Pyromancy
Pyromancy closes the year the way it’s opened for millennia — reading fortune in fire itself: how a flame leans, how smoke curls, whether a candle gutters or holds steady against the question put to it.
I sat for this one myself, mask half-on, closer in spirit to numerology than to flame — twelve months counted out, the year’s reading arriving less in smoke than in the simple fact of having reached the last one.