Ygduil's Note: Beyond this point is Unedited Lore written during NaNoWriMo, 2023. The Journey is Incomplete—Containing plotholes and other various errors. If this does not concern you, then go forth.

Part 3

This made the Apprentice smile, though he thought he shouldn’t have. “Yes,” he said “Master Vega is well, I think. However, she sent me urgently, which I fear has a dark forboding.” “Why do you say this?” “The morning of my departure, the bells rang out over Etherium.” “This is wonderful news, then, a changed time for the islands! You know there have been some generations who never heard the bells peel. We should be lucky we are born of an age where they ring with some frequency.” “Yes, of course.” “Then what is the matter?” “Well, I was raised to Compaignon in the mere minutes prior to my departure.” “My friend," Ixar said, “I fear you have lost the meaning of foreboading! This is wonderful news as well.” “Yes,” the Apprentice said again, “but the ceremony did not take place. She told me I was not ready.” “I see. You did not break bread?” “We shared fresh lagana.” “I am still in search of issue. Did you lament the pomp and circumstance?” He did not say so, but he had. On his sail to Tethys, he often thought about his missed feast with the guild, the robes with which he was not adorned, and the practice of the crucible that he was not sure he would ever take part in. His silence answered for him, and Ixar smiled. "Come and join me for tea. The kettle is still warm.” As he spoke, a great owl flew into the greeting hall from the stairs down which Ixar had come. The Apprentice instantly recognized the creature as his master’s familiar. “Penumbra?” asked the Apprentice, and the emissary nodded. "Come up for tea, and I will explain,” said Ixar, and he tipped his cup upward, draining it to the leaves before disappearing up the stairs. Penumbra flew to perch in the entrance as the Apprentice followed Ixar. Up the stairs, there was a small, cozy abode no larger than the dormitories that the Apprentice was used to in the Archive, though there was a bit more room to account for a kitchenette for sparse cooking and washing up. When the Apprentice climbed the last step, Ixar was already preparing another cup of tea for himself. “Do you take milk?” “Just a bit of sugar, thanks.” And soon Ixar came to a small sitting area, guesturing with a teacup for the Apprentice to have a seat, and rested in a servicable chair himself. The Apprentice had half-expected to see his master’s face, but of course, she never appeared. “I’m sure you’re wondering about Penumbra’s presence here, but first I would like to apologize if you were mistreated in any way in your arrival to the Capital.” The Apprentice found this an odd introduction to his explanation, as he had not spoken to Ixar of his capture. “I must admit I was not privy to Vega’s plans until the night before last, when Penumbra arrived.” The Apprentice had a flash in his memory to his encounter at the Weird House. “Master Vega had known I would fail her all along, then.” This made Ixar laugh an incredulous laugh. "On the contrary,” he said. “You have done exactly as expected of you. "No,” the Apprentice said. “I was ill of care in my traversal in the Tower’s territory, and was spied. coming toward the Capital. I was, for reasons unexplained, held against my will upon entry, and the message I was to deliver was seized.” “Yes, Crowley can be quite a brute. It’s true.” “Was Crowley the man who I was taken to in the heart of the Capital?” “Yes,” said Ixar again. “It was just as Vega had intended.” “Intended?” "She tasked you to do as you’ve done, my friend. Penumbra has brought the same message you carried to me, but it was of utmost importance that Crowley believe he had discovered in his own way. Do you wish to know what it read?” “The Archive has achieved crysopoeia.” Ixar’s eyes widened. “And why do you say this?” he asked, as he tried to disguise his surprise behind a sheer veil of sterness. “The bells -- “ “Ah, yes, you heard the bells before you left the islands.” “In honesty, I have not seen it. I do not know the way the masters have summoned gold from their components, but in the halls I heard whispers. The word was everywhere, and then Master Vega came to fetch me while I studied and set me on my journey.” Ixar mumbled something not meant for the Apprentice, but he caught his master’s name in the murmur. “Was this not the message Penumbra also carried?” the Apprentice asked. "No, dear friend. It was not. There was no mention of this great achievement.” It seems that you all are a trifle to each other, said Helena, as she leapt out of the Apprentice’s bag, and as she did so, the bag overturned. Ixar laughed. “Yes, It would seem that way. I do beg your pardon, but I don’t believe I’ve caught your friend’s name,” Ixar said to the Apprentice. His friend's name is Boko. He’s hitched outside. Helena said as she roamed and sniffed around the room. “This is Helena,” said the Apprentice. “And Boko?” "A borrowed mount. I suppose he shouldn’t be left tied outside all night. Are there stables nearby?” Ixar thought for a moment. “I do believe there are. We can walk there and have him boarded once we’ve —“ Ixar’s eyes were fixed on the floor where Helena had overturned the Apprentice’s knapsack. The book that he had taken from Curiouroboros had tumbled out just so that its bright binding was visible, displaying a portion of the strange symbol on its front cover. "My dear friend. Wherever did you find that?” The Apprentice followed the emissary’s eyes to the book. “This?” he asked, retrieving it the rest of the way from the open bag. “It’s nothing. Just an oddity I found in a shop before I arrived here. Its contents are strange, though,” he said as he thumbed the pages, “Unlike anything I’ve seen even in the Archives. Names, it seems, but without context for them. They go on for the book in its entirety.” “Yes, I’m aware.” Ixar said. “This Book of Names is no stranger to me.” He rose and poured his unfinshed tea down the drain in the kitchentte at the far end of the room. “Come,” he said. “Let us find a stable for your horse. Perhaps we can speak more of this when we return.” “But you have still not told me about the true message that Master Vega sent.” When he turned, Ixar’s face had darkened. “A stable for now,” he said. The Apprentice followed Ixar’s lead and dumped his yet unsipped tea into the sink. Helena wished to remain while the two went in search for a stable, until Penumbra swooped back up the stair, and had stared at her from a standalone perch Ixar had in the room. In the end, she decided to go along. As the Apprentice was depositing Helena into his bag once more, he picked the Book of Names from the floor and moved to slip it in the bag as well until Ixar said firmly, “Leave the book.” The Apprentice did as he was told. When the two alchemists stepped out into the streets of the Capital once more, the stones of the city appeared to have been lit by the light of the moon. But the light of lanterns, not unlike the one the Apprentice carried, hanged in the sky by some enchantment, and they floated in a mystic aura which gave the Capital a beautiful glow. The city had not grown quiet in the evening, but there was less of a bustle than in the earlier hours of the day. The Apprentice was surprised to see the lights on in many of the businesses they passed, and some had even lit for what he had guessed was the first time that day while he was with the emissary. They traversed the city without much conversation, as the Apprentice had been unsure what he might say that would again set Ixar’s face against the force of gravity. The Wizards of the Tower had their eyes, and those of the Red Order in the Capital no doubt had theirs as well. Before long, Ixar had led the Apprentice out of a different gat to the city than he had entered. Here, there was no warrior set to sentry, and only the Wizards whose duty it was to raise and lower the gate. The portcullis had been lowered, already for the night, but with a reminder to the attendants of his post as an ambassador of a foreign guild and a spot of monetary persuasion, the Wizards raised the gate to head height, and told the emissary they would keep it that way for twenty minutes or until someone else came along in either direction, whichever came first. Ixar thanked them for their generosity, and he and the Apprentice ducked beneath the heavy metal gate and out into the proper night. Had it not been for the lantern glow aroound the stable, it night would have fallen too dark to see, but the alchemists were set on their course and followed a footpath to the small building in the distance. “I haven’t any money for boarding,” the Apprentice said when they were nearly there. "That’s fine,” Ixar said. “I don’t keep a horse myself, though I’m allowed one by the city. The islands pay to have a stall held for me, but I find I don’t need to often venture out to play my part in the Capital. Like you have, most of my business is delivered to my doorstep.” The two made a quick stabling of Boko, and the Apprentice pet his snout and promised he would return for him the next day. When the keeper of the stable was wrapped in conversation with Ixar over the details of the stabling, and Ixar explained as he had to the Apprentice, the young Wizard took a sugar cube from a collection of them and fed it to Boko. The two traveled back through the gate to the Capital and walked the city in much the same silence by which they had come with the ocassional remark on a passerby or some interesting architecture. When they were nearly back to the emissary’s lodge, Ixar asked, “Where will you be off to once you’ve left the Capital?” The Apprentice didn’t know, and said as much. "I don’t mean to send you off so quickly,” Ixar said. “Know that you’re most welcome to say as long as you need or like. You’ve come quite a long way from the islands. I don’t know that I’ve ever made the journey by land myself, but I know that it must have been exhausting.” It would do us some good to rest, but I don’t much like your Capital. I think I’ve had my fill of you all and would soon see myself back home. "It isn’t my Capital,” said the Apprentice. “Nor is it mine,” added Ixar, and though he did wear the hat of Red Order in his duty, the mark of the Alchemists was embroidered there on its banded leather. “I assure you I would just as well be on the islands as you in your Delta, Helena,” said the emissary. The Apprentice couldn’t quite place his feelings on returnign to the island, but he was sure it wasn’t as strong of a desire as either of theirs to return to their origins, and he was unable to think on it long, as they had already arrived back under the miniscule alchemists sign of Ixar’s humble residence. The Apprentice felt as if he might burst with curiosity, and it had only been moments after they shut the door behind them that he began again to put Ixar to question. “If Crowley was truly meant to intercept my message from Master Vega, what was her true message? What was in the decoy scroll?” Ixar took no notice of the Apprentice’s questions as he hanged his cloak on a rack at the door’s entrance. “Why do you know of book I claimed on a whim from Curiouroboros?” “Think on the name, young Wizard, of the place where you found it. Everything returns to its beginning.” The emissary looked at the Apprentice, and all of the warmth had washed from his visage. “Come,” he said. “I’ve something to show you.” Then, he vanished up the stairs just as he had done before. This one’s quite cryptic, don’t you think? asked Helena, peering out of her hiding place. "Yes,” agreed the Apprentice. “I do.” Do you trust his word above your own master’s? He was not sure. He had not truly known Ixar, but, if he were to be honest with himself, he had not truly known Master Vega either, though he had spent much of his life in her guidance, and it seemed as if the emissary was also under the impression that she had also not given him the entirety of the truth. “We will see,” he answered and followed Ixar back up the stairs.

