WITCHING
One card a day, drawn from the aurora and turned in the unbroken midnight.
DRAW 78 OF 78. Saturday, September 26, 2026
The Chariot comes to you upside down, its wheels still turning in the dark. You have been pulling in every direction at once, haven't you. Two sphinxes under glass, one straining toward magenta, one toward teal, and you in the middle holding reins that slipped hours ago. The anger you feel is only momentum with nowhere to go. Nobody here is keeping score. Set the reins down on the nightstand. Let the house breathe around you. At this hour you do not have to win anything. Only choose one road, the quiet one, and let the other sphinx sleep. Something watches you kindly while you decide.
Hover, tap, or focus to turn the card
How each card was drawn.
At eleven in the morning each day, one of the seventy eight cards that had not yet appeared was pulled at random, and a pendulum swung over the glass decided whether it fell upright or reversed. Nothing was drawn twice.
Then it was made. Each card was illustrated in the Witching hand and held to the same light every time, so the whole deck stayed of one piece. A reading was written for that card, in that orientation, in the same steady voice it always kept. By morning, the card had already turned.
One a day, drawn from the aurora, until all seventy eight had shown their faces. They all have now.
All seventy eight.
A card was turned each day at eleven in the morning and written in one hand, until all seventy eight were drawn. Pull any one to read it again.
