The Wheel of Fortune is fickle; it turns around pulling mortals to depths and highs just as the jester plays the fiddle. The Emperor gives blessing to The Fool who set off on her journey for the unknown; hoping to find The Sun, The Moon and the Star, to find meaning from The World. With Temperance and Strength she traversed the temptations of The Devil.
Yet when The Empress stabs with swords nine, as The Hierophant speaks to The Hanged Man now bleeding in despair; that The Tower has been set aflame, that her journey so far has been for nought, Death comes with The Chariot of Judgement. Longing for Justice for the unjust.
Let The High Priestess lay to rest the innocent soul who thought that for once the Wheel of Fortune was turning in her favour.
The Lovers cry for her hopes, The Magician laments her ambitions. The Hermit tells her tale so that no other Fool sets off again. Fortune is mercurial. Life is unfair. And none of them favoured her.