Every passing minute made Ezra squirm with discomfort. While he knew Miss McLarney and his father were strong individuals, the warnings dictated by Jonas made him wonder just how deadly the Celestial Lifeforce could be when used beyond its recommended length. Ezra snuck a look at the Magi Master, who observed them with crossed arms and an unreadable expression. Annabelle wrung her hands together in worry, while Diego, Zaire, and Oliver watched in anticipation. Scooting to his side, Aja gave Ezra an encouraging smile before reaching for his hand. Ezra held on for dear life.
Ten minutes went by without much fanfare.
Thirty minutes progressed with mounting restlessness.
But after nearly an hour, everyone in Ezra’s company shared in his distress. Ibrahim had been reduced to silent tears, clinging to Miss McLarney’s other hand in anguish. Miss McLarney’s fair skin had turned a terrifying shade of grey. The only colour in her face was the blood that trickled from her lip as she held back cries of pain.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Jonas commanded, retrieving his crystal from his pocket. In one authoritative movement, he sliced the air above and between them with the wand, shattering the invisible connection with the Universe.
Ibrahim doubled over, cradling his head in his hands. Miss McLarney let out a sob while her cousin drew her into his arms.
“Kierra, are you all right?”
“I am fine,” she assured him. The young woman pulled a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and dabbed at her lips. “But I—” She shared a meaningful glance with Ibrahim before turning back to Jonas. “I could not find anything.”
“Nothing at all?” pried Diego.
Miss McLarney shook her head. “If Ibrahim has seen the artifact in his lifetime, it is very well hidden.”
Ezra’s shoulders sagged in disappointment, and he untangled his fingers from Aja’s. The fragile hope that they were on to something shattered upon the jagged rocks of reality. Perhaps the prophecy had got it wrong. Perhaps the Roaming Lion hadn’t seen the artifact at all.
But if that were the case, what hope did they have against the consul of the Legerdemain Brotherhood? What hope did they have against the traitorous Taylan and Kiraz? When all else failed, what kept him from being caught in the crossfire between two secret societies grappling for dominance?
Like the Shahmaran’s magic, his hope was draining.
Without another word, Ezra excused himself from their temporary hideout, trusting the ambiance of the British Museum would steady the tremors in his heart.
Chapter Forty-Five
The Last Location
Early afternoon sunlight streamed through the café windows, casting shadows across the inky black waters of Jonas’ cup. Usually, he preferred brewed herbs for midday tea but today, he needed something stronger. He brought the cup to his lips, taking in the tantalising aroma of the coffee before allowing the liquid to envelop his mouth in warmth.
While the rest of the Irish Chapter and the Newports waited at the museum for clarity on their next steps, Jonas slipped away to clear his own head. After the disappointment of not finding any usable evidence in Ibrahim’s memories, they had gone back to the drawing board. If they could even call it that when they were at a complete loss for where to go next.
Jonas took another gulp of his coffee.
“I thought I would find you here.”
He glanced up at Edison, who slid into the booth across the table from him.
“Coffee this afternoon?” his friend enquired.
“Mmm, yes,” Jonas responded half-heartedly. “My mind has been running like mad.”
“Understandably so,” Edison said, crossing his arms. “How are you holding up after that wretched run-in with my father?”
“As good as one can after being humiliated and called a sodomite to their face.”
“Good Lord,” Edison exhaled. “I am terribly sorry, Jonas. I know you will never get an apology from him, so please accept mine.”
“Thank you,” Jonas replied. He cringed as he swirled a silver spoon within his coffee cup. “But perhaps someone with transgressions like mine does not deserve an apology.”
His friend looked him directly in the eyes. “The integrity of a man stems from his unadulterated desire to do good, not from the path he treads or the stones that cause him to stumble.”
Jonas set down his spoon. “Why are you doing this for us?” he suddenly asked, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. “You have always been firm on your neutral stance. Why help the Magi now?”