When the Apprentice reached the top stair, Ixar was not in sight, only apparent that he was there by the sound of rummaging in an adjacent room. The Apprentice took a seat again where he had sat before and waiting a moment before the emissary appeared again. He carried with him an object that was unfamiliar to the Apprentice. It was rectangular in shape and nearly the dimensions of a book. There was a section of clear paneling in its center that revealed a portion of two reels situated on either side that had a strange, thin material threaded around them. Ixar proffered it to the Apprentice, and when he took it, he felt the texture of the plastic — a material he had known of the Old World that he had found washed up on the shores of the islands every so often, littering the beaches with their once-vibrant hues, now dun. However, this particular piece of memorabelia was black, and well preserved. It did not seem as if it had been dug up or tossed about in the sea, and as the Apprentice turned it over in his hands, he saw the two white indentions with gear teeth which had a little give as he investigated them with his fingers. Their pallor had faded some with time, but had not darkened from dirt or sun exposure. "What is this?” asked the Apprentice, looking up again at Ixar. “It is from the Old World.” “It is,” Ixar said, nodding. “But I am afraid I know little about it. According to Vega, it contains important records, though it is unclear how one might retrieve them from the thing.” He left the Apprentice to continue observing the object while he put another kettle on the stove. “It seemed a bit of rubbish to me,” Ixar admitted, but I told Vega that I would hold it here with me. I’ve had it for quite some time — nearly as long as I’ve held this office here in the Capital. She had said that it would be safest away from the Archipelago.” "If there was need for Master Vega to hide this totem away from the Archive, what knowledge could it hold? Could she not protect it herself, with the whole host of Alechemists by her side?” “That is not for me to say,” said Ixar. “Your master, though one of the most talented alchemists Etherium has ever seen, does have her own way about her. She has her secrets, as you have yours and I have mine.” The kettle on the stove began to hiss and whistle as a stream of steam was released. As Ixar went to the kitchen area and removed the kettle from heat, he said, “She has told me one thing, that I should have guessed — there is a machine to decode what is on the relic in your hands. It lies in the Athenaeum.” “The Athenaeum?” “Yes, in the Bastion of the Blue Order. Do you know of it?” The Apprentice shook his head, watching as Ixar prepared his drink. "The Athenaeum is a monumental achievement of our time and of ages before our own. In its halls are countless objects from the Old World — it serves as a collection of knowledge of all known epochs, much as our own Archive. However, rather than books, the Wizards who keep it have catalogued artifacts and curiosities both known and unexplained. Technology and all of its extensions reside in the Athenaeum for the Blue Order to study and dissect. If anyone would understand what you hold, it would be them.” Ixar returned to the Apprentice, now with two prepared drinks and offered the second to him before taking a seat. Helena had climbed from the Apprentice’s bag and was sleeping next to him. His awareness of her steady breath reminded him of the Book that remained in his bag, which he then withdrew. "What of this?” he asked as he held the book out toward Ixar, who did not take it. “That is of a different story, though it has its own right to the Athenaeum as well, if I may be candid.” “Though the Athenaeum does not hold books?” “There are a few books in the collection of the Blue Wizards which do not belong on any other shelves. Some books contain knowledge to be passed from epoch to epoch and other hold knowledge to contain its power.” “Is there power in this book, then?” “In a fashion,” answered Ixar. “You may be lucky that you didn’t wake it in your perusal of its pages.” “What power could be in a list of names?” “More than you might fathom.” Ixar waved the book away and drained his cup, seeming eager to end the Apprentice’s questioning. “But I tire,” he said. “I’ll be off to bed, dear friend. I would advise you neglect to take in any more of the list bound within, and moreso to return it from whence you found it. It would be an ill wind to find yourself there in that volume, or one of its kin.” Ixar cleared his throat as if to cover his words. “In any case, you have a room in the other wing. Take the stairs opposite these from the foyer and make yourself at home. I’ll see you in the morning.” He took his cup and deposited it by the sink without rinsing the leaves and gave a nod to the Apprentice as he said goodnight and disappeared into his bedroom. The Apprentice remained in the sitting area of Ixar’s personal wing for a moment. He did not yet want to disturb Helena, who was nestled against his leg. So he sat in thought about Ixar’s cryptic words and finished his tea before finally finding his way to his own bed on the other side of the building.

He had carried Helena in her deep sleep to Ixar’s guest wing, and she did not even stir as he rested her in a chair in the bedroom. It was clear that Ixar rarely ventured to this side of his living space, as a layer of dust had developed on nearly every surface. However, it appeared that in his anticipation of the Apprentice, the bed had been freshly made with clean linens. The young Wizard turned back the sheets and climbed, his body racked with exhaustion, into the bed, but the gears of his mind would not slow, and he realized after a while in the bed that he was not going to be able to fall asleep. After he had tossed side to side a while longer and came to terms with this conclusion, he threw back the covers from the bed and got up. Helena was still deep in her own slumber, and the Apprentice stroked the fur of her head before returning back down the stairs and leaving the emissary’s office and into the night of the Capital. The streets were not empty, but there were only a few other nightwalkers out in the glow of the levitating lamps, each one in some hurry to be off to their business as if their beds awaited them. The Apprentice strolled with a slow pace, still mulling over his situation, and what he might do when he heard two familiar voices in the unfamiliarity of his surroundings. There were no two people congregated in conversation in his sight on the street, but he followed the voices to a dark and empty side street. The timbre of the voice and the darkeness of the alley chilled the Apprentice. “Listen here,” a voice said in a harshed whisper, “this pact is one that I will not see broken. The Amber Veil will take whatever measures necessary to see that it’s so.” As he neared, the Apprentice placed the name. He had heard it that very morning after being led down one of the Capital’s many cramped backstreets. He crept closer to the corner such that he was near the alley’s entrance without breaching it, and with his back to the wall, he drew up the hood of his cloak and listened. "Yes, Master. You know that I am servant of the Veil, but I am not able to fetch texts from the Archives. The Librarian and his ilk keep a record unlike any other of their catalogue. They would know of the missing books before the sun had set.” “Then you had better board a boat before sunset.” “I understand the way it may seem without having lived on the islands, but every student is under strict rule. You know as well as I of the alchemist’s hermeticism. They covet their own knowledge.” “And well do I! Someone in your position might have the wit to know that. Go about it any way you can. Find a quiet scribe and pay them off. Unearth some Old World technology to use. I don’t care how it’s done,” he said. “I don’t wish to upend the Archipelago, but I will send ships if that is what is necessary.” “There is no need for that,” the second voice said, “I mean no disrespect, but I do believe that would expose the Veil in a way that may not be beneficial to you, even if you do find what you are looking for.” “What I am looking for is for the good of the Red Order and the High Council. If the Amber Veil is merely a vessel for that end, then so be it.” “May I ask how the others of the Gathering would react to this position?” The Apprentice heard the elastic striking of flesh. "No, you may not. The Gathering is none the wiser, and will remain that way.” “Yes, Master Crowley.” “You are relieved. Do not return to the Capital unless you have something to my liking. There is no more room for error. Do not force the fleet into your home, Solomon.” “Yes, Master.” The Apprentice heard a shifting of scraping stone followed by a conclusive thud. "You have no idea, you old goblin,” Solomon said, and the Apprentice heard footsteps echoing in his direction, and turned the way that he had come, pulling his hood tighter over his eyes. As the footsteps behind him emerged from the alley, he heard their cadence again begin to recede in the opposite direction. He chanced a look behind him, keeping his eyes low. Even from the this side, the Apprentice recognized the shape as the the youth with whom he had shared a hostel on Tethys. He turned his eyes toward the ground in front of him, and strode back to Ixar’s building with the same haste the rest of the Capital’s Wizards haunting the night had, knowing the bed of his destination would again provide no comfort.

When he finally returned, he said unlocking incantation, but found that the door’s latch did not move. He once again said the word and when there still came no result, he pushed on the door and found it unlocked. The Apprentice thought that he may have forgotten to summon the lock behind himself on his way out, but when he entered, he knew it was not so.

The greeting foyer of Ixar’s office was in disarray. There were loose pieces of parchment covering the floor. The desk had been overturned, as had a shelf of books and decorations, now smashed in shattered glass along the floor. He wanted to call out, but stopped himself before he could in case the culprit was still on the premises. The Apprentice stood still, with the door ajar behind him, listening. When he heard no sounds, he climbed the stair’s to Ixar’s personal wing as quietly as his feet could carry him. He found it in much the same state as the foyer, and though he felt certain there would be no answer, he called out Ixar’s name. He had been right in his intuition, and when no response of any kind returned he looked in Ixar’s room to find it empty. There were obvious signs of struggle, but as far as the Apprentice could see, there had not been any traces of blood. "Helena!” he called, running now back down the stairs, through the foyer and up the second flight. He had not been surprised to find the room terrorized, but to his surprise and relief, a voice brushed against his mind. Is it safe? Helena asked. "No,” the Apprentice said. “I fear it is not.” The little rabbit crawled out from a lampshade that was on the floor. “What happened?” I don’t know. A group of masked individuals found their way in. They came here and when they did not find your friend, they hastily made their way to his wing. I can’t say what happened there, but they meant to take him, she said. "They did,” the Apprentice said. “Ixar is gone and in great danger.” They found your things here. I do not know if they took anything, but there was nothing I could do if they wanted any of your possessions. I’m sorry. He could see that she was quivering, and he took her up in his arms and stroked her head and he had before he left when she slept. "I had nothing in my possession that they could have robbed me of but you. I’m glad you managed to hide. As for Ixar, he is a strong Wizard with a strong wit. No matter where he might be, he will be alright.” The Apprentice hardly believed his own words, but he didn’t want to make the circumstances any worse. He sat on the bed, which was surprisingly still intact with Helena cupped against his chest, continuing to run a finger along her fur. Neither of them said anything else, but eventually Helena’s quivering stopped, and the Apprentice’s petting slowed, and they both fell asleep.

