Speaking Grandma’s name forms a lump in my throat. Still, I carry on.
“To my younger self, Flo had been a Magician. She was made of magic, the one who introduced me to the universe of the tarot, who brought me my first deck. But Flo taught me about so much more than the images on the cards—she taught me about the soul of the tarot, about its heart and its history, about the symbols that could open your awareness to your most authentic self. My twenties were lit on fire by this flowing queen and by the tarot itself.
“But as I have already written, flames burn out. I hate to say that my life then settled into the ashes of practicality; the beautiful, fulfilling, exhausting work of building a family. It was only after many years, once my children had grown to leave the nest and I lost my wife before her time—it was only during this time of loss and absence that the tarot called to fill the void. As you likely well know, the last years of my life were devoted to the art of the tarot and sharing this gift I had been given.
“But what of Flo, the first Star in my tarot constellation? We hadn’t spoken in a lifetime, but I learned she married another man. She had a child, and then that child also had a child. I never entered Flo’s world again, for I was no longer invited. But I always hoped Flo kept the tarot in her heart, that she passed her own gift of wisdom and insight on to those she loved.
“Then I thought: what if she hadn’t? What if she needed a reminder, just as I did? When I learned illness would bring me to my own end, I used my remaining time to make one final deck—and I mailed that deck to Flo, out of the blue. As I write this letter, having already set up the missing card adventures and tests that I hope will work wonders, I wonder myself: will Flo be the one to find this letter?
“If it really is you reading, my long-lost first love, just know I am so thrilled to be found by you now. But more likely, if I know Flo, she gifted this deck to one she loves most. I have foreseen much, but it doesn’t take vision to see that. From here, this story is no longer mine to tell. I just hope, whoever is reading this letter, you open this final gift I have left for you and use what’s inside to continue writing our story. Ever thine, Carson Perilli.”
Silence bakes us for some time. Thoughts dazzle in my mind, blinding like sunshine rippling on water. I expect to feel undone, but instead I feel stretched long and thin, like a pane of glass. In my hands I hold the truth, finally.
“Perilli didn’t send my grandma the deck because she was some special follower,” I say automatically, charged like a battery. “He sent her the deck because she inspired his entire tarot philosophy.”
The words might now be obvious, but they need to be stated on this mountaintop. It all makes sense, suddenly. The reason this journey has felt so familiar, so resonant, so tangled. Grandma has been written all over it, from the start. But why did she lie about it? Why keep it a secret from everyone she loved most?
No one speaks for a while, but Cleo does place a hand on my shoulder.
“I don’t think that’s the end of the story, either,” Chase finally says, pointing down at the throne base box.
I look and see there’s a latch in the flat panel where this letter rested. Reacting immediately, I pull this latch up and almost laugh when I see what’s underneath. Two small chests rest in the base, jewelry-box-sized versions of the one from Coupled Cottage. The left box reads LEGACY, while the right reads PURPOSE. A quick inspection shows they’re both bolted to the base and attached to two tanks, presumably full of some dissolving liquid in standard Perillian fashion.
I also find a long key nestled between the chests, with the Hebrew letter Mem painted on it—just like Perilli’s symbol for The Hermit also brought to life. I know above all else that Mem represents water—which means it truly represents flow. Mem is also associated with The Hanged Man, a figure I seem inextricably tied to. You’d think seeing all this would make things feel difficult, especially since it’s clear to me by now that opening one box will flood the other.
But really, this choice feels easy. It reflects the direct intention I already set for myself at the start of this trip. So I reach forward without hesitation, knowing exactly what I must choose.
I am honoring Grandma’s legacy, so I use the Mem key to open the Legacy box.
Click here
I am unlocking personal power, so I use the Mem key to open the Purpose box.
Click here
I open the lock on the Legacy box, and as I do, I hear the gentle whoosh of water filling the Purpose box. Part of me wants to pry it open before its contents are destroyed, but I fear breaking Perilli’s rules might damage both.
Focusing instead on my chosen box, I find another piece of paper inside, folded in three like a letter. It makes me wonder if the other box contained a different letter, now dissolving into nothingness? I tell myself once again: it doesn’t matter, because I can’t focus on what has been lost. I must focus on what I’ve found.
So I pick up the letter, and when I see the handwriting there, I gasp again.
It belongs, unmistakably, to Grandma.
My eyes unfocus as I try frantically to absorb the words all at once. I clearly can’t read out loud right now, so the others crowd around me, equally eager to read. I then force myself to breathe and hold my hand steady long enough to read this message from my favorite person no longer on the planet.
My Dearest Amelia,
I am told it will likely be you who reads this note, someday. If you have indeed found it, that means you’re all grown up. And you will have questions. If I’m not still there to provide these answers, I’m writing them here for you.
When I received Carson Perilli’s deck in the mail, I knew exactly what it was. I had heard who he became, later in his life. Why did I keep that a secret from you? Because I had built an entire other life in the many decades since I knew Carson and I knew how reentering Carson’s world would disrupt our beautiful life. I suppose you know about this disruption yourself, having entered Carson’s world to find this letter.