Caught off guard, Edison considered Jonas' question in silence. His eyes cautiously darted out the window, almost as if he were watching for someone. On his breath, a weighty sigh and mixed emotions. Even deeper confliction simmered behind his expressions. “Because it is the right thing to do,” Edison relented. “Though I never admitted it at the time, I was quite moved by an eighteen-year-old Legerdemain who denounced his ways all because he wished to be honourable.”
A faint smile began its journey across Jonas’ face. “Thank you, Edison. For everything.”
“Thank me later,” Edison replied as he took his notebook out of his pocket. “As for right now, we have an artifact to locate.”
Jonas shifted in the booth, the heavy leather creaking in resistance to his sudden movement.
Edison glanced up from his notes scattered across the surface of the tabletop. “What?”
“Edison,” Jonas began, refusing to make eye contact. A nervous energy fuelled the whirlpool of coffee swirling around in his porcelain mug. “I don’t even know if I want to pursue that wretched artifact right now. After everything that has happened, all I want to do is get my Chapter back to Belfast. Safe and sound.”
“What if I told you I am on to something?” Edison admitted. “What would you say then?”
Considering his words, Jonas allowed an anxious breath to escape from his lips before answering. “And by on to something, you mean—”
“—I might have figured something out, yes.”
“And again, I would ask why you are providing this information to me and not your father.”
Edison grinned, almost as if he were expecting the rejoinder. “Because you have a Time Manipulator in your group. And he’s the only one who can validate if my hypothesis is correct.”
“Yes, and my Time Manipulator is also suffering a brain injury preventing him from utilising his Gifts,” Jonas rebutted.
“Nevertheless, I think you should know. After Kierra couldn’t find anything within Mr. Newport’s memories this morning, I tore through volume after volume of texts, notes, anything I could find on this.” Edison stressed the last syllable, sliding one note across the table.
Curiosity creased the lines in Jonas’ forehead as he digested the information. “The Library of Alexandria?”
“Of all the texts I came across, the Library was the only place to strike a chord,” Edison replied, shuffling through the notebook pages. “In the third century B.C., an extensive call for scrolls, artifacts, and any item of higher learning was issued by Ptolemy II Philadelphus in Egypt. The entire Ptolemy line had been dedicated to the establishment of the Musaeum Institution of Alexandria, of which the Library served as one part.”
“Ah,” Jonas thought aloud. “Temple of the Muses.”
Edison nodded. “The Musaeum of Alexandria would have been the place where men of all walks of life studied under the greatest intellectuals of their time. I have a feeling many Magi studied here and if you were alive in those times, you would have beaten down the doors to be accepted as a scholar.”
Jonas laughed and took a sip of his coffee. “Incredible.”
“At any rate, under Ptolemy II Philadelphus, the Library of Alexandria saw its golden age,” Edison continued, sifting through his notes. “It is estimated over a half a million articles of learning were stored in the Library and at one point, an additional storage facility had to be built to house the overflow of items. It would not have been a st
retch of the imagination to think that perhaps, the Tablet of Destinies was transferred from the Library of Ashurbanipal in ancient Nineveh. As a matter of fact, that’s where most of the British Museum’s collection of Babylonian tablets come from; they were excavated from the dig site in Mosul.”
“You really think the Tablet of Destinies was kept at the Library of Alexandria?” Jonas asked.
“I do,” said Edison. “That is, until the fire.”
“Mmm, yes,” Jonas mused. “48 B.C., was it?”
“Precisely,” Edison replied. “When Julius Caesar set the ships ablaze in the Alexandrian harbour, the Library of Alexandria incurred damage as well. But think about it: When faced with imminent danger, what is the first thing you do? You look toward what you value most and attempt to preserve it.”
Jonas cleared his throat and diverted his gaze out the cafe window. Echoes of the conflict at the Royal Observatory reverberated throughout his memory. He shivered when he remembered Diego’s pained cries while he fought for his life.