The morning came flooding in and woke the Apprentice in a panic. Rousing from his dream, he pat the bedding around him frantically in search of his companion, and stilled himself when he saw her, still sleeping, on the floor. His calm faded when reality came to him again, and the surroundings of the ransacked room made him feel ill. The Apprentice quickly roused Helena and. gathered his bag for her transport, but as he picked it up, the heft of it surprised him. He looked inside and found that the Book of Names was still within it. Either the thieves had not seen it or not cared about the book’s presence. Though he wasn’t sure why, the Apprentice felt relief when he saw the too-red binding, and in this brief reprieve, he ventured to Ixar’s quarters once more. The Apprentice found the opposite wing in the same miserable state that he had left it the night before with one exception: Penumbra was perched on the leg of an overturned chair. He assumed she had been sleeping, as he thought he saw her rousing when he first spotted her. While Helena had not been particularly fond of the bird, even she was happy for her presence. The Apprentice approached her slowly, as he was not quite sure that she knew him, and did not want to startle her after the night that she had endured. The great owl let him approach, and nuzzled his hand before giving his finger a light playful nip in her beak. “Now what are you still doing here?” He noted a broken window in the room. “You could have flown back to the islands. You weren’t here when I returned last night. You must have come back for some reason,” he spoke aloud, knowing the bird would not respond. “Were you waiting for me?” he asked, and as if she understood, Penumbra cooed.

He wasn’t sure if the bird’s soft sounds were the result of his new resolve, but the Appretice thanked Penumbra for her return and then, in the destruction of Ixar’s once orderly room, he found a pen and a scrap of parchment. Once he had scrawled a quick message, he took up a ripped chair cushion, and tore a thread from its hanging fabric. With this, he ruturned to Penumbra, asking her to deliver a message to Master Vega and tying the miniscile roll to the creature’s leg. The bird, either in understanding or training (or as likely — both) took to her wings at the final tightening of the Apprentice’s knot, and was gone again through the broken window. What have you told her? Helena’s voice echoed in the Apprentice’s mind. “Meet us at the Bastion.”

---

What do you think is on it? Helena asked, as she watched the Apprentice pondering the black object that Ixar had left with him. With the last stirrings of Penumbra’s wind, the Apprentice had drawn out the little plastic rectangle. Its slight rattling as he turning it over in his hands was the only sound Helena heard in response. The Apprentice was unsure, now that he had told his master, how exactly he would get to the Bastion, and so eventually, he found his way back to the only other person he was acquainted with in the city.

The old wizard was shelving a box of Old World trinkets when her door’s bell clattered its tiny chime over the Apprentice as he entered her shop. She laughed as he approaced.

“You scared me,” she said between laughs. “It certainly isn’t every day I see anyone here this early,” she said, and she put down some ancient device she had been fiddling with. The Apprentice had carried the Book of Names from Ixar’s offices to the curio shop tightly against himself, and only now loosened his grip to present it to the shopkeeper. “What is this?” he asked. "Oh, I see you did find something yesterday, then. Very good.” she said, smiling, and continued to unpack a selection of various Old World trinkets and junk onto her shelf. He had wanted to tell her about Ixar, but his trust of the Wizards of the Capital had waned considerably since the time of his arrival. “This book," he said, instead, holding it out to her again, now opened. “Whose names are these?” The woman laughed again. “I’m not an expert of the things that I find, or the things that others leave. I don’t know any more about the contents of that book than the purpose of this,” she said, pulling another Old World device from her jumbled collection and putting it on the shelf. Though the Apprentice couldn’t say he was surprised to hear this, there was a slight pang of disappointment to her words. “Well,” he said, exchanging the Book for the relic that Ixar had left with him, “have you ever come by something like this before in your collecting?” As he handed out the little plastic box to her, her eyes lit up. “Now this I have seen.” She shuffled off, waving her hand behind her to tell the Apprentice to follow. She led him to another corner within her labyrinth of shelves and there, he saw a crate filled with more of the same little boxes. Some of them were held in cases that when he looked closer all had images of all sorts, a man taking an impossible leap between buildings on one. On another, in black and white, a man is sat at a bar. The Apprentice picked one of the cases up out of the crate, and stared at the tiny vingettes on it. Around the images was a block of text in a language that he could not read. "Stories,” said the old Wizard, “or so it would seem.” The people of the Old World somehow how held their tales in these capsules, I think, much like the way a book can hold a tale.” That was curious to the Apprentice, and he wondered what sort of tale Ixar could have been trying to pass on to him. “I don’t suppose you know how to release these tales. Do you?” asked he asked. "Well, as a matter of fact, I might.” She pointed to a machine that was displayed on a shelf above the crate. It was a larger boxs with a few buttons on the displayed side as well as a flapped slot that looked roughly the width of the the story boxes in the crate. “I had this before any of those in that crate,” she said. “I hadn’t even thought twice until I saw them side by side during one of my cleanouts. I was going to throw the thing away, but I had a trade merchant bring the crate by, said he couldn’t hock them anywhere and asked if I wanted them. To tell the truth, I was going nto pitch them too, but I set the crate next to the machine and thought, ‘Well those just might go together.’ and so I pressed the box into the mouth of the machine, and wouldn’t you know — “ “A story appeared?” The Wizard pushed the flap of the machine’s mouth inward, revealing a story box inside. “Nope. Stuck.” she said, laughing again. The Apprentice didn’t find it nearly as amusing, but he couldn’t deny the old Wizard was right. It did look as if the two were connected, and the way the machine held the story box in its grip did seem as if it was meant to the there. “Have you tried the buttons?” he asked. "Every one, but you’re welcome to try and figure out the code yourself.” “Might it be something the Blue Wizards know how to do?” he asked, recalling Ixar’s words about the Athenaeum in the Bastion. "If there were any that could, it’s probably them. Always got their hands in something,” she said. The Apprentice asked her if she knew about the Athenaeum there. “I know of it,” she said. “Had a few folks say this place has everything they’ve got there are more,” she laughed her jolly laugh again, and the Apprentice thought she really believed herself. “I’ve never been up that way myself, though. That’s too long of a journey for these old knees,” she said, shaking her legs a little. “And it’s not like I can use the Door of the High Council.” This made the Apprentice perk up. “The Door of the High Council?” he parotted. “What’s that?” “That’s how the Council’s representatives access the Secret Tower. It wouldn’t do for all of those Wizards to travel by horse, would it? No, they use the portals torn in each location of every Order.” “So, you think there might be another door to the Blue Wizards’ Bastion from the Tower?” “Well, I would say it’s likely, though I’ve never been to the Tower to see it with my own eyes. Impossible, either way, though. Us folk have to saddle up if we want to get anywhere. Unless you know a Wizard who can teleport, and if you do, I should like to know them, too.” The old Wizard laughed again in her own humor. The Apprentice shoved the story box back into his bag along with the Book of Names with a huff from Helena reminding him that she was also in there. "Well, thank you,” the Apprentice said. “If I find out how to get your machine to work, I’ll let you know,” “No rush, dear,” said the Wizard who had already returned to her stocking, and the Apprentice left the shop and its tinkling bells behind him.

He stepped out into a bustle he was still not used to, as a sea of rushing Wizards moved before him. The red currents of their hats and clothes was disorienting for the Apprentice coming from the quiet emptiness of the store. Even in these side streets, the city was alive. He took a moment in observation, until finally he, too was swept up in the wave and was carried to one of the Capital’s squares. He stood at the pedestal of an enormous statue of some Wizard that he did not know, and under her shadow he again saw the traitor Solomon, floudering in the busy streets — bumping into other Wizards who were trying to go about their business on his way toward his own. The Apprentice hid himself behind the massive pedestal, and watched as Solomon shifted his way through the square. From the open square, for the first time, the Apprentice could see a building in the distance toward the Citadel’s coastal edge that loomed over the rest, and it was in this direction that Solomon bumbled. When he had disappeared down one of the streets leading up to this building, the Apprentice hurried from his perch and in pursuit. The two twisted with the streets of the Capital until Solomon entered a courtyard organized with raised guarden beds, sculptures, and more monuments to Wizards the Apprentice did not recognize. From the street, the Apprentice watched Solomon climb the steps and pace each landing before ascending the next set. After some time had passed, he too, ascended the steps unti amidst its pillars and carved moulding, he reached a golden door. It was the first bit of that substance that he had seen since it so strangely paved the way into the city. The door’s own enormity seemed fit enough for a giant, but one side of the great barrier, thankfully, was propped open, and the Apprentice quickly slipped in. Within the walls of the building, the young Wizard found an entry made with marble, much as Crowley’s office had been, but on a much larger scale, with a marbled fountain situated before another twin sets of stairs on either side leading up to a different floor. On the ground level, the Apprentice could already see a few more doors through which Solomon might have passed, not to mention those that might be waiting on the floor above. Though he was no longer very well concerned with following the rogue alchemist, for it became clear to him where he was as he began to look at a wall of portraits in the antechamber. The aged Wizards in the portraits all wore serious faces and the formal wide-brimmed pointed ret hat of their Order. Beneath each of these portraits, lit by a small, shrouded magical flame, was a placard with apparent names of the Wizards with dates of service in the Order’s Highest position. As High Councilor Name 1, High Councilor Name 2, High Councilor Name 3 and the others all looked down upon the Apprentice, he knew he was within the Red Order’s own Parliament. As he looked around himself, he took in the carved archetecture, the painted ceiling, and the emptiness of that grand interior. In a place clearly built for great congregation, there was none of any kind to be found. The Apprentice was lucky on this order, as in the silence of the hall, there came voices from somewhere in its depths. "Yes, his trial is happening just now.” “The sap is going to see the Flame, they might as well go ahead and send him off to the Tower for it.” “Even if we all know the outcome, the Council has to keep up appearances in the Capital.” “I know, I know. Not all of them are under the Veil, either I suppose.” The responder’s voice quieted to a volume that the Apprentice almost didn’t catch. "Are you mad?” “Oh, come off it,” the other said, almost matching his level, if not quite as quiet. “Nearly every —“ “We’ll not speak about that here. Off with you. Don’t you have somewhere to be anyway?” “Yeah, but I want to see him sent off. His acquaintance scoffed. “Well if you haven’t got anything to do,” he said, “just go to the atrium and wait outside the Chamber — since you’re so certain that’s where he’s going.” “If I only could. I’ll be strung up if I don’t get this “Better not let that happen.” If there had been more to the conversation, the Apprentice hadn’t heard it, as he had already pattered toward the arched center path from the antechamber of the building toward the atrium. On the other side of that hall, the Apprentice was met with a luxurious and trimmed garden cased within a glass housing. The hall from which the Apprentice emerged looked to him to surrounded the garden’s glass walls such that one could walk the perimeter and see its every side, though there was no other exit than the single hall that lead to the glass atrium, though there were entrances to it from every side. The Apprentice entered, and suddenly felt the warmth of the sun wash over him, and when he looked up, he saw the great sky above him, not painted there, but truly. The space had seemed larger within the glass than its exterior made it appear, and as the Apprentice walked the graveled garden path, he was led to what could only be the Chamber which the voices spoke about. It hummed as he approached, the unnerving hum of the displacement of space itself, and as he looked inside, he saw a utilitarian room of stone blocks, and at its center was the first portal the Apprentice had ever seen. He reached out toward it, but before he could, the wrist of his other hand was caught in a grip. “Oh, so you've stayed after you delievered your master’s message to me, only to cause more trouble.” The Apprentice whirled around to see the hard face of Crowley behind him, though his wrist was in the grasp of another sentry, and he was unable to break free. "I thought you said you weren’t a Councilor,” “I’m not a Councilor,” Crowley said, “but I do have a certain interest in their trial today. I hope to accompany your fellow alchemist to the Tower myself.” His grin twisted. “And now I think I might have a second trial of interest today as well.” The sentry contorted the Apprentice into a locked position and followed as Crowley left the Atrium.

