The House of Cards

Epilogue

Epilogue

They should not be doing this.

Lord Judgement felt it to the very tips of his feathery white wings, to the very depths of his soul. The magic that lives within him churns at the thought, threatening to make him sick.

"We should not be doing this," he whispers to the Lord Death.

The old man does not reply, simply lighting a match and touching it to a torch. Light flares in the damp cellar beneath the Palace of Fate. This pace was once the old dungeon, when the Arcana had had need of such a place. But in the years since the House of Pentacles had rebelled it had fallen into disuse, forgotten. Pentacles preferred to kill traitors, not imprison them.

While bad for the traitors, it worked out in the favor of Lord Death and Lord Judgement.

And for the Fool. Although he did not know it yet.

"How did you manage to retrieve the body, anyhow?" Judgement asks as Death places the torch in a sconce.

Death glances at the body of the Fool. The dagger had been removed from his chest, given to the Lady Universe, leaving a gaping hole in his heart in its place.

"I was in charge of the dead," Death explains. "You would be surprised at how similar the ashes of an Arcana look to the ashes of a few logs."

Judgement raises an eyebrow, but does not say anything. Death beckons with a hand.

"Bring her forward."

Judgement's grip tightens on the pentacles girl. She is one of hundreds, one of their soldiers imprisoned inside the palace. It is not likely that she shall be missed anytime soon. And if she is, there is no one left who would care.

They had gagged her anyway, shoving a wad of cloth in her mouth when they had grabbed her and bound her hands behind her back. She had been confused, eyes watering with tears as they had dragged her to the basement. She had put up a good fight, but now, she is silent.

She does not react to the sight of the Fool, does not react when they sit her down on a stool beside, does not react when the Lord Death moves as places his hands on the Fool's dead, unmoving chest.

"Quickly now, Judgement," he says, breathe rattling.

Judgement takes a deep breath, and reaches for his belt, pulling a jeweled dagger that he only uses for his magic from its special sheath.

Only then does the Pentacles girl react.

She bucks at the sight of it, twisting in her bonds, eyes widening. Judgement places a hand on her shoulder, holding her still.

"I am sorry about this," he whispered. "This has nothing to do with you. I promise; it will not hurt for long."

And then he shoves the dagger forward, into the girl's heart.

The magic rushes through him as her blood spreads across her shirt, her eyes rolling back into her head as she dies. He can feel her life slip from her as he reaches down, one hand on her shoulder, the other hand on his chest.

"Now, Death," Judgement grunts, the magic soaring from his fingertips. His whole body tingles, aches, cries out as he reaches into the Dead Realms and plucks the Fool's soul from its place in the line of the dead.

On command, Death's own magic pours from him, into the mutilated body of the Fool, forcing dead cells to heal and bone to knit back together.

A life for a life. That is all the girl's death was. To return one soul, another needs to take its place.

That is the price the Lord Judgement pays to be able to bring back the dead.

He carries the soul forth, between the Worlds, dragging it to this dank basement beneath the palace. To this great secret ritual. He holds the soul close, placing it gently in the hollow of the Fool's chest.

The Fool's body bucks as the soul resists its broken vessel. Death grunts, pressing his withered hand harder onto the Fool's chest, increasing the speed of the heal.

There is an audible pop as the soul slams into place, the wound on his chest closing.

Death sits back, wiping sweat from his brow.

Judgement slowly removes his hand from the Fool's chest.

The body jerks, the Fool sitting up, drawing a gasping, enormous breath.

And then Jack Segret opens his eyes.

End

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