“My hypothesis is that the moment the flames began, scholars rushed to relocate the Tablet of Destinies,” Edison said. “But of course, we will never know that for certain, unless—”
“Unless Diego goes back to that moment in time,” Jonas concluded.
While silence overtook the two of them, the rest of the cafe buzzed in a cacophony of lively chatter, clanking of dishware, and resonance of the entrance bell. The activity all around them continued in its usual fashion and to Jonas, that was just as unsettling as the mission before them. If the consuls got their hands on that powerful relic, the world would not survive whatever cruelty they had up their sleeves. Hundreds of millions of innocent lives were at stake, each one blissfully unaware that danger lurked just beyond the horizon.
The time was now. This was their last chance.
Jonas swallowed his fear. “Let’s just hope Diego is strong enough to attempt the venture.”
Chapter Forty-Six
Sweet Dreams
For once, Diego’s dreams had drawn him into the comforting warmth of his memories.
He sat atop La Casa de Montreal, staring up at the stars. The open rooftop of the two-story abode served as the perfect vantage point, not only of the Guadalajara skyline but of the pinpricks of light in the celestial canopy. This year, the June sky looked rather dull, with only Venus, Mars, and the Moon set like diamonds amongst the blackness. But throughout the centuries, Mexico’s skies had seemed more alive. In Junes past, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, and Uranus all raced across the southern quadrant, while the milky band of stars arced across the great expanse. Diego loved scrolling back through Time, watching the skies transform in front of his very eyes as the years flew by at breakneck speeds. It seemed more magical that way.
“Looking at the stars again, mi hermano?”
Diego looked over his shoulder at his younger sister as she joined him on the rooftop perch. “Of course. What else would I be doing?”
“Toying with that pocket watch of yours,” Celestina said with a smile. She gathered her colourful skirt and sat beside him. “And doing whatever Magi do.”
He grinned. “Someday, you may find you also have Gifts.”
“Abuelita says the very same,” Celestina said with a hopeful sparkle in her eyes. “She says sometimes it takes a while to wake them.”
Diego laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. “Patience, Pequeña. They will come.”
Celestina ran her fingers through her long, black hair. “Diego, what is my sun sign?”
“Tina, Tina, Tina,” Diego scolded her in jest. “How do you not know one of the most important aspects of your identity?”
The adolescent girl sheepishly shrugged.
“You are a Capricorn, an Earth sign. Fiercely ambitious, intelligent, and stubborn.”
“Hey,” Celestina said, punching her brother in the shoulder.
“It is what the stars say, Pequeña.”
Silence consumed the Montreal siblings for several moments.
“Diego?”
“Hmm?”
“Abuelita has said before that Sagittarians and Capricorns do not get along.”
Diego smiled and put his arm around his sister’s shoulders. “Impossible. I would climb the highest mountain, swim the deepest ocean, and traverse the most dangerous forests for you, Pequeña. Until the very end of Time.”
“Diego, wake up.”
Diego stirred, groaning as he transitioned to waking life. “Go away.”
“Unfortunately, this cannot wait.”
His eyelids fluttered open. Diego jerked awake when he noticed the entirety of the Irish Chapter had gathered around, staring at him with unwavering focus. He clutched his blanket protectively around his chest.
“Ay, Dios mio!” he exclaimed, glaring sharply at all of them. “Can’t a man get some privacy while he sleeps?”
“It is quite fascinating to watch you,” Aja readily admitted as she played with her braid. “You make the funniest faces.”
“That is horrifying, Aja,” Diego replied dryly.
“Never mind that,” Jonas said, sitting beside him. “How are you feeling?”
Diego winced as he shifted his body to the side. “Like I was beaten by Dark Sentinels.”
Jonas grimaced but nevertheless, continued. “Edison believes he has uncovered the last known location of the Tablet of Destinies. We were hoping—” he threw a sideways glance at Annabelle, “—that you would be up for the task of navigating through Time to the destruction of the Library of Alexandria.”
