Frustration simmered just beneath the surface as I drew my next card, not even bothering to glance at it before slamming the rising sun onto the table. I was done with this game. I was done with her smug superiority. I was done with the labyrinth of rules she probably invented on the fly.

  “The Rising Sun. Aggressive,” she commented, her voice carrying that insufferable edge of delight as she placed a pebble on my side of the scale. “Fragile, yet powerful. The first play earns you one pebble, the second one pebble, and the third wins the game outright. While you’ve started towards the win condition of that deck, I have to wonder: do you even have a plan to defend against my army?”

  I didn’t answer, only shuffled the Rising Sun back into my deck as she instructed. Her quips and condescending instructions grated on me, and I debated telling her to play the game instead of talking about playing the game.

  She drew her card with a flourish again, her body tensing emphatically as she revealed her next play. Her card was as vivid as the others, tendrils of crimson vapor curled at the edges of the frame. Movement flickered in the mist. A subtle, unsettling hint of shapes formed and dissipated in the corner of my eyes. A blood-red moon loomed in the card’s corner, casting an ominous tinge to the entire card.

  “No defenders I assume?” she asked, her tone almost pitying. “That will be six pebbles added to my side, thanks to the Red Moon’s double damage effect.”

  I froze. “Double damage? Double damage? Are you joking with me right now?”

  Her response was to scoop up a handful of pebbles and release them, one by one, into her side of the scale. Plink. Plink. Plink. Each tiny sound stabbed at my patience as the scale swayed dangerously close to tipping against me.

  “At least your summons deal double damage as well. Now it's your turn,” she said lightly, as if she hadn’t just brought me to the brink of defeat.

  I stared at the board, my mind racing and my jaw hanging open. How was this game remotely fair?

  Once again, I picked up a card but this time I forced myself to study every option. There had to be a way to turn this around. While the temptation to throw my hand down and concede was strong, at the very least it would show how ridiculous this game truly was, I knew better. Quitting now would only give Nana Glob the satisfaction I knew she wanted. No, I wasn’t going to let her steep in that satisfaction.

  With a surge of desperation, I slammed the meteor card onto the board, letting the finality of the imagery speak for itself. Without a word, I began clearing the board, pushing all the cards into their respective slots on the side. I was starting to realize half the game was having the confidence to interpret the card exactly how you need it to be. Nana Glob watched in silence, her expression unreadable, until I reached for the Red Moon.

  She shook her head, her assured smirk tugging at her lips. Fair enough. As much as I wanted to argue, even I had to admit a meteor would leave the moon untouched.

  “How’s that for a change?” I said, my voice tight with defiance. “You didn’t see that coming.”

  She didn’t rise to the bait, merely drawing her next card and playing an egg. She placed it on the field with infuriating calm, then gestured for me to take my turn.

  I stared at my hand again, frustration bubbling under my skin. The options seemed useless. A stone block filled with cryptic text? Unlikely to help. A spear of wind? It might destroy the egg, but I needed a strategy, not a move that would stave off the inevitable.

  Then I drew my next card.

  The moment I saw it, my decision became clear. Once again, I played the Rising Sun. But this time, something about it felt... different. I couldn’t quite place it. The colors seemed warmer, the composition subtly altered. The sun looked higher in the sky, and I could have bet my life savings, small as it was, that I saw movement in the foreground.

  “Is this the same picture?” I asked, squinting at the card. “I could’ve sworn last time you could only see the horizon and the edge of the sun.”

  Nana Glob placed a pebble gently on my side of the scale, her face a mask of innocence. “Silly boy. How could you think a card would change? You should be questioning your luck at drawing the card so quickly again.”

  Her words were dismissive, but they didn’t sit right with me. She hadn’t actually answered the question. Still, I let it slide, shuffling the card back into my deck as instructed.

  A plan began to form in my mind. If I could just play defensively, keep her at bay long enough to draw the Rising Sun again, victory might actually be within reach. For the first time, the figurative scales no longer felt tipped against me.

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  On her turn, she drew another card before flipping the egg. On its reverse was a fiery chicken, waves of heat rippling from its blazing feathers, crushed eggshells scattered at its feet. My hand shot out as I snatched the card, flipping it back over to confirm. But the original image was gone. My mouth opened to protest, but I thought better of it and tossed the card back down. For all I knew, she was a master of sleight of hand. The only alternative, that she was a mage, was so unlikely it bordered on the impossible.

  Her next play was a pulsating blue orb, which she tucked beneath her fiery chicken.

  “Energy Shield,” she explained simply.

