Tarot was originally a game.

Records show that playing cards first entered Europe in the late 14th century, although the exact invention of the phenomenon is unknown. The first mention in surviving records comes in 1367 Berne, but it appears the concept of playing cards spread rapidly across the continent. Funnily enough, the vast majority of these early records are of card games being banned, rather than celebrated.

Although there is no way for us to know the exact make-up of a 1300s deck of cards, it appears the 'four suit' format has survived 700 years of development. The Batons, Coins, Swords and Cups patterns are even still used in many traditional Portuguese, Spanish, and Italian decks.

It wasn't until around 1440 that we saw our first documented tarot decks, pinpointed somewhere between Milan, Florence, Bologna, and Ferrara. But something had changed. Joining the traditional four suits was a new set of cards known as trionfi – or trump cards.

These early tarot cards were hand-painted and intricate, meaning the number of decks was kept to a minimum within the Italian quadrilateral. Wealthy families would commission customised decks from artists, with one set of cards from 1490 surviving to this day. It was not until the invention of the printing press that the tarot craze swept to the masses. France, Switzerland, Germany, Spain – it didn't take long for tarot to travel, to evolve.

But tarot then was far from tarot now. The cards were primarily used for games rather than occult, diversion more than divination. It took until the 18th century for the path of tarot to change forever. A Frenchman by the name of Jean-Baptiste Alliette published a book linking tarot cards to the art of divination, even going as far as to assign meaning to each of the designs. He studied the Egyptian Book of Thoth, and drew inspiration from the elements and astronomy to influence his decisions.

By the 1900s, tarot was thrust into the American gaze. The Rider-Waite deck was created in 1909, quickly becoming the most popular shelf-filler – the same deck used by Ms Esme Bellegrade. 22 Major Acana – the trump cards. The Fool, The Lovers, Death, The Devil... The Hanged Man, among them. 56 Minor Arcana, split into four suits of 14 cards each. Wands, pentacles, cups, and swords. All based on the Venetian or Piedmontese tarot decks – millions of people worldwide now use the Rider-Waite tarot to gain insight into the past, present, and even potential futures.

"I haven't seen you put this much research into a project for a long time," Julia cooed as she placed a steaming hot cup of tea down beside her beau. She liked seeing this side of him, rare as it was. Intrigue set Jonathan's mind racing, and in turn, Julia's heart.

"It's not so much a project, just another bullshit piece for that shiny-shoed shithead," Jonathan mumbled – Bobby McGill. Yet his eyes remained locked mid-scroll.

Julia smiled, "I'll leave you to it, my love," kissing him on the top of his unkempt head. "Robert needs an extra pair of hands down at the clinic again tonight so don't wait up."

The smell of Julia's hair hanging beside his face pulled Jonathan out of his research for long enough to kiss her on the cheek before she departed. She always held the most intrigue of all. Faded blue scrubs from head to toe, yet she looked just as radiant as the first time he'd laid eyes on her across the dancefloor. Some people possess that natural alluring glow that magnetises you to their every waking minute – and Jonathan had always been a moth to a flame. What a flame.

***

Jonathan had never been one for the nightclub scene – not in those days anyway. His mind raced with so many ideas, so many stories and angles and possibilities, the music only served to drown them out. The entertainment was just a distraction from what mattered. Jonathan was well aware of how the world worked. Blink, and ten years have passed. Would he look back on that one night at the club with giddy affection, or would it be the articles and the travel and the acclaim that filled him with nostalgia? In a twist of fate, it turned out to be the former. A story worth writing in itself. For a moment that evening, one single force was able to block out even the combined noise of music and inspiration – Julia.

The swish of blonde hair through a sea of bobbing heads and swaying shoulders. A smile caught just right by the strobe lights. A beer in hand among cocktails. Not so much an elegance to her movement, but a fearlessness that Jonathan admired. He recognised it from his own writing, but had never quite been able to mimic it in such a vulnerable and busy setting. To this day, he wasn't sure how long he had spent gazing across the room – his fellow club-goers were certainly too inebriated to notice, or care. But once he spotted Julia shake her beer bottle and point a thumb over her shoulder, his feet began to move of their own accord – body acting over mind for the first time in his adult life.

"You know the owner is a pervert?" Jonathan shouted a little too loudly into her ear.

"Excuse me," Julia scoffed. "The owner of what is a who now?"

"A pervert. Bunton Brewery – they make the beer you've got in your hand there. I read an exposé on the owner last week, turns out he was arrested for setting up cameras in the staff toilet..."

"No!"

"Fraid so."

Julia laughed, "Well, we can't be endorsing that behaviour now, can we?"

"It would be irresponsible," Jonathan nodded. "Maybe I can get you a new one? Something with a little more hops and a little less... pervert?"

"I don't see how else we can proceed," she shrugged with a wry smile.

Jonathan flashed two fingers to the barman and pointed at one of the beers on tap.

"I'm curious..." Julia shouted between sips. "Are the exposé lines usually a hit?"

"They are with me."

"Sounds like I better stick with you then...?"

"Jonathan."

"Julia. Nice to meet you, Jonathan. You know legally you have to tell me if you're a prevent now, right?"

***

Surrender.

He clicked the links to the individual cards, one by one, focusing on the ones Ms Bellegrade has drawn during his own reading. The High Priestess. The Three of Wands. The Tower. Each description largely matched what Esme had told him – albeit without the weaved narrative that was supposedly unique for each patron.

The Hanged Man.

Ms Bellegrade fell short of expounding the final draw of the evening. "I assume you have what you came for?" was the only reaction she provided – more of an instruction. A polite 'shut your door on the way out'.

In most traditional tarot decks, The Hanged Man represents the 12th Major Arcana card. It depicts a pittura infamante – a man hanging by a single ankle. However, the Tarocco Siciliano variation paints the same man hanging by his neck instead. Although hanging by the ankle was a common punishment for acts of treachery once upon a time in Italy, it is said that Tarot's Hanged Man is likely there under his own steam. A choice rather than a sentence.

The designer of the Rider-Waite tarot deck once said of The Hanged Man: 'It has been called falsely a card of martyrdom, a card of prudence, a card of the , a card of duty. I will say very simply on my own part that it expresses the relation, in one of its aspects, between the Divine and the Universe.'

Wisdom. Intuition. Trials. Sacrifice. Prophecy. Circumspection. The Hanged Man comes tethered with many meanings.

Or as Ms Bellegrade had put it – Surrender.

She would no doubt experience a spike in appointments for the next week or so – until the next Willow Mills fad came along. Bobby would keep an eye on the metrics to see whether a follow-up article was worth his time. Often the second piece in a series was even more of a reach than the first. Fantasy often bred naivety. People see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear.

Jonathan hovered his mouse over the X button on his document until it highlighted red, then proceeded to minimise and returned to his actual article draft. Far less context, even fewer facts, and a healthy dollop of sensationalism. Perhaps Jonathan would have been interested to write a deep dive into the art of divination, with tarot reading at the forefront of his case studies. That was the kind of thing he might have pitched during his university days, with a clever and unique link to something topical. The kind of connection none of his classmates would make, and even some of his professors would jealously vibrate over. Yet here he was, curating an opening paragraph about how crystal balls could be your one-way ticket to winning the Euromillions jackpot.

Surrender.

Maybe Jonathan had already done as much.