———

Crowley’s lackey had forced the Apprentice back into the Parliament’s antechamber and dragged him, kicking, up one flights of stairs, and through more marbled corridors until they burst into a room deep in the heart of the building. “What is the meaning of this?” a voice rang through the room “How dare you enter this hall unnanounced in the middle of our judgement.” “Highness, I do believe I have an addition for your case.” Crowley said as the sentry shoved the Apprentice forward, and he stumbled forward down the long, red carpeted aisle. To either side of him, he now saw what was the sloping of seating that rose toward the back of the room, and before him, were the high seats of the Council. Down the center of the aisle, and in the heighest of the seats was a woman in her middle age. She held the command of the room, though she did not respond to this interjection of Crowley’s. To either of her sides, sat the other six members of the Council. Their seating arranged in a way such that they rose to the middle, tallest seat in a point. The woman who perched atop it sat, still staring silently at Crowley. However, one Wizard (the only one who had been standing — with arms bound — in the center of the audience floor before the seats of the Council) looked back, and when he did, the Apprentice called his name.

This roused a response out of the High Councilor. “So you know this man?” In the center of all of this judicial occasion, Ixar hanged his head and slowly shook it side to side. “To my point, Highness,” said one of the women in a lower-ranked seat, “there is still much we cannot know about this poor fellow.” She turned her attention toward the Apprentice in the aisle and asked, “Have you come to speak for your friend?” The entire hall seemed to turn toward the Apprentice, and in the air hung a tension he couldn’t parse. “Yes, I will speak for him,” said the Apprentice. "This is sweeter even than I had anticipated,” said crowley, as his lips curled into a menacing smile that revealed all of his teeth. “Highness,” he said. “I don’t mean to bring a diversion to your judgement, but I just found this young Wizard wandering the halls of your. Parliament in the absence of a chaperone of the Order while this trial was occurring. I simply thought that it might save the Council time to judge our two outlanders together.” “Lowman,” the Highest Councillor called, “It is obvious you know nothing of our courts.” This elicited a hushed snickering through the congregation. “Quiet.” the Councillor demanded in respose. “Had there been any lesser relation between these two, you might be answering in your own trial.” The viscious smile Crowley wore faded if only minutely. “However,” the Councilor went on, “In this instance the Council must thank you for your contribution for the Order,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “You may collect with the Financier,” she said and she waved her hand, to motion Crowley out of her sight. Then Crowley bowed and left down the hall with the sentry. Somehow, with Crowley’s departure, the Apprentice felt himself once again become the Councilor’s focus and knew that nothing good would come from his brief tenure in that room. “Who is this man?” the Highest Councilor asked. "Magus Ixar of the Archipelago,” the Apprentice said, giving Ixar’s full, formal title. "And why is he in our Capital?” asked the Councilor.

"Ixar is the emissary in the Capital for the alchemists of the Archipelago,” said the Apprentice. "And you concede that he has no part in our Order?” the High Councilor asked. "Well, I would — “ “Come to the floor, child, if you are to speak with me.” The Apprentice did was he was told, for it seemed to him he had no other option. He walked down the aisle that led to the circular standing floor below the seats of the High Councillor, which was tiled in a mosaic that depicted a scene similar to the one the Apprentice found himself in the moment he saw it, though in the depiction, the fellow on the floor below the Councillors was on his knees, appearing to beg for mercy from the officials in his trial. When he entered the floor himself, he stood beside Ixar, and he saw bruises and scrapes on the man that he could not see when he first walked in. The emissary looked up and caught the Apprentice’s eyes, his own showing not much but despair. There was dried blood peeling from a cut on his cheek, The Apprentice found his gaze not like that which he had known. It now lacked a focus — filled with disorientation. The Apprentice looked up at the High Councilor. Her seat’s obvious height was even more apparent from directly below it. "Magus Ixar has no dealings with the Order but that he may live in peace in your Capital while providing professional alchemical services to your people.” “So it would seem,” said the High Councillor. “And yet it is his vocation that brings him before me today.” “What does alchemy have to do with this?” “You friend here stands accused of serving a draught of nightshade to a citizen of the Capital, though he pleads that he is not guilty of the crime, I must say, the evidence against his case is not in his favor. There was indeed nightshade found in his concocting workspace, the citizen in question has multiple eye witnesses of having visited Ixar’s offices, too,” the High Councilor said. “Now you enter our court as what? An accomplice to these misgivings?” “I am not complicit in any crimes, and I know this man is not a criminal.” “Your presence in this case has not done him any favors. By the truths which govern our land — not just the Capital, but all of our land — we have not surveilled or otherwise interfered with Magus Ixar’s work while he has resided within our Capital. In fact, many have appreciated and conducted business with him, including one of our own on the Council,” she looked to a man in a seat below her. “However, this usage of poison cannot go overlooked.” “Highness,” the Apprentice said, and the word felt stale in his mouth, “I ask for your pardon, but how many alchemists have a seat in your Council?” The seven robed figures in their high seat looked about themselves. "It seem to me there may be none,” the Apprentice said at the sight of this. “Then how could you know that nightshade is an integral ingrediant to many alchemical conjurings? This component is not just a poison, though, yes it is lethal in small doses. How are you to know that it is crucial in a number of medicinal potions. Its roots are critical in making a successful sleeping draught. Its ashes made into tea, though heinous in taste, can cause a waking dream for a Wizard to confront their own mind, and overcome fears. Just as you say my deliverer knows nothing of your courts, you may consider your own knowledge about the work of alchemists.” This caused a murmer among the audience as well as the council, mouthing short phrases to one another and signaling with their eyes amidst their high seats. The Highest Councilor rapped a gavel against the flat arm of her chair. "Quiet,” again she demanded. "So, I am to believe this substance known through the world for its lethal properties may also be used for healing purposes? This is what you’re telling me?” “As I may. Highness, even too much water — which you require to live — would drown you.” His words brought a smile to the High Councilor’s face. “An interesting concept,” she said. “Let us have a recess,” said the High Councilor. “When we resume session, you will have your fates.” She banged her gavel again and then with the rest of the council, she stood from her seat on a small catwalk below it and disappeared through an exit where it led in the back wall. The audience rumbled with conversation as two sentry warriors clad in red armor approached the Apprentice and Ixar, boung the Apprentice’s hands in the same way as the emissary’s bonds, and led them both through another exit opposite the aisle through which the Apprentice had come under the seats of the High Councilors and into a room of cells. The sentries led the two Wizards each into their own individual holding areas and when the sentry closed the barred door, the Apprentice could feel a sealing magic weave together which kept him inside. In that magic, the room outside of his cell emptied of all people. The dank dungeon-like atmosphere remained, but the sentries and Ixar vanished before his eyes. Though he knew better, he called out to Ixar. He knew the Wizard should have been able to hear him but the sealing magic prevented his voice from carrying, and to the Apprentice, it sounded as if he had called out into the depths of a canyon. The Apprentice had no indication of how much time had passed in the cell after what felt like the first hour, it seemed that the Dragons themselves had come to a halt in their eternal automangiaThe Apprentice, who had sunken to a seated position with his back against his cage, had thought about the mess he had gotten himself and Ixar into, and just as he was beginning to sink into a deep depression, a key clattered through the bars and landed beside him. After even those few hours in absolute solitude, this external force made the Apprentice leap with surprise, but he quickly took up the key and made for the cell’s door. Before he could fit the golden key in the keyhole, he took the skeleton’s skull back in his grip and considered what might be on the other side. He thought, maybe this is how they treat prisoners — one last act to suppose freedom before the headsman’s ax. Then, from the quiet nothingness, he heard something that broke this miserable vision. Hurry up, Helena said. These sentries aren’t the brightest. Left that key on the table before going to the exit to guard the place from the courtroom. Now, open the door and figure out a way to get us out of here! The Apprentice fit the key into its hole and pushed the cell door open. The sealing magic disappated in his escape, and he scooped Helena up and held her tightly against him. "Thank you," he said, placing her back on the ground. Don’t thank me yet, she said. The only exit I’ve come across is the one guarded by the sentry into the courtroom. Even if we were to get past, the open court is no place for a prison break. We would be recaptured in a moment’s notice. The Apprentice’s face hardened in thought, and he saw Ixar slumped in the cell adjacent to his, almost having forgot he had been captured to, due to his vanishing by the sealing magic of the cell. However, from the outside, one could see in and observe the prisoners. He took the skeleton key, and with it, opened Ixar’s cell. The man’s face lit when the Apprentice’s own visage appeared before him. Though it was evident Ixar was in great pain, he got to his feet and pressed past the Apprentice out of the cell. “There is not much time, so I must be brief,” Ixar said, as he made his way near the entrance hall and pulled a torch from the wall. It was lit with fire — real flame — not the conjurings of alchemists like the floating lanters that appeared around the Capital in the night or the light within the lantern Master Vega had prepared for the Apprentice what seemed to him like such a long time ago. "It was never the intention for you to rise in the ranks of the Archive,” Ixar said as he began to gather papers, clothing, and other accountrement from the area into a pile on the far side of the dungeon room. “Your power may yet still be dormant, but we must try,” he said. "Ixar, we need — “ “Listen!” his voice was low but his tone was stern. “We do not get a choice in the scales of the two Dragons. Some devoured, and some, inexplicably, always escaping its jaws. It was not your choice to be taken to the Archive — do you remember?” The Apprentice wondered if the time in the cell had worn the man down after his aggressive capture. "I do not remember much before the Archive, no.” admitted the Apprentice. “Ixar, I don’t see —“ “The Haven was always out of the question. The White Robes turned you away. The Bastion didn’t know what to think — you were not for their own academia. The Wizards of the Pavilion thought it a curse, as did those of the Green Order. The Red Wizards — well, you may see why we did not ask their Order. Finally, the Delta agreed to take you in, but later rescinded their offer.” Then, Ixar put the torch to the small pile he had collected and as it took to flame, the Apprentice’s worry solidified, and he rushed to stamp out the flame, but Ixar pushed him away. The smoke had already begun to fill the room and drift down the entrance hall. “Fire!” he heard someone call out from the dungeon’s entrance hall, followed by the sound of boots pounding in their direction. "There is not time to explain. Use your intution, and you will be taken where you need to be.” Ixar’s shadow loomed over the Apprentice as the man stepped between he and the fire. He saw two sentries enter the dungeon, barreling toward them, and he could hear more still headed their way. “Find the Athenaeum.” Ixar said, and he gave the Apprentice another hard push just before being taken to the ground beneath the heavy, red armor of one of the sentries. The Apprentice stumbled backward toward the far wall, and he put his hands out to brace himself, but the wall was not there, and he continued in his mistep into darkness, and the dungeon closed before him in a wink.

