After a smooth touchdown on a dry patch near the shore, Bailey gathers some leafy plants and drapes them over his dragonfly-carriage. He then proceeds to carefully set up a series of… well, I’m not entirely sure what they are, but they involve string, arrows, and several shiny objects. “Best to be on the safe side, wouldn’t you say?” he says, giving one particularly elaborate trap a final tug. “Can’t be too careful out here. Besides,” he adds with a wink, “it’s the only way we’re gettin’ outta here!”

We return to where I’d hidden my submarine. Luckily, it’s still nestled amongst the seaweed. I heave and ho it back into the sea, and we clamber inside, diving once more into the inky depths.

Bailey takes the controls this time, and I quickly realize he’s a much better pilot than I am. The submarine has a surprising number of functions I hadn’t even discovered, including a detailed map of the seabed and an autopilot feature. With Bailey at the helm, we return to Dr. Keyser’s cavern without a hitch.

I thought I’d never come back… and here we are, barely a day later…

Returning inside, I hold up a hand, stopping Bailey. Everything looks even more chaotic than I left it.

Had someone been here?

A closer look reveals the culprit: the earthquakes. They’d thoroughly rattled the place. There are even more spider-webbing cracks across the floor. I flick on the lights.

“So… this is where he made his home. Master Keyser… he suffered a good deal here,” Bailey says, a slight tremor in his voice, though I wouldn't quite call them tears.

“There isn’t much up here. All his work, or what’s left of it, is in the lab downstairs,” I say, gesturing towards the painting that conceals the hidden passage.

“That’s… that’s… by the stars…” Bailey’s eyes widen, and he takes a shaky breath. “That’s it. The Annunaki treasure…” He stares at the painting, practically vibrating with excitement. “That’s… that’s the one they’ve been searchin’ for…”

“What now?” I ask, thoroughly confused. “This thing is a treasure? Of the gods?!”

“Aye… it is,” Bailey says. He freezes for a moment, then nods slowly. “There was talk of a painting. Stolen from the Annunaki. They’ve been huntin’ for it for ages. Still are, I reckon.”

“What’s so special about it?” I carefully touch the painting, taking a closer look. It just looks like a normal painting. The gold looks a little… off, but that’s it.

“I never knew… not a thing,” Bailey says, moving closer and peering at the painting, even sniffing it curiously. “The materials… goodness. The finest you could find, I’d wager. All that gold… It's mixed with Adamantine. The whole frame, the canvas itself… Adamantine covered in gold. And there are other things in there too… rare stones, even plants, by the looks of it.”

So… this Dr. Keyser is a master thief?!

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“So… should we take it? We could use some coin for our travels, you know,” I say, smirking and rubbing my hands together.

“No… no way,” Bailey says, shaking his head in disbelief. “It wouldn’t fit in any submarine, that’s for certain. And nobody’s got the coin for somethin’ like this. Even if they did… they wouldn’t dare. Not with the Annunaki still looking.”

“We could just, you know, take the frame and melt it down or something.” I try to pry a piece of the frame off with my bare hands.

“That’s… no. That isn’t right. Any way to work Adamantine, to shape it or anything… Those are secrets kept tighter than a drum. Once it’s set in gold, it’s practically indestructible…” Before Bailey can finish, my hand slips.

The scale on the back of my hand scrapes along the frame. Sparks erupt, flying everywhere. My hair flares up, iridescent light dancing around my head like a bizarre halo.

Hundreds of thousands of hair strands, each one apparently deciding to become a tiny explorer, poke into the painting and frame. The entire artwork shimmers, bathed in a golden glow.

My consciousness is yanked upward, pulled into that familiar upper dimension beneath the golden sphere.

The visions sharpen with each visit. Iridescent strings extend from beneath me into the inky blackness below, like glowing roots. Countless golden strings from the sphere intertwine with these roots, creating a dazzling web of light.

Specks of light, a vibrant rainbow of colors, rise along the roots. A few flicker and fade, turning translucent before falling back into the darkness.

Most of the specks, however, transform into golden motes, drawn upward by the golden strings into the sphere’s warm embrace.

As I watch, the light from the iridescent strings intensifies. The roots multiply, growing thicker and stronger. Branch-like structures sprout around me, forming a small, glowing tree that envelops me.

Then, just as suddenly, I snap back to reality.

Bailey stands behind me, his face ashen, still staring at the painting as if he’d just seen a ghost. His jaw hangs open, easily wide enough to accommodate a grapefruit, maybe even a small melon if he really stretched.

The painting looks… decidedly less shiny. In fact, it looks rather dull.

“It’s… gone. All of it. Every last bit,” Bailey whispers, a shiver running down his spine.

“You mean… the Adamantine in this painting… is all gone?!” I clutch a handful of my hair, which, thankfully, promptly reverts to its usual silver. I was getting tired of the light show.

“That… that was probably more Adamantine than anyone’s seen in… well, years. Maybe even a decade,” Bailey says, slowly sinking to the floor behind me, as if the weight of this revelation was too much to bear. His voice is heavy with despair.

I join him on the floor. Misery loves company, after all.

My disappointment… is profound. I’d been hoping for at least a tiny souvenir.

A quick check of my bag, however, offers a small consolation. The two gold-plated adamantine bars are still safely tucked away.

“I don’t know what Master Keyser made… but you… you’re something else entirely,” Bailey mutters, staring at me with wide, unfocused eyes.

I can’t exactly tell Bailey about the higher dimension and the afterlife. Some things are better kept to oneself… at least for now. Explaining that would probably require a whiteboard, diagrams, and several hours, none of which I currently possess.

We rest for a while. Bailey whips up a quick snack in the kitchen. Turns out, the ingredients aren’t half bad. I’m still a culinary disaster in this world, though. My attempts at cooking usually result in something resembling charcoal or a science experiment gone wrong.

Back in the lab, it’s still the chaotic mess I’d left it in.