Page 65 of Foresyth Conservatory
This wasn’t a prestigious magick school, this was a cult, based off of an occultist’s dream.I tried to hide the horror from my face.
The Meister studied my features, his eyes slightly narrowed in confusion. “Well, Dahlia, now you know the origins of Tarot, from where you and all of us derive our powers. By embodying the Universal Truths, we can tap into the illusion of the material world. And change it, even,” hesaid. “This should make your research topic a little easier, hm?”
I suppressed a scoff. The origins of Tarot were the subconscious mind. But I recognized the power of saying what people wanted to hear. And so, I contained my true thoughts and instead spun sugar into his ear.
“These are the most beautiful words I’ve ever read,” I said, fixing my eyes on the Book in awe. “Thank you for allowing me to read them,” I added, bile rising to my throat. No one ever said I enjoyed lying.
“We are happy to have you a part of us, Dahlia. Your natural gifts of divination will restore power to the House,” he said.
My brows twitched, wanting to furrow, but I didn’t let them budge. “I do have one question,” I said carefully. I couldn’t let on any of my skepticism, but I needed to understand how exactly they thought this so-called magick worked. The Meister nodded for me to go on.
“If we only need to tap into these Universal Truths to access the power, then why the elixirs? Why dull our senses to do so? Wouldn’t the strongest magick be elicited from our full sensing minds and bodies?”
My gaze drifted to Nina, the residential potion mixer. She gave me a familiar smile, as if knowing I’d ask that very question.
But the Meister answered instead. “It’s true our magick is stronger when we are, but that’s where the paradox lies. Our physical bodies and senses are a cruel trick created by the demiurge. By dulling our mortal senses, we allow our spiritual ones to awaken. We suppress our humanity inorder to access divinity. That is where we create true magick, true art.
“You might have guessed now the connection between peculiarities at Foresyth Conservatory and our belief system. We adorn ourselves in bright, rich colors to remind ourselves that the material world is but a beautiful illusion. Same goes for our food.”
Holy hell.The beautiful, tasteless food. The ornate House, and its gorgeous inhabitants. They were all a constructed reminder that the world was a co-created illusion.
I nestled these new findings into the story I had built around Foresyth thus far. An arts Conservatory dedicated to the study—nopractice, of the deadliest art of all: magick.
Wasn’t that what the Meister said about art? That it allowed for the transcendence of the soul? And then there wasSophia’s Circle.Of course. The Tramping Ground itself was a testament to transcendence. No material form, or at least organics, could exist there.
I thought of Sequoia in the bathtub, ghastly white. Even now, though her parlor had improved, she was looking shyly at her feet, the faint trace of near death still fresh on her. She had killed herself to transcend into this state of spiritual awakening as the text had suggested.
And then there was Aspen’s dagger at my throat. I didn’t need any further explanation of how that had challenged mymaterial form.
Transcendence of the Soul,Foresyth’s very motto. How could I have missed it, when it had been in plain sight all along? It all made sense now. The single thread that connected everything. Escaping the material plane and using the cards to access the metaphysical one.
And then there was Julian. Had he also been trying to transcend? To access Sophia’s power? This question burned on my lips, but I knew it was too dangerous to speak. Julian had warned me that secrets lurked even deeper in Foresyth. There was a feeling in the back of my mind that this only scratched the surface.
“I’ll need some time with this,” I said, clutching the Book in my arms.
“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible,” the Meister said. “The Book is a holy relic, the Council loans it out on an hourly basis. Its only here now so you can feel its powers.” The Meister paused, studying my reaction. “You can feel it, can’t you?”
My gaze drifted back to the obsidian Book. Its cover was glossy, such that I could see my own reflection. What I couldfeelscared me. But the fact that I couldn’t explain it terrified me even more.
“Yes, I can,” I conceded. At least I was telling the truth.
Sequoia’s gaze jerked up and caught my eye. “You should work on cultivating your connection to the Shattered Mother.” She covered her mouth with her hands, almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry Meister, I know it’s not in the Socratic form, but I just wanted to share a piece of advice with Dahlia. The way I accessed my connection with the Mother was through embodying her in the form of the cards.”The Empress.The essence of female divinity. And with it, a dangerous allure.
“I’m well aware of that,” I said curtly. The last time I saw her accessing the cards she almost died. I had no interest in doing that. I very well couldn’t solve a murder case that way.
“There are safe ways to do it, of course. We could do it here, if you’d like,” Sequoia said, her eyes twinkling. I kept mine level with hers but said nothing.Was she insane?
“That’s enough. You know that we don’t practice magick during Circle. We only exchange thoughts, ideas, and teachings here. There is a time and place for everything.” The Meister turned to me. “And ritual is strictly forbidden unless authorized by me. That being said, Sequoia is right. If you still have any hesitations about our philosophy, it’s best you speak to the Mother yourself. She’s spoken to you, hasn’t she?”
I thought back to the Initiation. To the feeling of her breath on my neck, and her hand reachinginsidemy chest.
“I think so, but it’s hazy,” I said. Hadn’t she said we prayed to a false God, echoing Julian’s words?
“You will now understand that your research prompt—deciphering the origins of Tarot—has been an ongoing group project. Skorn is the predecessor to Tarot and the one true magick. Everyone here has collected experiential case studies concerning their own lives of how they have seen the Shattered Mother’s powers manifested in them. You are the last piece, Dahlia. Your experience is the last case study we are waiting for, before presenting the findings to the Council,” the Meister said with a gravity that unsettled me.
The last piece.Was that why the Meister had brought me here to Foresyth? Not for investigating Julian’s death, but helping with this research project? Embarrassment burned bright on my chest and neck. I had been so foolish, thinking his offer was genuine. But I had been so desperate and impressionable. Anger replaced shame and burned throughme. He might have welcomed me to the lion’s den, but that didn’t mean I would leave here without raising hell.
I nodded in acceptance, trying my best for a sweet smile.
