In the cold blackness where I had been deposited after Beaumont stabbed me, I had plenty of time to contemplate the last few days. When the Templars picked me up, I had kinda thought it was fate. I thought I had been prepared for whatever this mission would throw at me, but I never thought it'd go anything like this — never in a million years…

If I had known what would have happened to me on Solomon Island, I would've let Priscilla talk Sonnac out of letting me come. I didn't want to die — not when I still had so much to live for. Fifteen years… snuffed out just like that. And Mom… Oh God, Mom…

I then became aware of music growing louder and louder from within the void, and I strained my nonexistent ears in order to figure out what it was. I soon identified it as being similar to the fairylike voices of Beaumont's sword, but the sound was much more soothing to listen to compared to the subtle belligerence laying beneath the surface of the sword's music. It made me feel comfortably warm, like sleeping next to a fireplace Cinderella style.

Then the warmth began to center on the middle of my chest, growing uncomfortably hot until it felt like I was being slowly run through the chest with a white hot blade. I attempted to cry out in pain as the heat slowly dug deeper and deeper into my unseen flesh, but no sound came out, and then in my mind's eye, a shape made of pure light appeared.

It was an unusual one to my addled mind, as it looked like a rectangle, but then I noticed that the shape subtly curved into a blunt point at the bottom. It shone as bright as the sun, but strangely enough, I wasn't blinded from staring so long at it. Then the glow of the shape faded away along with the white hot pain, like a lamp going out, to reveal itself to be the scabbard of some sword, though I thought I had a pretty good guess which sword that was, judging by the design of the scabbard.

Orange anima pulsed down the middle of the scabbard like the beating of a heart, and I was sure the metal was the exact same material used to forge Beaumont's sword. The tip of the scabbard appeared to be missing, as if it had been crudely cut off, and the stump of metal glowed orange like a stick poked into the fire. The scabbard slowly dispersed into particles of orange anima as it sank deeper and deeper into the void, and as the sheath resumed its course, the pain had gone back to the pleasant and warm sensation it had been before. To be honest though, this wasn't a bad last experience to have before shuffling off the mortal coil. However, I didn't want to die — not without a fight, at least…

Eventually, all good things must come to an end, and the song was no different as the scabbard disappeared from view, leaving only a few specks of orange anima behind. Thus, my silent, inner struggle began. I clung to the semblance of consciousness I had for as long as I could, but I could feel myself slipping against my awareness, like fingers trying to seize a handful of a cloth held taut. Deeper and deeper, I sank into the blackness of unconsciousness, until finally, I gave in to the inevitable. Before I blacked out for good, though, a single word blazed across my mind in blazing orange cursive.

"Avalon…"

An eternity later, I became dimly aware of something making noise next to me. I let out a slurred groan as I muttered a phrase that I couldn't remember the words to in a feeble attempt to try and get it to stop. The white noise soon cleared up into a more understandable form, namely the sound of a familiar voice calling out my name. "Chase? Are you awake?"

"Huh…?" I said groggily as I tried to make out who was speaking through my eyelashes. "Oh… Yeah… I'm awake, but… How am I still alive?"

As the image in my eyes grew clear, I saw Priscilla hanging above me, and she wiped something from the corner of her eye that I suspected to be a tear before answering. "I'm not too sure about the how, but I have a good guess as to the reason why.

"See, when I found you bleeding out on the floor, I suddenly picked up on something powerful coming from the… scabbard thingy on the floor. I guess Beaumont must've left it behind, though I have no idea how something with that much anima managed to slip under his radar. At the time, though, I was trying to bring you back from the dead. Anyway, with Beaumont gone, the artifact revealed its true power and form, and I could see it causing your wound to close up by itself slowly. Look — you can even see the results from the great big hole in your shirt."

As I propped myself up onto my elbows, I looked down at myself to see that she was right. Sure, there was a hole in my T-shirt that I would have to take care of later, but there was no sign on my skin that I had ever been stabbed by a primordial weapon of magical mass destruction at all. "Okay, but… what happened next? What happened to the scabbard?"

"Well…" Priscilla pursed her lips before continuing. "It then floated over to your body, and it kinda… stabbed you through the heart. You cried out as it sank into your body, but you got real quiet as it disappeared into your body. Heck, I'm not even sure if what I saw was even real at all — you don't seem any different, aside from… you know. Coming back from the dead."

