Try as he might to keep an even keel, there was a familiar twist in his gut as the cards were turned, his insides becoming ice. It felt worse, physically, when he actually dreamed of it – and after, woke up shivering and cold and numb from it, skin tingling as he came back to his body like the future had somehow crept into his limbs as he slept.

This was different – not feeling it so much, but feeling the weight of the knowledge, the cool fact of it, face on. The direction of his future was something that had sunk in for him long ago, but it was more real when someone else saw it too. One more nail going in.

The rest of the party – gathering – felt quite distant now, a hazy background murmur. But no, he hadn’t known that – Savino dragged his gaze up from the cards as well when Mr. Carmichael explained it. “Ah,” he said softly, with a little surprise and dismay, but rather more understanding than he had had before. “That must be – difficult, always seeing others’ deaths.” Seeing his own was unpleasant enough, but at least there was no great theme to the rest of his visions; Mr. Carmichael was locked into a darker pattern, and Savino could only imagine the kind of toll that would take. “How do you cope?”

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