There is no one at the hideout.

A fact that you ignored, but Kael and Opal find nerve wracking. They disappear into the other rooms after silently scanning the space. You stand near the doorway, uncomfortable from the tension in the air, too nervous to even rest on the couch. The rusted safe is still against the wall, unopened which sets your mind at ease a little bit. No one would leave a treasure like that just sitting there.

You walk deeper into the hideout, curious about Kael’s home base. You never really got to explore before so you take the opportunity now.

The next room over is a machine shop. Scraps of the same rusting metal are piled against the wall. Even the smallest pieces are saved. You see one the size of a credit card.

You wonder idly where they even got such a thing. A metal supply store probably doesn’t carry metal whose only real use is hiding magic. Maybe they took it from some temple in the city or something. You could see it being hoarded for its power in an ancient time.

The next room is a cluster of bunk beds like a youth hostel. Blankets are strewn across the beds and the floor like some giant bird is currently building a nest there. There is still no sign of anyone, which you are beginning to agree is odd. Last time you were here, there were people leaning in every corner. Now it is a ghost town.

Shivering, you make your way back to the main room where something catches your eye. A single feather rests in front of the door. You had walked right over it when you entered, but from this angle it has obviously been placed there carefully. You walk closer to examine it more carefully, but Kael and Opal return so you scoop it up and put it in your pocket instead.

The two women walk right past you and straight out the door, back onto the street. You rush to follow.

After circling several blocks, your curiosity overpowers your caution. “What was that?” you ask Kael.

Opal answers instead with a short “compromised” before resuming her watch of the streets.

You don’t know what to make of that so you concentrate on following the increasingly complex route. Any time Kael or Opal catch sight of another person, they break into a detour. In a city with a population of three million, that means you change direction at almost every street. You are hopelessly lost after the first five minutes and it is another half hour before you make it to the basement.

Kael unlocks it silently and goes down first holding up a hand to you and Opal. You wait impatiently for a minute until she reappears and beckons you in. You go quickly, glad to get out of the chill of the night. It’s time to sink into a comfortable couch and do what you do best.

You take out the books. Kael snags the journal from you, and steps into the other room. Opal makes a pot of tea, this time using the proper amount of tea leaves. Very teachable, that one. You look at the forewords while the kettle boils. One is in an indecipherable text, the others are in ancient Greek and Latin.

You open the Greek one, but it only takes several pages to realize that it is useless, talking more of legends and myths than actual, tangible results. You are disappointed, but not much. It is a very old account of mythology, one that is invaluable to the archaeological world even if it is meaningless to your current pursuits.

The Latin one is marginally more helpful, detailing several accounts that match what you saw from Apollo and Kael. It is helpful only in the fact that it confirms that you are not hallucinating. Though a thousand year old book is perhaps not the most updated source.

You turn your attention to the other, but they are in a language that you have never seen before, a spidery twisting thing that reminds you more of claw marks on a cave than any attempt at calligraphy. You show it to Opal, but she shrugs her shoulders and pours the tea into cups, bringing you one then bravely walking into Kael’s room with the other.

You sip the tea as you favor the books with a long look of disappointment. But it isn’t the book's fault, it is more yours for not being able to crack their mysteries. Besides, you were only using them as a distraction anyway.

Sighing, you take out the feather and look at it closely. You are unsurprised to find that it is almost the same as the one from the Steps to Heaven, identical in every way save the fact that it is completely devoid of power. It is just a feather.

But a very strong calling card.

You sigh again, taking out the case and opening it fully for the first time since you got it.

The inside is still covered in the lumpy uneven welds where the bead did not fully penetrate the metal. The items are in a mess at the back so you take each of them in turn and lay them in neat rows, not even neglecting the el-Arak as you likely probably should.

You stack the four stones and are disappointed, but not surprised, as they remain four stones. You turn the hourglass on its end and it flows normally. Maybe it would have transformed at the Ley, but there is no magic in the air here.

The el-Arak is slippery again, and so cold compared to the warmth of the others. You reach into it, feeling for the hum of power there, but there is no indication that it is charged save for the faint glow. You reach harder, casting your line out as deep as you can, pulling like a fishing trawler.

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There is a low rumble just on the edge of hearing and the el-Arak vibrates in your hand. Shocked, you let go. It sticks to your hand for just a moment before falling to the floor, motionless. You pick it back up carefully, place it in the case, and vow to never touch it again. You’ve drained two things now and none of them resisted you like this knife.

You cast around for something to test and your eyes fall on the bottle with the wooden figure in it. It is warm, almost hot after holding the el-Arak. You close your eyes and pull. The power comes easily to you, filling you as no others have so far. It is a gentle, comforting thing. An oasis of calm in what has been a scorching desert. Your shoulders drop.

