Things have been very slow over yonder. Some exploration, some introspection, but nothing intense. I described the lull as a Woo Hiatus. Yea, sure Weaver is running around with the magician’s coat but with a head of feathers, but then that’s just her two separate woo paths starting to (logically) converge. Since she’s officially neither, why not be both! Heh.
Then I closed my eyes for five hot seconds…
“You’re wearing my face and my appearance, but you’re not me.” I checked my selves and counted the pieces I was aware of. Everyone was accounted for.
Weaver stood before me in the black trench coat and sharp clothes that was Weaver the Bastard Mage’s signature appearance. She held in her left hand the only wand I have in the physical realm. Gloves covered her hands, but her face was visible.
Not a single scar on her face.
That’s not me.
“Are you sure?” Her voice sounded like mine. “How many pieces have you recovered anyway? Sure your census was accurate?” She was teasing, but not mocking.
To be honest, I wasn’t sure this Weaver wasn’t me after all. “Not up for games.”
“Not playing any. Not with myself, anyway. Why are you using visual tells in a world of illusions? Know how easy it is to deceive myself?”
She has a point. Sight can be fooled. She twirled the wand while waiting patiently for me to find another means of vetting her. The wand. Without voice, I called it by name. It disappeared from her left hand and appeared in mine. I felt its weight and density. I smelled its scent and was caressed by its texture. For lack of better words, the wand’s spirit verified itself to me, and in doing so, vetted the shard before me.
“Yea, you’re me. A different me. One I’m not aware of missing. I suppose it’s time to get into some shit, then? And why are you in that get-up?”
She took the wand back from me in the same manner I called it. Twirling it for flair, she chuckled a veteran’s laugh. Her laughter stopped and she pointed at my hands. The red bag of the Hermetic Kabbalah Tarot appeared, stuffed with the ordered deck. “I’m going to cosplay a card, and you’re going to name it. Pay attention!”
She took a few steps back to increase the space between us and started twirling the wand violently. A wall of flame erupted from the ground and circled us. The faster she twirled the wand, the higher and more intense grew the flames. She shouted a syllable I did not understand and the wand transformed into a tall flaming staff.
She planted the staff between us. The flames danced off the staff and snapped like wind-whipped flags. The heat was great and obviously discomforting her, but she continued to hold the staff with a unwavering grip of unrelenting fortitude.
Around us the flames danced and roared. I looked closely, and the tongues reminded me of the manes of lions as they clashed with each other and with enemies.
Now what card in the tarot can be symbolized with endurance in the face of adversity, fortitude when others would have given up, the resolution to continue despite the cost, good old fashioned fire, and lions?
“Strength. Formerly known as Fortitude. Symbolized by the lion, and is the representation of the astrological sign of Leo.”
She lifted the staff off the ground and it became the wand again. She touched the tip of the wand to the deck in my right hand. A yellow card separated itself from the deck. I took it with my left. It was the Strength card.
“And what path is the Strength card on your Tree of Life?” Her humorous tone betrayed what I suddenly realized.
“I don’t know. I haven’t memorized that yet.” The face of the spiritual card shifted in my sight. She wasn’t going to allow me to cheat. “Uh-oh. There’s only one reason why you would ask me that.”
As she turned around to face away from me, she collected the wall of flames into the tip of the wand, darkening the environment. She turned only her head to answer me. “Maybe. Tell you what, why don’t you meet me there and find out.” Tapping the wand on her left shoulder, she hummed a tuneless ditty to herself as she walked into the surrounding darkness.
I opened my eyes to find that only twenty seconds had actually passed. I could still smell the superheated air but it was quickly fading. Having the HKT on hand today, I quickly pulled out the card.
The Strength card lies on the path between the fourth sephira of Chesed and the fifth sephira of Geburah. While the path is horizontal on paper, to ascend it would mean traveling from Geburah to Chesed. More Mars shenanigans with the Fearless Legion, I see. (And another potential series of asswhippings!) To descend meant traveling from Chesed to Geburah. Which would mean dealing with Jupiter. Or worse, certain other demiurges which I’d rather not fuck around with.
But what brought me to full wakefulness is the Hebrew letter of the card. Teth. “Serpent”. I knew then, that Snake would not be able to assist me this time. I have to walk this one completely alone.
Very well then. This marks the first post in the Path of Teth entries.