Alraune stared at the shining pearl in her palm of her hand, the glistening blue-black surface catching the starlight and reflecting it back as shimmering silver.

Such a simple gift, s magical herb plucked from beneath a massive oak as the twin moons hovered low on the horizon, their light reaching her through a maze of new spring leaves and thick limbs.

He’d take the gift of pearl and the nightshade. He’d take them both with a smile and an imperious pat on her head, and then, when he squinted against the light of the pearl and inhaled the seductive scent of the blooming purple flowers, he would grant her his full attention.

Bare as moonlight, her hair her only veil, Alraune knelt, reverent in her supplication before the most venerable of the Arcana avatars.

Her voice was smooth marble, intractable and confident. He might hold the faith of the Arcana, but she was the High Priestess within the waking world. She would be respectful, but she would not tolerate being anything less then what she was, the voice for the entire circle of avatars.

“Your Eminence, I bring you gifts of light and spring, and request your favor in a most pressing matter…”


Alraune stared at the closed door as her latest client slipped into the night, taking some of his secrets with him. The sudden silence within the Salon deafened her to Adam’s question, his quiet words only needing to cross the single pace that separated them.

His hand fell upon her shoulder and Alraune realized how tense she’d been. His warmth wrapped her in a cloak of comfort and security.

“You will not barter further with the lords of fate, will you?” Adam repeated.

“The Hierophant does not desire tawdry tasks for his aid, but not all of the masters are so benign. I will seek the aid of the Avatars as I must.”

Adam pulled her into his arms, holding her close, silent in his resignation.

Alraune kissed him tenderly, then pulled away to look into his face, eager to still the concern she felt coursing through is veins. “This is what I do, Adam. Please find comfort in knowing you give me reason and the strength to barter well for the Avatar’s aid.”

Adam nodded, pulling her head back to his shoulder. “Just don’t barter so much, Alraune, that you lose track of your soul.”

Alraune closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. He had never walked among the Avartars and she had barely spoken of them to him, yet he knew how easily it might be done, a gift of added insight suddenly in need of dire repayment. Alraune closed her arms around him tight.

Of course he knew, Alraune realized. He knew her, knew her nature, knew the prices she herself had asked in payment for aid. Prices of service, deeds performed that could not be undone, pleasure and purpose, pain and promise, spinning the shapes of dream and desire, waking and in the depths of slumber's seas.

Alraune would be cautious, sometimes, but there would always be a part of her that would be wild and unbound, that would seek risk for its own sake.

Adam had always stayed beside her, dark fortune, dark past, dark future notwithstanding, but precedent did not guarantee tomorrow.

Not seen through the windows of the tarot, not in the depths of slumber, and certainly not in the golden but potentially treacherous light of every new morning.