I read it during the day and studied the cards at night.
A whole month passed in which my life became a repetitive and obsessive cycle. Working at the morgue during the day, studying magic until the late hours of the night. Sleeping poorly, waking up and repeating everything again the next day.
At least now I could control my power during my shifts. I learned from experience that I just had to avoid thinking about how the dead had passed while I touched them.
Otherwise, they would give me the answer.
"What the hell is that smell?" Bernard asked me one day while I was cleaning a corpse on the table.
I turned and found him with his nose wrinkled, right behind me.
"It’s probably death."
"No, it’s you. You smell like cemetery flowers."
"Oh." I let out a small laugh. "It must be my gran
