:: The Princess of Wands points to the notation her brother uncovers, tracing her five fingers along the knotwork. ::

I know of a gate with five entrances. The Oracle referenced it. I should follow that.

:: She points a mental lance at her brother. ::

Information is more use in relation, to me.

I only bring it up because their riddles are of coins, of wands. You taught me not to ignore coincidence. Here we stand, Wands with Coins.

Perhaps there's something in their cursed fever dreams?

:: She holds her tongue further, awaiting validation. ::

I heard two witches speak stories into the world recently. They carry the curse we fight against, and they've been speaking in riddles, fairy tales only.

Each talked of witches and their trials. Witches of different worlds.

:: She sneaks a glance at her mother. Is this the right way? ::

:: She rolls her eyes. ::

The witches are easy if you're patient. But that's not your style is it.

:: There it is.

She stands smelling the peculiar ozone smell of a magic spell buzzing under her nose.

She plucks one and it hums, vibrates and then unravels. Then another and another. A craftswoman. A weaver in reverse.

A way opens. ::

🧿 #BlueskyCoven #TarotWar

:: The Princess of Wands moves between wards and bindings of the Oracle's tower. A thread here, a cord there. To say she's most like a splinter under the skin, a nagging article or peculiar thought, would make her smile.

Her task is to find the way and make an opening. ::

🧿 #BlueskyCoven #tarotsky #witchsky

:: Ash, dust, and shadow swirl. A young woman steps from the Void, a Wand scarred into her breast. ::

Maker. You call and we come.

💠