The cabin smelled of smoke and old parchment, a haze of incense curling lazily around scattered cards on the table. Basil Hawkins sat hunched in silence, long fingers poised over the spread before him, his expression unreadable. He had asked the same question three times, shuffled, cut, drawn again—yet the cards refused to answer.

A faint irritation stirred beneath his calm exterior. A fortune that would not reveal itself was rare… and dangerous.

His eyes lingered on the final card, blank to him in meaning, when a soft knock echoed against the wooden door.

Hawkins didn’t look up. He inhaled slowly, exhaled, and spoke in that low, even tone that carried both invitation and warning.

“Enter.”