---

In the emptiness, the Apprentice was no longer stumbling backward, but falling downward. It was a short distance, but when he finally landed on his back, the wind was knocked from his lungs. As the Appretice tried to catch his breath, he sat upright in the lightless nowhere. He wondered if he was dead — if he had been crushed beneath the weight of a sentries red plate. He felt the rough floor beneath himself, and rubbed his hands on the coolness of its bed. In his fingers, he scooped some of its dirt, though he could not see it before him. "Helena?” he called, but there came no response to drift through his mind. He hesitated. "Ixar? Are you there?” Again, he received no reply, but as he sat, with the reverberations of his voice fading, he heard in the distance the sounds of dripping water. The Apprentice took to his hand and knees, shuffling around in his blindness until his head butted up against a wall. He ran his hands out in front of himself and felt a rough wall of stone, and following the wall, he set himself out toward the sound of the water, which — as he crawled along, turned from dripping to rushing and though he could not see, when he heard the crash of the water falling into a pool, he could hear its presence fill the cavern. No longer was he in a squatted tunnel, but in an enourmous cave. “Hello?” he asked into the darkness, with his voice nearly drowned by the water’s sound. He listened to the steady fall of water upon itself for a moment. Then came an answer in a gruff voice. "A guest is upon us.” And another, this one feminine. "He is too late.” And yet another still. "There is no truth to that prophesy.” “You’ve seen the signs unfold, and you’re still in disbelief,” she said. "Help him up,” said the gruff voice, and the Apprentice felt hands upon him, taking up his arms and helping him to his feet. “Who’s there?” the Apprentice asked. "He is blind,” the woman said in a smug tone. "Coincidence may be found where its sought.” “Coincidence has no power over the Dragons’ churn.” “This is no way to welcome our guest, who has no doubt traveled much to find his way here.” “Where is here?” the Apprentice asked. "Take up my hand,” the gruff voice said, and the Apprentice felt his hand enclosed in a rough hand to match the voice. “We will lead you to a place where we we may properly meet.” The hand began to pull at the Apprentice’s arm, which led his feet to follow. "The others will not know what to think of this.” “They will see it for what it is.” “Is this some trick of the High Council? Another cell for me?” “There is no trick but the shadow that blinds you.” “We are nearly there.” said the gruff voice, and as he spoke, a pinprick of white appeared in the distance of the Appentice’s vision. “That shadow should soon dissolve,” and he felt the rough hand leave his, but as he continued forward the shadow did dissolve, as the four proceeded steadily toward the pinprick, its light grew in size until its brightness began to reveal the company the Apprenice found himself in. The three of them all wore dark robes which nearly blended into the abyss, and while two of them wore the hoods of their robes down, the other was hooded. At last they reached the fullness of the light, which the Apprentice saw now as a doorway of light before him, and within the room sat even more figures wearing the same robes, all gathered around a fire at the center of the room. The Apprentice counted eight other myserious figured total as he watched their shadows flickered and dance around the walls behind them. "This is the one you found in the Cave?” asked one of them as the Apprentice entered, the brightness of the light hurting his eyes. He squinted through a welling of tears to see the voice that spoke belonged to an aged Wizard who wore square glass spectacles. He rubbed a hand over his hairless head. "Yes, this is the one,” said the woman, whose voice the Apprentice recognized from the group that had found him. "We saw Alessar leading him. He had no sight in the Cave?” another man asked from around the fire, but the Apprentice could not see who. The figures were blurry and unseen in the newness again of his vision, like paint dripped in colors that the mind forms into the abstraction of a dwelling, a person, a fire. The figures moved around the fire, and the three who had led te Apprentice to that place took their own seats around the fire, leaving a single seat open in its circle. The figures, looking more like people all the while, motioned the Apprentice to sit with them. “What is this place?” he asked again. "This is the cave at the center of the world,” said the woman who was sitting beside him. "I don’t understand. I was just in the Capital and I need to get back. My friends are in danger.” He thought of what might become of Ixar and Helena while he had escaped into a different web. "Your need is here,” said the gruff voiced man. “Or else you simply would not have arrived.” There was a murmur of agreement about the fire. “Why would I need to be here? Can you help me?” “We must try,” said the woman who had spoken of prophecy. "Young One, perhaps you should start,” said another woman in the group. “How did you find yourself in our cave?” The Apprentice told of his breach of Ixar’s trial, and how he had escaped with the help of Helena when finally the Magus went wild, and set the place on fire. "And then it was as if his shadow swallowed you whole.” said the man with the gruff voice. "Exactly,” said the Apprentice. “Then this was the first time you’ve used your power, then?” “I’ve used alchemy a number of time, but there was no alchemical conjuring here.” “None that you may think, but more than you know.” “He is an alchemist,” whispered the woman. "It cannot be.” The woman who had been in the party that found him stood and motioned to the Apprentice. “Come, walk in my shadow,” The Apprentice did as she asked, and against the far wall, her shadow from the fire’s light stretched toward the ceiling, and covered him over, but nothing mystical followed.

“Think of the way that you first felt when you were entered into this room.” With her words, he had realized that his vision had come to, and he remembered the blurred, nearly painful half vision that the light of the room had brought him. Then, as he knew it, he was stading once again in the entrance. The woman was smiling at him. "You must remember a place which you have been. The shadow runs free to a degree in all lands, and it is easy to get lost in their ways.” The woman vanished and stepped out of a shadow beside the Apprentice. “Then how have I entered this place? I’ve never been to this cave before.” “It is said he was born in the cave,” the woman said. "You would not be here if it were not out of necessity,” “The time is nearing.” “You must go.” “Conjure where you have been. It is where you must go.” The Apprentice thought of Ixar and the cells by which he had left him. He thought about holding Helena tight by his chest. And he thought of Crowley with disdain, and he fell into the woman’s shadow once more — and the cave before him vanished.

Where the Apprentice reappeared, he was in the atrium of the Parliament of the Red Wizards with the garden air all around him. He climbed out of a shadow the sun overhead was casting from a large monument, and before him was the door that supposedly led to the Secret Tower. However, he was also met with a gathering of Red Wizards who stood before him in the garden with Ixar bound in tow. “Don’t they always return back to the scene of the crime.” It was the voice of Crowley creeping from behind red warrior sentries, and he appeared, bearing his awful teeth in a smile. “Your friend was just going to the Tower with the lovely escort,” he said, guesturing to the sentries. “You’ve arrived just in time to come along.” The Apprentice was then taken back into custody again by the sentries of the Red Order and the entire entourage stepped through the Door.

————

Where they stepped out was much unlike the garden where the door had been. The room they all appeared had much more of an air of the dungeons of the Red Order. The room was dark and dimly lit with flickering magical fire. The black flames of the fires danced as if to taunt the Apprentice. If they had been true fire, there may have been a way for him to call to the shadow to take him someplace far away. He noticed, now how the darkness left from the absence of those magical flames was a lighter gray rather than the absolutle blackness of the shadows of the cave. It was a grim reminder that he could not escape, and he was prodded up and down corridors and up some stairs, down others, and handed off to even more Wizards, who were robed and masked so that he coud not see their faces. The Wizards took he and Ixar down a winding hallway that led to a peculair triangular door. The two robed Wizards grabbed the handles of this door and pulled them open, and as soon as they did so, the Apprentice felt a wave of heat on his face. "No,” Ixar said coughing. It was the first thing the Apprentice had heard the man say since the day of his capture. The Wizards stood still in their posts at either door, waiting for the two to enter. Inside, nearly like the innermost room of the Cave that the Apprentice had visited, there was a fire. However, the fire he was set before now was great, and it was terrible, and it was silent. Though it roared and he felt its heat, it made no sound. There was no crackle of an engulfed log, nor the dull noise of it’s burning. It appeared as if it was floating, as if the air itself was on fire, above a stone orb a foot or so in diameter. Before the Apprentice knew, Ixar had gotten up and was walking toward the interior of the room, and not knowing what to do, he followed.

