Joseph stepped onto the main road that snaked up to the Museum of Unnatural History. Lampposts lit his way, the fires a dull orange that beamed dim in the night. He wrapped his coat tight around himself as he walked. This high up above the clouds, the air became frigid, almost Winter-like. The inn had internal heating, heat elementals that Phineas told him that were bound to the floor and walls to keep a building cozy.

Nothing like that here, as the museum loomed in the middle distance. It was quiet, and Joseph's only companion was the wind. As it always had been, truly. The Amber Foundation behind him. The future in front.

He was hiding behind one of the buildings that edged against the Foreign Plaza when he felt a webbed hand brush his arm. Joseph spun, eyes wide, to see Phineas's silhouette in the darkness. The Deep One's scales reflected poorly against the light of the lamps as his orbicular eyes looked up to Joseph.

“Get out of here, Phin,” Joseph hissed, “Go!”

“I will not,” Phineas rasped back, “I am here.”

“You'll get in trouble,” Joseph said.

“I will not,” Phineas said, “I am one with the shadows.”

“They'll think I'm part of the guild,” Joseph said, “You'll get in trouble. All of you.”

“I am not helping my guildmate,” Phineas said, “I am helping my friend.”

Joseph deflated a bit at that. Phineas gave no indication of leaving, nor could Joseph really force the Deep One to go back to the inn. His eyes burned with anger, before he closed them, and sighed.

“Alright,” he said, “But if we get caught, get away from me. Leave me to the wolves. Got it?”

“I will not-”

“It's that, or I wake up Broon,” Joseph said, “I can outrun you, you know.”

The Deep One thought about that for a moment, before giving a nod.

“Right,” Joseph said. He turned his attention back to the museum, which now loomed before them, “Two guards at the front.”

Indeed, they were there. The night shift, guards from the museum, they had batons strapped to their sides and not much else. One of them was visibly yawning. The other was already dozing off, spilling her cup of coffee onto the marble steps.

Too easy. Joseph and Phineas hunkered down, and began dodging between buildings as they made their way up the side of the museum's main entrance. They took the steps carefully, being sure to keep out of the guard's line of sight. There was a drastic blindspot in the position the guards had taken – both of them were in front of two pillars, almost ten feet from the entrance itself, which was closed up tight, mahogany doors with golden knobs. Joseph and Phineas dodged past them, behind the pillars, towards the door. Phineas opened up his tome, reading over a couple spells, wiping a hand against the door's frame. He nodded to Joseph.

“Open,” he whispered.

And Joseph did so. The door opened soundlessly, thanks to Phineas’s spell, and the guards were none the wiser as he stepped in and closed it behind him.

The main lobby of the Museum of the Unnatural was empty. Designed to hold multiple tours for visiting student bodies, it was a large, circular room with a center exhibit of a great, skeletal creature, vaguely ox-like, though easily ten times its size. Its horns curved skywards, just barely managing to avoid grazing against the ceiling. One staircase on the left drove downwards, a door on the left led to other exhibits on the first floor, and a staircase directly in front of them led upwards.

Joseph looked around for a second, before heading to the information kiosk, grabbing a brochure and flipping through it. The bottom floor was a grouping of galleries, famous paintings, sculptures, and other artistic expressions were listed as being down there. The ground floor held the common, staged archaeological finds, as did the top floor.

There, too, was a traveling exhibit, dedicated to a series of floating spells, enchanted armors, and the like.

“But no sarcophagi,” Joseph muttered to himself, flipping through the pamphlet, “Nothing at all.”

“We will need to look,” Phineas said, “It is no concern. Our footsteps are concealed.”

“Right,” Joseph said. He took an experimental step forward. Indeed, what sound his shoes created were muted. He could hardly hear them. The entire lobby of the museum felt eerie. With only the two of them, it felt like the museum was a mausoleum. A dead place. As though the living were not meant to be here. Only adding to this effect were the various artifacts that lined the walls – stone and jade idols, cups carved from the skulls of long-dead beings, an ancient board game played using bone dice and wooden chips. The Museum of Unnatural History had a feeling of finality to it.

This place was a tomb.

“Only natural that the coffins would be here, then,” Joseph said to himself.

“Joseph?” Phineas asked.“Nothing,” Joseph said, “Let's start on the ground floor, and move our way up.”

***

Phineas's spell on Broon wore away with the Deep One's distance from the inn. As such, Broon stirred as the magic fell away, flaking off of his mind like dead skin. The half-orc was slow to wake, pulling his eyes open and looking over to the other bed.

