The Call of the Void (and the Cat)

The city of Nocturne is a place where the sun is merely a suggestion, perpetually veiled in a swirling indigo twilight. It is a realm of gothic spires, cobblestone alleys, and shadows that seem to breathe.

In her sunless, yet surprisingly cozy, attic studio, Sarah Michelle Doucet stretches, her medium-brown bob askew. She's been up for two nights, possessed by a creative frenzy, channeling the dark fantasy world she calls Soaps and Dreams into her digital tablet. On her desk, a half-finished character figure, styled in intricate gothic streetwear, keeps watch over a spread of Tarot cards she is designing. A neon-accented Jordan sneaker, kicked off in a moment of inspiration, sits near a pile of anime reference books. Sarah feels a strange energy in the air, a hum that isn't coming from her computer.

Miles away, in a different, more shadowed corner of Nocturne, a girl named Emma is about to make a very important mistake.

Emma is a paradox. With hair spun from moonlight pinned into perfect halo braids and eyes the color of an impossible, mesmerizing blue flame, she looks like she just stepped out of a celestial choir. But her soul is pure gothic cute. She wears a crisp white blouse, pinstripe suspenders, and a dark, lace-trimmed skirt, accessorized with a choker and a backpack covered in colorful, quirky pins. Compared to the drab, monochrome citizens of Nocturne, she is a blinding beacon of pop.

But there's a catch. Emma has zero sense of direction.

She stands on the very edge of a precarious, crumbling stone bridge, humming a cheerful, slightly off-key tune. Her tiny white kitten, Waffles, is perched on her shoulder, its little bat-like wings twitching as it watches the dizzying drop below. Emma isn't looking down; she's looking up.

In the swirling indigo sky, a constellation has just flared to life, not in the shape of a bear or a hunter, but in the shape of a figure holding a staff and a small white dog. The Fool. Emma giggles, pointing a finger at it.

"Oh, Waffles! Look! The universe is telling me to go on an adventure!"

She doesn't hesitate. As her friends, silhouetted by the faint, flickering lights of a distant, secret academy hidden in the forest, wave frantically at her, Emma takes a joyful, oblivious step. Off the ledge.

Into open air.

For a single, breathless moment, she hangs there. Then, a soft, golden, magical energy, shimmering with the same iridescent blue as her eyes, erupts beneath her foot. It forms a swirling, mystical path embedded with subtle, glowing images of the major arcana: The Fool, The Magician, The High Priestess. The path begins to carry her, floating, toward the distant school.

Her pet bat, Nocturne, from back in her room, suddenly appears on her shoulder, looking terrified. Waffles, the kitten, is still perched there, batting playfully at Emma's ear.

Back at the Creator's desk, Sarah Michelle Doucet stops drawing. A new card has appeared in her Tarot spread, one she didn't draw. It's '0 — The Fool,' and it seems to pulse with the exact same magical energy that just filled the air in her studio.

"Oh," Sarah murmurs, her artist's instinct sparking. "The story just began."

Emma floats serenely through the twilight, her "pop" style making her stand out against the dark, misty forest, guided by a golden road that spells out, in glittering script, her destiny: "THE FOOL".