When he entered the room, the triangular doors behind the two Wizards heaved closed, shutting them inside with around twenty other robed and masked figures that where in child’s pose, on either side facing to the great fire, and appearing even to worship it. “The first fire,” Ixar said, standing before it. “I had thought it was a myth,” he said. “There were tales of Wizards walking into its warmth seeking enlightenment.” The Apprentice, too, knew these tales, as it had been said that one of the early alchemists’ research ended when he was drawn into the fire. "Yes, the Sacred Flame,” came a voice from behind them. “It is beautiful, is it not?” A Wizard rose from the floor before it. “You have been sent here to burn away your crimes. Cleansed in the fire.” “I know why I face the fire, but I am innocent,” said Ixar. "Yes, few that face the flame say they are not.” Then, on a balcony on the opposite end of the room, another triangular door opened, and a gathering of Wizards appeared. These, however were neither robed nor masked, and they all wore the formal dress of their Order, only a few did not wear red garb, and among them was Crowley, who appeared only briefly, and then disappeared through the doors again.

By the fire, the man addressed Ixar. “You see the path before you. Will you go willingly?” Ixar held his resolve, and looking toward the Apprentice, he said, “I will.” “At your ready,” the man said, and he went back to the others and returned his forehead to the ground before the Flame. The Apprentice looked to Ixar with incredulity. He must have had a plan, but he was looking to the Wizard for some sort of sign. None came, but finally he said, “Rely on the wisdom of the cave. It will deliver you to the Bastion. For you, you must understand the reality of my leaving. I will meet you again beyond the plane.” And Ixar ascended a small stair to meet the Flame.

---

The Wizard burned before the gallery, and remembering Ixar’s words, the Apprentice saw that the shadow of the flame had darkened and as if by a new instinct, the young Wizard dove within it.

The Apprentice appeared back in the room where he had been spat out of the portal from the Atrium into the Secret Tower. There was a glow about the portal in front of him, and he crawled out of the shadow of the portal’s dais. The stone room was empty, though he could heard the chat of Wizards in the hall out side of the room. The Apprentice hid himself behind that entrance to the room so that anyone looking inside would not see him, and he waited until the voices subsided and the coast was clear. When he could no longer hear the denizen’s of the Tower’s idle conversation, he exited the room, and found himself in a hall with seven doors, including the one he had just emerged from. Above each door was a color, and the Apprentice noticed above his door was a ruby shining a brilliant red. He looped above the others, and emerald, a diamond, and finally a sapphire, glinting in the black flames that lit the tower’s hall. The Apprentice ran to the door and into a room which was a replica of the one he had just returned from, however, the dais to this portal was quite different. Instead of the etchings of alchmeists transmuting gold and depectiosn of healthy commerce, the dais was constructed of Old World tech. It’s cold, metallic form was quite different from that of the portal to the Capital. The Apprentice admired its construction against the stone of the Tower, and with the knowledge that his time was limited, he entered the portal.

When he stepped out of the portal, the Apprentice had to gather his bearings. The surroundings he found himself in were quite unlike that of the Tower, and much more like that of the dais to the portal he stepped to. Surrounding him were great mountains of discarded metals and rusted junk piled so high that he felt he was in the streets of the Capital aaain. But the ground of these streets were paved with dirt and mud, and there was no other person around. The Apprentice was unsure of where he was, but this did not seem like the Bastion of which he had been told. There were no halls of academia, no schalars studying ancient magic before the times when it was understood. There were no people, and certainly no Athenaeum. He shouldered his bag, feeling its lightness at the loss of Helena, which made his mind leap to Ixar. The Wizard was no more, willingly walking into the fire so that he could escape alive. Beneath the sun beating down in the desolate junkyard, the Apprentice’s eyes welled, and tears wet the ground below him. He sat on the dirty ground, with his head in his hands and spoke to himself. "I have no idea where I’m going. I’ve no clue where I am, or why I’m even here. What are these dealings with shadows? They cannot uneat the Dragon’s tail.” He sniffed. “Ixar is gone.” The Apprentice sat looing down with his fingers in his hair until the thud of boots on dirt approaching stopped him. It was a sentry, much like the ones he had escaped from in the shodow of Ixar’s flame in the dungeon room at the Capital’s Parliament. The Apprentice’s heart skipped a beat when he saw the armored brute hulking his way, and when the boots were right in front of him, the sentry spoke. "You have come from the Tower?” The Apprentice only spoke the truth. “I have.” The sentry eyed the young Wizard up and down until he finally said, “Alright, proceed,” and he pointed the sword he had been carrying back from the way he had walked. The Apprentice scrambled to his feet and tersely thanked him, likely more for not binding him than for giving him directions. But nonetheless, the Apprentice got to his feet and started walking in the direction he was pointed. He followed the only path forward, as it snaked around the feet of many heaps of the past’s garbage until the mounds began to recede, becoming less like mountains and more like the disorderly mess that it was, and when the Apprentice could finally see over their peaks, he saw rolling green hills and in the distance a singular castle rising high over the hills. He smelled the sweet air and the clean scent of the wildgrass as the rust and iron began fading away behind him.

Along the path to what he could only guess was the Blue Order’s Bastion, the young Wizard found the tired machines that greeted him did not disappear, but as he got closer to the castle, the mounds of dead tech began to form into carefully constructed cairns. Farther still, the cairns grew to welded sculptures , until finally—nearest to the castle—there was life in the technologies.

Wizards in the fields at the foot of the Bastion were draped in the magnificent blues of their Order. With their loupes and tools, they examined and tinkered with the great figures rising from the earth. Some even stopped in their work to nod or wave to the Apprentice as he passed, and when he left the sound of their whirrs and clicks behind him, he had found himself at the Bastion’s great, wrought iron gate. It stood open for all.

The gate was merely symbolic in its structure, and while it had great bricked columns that sloped to a short wall about the height of the Apprentice, the walls merely existed to hold the colums that held the gate. One could even walk around it if they so desired. There was an overwhelming feeling of welcome that the Apprentice had not felt in some time, but when that sense fled, and it fled quickly, he remembered what he had to do, and made for the castle behind the gate.

The great base of the Bastion had its entrance closed, but as the Apprentice approached it, two warrior sentries heaved the doors aside to let him in, though they did not speak to him as he entered, which was just as well, becasue the Apprentice was at a loss for words amid the Castle’s interior. It was alive with a light that was brighter than any flame he had seen conjured, and in the ceiling there were luminous fixtures that gave off the light of 20 torches lighting every inch of the beautiful place. In her halls, Wizards in their robes and stolls walked, if briskly, about their business, often engaged in conversation with each other. The Apprentice stopped a group as they passed. "Hello, I’m sorry to bother, but I’ve just arrived and I’m awaiting an owl with a message. Where is your rookery?” “My, it’s been some time since I found myself in the rookery,” the passerby said. “Usually keep myself in one of these books,” they said, and raised the tome they were holding. "You should be able to find Soya and the birds somewhere in one of the spires,” they said rubbing their temple. “I believe it’s the East Spire, just there, but I can’t be sure.” The Apprentice thanked them and allowed them to return to their business, and then followed the direction up the stair where they had pointed. As he continued upward, he passed landings which broke off from the stair and led to hallways which the Apprentice would see two or three people traversing as he passed, though the higher in the Spire, the few people he saw at each landing. After he climbed what had seemed a million stairs, they ended, and he could hear the soft coo of birds in the silence. The Apprentice found that though this landing led to a hall like all the others, the hall merely led to a single room, and though its door was close to him, he could hear the sound of the birds behind it. When he arrived to the thing, he knocked, which caused a flurry of birds behind him. An eyehole of the door slid open. "Message?” said the man behind the door. "Uh, yes,” said the Apprentice. “I’m waiting on a message carried by a great owl. Have you received any?” “Plenty of owls,” said the man behind the door. "Right. Well, may I enter? I should know Penumbra if I saw her.” “No entry. The birds are tempermental.” “She’s a great owl,” he started again, but was not sure how he could finish. “Are you sure I can’t just look inside for the letter? It’s very important.” Then, the man closed the eyehold, but after it was slid shut, the Apprentice heard a lock click, and the door swung open. The Apprentice thanked him and entered the room. It smelled highly of bird dung, but he did not make comment of its pungence. He looked through the cages along the entrance’s far wall, but did not see his master’s familiar. He told the man, who he presumed was Soya, that he had not seen her and thanked him for his time, apologizing for intruding.