However, if you indeed came this far in search of answers, you are ready to know the truth. First, I must say that I kept all this from you to protect you. Right now, as I write this letter, you are still a young child. The future Amelia who might read this letter has no doubt grown leaps and bounds. You already absorb wisdom like a sponge, even at this young age. If I leave any legacy to you, I hope it is that you share your gifts and your talent for reading the tarot with the world however you choose.
Because you are not the only legacy that Carson and I leave. And you are not the only one to forge your own path independent of our influence.
When Carson and I were very young and very in love, I became pregnant. Neither of us was prepared to raise a child, so we did the only thing we knew how to at the time: we gave that child up for adoption to a very lovely family. As part of the adoption, neither Carson nor I ever met this child, we never even learned their sex. We gave that child to this family to have their own life, then we built our own lives, divergent as they eventually became. We rarely spoke of this child, but on the occasions we did, we gave them a name inspired by our shared love of the tarot: Zain.
I hope you’ll understand why we kept this piece of the past to ourselves—and why I kept the truth of Carson’s deck to myself when it arrived at our door. It was for the sake of our family, but also for the sake of this child. I did not want to disrupt the only family they had ever known without invitation. I implored Carson to do the same.
I also hope you’ll understand why I struck the following deal with Carson: if he left us alone and allowed me to conceal the origins of the deck, I agreed to teach you about the tarot. That part is easy—I plan to teach you and sweet little Chase, anyway. The hard part has been promising to write this letter for Carson to stash away, as the end to some elaborately constructed hero’s journey. He believes you’ll find your way to it someday; I imagine he might try to do the same for Zain, despite my protests. My only consolation is that neither of us is suppose
d to know where Zain ended up.
Carson believes someday you’ll want to be a part of this tarot society he is building. I don’t know if you’ll ever find your way to this secret I’ve kept, but if you do, it will have been on your own merit. This, of course, is why I left you the deck with all its many mysteries still intact.
You have all the answers you’ll ever need inside you, Amelia. I cannot wait to see what you do, watching with pride and love from wherever I am now.
Love, Grandma Flo
I read and reread the letter until the words finally sink in. Once the meaning settles, realizations tumble through my mind. I have a half aunt or uncle out there? This person would be a half sibling to my mom, then also a half sibling to Brendan. This means I am connected to Carson Perilli by blood—and that connection must be the mysterious buyer of Perillian artifacts, Page Zain. Surely, they must have learned who their father was. Or could they have had contact with Perilli somehow before he died, to learn this name? Or, more likely, did they learn this truth similar to how I’m learning it now?
Still trying to sort through all this, I think of Grandma. What must this have all been like for the young version of her painted on the Queen of Swords? It all feels so unfathomable, so distant. But then I remind myself of this much: Grandma always did what was in her family’s best interest, to protect all of her children and grandchildren. So despite feeling overwhelmed and shell-shocked, I also suddenly feel fulfilled. In completing this journey, I have learned exactly what I wanted to learn: I finally understand Grandma’s place in all this. What would Flo do? I know now more than ever exactly how to answer that question.
“Amelia, are you okay?” Cleo asks first, blinking back their own disbelief.
“Yes,” I say, meaning it. “I wanted to take this trip to honor Grandma and to learn more about her. We’ve certainly done that much.”
Chase nods, looking as emotional as I currently feel. “It makes so much sense now, why we have the deck. All because of this connection between Gran Flo and Perilli when they were around our age.”
I place a hand on his shoulder. Gran Flo might not have been Chase’s grandmother by blood, but she was in all the ways that matter most. This discovery belongs to him just as much.
“But where is Page Zain? What do they know?” Chase asks, spinning forward as usual. “Are you going to tell anyone? Are you going to try to find Zain?”
“Zain must have learned about their real parents, but obviously they don’t want anyone to know,” Cleo offers. “They must have reasons, like Gran Flo.”
“Wait, does anyone else see that?” Logan says, reaching into the Legacy box.
Click here
I open the lock on the Purpose box and as I do, I hear the gentle whoosh of water filling the Legacy box. Part of me wants to pry it open before its contents are destroyed, but I fear breaking Perilli’s rules might damage both.
Focusing instead on my chosen box, I find another piece of paper inside, folded in three like a letter. It makes me wonder if the other box contained a different letter, now dissolving into nothingness? I tell myself once again: it doesn’t matter, because I can’t focus on what has been lost. I must focus on what I’ve found.
So I pick up the letter, and when I see the handwriting there, I gasp again.
It belongs, unmistakably, to Grandma.
My eyes unfocus as I try frantically to absorb the words all at once. I clearly can’t read out loud right now, so the others crowd around me, equally eager to read. I then force myself to breathe and hold my hand steady long enough to read this message from my favorite person no longer on the planet.
