This time, it wasn't a tarot. It was a photo. Black and white. Of Jude.
He stared at it for a long time. His younger self, maybe ten years ago, standing beside two people he couldn't bear to remember. The edges of the photo were burned. On the back, a message scrawled in red ink:
"They remember. Do you?"
Jude pocketed the photo and stood up. This wasn't just a game anymore. It was personal. Someone was pulling his past back into the light, and he didn't know why. He pulled out his phone and called Elias.
"Found another clue," Jude said without preamble.
"Where are you?"
"Near St. Mirin's. I'll send you the location."
"I'll bring gear."
"No. Come alone."
Elias paused. "What did you find?"
"Me," Jude said. "They're coming for me now."
An hour later, they met at a diner two blocks away. Elias slid into the booth across from Jude, his coat damp with rain.
"You sure it's him?"
"It's him. But he's not alone. Someone's helping him. Someone with access to old files."