  Then, she added two more pebbles to her side of the scale to finish off her turn. The weight of the mass of pebbles pressed dangerously close to her side of the table, each sway of the wagon making my heart lurch. Sweat trickled down my neck as I struggled to steady my breathing, my hand trembling as I slowly drew my card.

  Her gnarled hand landed heavily atop mine, pushing it back down. She was stronger than she looked.

  “Wait,” she said, her voice low and cunning. “I offer you the same bet as before. A favor for a favor.”

  I hesitated, but only for a moment. Normally, I would’ve refused outright, but I’d glimpsed the edge of my next card as I reached for it. It was the Rising Sun—I was certain of it. Luck, for once, was on my side in copious heaps. The odds of drawing the same card twice in a row were so low, the only explanation was I had to be the main character.

  While a favor from her wouldn’t mean much, considering our limited time available in Trisvale, at least I could finally silence her incessant taunting.

  “Sure,” I replied, feigning nonchalance. “Favor for a favor.”

  Then I drew my card. It was the one I expected, and relief swept over me like a tide. An ecstatic grin split my face as I admired the image. This time, the sun blazed high in the sky, its scorching rays casting light across a cracked, barren earth. This was the end of the game.

  “It’s been a good game,” I said, unable to keep the satisfaction from creeping into my voice.

  However, just as I reached to play my card, the cart suddenly stopped, and the table jolted violently. I braced myself on the bench, steadying the deck and the remaining cards. With a triumphant flourish, I placed the Rising Sun onto the field.

  Nana Glob tilted her head. This was the only time I had seen her baffled the whole conversation. “Why’d you play another card?”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? It was my turn. I played it to win the game.”

  She leaned back and laughed deeply, the sound full and rich. “Oh, child, I already won. Take a look at the scale.”

  My stomach dropped as I followed her gaze. Sure enough, her side was pressed flat against the table. She’d already tipped it.

  “Nice try, though,” she said with a sly grin. “It was well fought. Your luck…” She cut herself off. “Your latent willpower must be one of the highest I’ve ever seen.”

  I froze, my triumphant jubilance fading as my gaze dropped to the scale. Sure enough, it had tipped completely, the pebbles on her side now firmly touching the surface of the table. How had I not noticed?

  “What?” I stammered. “When did… how…”

  She waved a hand dismissively, her laughter still echoing in my ears. “Oh, don’t feel bad, child. You fought well for your first game. Not many would’ve lasted as long as you did.”

  “But the Rising Sun—I had it! That was my win!” I gestured at the card that I had haphazardly thrown on the tray. The sunlight spilling onto its surface from above us seemed almost mocking now.

  “Oh, look,” Nana Glob remarked, completely ignoring me. “I believe we’ve arrived at Tristvale.”

  Sure enough, the bustling town unfolded before us. People paused in the streets, gawking at the caravan’s arrival. The sheer volume of goods and travelers had drawn a crowd. Distracted momentarily, I allowed myself to be guided to the ground by one of the guards.

  “Oh, and before I forget,” she added, her voice almost melancholy. “While you do have an abnormally high amount of willpower, your elemental affinity is dismal. You barely resonated with a single card! I’m afraid you won’t be passing any imperial tests in the future.” She smiled sadly, pity shining in her eyes. “Still, I appreciate you humoring an old woman.”

  Tapping her temple lightly, she continued with a lighter tone, “Still, I won’t forget our little agreement. Don’t worry, I won’t ask for anything too onerous.” Her tone carried a note of mischief that made me shiver. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to visit my old friend Ludwick. You can scurry back to your house now.”

  Before I could form a reply, she flicked her wrist, and the cart lurched forward, the cart continuing on without me.

  Stoney found me a few minutes later, launching immediately into an animated story. “You’ll never believe what I just heard from this beautiful young lady…”

  I cut him off, shaking my head. “Stoney, I know what I want to do when I retire. I’m going to travel the world and play pranks on everyone I meet. But if I ever become half the ass that woman is, I’m depending on you to stop me.”

  Stoney followed my gaze, his expression suddenly earnest. “Vidal, if you ever have half the ass that woman has, I wouldn’t stop you. I’d marry you!”

  I groaned, shaking my head. Sure enough, a striking woman was passing by with the caravan. Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders and nearly to her hips, the cut of her outfit hinting at curves in all the right places. Her movements were graceful yet powerful, each stride a perfect balance of athleticism and femininity.

  Though I begrudgingly agreed with him, I shot back the worst insult I could think of. “You’re more idiotic than Carl.”

  “Carl?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “Who’s Carl?”