Report excerpt, dated in the margins: *Deck fragment recovered—condition necrotic, edges fragrant with soot.* Observe the regalia: iron flanges curved like cloisters, each vane whisper-marked by ember green. That glow—unholy, yes—implies heat without source, a fever adrift in vellum stock. Ravens perch as sentinels, their beaks carving tense vectors toward some unseen corridor. The figure anchors the card’s geometry with skeletal elegance, fingers hooked as though caught mid-oath. No crest, no heraldry beyond the spade rune; this absence hums louder than presence. Some say these cards circulated during the winter of sealed gates, when border chapels burned slow and priests swore they heard knocking behind altars. If true, then Vojta knew of it earlier—his inquiries mapped to similar sigils. The record ends in blur, but his trail folds inward like the deck itself. He does not answer still.