Joe watched the image of his father within the mirror. The man within was sitting at a wooden desk peering over rocks, poking and prodding whilst taking notes. A deep sense of melancholy came over Joe’s heart. Reluctantly he pulled his eyes from the image of his father back to where the podium once stood, besides which a pile of clothes lay crumpled. In his mind he remembered the fury, the unlimited rage that had coursed through him, and he shivered. He had killed before, he thought he knew the consequence of murder, yet, it still hit him. Was it because he had obliterated the greasy man. Obliterated him in anger as opposed to cold reason? He wiped his hand over his brow and shifted the great mass that was his brother to a more comfortable place on his shoulder. A truer sense of guilt invaded him as he considered the stump of his brother’s arm. If I had been a hair quicker, he thought. Still, to the matter at hand.

  His gaze passed over the ruins of seats and searched for the hole which he knew should be there. How was this one supposed to train me? As he poked about in the rubble he knew he would find no answers here. The place was truly a ruin, no phantom to give a reward, no portal to return him to the entrance. Just lifeless stone. He turned back to whence he had come. If he had destroyed one wall, he could destroy another.

  As he exited the cave, wiping the dust of the explosion from his clothes, he was struck by the warm scents of the summer evening. Cicadas and crickets made themselves known from the trees above and the undergrowth below. Beyond the edge of the path, the deep reds and yellows could be seen reflected on the snakelike river below, each scale a painter's palette of colour. Joe trudged up the path until he crested the ridge onto the tarmac and the awaiting cars. He looked around, feeling somewhat lost. He knew it was time to return home, to continue to fight, follow the breadcrumbs of those who had murdered his father. Yet he felt empty. He had murdered the man who had pushed his father into oblivion. Found his father’s resting place. The price of which was his brother’s arm. ‘Maybe if I had waited, if I had trained’ he thought.

  He pushed those thoughts out of his mind, he had made his decision and he would live with the responsibility of the consequences.

  The car spluttered into life, the headlights illuminating the brush before him. “Back to London”.

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  —--

  Joe left Darius to the administration of the hospital. They had many questions he could not answer, and Darius was still too dazed to speak coherently. He contemplated visiting Mary to discuss his finds but felt a certain unwillingness to be in her presence. She confused him, in more ways than one. He pushed down the heat which had risen upon the thought of her. Heat? He had lit the second flame no? Maybe it was time to open the box? A sense of anticipation grabbed him as he flew down the steps to the local tube station. Maybe today, he would open the first box?

  —--

  It was easy. Too easy. Joe groaned in displeasure as the lid of the small box opened without fanfare. All he had to do was push some heat through it and the box opened. Ignoring his irritation, Joe pulled out the spherical object. It was made of some black wood it seemed, the rings of which belied its possible age, polished to a sheen. In the centre, glass or clear crystal belied its purpose within. A compass. Yet one without an arm. Joe was stumped for a moment and then an idea clicked. He pulled his penknife from his belt and cut a small gash in his finger. It healed almost immediately. Irritated, he made a deeper gash, wincing at the pain. It was like cutting through thick rubber, he thought. Nonetheless he had succeeded as a jewel of blood wobbled on top of his finger. He pushed the drop onto the compass which had immediate effect. A needle of blood appeared within the compass, beneath the glass, and began to spin, faster and faster until it was but a blur. After a moment the spinning stopped, with the needle facing a singular direction. ‘The next ruin’ Joe thought.

  Somewhat cheerfully, Joe put the compass away and turned to his phone he had left on charge in the apartment. On the screen he could see he had a voicemail from Julia.

  Without hesitation he rang the voicemail number and soon the familiar voice of his ex lover flowed through.

  Joe. I must be quick. I have completed what you asked of me. It is entirely unexpected but what you have given me is revolutionary. I have sent you the chemical makeup by email, and what plants should have the required chemicals. However two of said chemicals do not seem to exist naturally so I had to create them in my lab. I have given those to a friend for I fear I am being watched. You should know that… Who are you? What are you doing? No, that is my paperwork, you have no right.

  A sound like a slap ensued and then the message ended. Joe stared at his phone, a familiar warmth beginning to gather at his naval. “They have taken Julia!”

  End of book 1.