After several moments, you open your eyes and are shocked to see a miniature tree rooted where the four stones stood. Its branches spread out and sway as though it is rooted in the middle of a peaceful glen. You are overcome with emotion for a moment then remember where you are and quickly wipe your eyes.

You almost put the power back into the bottle but pause and instead direct it to the necklace around your neck. Seeking takes it easily, like a parched plant takes water. You are a little worried about triggering it by accident and being transported elsewhere, but nothing happens. Likely you have to trigger it somehow.

When the last drop of power flows out of you, the tree instantly becomes a stack of stones again, as if someone cut and spliced the film of the transition.

You replace the bottle carefully and pick up the compass instead, running your fingers over the golden stylized carvings on its face. The ivory needle spins around slowly, aimlessly. You try to reach into it for any indication of what it does but you come up empty. Apparently being an Artificer requires more training than what you’ve gotten.

Opal returns from the other room, looking angry and throws herself into the chair next to you. She casts a brief glance at the stacked stones and the hourglass then fastens onto your collar.

“You have to hide that better,” she says.

You tuck it under your shirt and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s about spreading your aura around to hide it behind your natural life magic,” she explains impatiently.

Since none of those words make any approximation of sense, you nod along and resolve to ask questions when she is in a better mood. You take it off and return it to the case and are about to do the same with the compass when you notice that the needle has stopped spinning.

You follow it with your eyes and see that it is fastened on the book next to you, the one with the indecipherable text. You move the compass experimentally, but the needle follows the book as if it were a lodestone. Frowning you pick it up.

It’s in English.

You set the compass down and open the pages excitedly, but the pages are still in the savage script. When you close it to check the cover, it has reverted back to normal. You rub your eyes.

You look around to see if there are any other witnesses to this insanity and your eyes fall onto the compass. You pick it back up.

The needle spins but slows with every rotation until it again finds the book. The text on the cover moves ever so slowly until it resolves into perfectly readable English.

Applied Enchanting.

Opal grabs a blanket and curls up on the couch to sleep. But sleep is the furthest thing from your mind. There are mysteries of the universe to crack. You flip to the foreword one handed, barely containing your glee.

It is the hope of this author that this book sheds light on the various methodologies present in the current known lines of power. Though several notable offshoots are present, the lines in the known world and their effects have been historically categorized even if the precise locations are often withheld by their users.

Enchanters are uniquely gifted among the Empowered, but suffer from unique drawbacks when it comes to accessing their gifts. Unlike Seers and Binders, Enchanters must have prolonged access to a line to develop an affinity for the power there.

This book will detail several methods of quickly assimilating new lines from ambient exposure as well as spells and their slight connotation differences when powered by the energy of different nodes. Strict observation and recording has shed light on the strengths and weaknesses of the disparate kingdoms.

It is time to raise a new generation of warriors, one that will be able to turn the enemy's power against them and finally expand the borders of Xia.

Blood, power, and toil.

You sit back, mind whirling. The contents of even this foreword holds enough information for a dozen papers and would be meteoric to the archaeological world. Especially if Xia is the Xia Dynasty from China, a Dynasty before the Shang still considered a myth by western scholars. No records of any writings exist from Xia and the Shang do not mention them at any point during their almost 600 year reign.

And that is not even considering the rest of the foreword claiming that Enchanters have unique weaknesses, weaknesses that you can use against Apollo. Seers and Binders must be their words for Oracles and Artificers who apparently don’t need access to a Ley to use their power. That makes sense, because Kael and Opal had never been to the Ley before.

But then why did I need to, you think suddenly. Your powers hadn’t worked until you found the Ley. You hadn’t even known you had power until the Tomb of the Blue Rose.

Could you be an Enchanter?

You push the thought from your mind violently. Apollo was an Enchanter and you were nothing like him. The items were likely not charged until you went to the Tomb which is why you could never use them. Maybe the Wisdom Ley jump started the process and helped you get a feel for the items.

You always wondered how it was possible for books to be so biased in their account of history. Now you have a concrete answer. They just don’t want it to be true.

Kael storms in from the other room with the journal, interrupting your rushing thoughts.

“Let’s go,” she snaps, tossing you your coat.

“Where?” Opal asks, instantly awake in the chair. You are glad she asked because one look at Kael’s face had robbed you of the courage.

“Apollo,” Kael growls in answer, only then turning to consider the magical items sitting on her coffee table. Her eyes flare green and her face turns to a snarl, but she doesn’t say anything as she spins and throws open the door.

You reach for the items, but pull back and stare. The stacked rocks are a tree again.

But this tree is sickly.