.
The author was sitting in the room.
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