The SPK office is quiet. Near stands beside the window, the cool air brushing his pale face and gray eyes. Near pushes open the window, letting in a breath of cool air that rustles through the scattered papers and the delicate tower of tarot cards balanced on his desk. Except for the soft flutter of tarot cards falling to the floor a gust sends them tumbling to the floor silent, weightless.

The final card lands face up near his foot. The Tower.

He doesn’t react. He just watches it for a moment, then lifts his gaze to the horizon outside, eyes slightly narrowed, as if calculating something far beyond the skyline. And then, he feels it someone’s presence. Uninvited, yet... anticipated.

Near: “The cards never fall without reason,” he says quietly, without turning. “And neither do people.”