Template:Story Psychic

She opens her eyes, gleaming with a faint orange glow of the candle, and uncovers a deck of cards securely hidden within the folds of her robe. A deep breath, and she shuffles them with a vague sense of expertise, or rather, a sense of total familiarity. Memories of her dying mother passing on both the set and the authority to undertake the mystical career alone, would forever echo in her head as she prepares to do the job she was solely trained for.

The Psychic murmurs a short prayer, and brushes the cards face-down in a line. Facing down, her gaze lies upon them, all embellished with a crimson arabesque design, each representing a specific villager residing in Salem. The Red Tarots were the manifestations of the negative traits living within each of the townsfolk. With her fingers carefully resting above the cards, she picks three, the energy of which burned strongest at the present hour. Flipping the trio over, she studies carefully their contents, and proceeds to infer the possible individual, or individuals, blackened with a heart of darkness.

Ares, the God of War. It represented the trigger-happy Veteran, post-traumatic from his distant battles. The Judge of Power. It was a card representing their highest-ranking official, the Mayor. A swift aura of complete realization empowered her, yet she was now forced to comprehend the risks she needed to take. Gripping the last tarot of Hellfire in her hand, to accuse someone in their Town was to put herself to the possibility of being called a fraud, or even death. But to die, she concluded, has to happen to someone, if they ever wished for justice to prevail in their village.