My Dearest Amelia,
I am told it will likely be you who reads this note, someday. If you have indeed found it, that means you’re all grown up. And you will have questions. If I’m not still there to provide these answers, I’m writing them here for you.
When I received Carson Perilli’s deck in the mail, I knew exactly what it was. I had heard who he became later in his life. Why did I keep that a secret from you? Because I had built an entire other life in the many decades since I knew Carson and I knew how reentering his world would disrupt our beautiful life. I suppose you know about this disruption yourself, having entered Carson’s world to find this letter.
But this impact would have been so much deeper than you know. That’s because, as you’ve discovered, Carson painted his Queen of Swords to look like my younger self—and perhaps like you, as you become a young woman. In his letter to me, Carson claimed he had visions of you, my dear Amelia, as the successor to his—whatever we’d call this obsessive society he has built. Carson named you, Amelia, his Arcere, his final “mystery solved.”
You already know what I believe about visions and fate. I believe Carson wants to use this claim to draw us both into this tarot to further his mythology, as his muse and his chosen one. By now, you know the lengths to which Carson goes to breathe life into his mysteries. After all, how do you draw the line between an informed guess and an intuitive vision?
You are still a young child as I write this letter, and all I want is to protect you. So I struck a deal with Carson: if he left us alone and allowed me to conceal the origins of the deck, I’d agree to teach you about the tarot. That part is easy—I plan to teach you and sweet little Chase all I know, anyway. The hard part has been promising to write this note for Carson to stash away, as the end to some elaborately constructed hero’s journey. He believes you’ll find your way to it someday. Me, I’m not so sure.
All I am sure of is that if you do eventually follow Perilli’s trail, that you do so of your own choosing—not because he or I told you to. I do hope you’ll forgive me for lying. I did so not to take agency away from you, but rather to provide it. As you’ll no doubt hear me say, I believe the greatest measure of evil is how much choice you strip from others. I didn’t want you burdened with anyone’s expectations of you. Whatever path you choose, I want you to choose it for yourself. This, of course, is why I left you the deck with all its many mysteries still intact.
It is also why I have shared with you all the wisdom I have accumulated over my life. I don’t know if you are Carson’s legacy, as he claims. But I do know you are my legacy. I cannot wait to see what you do, watching with pride and love from wherever I am now.
Love, Grandma Flo
I read and reread the letter until the words finally sink in.
Part of me wants to feel sad or upset or doubtful, but knowing what I now know, I just feel fulfilled. I finally understand Grandma’s place in all this. I understand what she tried to keep me from and the choice she tried to empower me with, leaving me Perilli’s deck. But then I can’t help but wonder: have I gained something else along the way, some gift from Perilli—or some curse?
“Amelia, are you okay?” Cleo asks first, blinking back their own disbelief.
“Yes,” I say, meaning it. “I wanted to take this trip to learn more about the card and about Grandma, and to learn some things about myself. What more could I ask for?”
Chase nods, looking as emotional as I currently feel. “It makes so much sense now. All of it.”
I place a hand on his shoulder. Gran Flo might not have been Chase’s grandmother by blood, but she was in all the ways that matter most. This discovery belongs to him just as much.
No one asks the big question, though.
No one asks whether I actually believe in Perilli’s calling.
“Wait, does anyone else see that?” Logan says, reaching into the Purpose box.
Click here
Logan scrapes his fingernails against the bottom of the box, attempting to grab something lying flat there. Once he pulls it up, we all see it covers a rectangular slot. We then turn to see that Logan has picked up another Perillian card, complete with the Perillian symbol on the back. Logan hands me the card and I flip it for everyone to see. It’s a Judgment card, though it’s unlike any we’ve seen before. The usual winged judge figure floats at the ver
y top, but the four corners each bear a drawing of The Hanged Man. Mostly, the card is taken up by writing:
The deck you possess was meant for Flo and her own.
But as you now know, my own are building something profound.
You’ve passed all the tests, so now you face a final choice.
Do you donate the deck back to its source, to help empower The Lianist Way?
Or do you keep this deck that justly belongs to you?
The Hanged Man, Carson Perilli
Reading this, my brain first flashes to The Hanged Man, which must have been Perilli’s Major Arcana expression. The deeper meanings of the card populate my mind, looking at him through this new lens. The Hanged Man represents the debts incurred when we accept the gift of life, to leave the world better than we found it. He also represents turning a world view upside down and being introduced to new ideas. Truer words couldn’t be spoken.
Learning this, it turns out I actually have been connected to a Hanged Man all along—it just wasn’t Anwar.
Once this meaning settles, I turn my focus to paintings of The Hanged Man. I then see, drawn on his torso, the standard Perillian symbol—but suddenly its truest meaning becomes clear to me. Mem, the head of the P, stands for water—for Flow—but also for The Hanged Man. Then I see the stalk of the P, its upside-down number four, must also stand for the crossed legs of The Hanged Man, which in turn represents the reversal of completion: the incomplete.
So it turns out this Perillian symbol had volumes of its own to speak about the deck and its creators, all along.
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