Before replying, I ran some anima through me to try and get a feel for my condition, and there it was. The magical presence of the scabbard, Avalon, was faint, but I could still feel it pulsing slightly like a second heart as it floated amidst my magic, seemingly content with where it was. "Huh… Well, at the very least, you weren't hallucinating. I can feel something foreign inside of me, but barely. It doesn't appear to be harmful, but…"

"Well, you're alive, and that's all that matters." Priscilla said firmly as she gestured for me to get back up onto my feet. "Let's not look the gift horse in the mouth. Now come on — we gotta get out of here if we want to catch Beaumont in time."

"Right." I said, and together, we began searching for a way out. As we traced our steps back to the entrance of the archives, we both sighed as we saw that the way out had been collapsed. "Figures Beaumont would try to get rid of the obvious way out, but there's gotta be another way out of this mess…"

As we navigated the spaces in between the bookshelves of the Illuminati archive, we made sure to keep our weapons at the ready in case something decided to get the jump on us. However, nothing did, as they were all dead and lying in front of a single pedestal. "What the hell…?"

A grotesque giant made of raw flesh lay on its back, a smoking hole blown through it, and all around it, monsters similar to the familiars Carter and I had put down lay dead, having met the same fate. They seemed to have been killed while making a desperate last stand against Beaumont as he reached for whatever they had been guarding. I barely spared the dead bodies a glance as Priscilla and I stepped over the remnants of the massacre to reach the open book still lying on the pedestal.

The pages of the book itself were handwritten and yellow with age, though what really got our attention was the smudged card paper-clipped to one of them. It looked fairly old, and it was neatly typed, with the Illuminati's blue pyramid emblazoned on the bottom right corner.

Frank R. Devore
The Devore Mansion
Solomon Island

Devore founded the Blue Ridge Mine and built the Devore Mansion in 1876. Found guilty of murdering his wife Joanna in October 1881. Sentenced to death by hanging. Associated with individual named 'Beaumont'. Numerous references to this person in diary. Connected to other mentions of Beaumont in Solomon Island history? Diary also references important papers regarding Blue Ridge Mine located in mansion, but papers appear to have been hidden. Our agents must have been unable to retrieve. Devore Mansion has recently been sold to E. Franklin.

So E. Franklin in Devore Mansion, huh? A good lead to follow, if we ever manage to get out of here. As if she had somehow sensed my negativity, Priscilla spoke up. "Hey, don't worry about it. We're gonna get out of here. Just you wait and see."

"Right." I said unemotionally as I took the card and stuffed it into the back pocket of my jeans. We continued on our not-so-merry way, past dusty grimoires on bookshelves and faded blue carpets, until we reached the other end of the archives. Four Illuminati pyramids inscribed within circles stood side by side in front of a bookshelf, and I smiled a little as I heard the magic within the chalk used to draw them.

Priscilla stepped into one of the circles, and I heard the buzz of the anima pumped into the floor through her feet, and the chalk lines began to glow blue. She did this three more times to each of the other circles, until the bookshelf rumbled backwards and slid aside into the wall to reveal a secret passageway. I then glanced to see Priscilla grin me. "See? What did I tell you? Now come on — we gotta get back at Beaumont for shanking you."

At this, I actually grinned back at her. "Right. Let's get me some payback."

"Caution is advised going forward." Sonnac's voice spoke over the speaker of Priscilla's phone. "Now that Beaumont is aware of your involvement, he will be like a cornered lion, and he will most likely not be so merciful the next time around."

"Yes, sir." Priscilla and I both intoned, and with a nod from Priscilla, I spoke to Sonnac. "Sir, there's something we've got to tell you. When we were in the archives, Beaumont came very close to killing me with a stab to the heart. I probably would've died if it weren't for an artifact left behind by him that he was unaware of…"

"…Please explain." Sonnac spoke after a pause. It wasn't a request. I began to elaborate on my experience with "Avalon", and Sonnac stayed quiet until I had finished. "Interesting… That artifact could prove useful in your search, but regardless, exercise care, and try to find out what the warlock is up to. I do not wish to find out if the artifact will work its magic a second time.

"The sword is still your prime objective. We do not know what it is yet, or what it can do, but it is almost certainly of great value. Our top researcher, Gladstone is deep in the bowels of Temple Hall as we speak, digging through the lost libraries. In the meantime, treat this as a learning experience. You live, you learn, and, hopefully, you grow into better soldiers. Good hunting to you both."

"Yes, sir." Priscilla and I intoned one last time before Sonnac ended the call.