Joseph was gone.

Broon rose suddenly, jumping out of the bed and looking underneath. Phineas was gone, too. He had suspected that his guildmate would join Joseph, if he tried anything stupid.

He had just hoped that Phineas would be able to convince him to go back to the guild. Broon sighed, walking over to the wall and hammering against it to wake Ezel up. He heard her stir in the other room, her voice rising to rouse Rosemary and Mallory. He pulled on his armor quickly, strapping it on and pulling Kilnriv to his side, tying the blade to his belt.

There came a knock.

“Enter,” Broon said.

Ezel walked in, looking past Broon and to the open balcony door.

“Phin put a spell on me,” Broon said, “He had to have. I sleep light. I would have heard them, I would have-”

“I know,” Ezel said, “Don't beat yourself up over it.”

She rested a hand on the shaking, fidgeting half-orc. At her touch, Broon relaxed, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Mallory and Rosemary were peeking through the doorframe, Rosemary's hair a rat's nest. She was holding her sceptre in her hand as she walked into the room.

“You're ready for this,” Broon said. His voice was not accusatory, but nonetheless Rosemary scoffed.

“You know Joe,” she said, “And you know Phineas worships the ground he walks on.”

“You aren't in on this?” Broon said.

“...No,” Rosemary said, and she sounded almost regretful, “No, he didn't tell me.”

“We'll have to assume that it was spontaneous,” Ezel said, “We gave them no opportunity to talk to each other in private.”

“Doesn't matter if it was spontaneous or not,” Mallory said, “They're gone.”

Broon nodded at that. He stepped out onto the balcony, glancing down below. Joseph must have leaped down, cushioning his fall with that soul of his. He could almost imagine it now.

“We have to go over after him,” Broon said, “The museum, it's got guards inside.”

“Joseph could take out a couple guards,” Rosemary said.

“It's not Joseph I'm worried about.”

He let that statement hang in the cold night air for a moment, turning around.

“Will he hurt them? Not badly,” Broon said, “But any interaction is going to be rough. We need to get him back before he winds up in a situation he can't run from.”

He turned to look at each of them in turn. Then his eyes landed on Rosemary. Her forehead knit itself together when she put two and two together.

“I can't let you go, Rosemary,” Broon said.

“You don't trust me.”

The half-orc grimaced.

“It's not that I don't trust you,” he said.

“So let me go.”

Broon hesitated. Rosemary took the opportunity to stomp over to him.

“You know that Joseph's going to get in trouble,” she said, “Right?”

“I know,” Broon said, “But I still can't let you go.”

She opened her mouth to object, but Broon interrupted her.

“There's already enough of us compromised here, Rosemary,” he said, “Ezel and I will go. You and Mallory stay here. I don't want you heading out, got it?”

“But-”

“The smaller the team, the better,” Broon said, “And we're losing time. I need you to promise me you'll stay here.”

Rosemary faltered, and Broon could almost see the gears turning in her head. Then, she gave a defeated sigh.

“Alright,” she said, walking over and lying down on one of the beds, “Okay.”

“Mallory,” Broon said, “You stay here until morning. If you don't hear from us by then, start checking the jails.”

“You got it,” Mallory said.

Broon crossed over to the door leading out of the room. Ezel followed, and the two of them left the room. Walked down the stairs, retrieved the keys from the sleeping attendant at the lobby's desk to unlock the main doors. It was cold out as they walked across Stellaluna, towards the museum.

“You don't trust her,” Ezel said.

“I...” Broon trailed off.

“It's alright,” Ezel said. She gestured at a nearby decorative pond, and ducks and geese squawked away as the water convulsed for a moment, snaked towards her open hand, floated over her palm in an orb, “It makes sense.”

“I want to trust her,” Broon said.

“If you do, she'll stay put,” Ezel said, “Besides, Mallory's there.”

“...If I trusted her,” Broon whispered, his voice almost stolen by the wind, “I would have brought Mallory with us.”

“I know,” Ezel said, “But you know, three's a crowd.”

He appreciated her poor attempt at humor, giving her a sympathetic smile.

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Together, they headed to the museum.

***

There was, to Joseph's frustration, no sign of the sarcophagi on the first floor. He and Phineas walked across the museum, keeping an eye on each exhibit, looking at the map in the brochure to try and guide their way. Suits of armor greeted them. As did ancient stone sculptures that depicted many-armed gods, or mythic beasts, or virgin mothers, their bellies swollen with child. River-rusted swords, clay pots, vases with highly detailed, kaleidoscopic patterns were set up on display. The moon shined bright and bawling, illuminated the museum, made it possible to read out each exhibit's description in the middle night.

