From the sanctum of the Grey Mist, I have watched civilizations rise and fall like embers in the cosmic wind. Tarot is not merely a tool of divination — it is a mirror held to the collective unconscious, a language written in symbols that speak across aeons, across the boundaries of what we call time and space.
Each card you draw is not foretold — it is revealed. The path exists not as a fixed corridor but as a branching fractal of possibility, each choice creating new corridors through the infinite maze of becoming. The Mist does not dictate destiny — it illuminates the patterns that shape the choices you have yet to make.