Back in the refined alls of the Bastion’s depths, the Apprentice considered his options. He was to await the arrival of word from Penumbra to ensure that Master Vega had received his message. At this notion, he lamented again his friend Ixar, whom the arrival of no messge could save. And at the thought of his deceased, friend, he thought on his new gift of the shadow, and realized that he might be able to reach the islands himself through the shadowy tunnels. However, he must first find a true flame. He found this might be difficult in the halls of the Bastion as every way he went, the curious light from the indentions in the ceiling flooded the area. At a point, the Apprentice stopped another unasuming scholar in the halls, and asked with a little apprehension what was causing the light. The scholar laughed, “It’s always good for the reminder that not every place in the world has the creature comforts of the Bastion. Thanks, outlander. The lights of the castle and the life that runs through all of our machines here is ‘electricity,’” he said. The Apprentice gave him a puzzled look. “It was a secret of the Old World,” said the scholar. “It gave life to sand.” The Apprentice was left more confused than he had been before he had stopped the scholar, who was now back in his book he was carrying along the way up a curved stair. The young Wizard roamed the halls of the Bastion, observing the few sculpures that it held within itself of great Wizards passed, and though they did not have the grandeur of size of those who were immortalized in the Red Order’s Capital, he felt an odd respect in the true-to-size nature of those that stood in the halls of the Blue Order’s Bastion. In his search for a true flame anywhere in the halls (or an inconspicuous place where he could make one himself) the Apprentice came across another statue that stopped him in his tracks, as it looked exactly like Master Vega, however, the statue’s features hid her visage with a beard carved in the smooth stone. “She looks just like him, doesn’t she?” said a voice from behind the Apprentice, and when he turned to see, it was none other than Solomon behind him, now clad in scholarly dress. A flash of anger flew over the Apprentice, and he wanted to lunge toward the man he knew had taken some part in the capture of Ixar. He knew Solomon had betrayed Vega and the Guild, doing the laywork for Crowley. However, Solomon was not aware, as far as he knew, that the Apprentice was privvy to the conversation he had overheard the night before in the Capital. “Solomon!” the Apprentice said with feigned glee. “I thought you were to travel to the Capital.” He took up the traitor’s hand and shook it vigorously. "I thought the same of you,” said Solomon. “What detour did you take to find yourself here? Did you ride in the Pillars’ wake and stop to see the Gate? I’ve heard it’s something to behold. There’s something odd beholding the great thing and not knowing what those who came before us had sealed off.” “Yes,” the Apprentice lied, but he knew of Wizards who had trekked to the Gate to the Seventh Realm, and had read in his histories about the great mages who purportedly sealed great beasts behind it. “It was magnificent. Something terrible must be lurking behind it, and you can feel the omen in the atmosphere all around it,” said the Apprentice and he asked much the same of Solomon. "No,” Solomon said. “I sailed for the Capital right away as I had some very important business I needed to see to there.” “I’m sure of it,” said the Apprentice. "I’ve just arrived in the Bastion today and have arranged for lodging here. Have you a room?” “I’ve only just arrived as well, though a bit unplanned, so I haven’t a room just yet,” said the Apprentice, but he wasn’t even sure if he would be accepted in any vacancies. It seemed that Solomon was already in the disguise of the Blue Order so he may have passed for one of the many students of the castle. The Apprentice didn’t know if there existed any inns outside of its walls or even possibly within it. “Well, we’re no strangers, and they’ve assigned me a room with two beds. You could make it simple and share the space if you like.” The Apprentice thought, but knew it had to be some sort of trap. Solomon would lure him back to the room in a false sense of security only to wake again in the clutches of some red-robed Wizards in their horrible courts. He would simply have to act first. "Sure,” said the Apprentice. “That does make it easy, Thank you for the kindness,” he said, barely able to keep up his facade. “Wonderful, I’ll try not to disturb you in the night,” he said. “But I do snore.” He laughed a forced laugh and said, “Come, I’ll show you to it and teach you the unlocking incantation.”

The Young Wizard followed Solomon through the halls until they entered a wing of the castle which felt more like a tavern than the halls of academia in the rest of the Bastion he had seen. Here, the walls were planked in wood, and the luminosity gradually changed from electricity to the normal black magical flames he had been accustomed to. It was a great change of pace for the Apprentice, but he supposed that even the most hard-nosed academics might need the release of a draught every now and again. He followed Solomon through the tavern atmostphere and down a narrow stairway that led to a hall of dormitories, which he could see as some of the occupants were loafing about inside their rooms with their doors propped open. These were certainly not the academics of the Blue Order, but could only have been travelers like himself who were passing through. Finally, Solomon led the Apprentice to a room where he spoke an incantation, unlocking the seal and entered the room. Inside, the accomodations were meager, but as Solomon had said, there was a bed on either wall, a small shared closet where Solomon had already had a few of his own posessions, and a singular writing desk. He closed the door and whipped around the face the Apprentice. "Do you have it?” he asked, the cheerfulness all but gone from his voice. “The tape? The little black box from Ixar?” “Don’t you dare speak his name,” said the Apprentice, and in the solitude of the room, he took to the primal instinct he had fought off in the castle hall. Stop! Helena’s voice found him before he could get his hands on Solomon. Stop, she said again, and suddenly the rabbit bounded out from beneath one of the beds. “My apologies,” said Solomon. “I may have gotten ahead of myself. I should have led with this.” The Apprentice swept the small animal up in his arms and held her twice as tightly as he had when she had freed him from the Parliament cell. “How is it you’ve come to the hands of this traitor?” he set her down on the bed. “Stay back, Helena. He works frow Crowley,” he said to her. “I know all about the Amber Veil,” he bluffed to Solomon, as he knew little more than its name. “Yes, and your familiar here made sure that I was aware that you knew of my deeds as well,” Solomon said holding up a bandaged hand. “Quite the bite on that one,” he said. He gestured the hand toward the bed where he had deposited Helena. “Will you sit? Our time runs short,” Solomon explained that he was under the instruction of the masters of the island to live, as Ixar had, among the Red Order in the Capital. However, unlike Ixar, it was his duty to integrate himself into the society. In his duty, he found, much as the Apprentice had, his way into Crowley’s hidden offices, as it seemed his integration had not going smoothly enough. However, in their meeting, he had been lucky. The Red Hat had said there had been a certain something about Solomon that he liked. He offered him wealth beyond imagination if only he would help the Wizard attain it. Crowley told Solomon about the plan of the Amber Veil was to somehow stop the turning of the Dragons and suspend time to make the alchemists teach them the ways of spinning gold or be forced to do it for them. The Apprentice didn’t understand, and Solomon said that even he was still piecing together how the Veil might force the hand of the Guild, but he asked again, “Do you have it?” “Yes,” the Apprentice said, and he withdrew from his bag the small plastic artifact Ixar had bestowed to him. “We must get this to the Athenaeum,” said Solomon. The Apprentice was not sure what to think about this sudden reversal, but the man had reunited him with Helena, and he could at least thank him for that. He was not sure how far he could trust him, but even outside of that, he agreed that they needed to get to the Athenaeum.

The two made quickly for the Athenaeum, with Solomon leading the way, as in his time in the Bastion, he had already learned of its location. The Apprentice carried his bag with Helena and the story box artifact inside. He felt the little rabbit squirm around. Do you think they will have what we need to decode the information on this? Helena asked. "If anyone does, it would be the Blue Order,” said the Apprentice. “Look at their dwelling,” he said, and he felt Helena poke up out of his bag. “They’ve dedicated generations to this kind of research, it would seem.” He pointed to the lights, “Their electricity is magic like none I’ve ever seen, and all of this is Old World magic. If any one would know, they would,” he repeated. And what about him? she asked, in reference to Solomon, who was walking ten or so paces in front of them. The Apprentice shrugged. The would have to see for now. The Apprentice had been lost in his thoughts when they arrived at the Athenaeum, and at his first impression, it reminded him quite a bit of the Archive on the islands. There were no windows and the Wizards who were going about in their work were none too distracted by their arrival. Yet the place opened like the mouth of a cavern into reveal a shrine of the past. Behind glass, the Apprentice saw relics, and artifacts, baubles and toys of the Old World. Some of the artifacts appeared to have the same electricity running through them as the lights that lit the Bastion’s halls, illuminating panels where images or text would show. Solomon had disappeared and the Apprentice was looking at the exhibition of a “Game Buddy” when he saw the man come back with another robed Wizard; however, instead of the customary Blues of the Bastion, his robes were white, but with blue trim. "Hello, and welcome to the Athenaeum. I am Malthus. Is this your first time in our halls?” he asked. The Apprentice nodded. "Fascinating place,” he said. "Your friend here,” he gestured to Solomon, “tells me you have something you would like to show me.” The Apprentice nodded again and retrieved the story box from his bag. "Can you tell me what this is?” “Ah!” Malthus exclaimed. “Yes, yes follow me.” and much as he had with the old Wizard in the Capital’s shop of curiosities, the fellow led him to a similar display. However there in the Athenaeum, the story boxes and their machines were displayed behind glass. "Our ancestors called this a VHS, its magnetic tape can hold images and sound that can be conjured on one of these.” The Wizard tapped the glass in front of a box that’s face was constructed from curved black glass. Behind the glass of the display, though, the Apprentice saw the VHS machines, unlike those in the Curiouroboros were lit in some of their faces, some even scrolling through an ancient, unreadable text. “Are these also alive with electricity?” the Apprentice wondered. "Yes,” Malthus chuckled, “These instruments do operate on electricity. And through that electricity they devise to read the information on magnetized tape that’s wound through each of these cassettes.” “Are you able to read the information from this one?” the Apprentice asked holding out the large cassette he had been bestowed by Ixar. "I think we could certainly try,” said Malthus. “Let us go to my office. These instruments here have been maintained by the Athenaeum, but I have a small set that I keep for personal enjoyment.” The Wizard chuckled again. “I must admit I have a bit of an obsession.”