But no sarcophagi.

They could hear the footsteps of guards echoing down the halls. But there weren't many. Joseph supposed that, due to Stellaluna's relative isolation, the security here was meant more to keep out curious students, not actual thieves.

Not guildfolk, like Phineas.

Avoiding them was simple. Phineas's spell made the act of sneaking around a formality. The doors they had to go through opened soundlessly. Their words were muted by a sphere of silence he had cast, similar to the one the elves had used at InterGuild.

“Alright,” Joseph said, “Let's head upstairs.”

“Indeed,” Phineas said.

They had to stop, peeking through the door that led back to the main lobby, as a patrolling guard took a moment to light a smoke, glancing up at the massive, skeletal creature in the room's center. After finishing it up, he dropped it and smothered it beneath his heel. Then, he walked downstairs, to the paintings.

Phineas grabbed the cigarette's ashen remains, and tossed them into a trashcan. The two of them made for the second flight of stairs, leading up to the third floor.

***

The exhibit Krishyar and Rinny were watching was a gallery of frozen spells, taken from across the multiverse. Famous spells. Spells that the most legendary, influential magicians in their time had cast. Vorpal's Burning Rage, which had devastated an entire kingdom, floated encased in a sphere made of glass and water. The Locus of Locust was held in the form of a single grasshopper, held in a cage on a small dais. Lord Iridos had almost knocked it over when the exhibit had been getting set up here, and had gotten a stern talking to from the museum's curator about almost causing an international incident.

But the spell that enraptured Rinny the most was in a simple, wooden chest. It was known as Presh-Ho-Mirana, the Prize/Price of Greed. Nations had fought for it. Kings had sent entire armies to die for it. Even the High Federation had sent agents to retrieve it. The Epochians, too. It was an old spell. Ancient, predating many plane's prehistories.

And no one had any idea what it did.

The mystery intrigued Rinny, and on these long nights, when it was just her and Krishyar on the lonely top floor, she would stare at it. Her eye glistened in the moonlight, full of wonder and curiosity.

“Bad for the health, staring at one thing for so long,” Krishyar said to her. He was leaning against a wall, spear tucked between his shoulder and head.

“I'm trying to resist the urge to open it.”

“Well, don't,” Krishyar said, “It's probably the spell talking, telling you to open it. Like one of those rings, the kind that makes you invisible and belongs to some dark lord or other.”

“I'm aware,” Rinny said, breaking her gaze at the chest to give a quick glare at her guildmate, “But it's why I joined the guild. They don't have magic like this on the Runway.”

“Poppycock,” Krishyar said, “All of this. Spells that can destroy planes, ruin lives, and they put them on display like common zoo animals.”

“No wonder they needed a guild to guard them,” Rinny said. She looked conspiratorially over to Krishyar, “Did you hear what happened when this exhibit passed through Titan's Walk?”

“Titan's Walk?” Krishyar said, “That plane with the cities built on giants, yes?”

“Yeah, that's the one,” Rinny said, “Apparently some dregs from the Sons of Darwin tried stealing them. Almost activated that one over there.”

She pointed at a glass sphere containing a neon-green liquid. Krishyar shuddered.

“No wonder they chose us,” he said, “The expendable ones, in case things go sideways.”

“Oh, don't say it like that,” Rinny smirked, “I know enough about magic to understand most of these spells.”

“And me?” Krishyar said, “My dear, I don't know a lick of magic.”

“Well,” Rinny said, “You're the expendable one, I guess.”

“Hmm,” Krishyar let out a low, huffing chuckle, “Stiff upper mandible, and all that.”

And then one of Rinny's magic items began going off. It was a small bell strapped to her belt, and it began to ring. She stilled it, looking at Krishyar.

Who nodded. And stood up straight, rolling his shoulders.

Someone in the museum was not supposed to be here.

Someone using magic to hide their presence. They had just made it to the top floor. Krishyar headed out of the traveling exhibit, which had its own separate section, and into the main hallway.

***

There was a bugman framing the door that led to the Impressive Spells Traveling Gallery. It was directly to the left of the stairwell.