Diego met Jonas’ eyes. “Si. I have been there before. And for your information, the library was not destroyed, only slightly damaged.”
“Did you ever notice anything that might suggest any items were relocated at the time of the blaze?” asked Edison as he stepped into the circle of Magi.
“Not that I can recall,” Diego answered. “I would need to return to be certain.”
“You do not have to do that, my dear,” Annabelle countered. “We can wait for you to heal, no matter how much Jonas and Edison cry and plead like children.”
Jonas crossed his arms. Edison struggled to contain a humoured grin.
“Mamá, if Jonas thinks it is okay, then—”
“Hush,” Annabelle cut him off. “If Jonas thought it would be okay for you to jump off a bridge, would you?”
Diego shared a brief look with the Magi Master. “Probably.”
“Well, I am asking you not to do anything rash,” Annabelle requested.
“No, I can do it,” Diego insisted, mustering the strength to lift himself to a seated position. He dug through his knapsack for his quartz crystal and pocket watch and laid them on his lap. “48 B.C., correct?”
“Are you absolutely certain about this?” Kierra asked in concern, laying her hand on Diego’s shoulder. “Please do not try to put on a strong front for us. We already know you are brave.”
“I’m not doing this because I am brave,” Diego said. A smirk carved itself across his cheeks. “I’m doing this because—well, have you seen the wrath of Jonas van der Campe when he is angry? I have. And I would rather not be mauled by a vicious lion.”
Annabelle sighed. Jonas chuckled. Kierra suppressed a smile and smacked her cousin on the arm.
Diego looked to Edison. “Do you have a Souvenir for me?”
“Ah, yes,” the museum employee replied, offering him the glossy black box in his hands. “Jonas told me you’d need them to navigate the Past. I included artifacts from Alexandria circa 48 B.C. as well as some relics from the Middle East and Northern Africa that will take you through the Crusades to the thirteenth century. I took the liberty of labelling them with their years and locations.”
Diego received the box, almost dropping it when he realised it carried a much heavier burden than he was anticipating. Nevertheless, he set out the range of artifacts, retrieved his timepiece and held his crystal wand to the clock face after tracing the Star of David
in the air. “I will see you all again in the future,” he yawned and without another word, dove headfirst into Past Time.
Chapter Forty-Seven
A City Burning
Alexandria, Egypt, 48 B.C.
When Diego opened his eyes again, the world was ablaze.
Smoke billowed from the ships in the Portus Magnus, leaving smears of black across the Egyptian sky. Terrified shouts, in both Greek and Egyptian, resounded across the coastline, while several groups of men attempted to douse the flames with urns of seawater.
A city burning. Not just with flame, but a less obvious destruction: a bitter civil war between two royal siblings.
Diego shielded his nose in the crook of his arm and dashed into the commotion, weaving his way amongst frightened onlookers. By this time, the fire had crept across the embankment fortifying the city and sauntered along the promenade toward several nearby residences. Daunting and unrelenting, the blaze continued its journey of devastation in the direction of a massive limestone building.
The Great Library of Alexandria.
Taking in as much air as he could without choking on ash, Diego rushed toward the library. Scholars tore from the arched entry, tripping down the staircase in their haste. Others lingered behind the granite columns, barking orders in Greek. While Diego had much to learn in the way of linguistics, he prided himself on knowing just enough Greek to form rough translations. Certainly, the skill would serve him well now that he had a precious artifact to track down in Hellenistic Egypt.
Once Diego crossed the library’s threshold, the pandemonium from outside faded. In fact, an eerie silence permeated the once lively building. A thin grey veil of smoke entwined around statues of the great philosophers, the only indication something was amiss. He darted from room to room, not seeing much more than dust refracting in the late afternoon sunlight amongst a backdrop of scrolls and tomes.
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