The people of the Old World had strange customs and though I don’t know much of their language — I’ve been studying that with the Scribes in the Colorless Order’s Tower, as you may have guessed by the robes,” The Apprentice had not. “I enjoy their stories. Much emotion can be stirred by those little cassettes. Whatever is on it may be fantastical or simple. Sweeping with music or as haunting as a tale of the Dominion of Nightmares. I have come across multiple duplicates in my time, so I do hope this is one that I have not yet seen.” Malthus gushed on the way to his office about his findings such that when they reached his office, fed the cassette through the mouth of its machine, and Malthus looked between his smaller black glass set and the machine with anticipation, his following disappointment became clear. He fiddled with the buttons on the machine, even once making it regurgitate the cassette, noting that the tape was in fact “rewound” before inserting it back in. However, no matter what he did, he was unable to conjure anything. He tutted as he handed the empty story box back to the Apprentice. “Quite a shame. I always do so look forward to new finds. Here,” he said, turning about himself and pulling another cassette from his desk. “I’ve got one that you might observe.” He was inserting the VHS into the machine when the Apprentice said, “I do apologize, but I’m not interested in any other of these cassettes.” He looked toward Solomon, who had a look of worry across his face. "This was passed along to me, and I was told that whatever it held was important. It had to have been given to me, so there must be a way to conjur the image. Are you sure your electricity is strong enough? Can’t you show me what it holds?” “My boy,” Malthus said, “I’m afraid what you have contains nothing. These, too I have come across in my work. Our ancestors were fickle folk, but as clear as an uninked journal, I assure you there is nothing there.” The Wizard must have seen this pained the Apprentice, as he quickly offered a apology for the loss at his expectation. He grabbed the cassette and left the Athenaeum without Solomon, and when he found his way out of the Bastion’s labyrinthian walls, he made his way back toward the jungle of machines where he had first arrived. If the answer was not on the cassette, he would have to ask Vega himself. He was walking along the path that now led from the electrical displays to the welded art of the Blue Order’s creatives, to the mounds of useless junk. He had been gathering sticks from around the junk piles and had planned to build himself a fire when he heard a call of a great owl soaring above him, and as he looked up, he saw in the fading light a glint of an owl flying straight toward one of the Bastion’s spires. "Punumbra,” the Apprentice said, and he dropped his sticks and began to run back toward the castle gate. He flew up the stairs to the rookery and this time, Soya said that he did have a great owl. "I know, I saw her arrive. Has she a message?” “Nay,” said Soya through his eyehole, which he promptly shut, but the lock sounded just and before, and Soya opened it full to reveal he was holding a flat bar of pure gold, “but she was carrying this,” he said and he stood up straight. “You know, a lesser Wizard would have made pocketed that. But I’m not like those Red Hats,” “And I’m glad for it,” said the Apprentice, though his tone betrayed him. “I’ve never seen a man so down while holding a bar of gold,” Soya said, which made the Apprentice smile for a moment. "It isn’t that. Not much use for this. Plenty where it came from, now, I suppose.” “Is that right? Did they strike a vein in your hometown? Are you from one of those mining clans?” “No,” said the Apprentice. “This was made with Alchemy.” He held it up to Soya’s eye level. “Look, you can tell just here, and here as it left the crucible.” As he spoke to him, Soya’s eyes widened. “The Alechemists have truly done it?” he asked, and the Apprentice nodded. “’They will bring a relic and call the Dragon down,’” Soya said, as if he were quoting something. He hesitated and said, “What has brought you to our castle?” The Apprentice shuffled and finally pulled out the blank VHS. “I was told there was important records that this contained, but Malthus in the Athenaeum has said that it is barren.”
The rookery keeper’s eyes widened when he saw the cassette. “I don’t think that will be empty,” he said. “Look there.” He pointed to an etching in the gold bar the Penumbra had carried. “Does that mean anything to you?” The Apprentice looked down at he bar, and sure enough, carved even in his master’s script the words, “find me in the crucible.” “No,” the Apprentice said. “I’m afraid they do not.” Soya’s face wrinkled, and he hastily bid the young Wizard a good day. What did it say? asked Helena from her place in the bag on his back. “It said I would find something in a crucible,” What is that?’ “It’s a kind of labaroatory equipment that Alchemists use for heating —“ he cut himself off. “You don’t suppose there is an alchemist’s lab in the Bastion, do you?” If there was one in the Capital, there must be at least one somewhere in the castle. "You’re right. I’ve never met them, but there perhaps there is also an emissary from the islands that resides with the Blue Order, like Ixar…” he trailed off. He would want you to see it through, you know. "I know,” he said, and he bag decending the flights of stairs leaving the Spire.

No sooner than he had reached the bottom lnading did Solomon reappear. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Where have you been?” The Apprentice held up the gold plate he was still carrying. “From Master Vega,” he said, “Sent of Penumbra’s wing,” “What does this mean?” “I was hoping you might know,” the Apprentice admitted, “But I might have an idea. Do you know if there is an emissary from the islands in the Bastion?”

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When the pair came to the emissary’s office, the sign that let any potential patrons know that alchemical services were rendered there hit the Apprentice with a pang of guilt for his lost friend. When he rapped on the door, a woman’s voice from inside, “Just a minute!” and after just that, the door opened and the Wizard behind it siad, “Hello, are you here to pick up the passion potion?” “Wormwart and raspberry mixed with the tear of a Kobold,” replied the Apprentice. "Yes, very good,” said the woman, smiling. “But you’ve got a bit of an old recipe. The Kobold Tear has long been replace with morning dew. They have similar effects, and the dew is just more practical. You must be from the Archive with your textbook concoction.” “Yes,” said the Apprentice, “I am from the islands,” noticing that she had not said the same. “I’ve come to inquire about your laboratory and if you might have time to loan it for some short-order alchemy.” He showed her the gold piece and its etching. “I believe I’m in need of a crucible.” She gave the men a hard look. “Come right in,” she finally said. Unlike Ixar's lodgings, the lodgings that the Blue Order provided certain appeared to piroritize comfort for the emissary, who introduced herself as Lucinda as she closed the door behind them. The dwelling was quaint, and instead of entering the office of an offical, the Apprentice felt more as if he had walked into the home of a friend. There was no desk for working at in sight, nor any lab equipment.

Once they had refused her generosity of tea, Lucinda led the two down a set of stairs that was behind a door which looked to be to an ordinary closet. Solomon and the Apprentice walked first down the stairs with Lucinda leading from the back, and she closed the door to the stair, locking it from the inside. "You never know who might come calling while you’re trying to work,” she said and the Apprentice and Solomon shared a look of apprehension. However on edge Lucinda’s actions had put the Apprentice, he did begin to feel at home the more he descended the stair. It reminded him of descending to the labaratory below the Archive the few times he was to deliver a message or parcel to Master Vega as she worked. Perhaps even she wished she could have locked that door from the interior an remain undisturbed.

Finally, they had arrived to the cramped space where Lucinda spent her working hours. The room was well kempt, with the exception of a half-empty teacup sitting on a coaster on one of the working tables. Here, shoved into a corner with barely any room to maneuver around it, there was a desk nearly covered with paperwork and the chair behind it neatly tucked in. “What may I do for you gentlemen?” Lucinda asked. “You’re obviously not here to ask for a passion potion. It seems you’ve made plenty yourself,” she said to the Apprentice, “one way or the other.” “No, never," the Apprentice said, “but it was one of the first recipes I had to commit to memory. Master Vega said that it was popular with those who can’t concoct it and I could make a decent wage in the right place, even if that was the only transmutation I ever learned.” Lucinda nodded, clearly amused, but also much too affected by this sentiment. She guestured toward her equipment. “It’s becoming harder to convince the marketer that I do need so many raspberries,” she said. “People will never meddle so often in their own lives as others. If we did, perhaps we — “ she cut herself short. “I’m sorry, did you say you are pupil to Master Vega?” “Yes,” the Apprentice said, holding out the bar of gold again to her once more. “She is the one who sent me this message.” He had not realized he had not let go of the golden bar until Lucinda took it from his hand to examine it, and he felt a momentary relief as she did. "Well,” she said after a moment. “You’ve come to the right place. You can see I’ve got a crucible, but I fear I’m not too keen on the idea of allowing anyone the use of my equipment, you understand.” The Apprentice did. Alchemists could be strange about their practices, he had learned. It was all a part of that mystical unknown in which they worked — a magic not every Wizard understood, for it was not, in any real sense, a magic they controlled nor channeled. It was a magic discovered and refined. “May I?” Lucinda asked. With the Apprentice’s leave of permission, she conjured an Alchemist’s flame below the crucible and laid the golden bar inside. It was nearly twice the length of the crucible’s bowl, but not long enough to topple out with much ease. The fire billowed around the crucible, and the three Wizards stood silently watching the workings of their craft. The first sign of the melting point was not the liquification of the noble metal, but a stream of gilded smoke which lifted itself from the crucible. With excitement, they watched the air move in uncanny ways unbound by the natural laws until it began to snake toward the Apprentice. He began to back away from the golden smoke, but the stream swirled around him, until it found its way into his bag, causing Helena to leap from it, sneezing. As it occupied more of the bag’s volume, it began to spill out in heavy clouds like water overrun in a cup. The Apprentice unshouldered the pack and set it on the ground, and the three Wizards looked on it from every direction until the Apprentice reached in and pulled out the story box. The guilded smoke followed, surrouding the box, though once removed from the bag also beginning to return, circular, to the crucible. Lucinda used tongs to slide the gold bar, now half melted, further into the crucible’s depths until it was almost covered by its new matter. This elicited more golden smoke swirling along the path it was taking to the VHS and the stream. grew in size, as it wound back to the crucible and again to the cassette until finally, the bar had fully melted, bubbling in the crucible, and the smoke stopped returning. Then, the stream ran its course, flowing into and seemingly filling the tape, which was finally turned gold. The magic stopped, and the Wizards stood enraptured. "Chrysopoeia,” Lucinda whispered. “You had not said that gold was a transmutation.” The Apprentice was quiet, he could not have known what would have happened. “I was not sure,” he said. "What will you do with it?” Lucinda asked He looked at Solomon, who said, “We must get back to Malthus. Looking to Lucinda he said, “Please join us, if you are able.” Lucinda nodded her head, and ascended the stairs, unlocking the door. The Apprentice tucked the tape bag in his bag, and because she refused to ride with it, he carried Helena with him in his arms and the four of they made for the Athenaeum again.

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Malthus was examining a little bottle empty of liquid when they came to his office, and nearly leapt from his seat when they had all arrived. Then his face lit as he asked if they had returned for a viewing of his tapes. "I’m sorry, but I have another favor to ask of you,” the Apprentice said. As he drew the VHS, now glittering in the electric light from his bag, the Blue Wizard’s eyes grew wide. “I believe there is an important record here,” said the Apprentice. "I would say so,” agreed Malthus, and when the Apprentice offered the tape to him, he took it to his machine, and slipped the gilded cassette inside. Malthus pressed a combination of buttons on the face of the machine as he had before, but again, nothing displayed on the black glass but gray patterns of static. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning back to face the Apprentice, but the Apprentice’s eyes were still trained on the set. The Bastion rumbled. Relics clattered on their shelves in Malthus’ office, and the bottle he had been examining on his desk rattled off of its resting place and shattered on the floor. Through all of this, the Apprentice stared unblinkingly at the monitor, because where there had been static was now a clear image of the Blue Order’s castle, and in the background, behind it were dark clouds rushing to cover the azure sky and in their wake, two Dragons rose, fighting over their own tails — devouring each other. In the center of their violent dance, there appeared the closed lid of an eye. The quake stopped, and they all watched the image on the glass.

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