Or, Joseph supposed, perhaps it was rude to refer to him as a 'bugman.' The creature that stepped out into the main hallway, glancing this way and that, resembled a humanoid grasshopper of some sort, or an ant, or something else vaguely insect-ish, though he possessed only two arms and two legs. His mandibles were curved upwards, like a mustache, and he gripped a beautiful spear in one hand, a red sash wrapped just beneath the head.

Phineas whispered a few words, sinking into the shadows, wrapping them around him. Joseph followed suit. The magic was a piggybacking of the work the Deep One had performed at St. Malendia's. They were camouflaged.

“Hmm,” the insect said, in a pronounced British accent, “Well, chaps, that's some impressive work there, innit?”

They both froze. Phineas let out a low hiss.

“I can't see you, really,” the insect said, “Nor can I hear you. So you've got two of the major senses covered, eh?”

Joseph began drawing in front of Phineas.

“But you missed one,” the insect said, “I can smell you.”

There was a sound of buzzing wings thrumming against a shining carapace. One moment he was there, the next he was not.

Joseph's soul surged, and he pushed Phineas out of the way as the eagle brought up its claws.

Right in the nick of time, as the spear surged into its open palm. Joseph felt the reflex of cold burn into his spine, but the soul flung the spear back. Somehow the insect managed to keep hold of it, wrenching it free of the eagle's hand. He zipped forward, delivering further stabs at Joseph, who deflected them with back hands and claws.

Phineas let out a gurgle as he cowered at Joseph's feet. Joseph could not let the insect hurt his friend. As the spear zipped forward, the eagle let it pierce its chest, a great, clawed hand wrapped around it as it plunged through, holding it firm.

The other hand fired back a few quick jabs at the insect. One, then two. Enough to discombobulate him, then its talons closed around the bug's torso and tossed him down the stairs.

The soul dissipated. Joseph turned to Phineas.

“We're doing it live!” he said, “Run!”

And they ran.

Just as the cyclops walked into the room, pulled out a revolver, and opened fire.

***

It was quiet enough that it felt like all of Stellaluna could hear the gunshots fire out.

It came from the museum, right as Broon and Ezel were crossing the Foreign Plaza. The guards posted out front jolted awake, having fallen asleep. They looked at one another, before rushing inside.

“Shit,” Ezel said, “We'd better hurry.”

“Aye,” Broon said.

The guards had left their post. Also left the door open, so Broon and Ezel were able to rush inside without trouble. The gunshots continued ringing out. Two shots. Three. Four, then five.

A sixth, then silence.

“Top floor,” Broon said. He pulled free his sword. The guards were already rushing up the staircase on the other side of the lobby.

There was a rattling boom that shook the building. A flash of burning blue. Joseph had unleashed a lightning bolt. A few more gunshots rang out.

“Those guards aren't going to be able to do a thing,” Ezel said.

“Whoever's up there, they dodged one of Joseph's bolts,” Broon said, “Guildfolk?”

“Perhaps,” Ezel said.

Whatever was happening up there, it was more than what a pair of guards were equipped to handle. They stopped halfway up the steps, staying at the landing in the center, both of them fumbling out batons and hesitating.

The entire top floor was blocked by shadow.

***

Phineas's spell had caked the entire place in shadow.

It had grown from his tome, first an orb expanding in size, then as a wave, until it covered the entire hallway in darkness. Unnatural darkness, blackness so black it felt unreal. Joseph could feel the Deep One's webbed hands close over his wrist and pull him away from the battle. His soul, still re-circuiting after unleashing a bolt of lightning (one that both the cyclops and the insect had deftly avoided) shook in his stomach as Phineas all but dragged him away.

They left the hallway with the stairwell, ducking to the left and into an exhibit, a special section dedicated completely to some ancient Elven civilization. Bowls made from leaves were encased in glass boxes, arrowheads made of flint were lined on the wall, along with a beautiful, cracked wooden bow, petrified into stone.

“Joseph,” Phineas wheezed, “We should leave.”

“We can't,” Joseph said, his heart hammering, “We're so close, Phin. I can feel it.”

“Joseph, those are guildfolk after us,” Phineas said, “The cyclops, she has many magical items on her.”

“Then do something about it,” Joseph demanded, “You're a mage, aren't you? She's not so tough. Her revolver didn't do much to me.”

“That was no ordinary revolver,” Phineas said, “That was a spellslinger.”

“Let's keep moving,” Joseph said, “Go.”

He and Phineas exited the Elven section, moving into a section somewhat resembling ancient Egypt, complete with diagrams of pyramids, ancient hooked blades, and a sarcophagus.

Joseph started at that. But no, it was not Inweth. This one, while also gold, had a human's head, and a crook and flail.

“Spellslinger,” Joseph said, re-centering himself, “Right. What is that?”

“A type of special firearm,” Phineas said, “It's magically enchanted so that its bullets can carry spells.”

“Didn't feel anything when the bullets hit me,” Joseph said, “Nor did my eagle. Just the same usual pain.”

“The cyclops perhaps did not cast anything,” Phineas said, “Perhaps she only meant to incapacitate you.”

“Center of mass, Phin,” Joseph said, “You only shoot at something you mean to destroy.”

“Then I do not know what spells she might have used,” Phineas said, “Usually they are more destructive than subtle. Lightning spells, and others.”

“Like that would work,” Joseph drawled.

“Joseph,” Phineas said, “This is a lot more than just a few random museum guards.”

“I know,” Joseph dismissed, “But we've been through worse.”

“Joseph,” Phineas said, “I am scared.”

The metahuman stopped, looked over to the Deep One, who was scratching off a scale. His face was contorted oddly, in an expression that Joseph realized was anxiety. He wore it rarely.

“I know, man,” Joseph said, “You can head out if you want. But I'm staying.”

He turned to move away. Walked into another gallery.

Phineas, after a moment, followed after him.

***

He could hear the action happening in the other hallways. Sir Ahklahan picked up his chainblade, unsheathing it from its leather scabbard on his back. He pressed a hand against the large disc on its crossguard, his eyes closing as he prayed to his god. A daily ritual, one that he performed four times a day. It was said that if one prayed a thousand times in the morning, then Ion himself would come down and bless your day. But there was no time for that, now. There was only time for the action to come. So a single prayer would suffice, enough to get himself ready.

The gallery that housed the artifacts most precious to his client, Agrippa, was tucked away in the back corner of the museum, erroneously given the moniker of 'Alia Artificialia.' What a fancy way to just say 'other artifacts.' What a blasphemous boast, to think that a couple of vases, a mundane golden coffin, and a weathered old sword were worthy of display. Nothing should be on display save for those works that glorified Ion.

So were Sir Ahklahan's private reasonings. But he kept them, perhaps wisely, to himself. For he was in the land of the pagan, and would render unto Caesar.

Besides, it gave him an excuse, as his smile widened. He stepped out of the exhibit.

Whoever was robbing this place was more than just a simple thief in the night. They would make for good sport.

***

When at least the shadows cleared, there were two figures before Krishyar and Rinny. A half-orc, one-armed, a single, rune-painted blade in one hand. He wore armor, scaled yet dull, scabbed and scarred, and it was obvious to both of them that he was battle-hardened. The other wore a black coat to match her long, black hair. Water snaked around her like twin serpents. A magician, of some sort.

“Good lord,” Krishyar said, “More of them.”

“Name your guild!” Rinny called out.

“You first,” the half-orc growled.

“We are the Disciples of Aether,” Rinny said. She started to load more charges into her spellslinger. Spells with this one, not the usual bullets. Usually the latter was sufficient for most situations.

But now...

She pointed the firearm at the two intruders. Both of them immediately clocked it, hunkered down, prepared to find cover.

“Your guild,” she said.

“No time for this,” the magician said.

The water whip snapped, knocking the spellslinger from Rinny's hand right as she pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the ground.

Shit, Rinny thought.

She had loaded a fire spell in the chamber, to burn away the magician's water into steam, when she inevitably used the liquid as a shield. It wasn't meant to be a destructive spell.

Not like this, as a wall of flame erupted from the ground. It roared towards the two infiltrators. The half-orc skipped back, the magician dove back down the stairs.

The cyclops grimaced as the flames dispersed. The half-orc was rushing towards them.

Well, in for a penny. Rinny slipped a wand from her bracer.

“Go!” she shouted at Krishyar, “I have this!”

She pointed the wand out, and cast Polfin's Black Hole. It struck the center of the hallway, expanding in size. The half-orc became caught in its gravity well, and he let out a roar of shock as he spun, slamming his blade into the marble floor. The magician let out a holler as the water swirled around her, coiling around her arms like a pair of tentacles, latching onto the staircase.

Rinny could decide who and who wasn't pulled in by the black hole. So Krishyar could avoid its gravity well with ease, flitting past the half-orc and into the hallways on the other side.

She could hear him, banging on walls, his shout of surprise as he caught up with the other two infiltrators.

This was only just getting started.