that whatever was inside that casket was just rotten flesh and bones, but she had stayed there all the same. No one ought to be alone in death. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“Her name was Claudia,” Nero said. “As you have likely noticed, names from ancient Rome experienced a swell of popularity here about forty years ago.”
“I wondered about that,” she said. “Most people don’t have positive associations with the name Nero.”
“My mother just liked the sound of it.” His smile was small and forced a sharp crease into his cheek. “I don’t like to discuss my sister, but I thought you should know why you were taken from your home. Or, specifically, why I assisted in taking you from your home.”
“Well,” Sloane said. “Thank you.”
“I think I should take you back to your room, don’t you?” he said. “Or Aelia will have my head.”
“She seems a bit grumpy with you.”
“She blames me for having summoned three of you instead of just one,” Nero said. “Though I wasn’t the only one doing the working.”
“What kind of siphon opens up another dimension?” Sloane said.
“Guess,” Nero said.
“Butt siphon,” Sloane said immediately.
Nero snorted. “No,” he said. “It’s actually not a body part at all. It requires multiple people standing around a massive siphon built into the floor, called a siphon fortis. There are some moderately large ones in haven cities, but the only ones that boast this particular size are here, in the Hall of Summons, one in Los Angeles, and one in Maine.”
“Maine?”
Nero smiled. “Our most prestigious magical university is in Maine, right on the coast. It’s very nice there. Expensive, though.” He checked his wrist—the one not covered by a siphon—to see the time. “Let’s go. I’m sure you’d like a shower and a change of clothes. And maybe breakfast.”
Together they walked to the elevator. They got back to the Chosen Ones’ hallway just as Matt and Esther were waking up.
Chicago Post
NATIONWIDE SEARCH FOR “CHOSEN ONE” BEGINS
by Lucia Arras
(from the archive, August 11, 2009)
CHICAGO, AUGUST 11: When word of a verified apocalyptic prophecy leaked to the press last month, fear and chaos ran rampant. But there was one ray of hope: rumor of a “Chosen One” who might be able to stop the prophecy’s foretold doom in its tracks. Now an anonymous source inside the Council of Cordus, the government’s “magic” branch, has revealed that the council will be aggressively searching for this individual in the days to come.
“The criteria listed in the prophecy is quite specific,” the source said. “We’ll be looking at a selection of children, mostly ones who have already displayed an advanced magical ability.”
Religious groups across the nation are divided regarding the doomsday prophecy, with some denouncing it as a false teaching or a heresy, and others declaring it to be a message from the divine. People dwelling in haven cities, which prohibit the practice of magic, have begun protesting the government’s perusal of their children’s records for the purposes of finding and honing magical talent, citing privacy laws and the separation of church and state.
The Council of Cordus declined to comment on this story and has not released an official statement on the matter of the Chosen One or the prophecy. In the past, however, the council has acknowledged some unique expressions of magical ability in the population, including “demonstrations of raw power (i.e., without a siphon), such as telekinesis, the creation of short-distance portals, mind-reading, and divinatory gifts.”
TOP SECRET
PROJECT DELPHI, SUBPROJECT 17
EXCERPT from the official log of [redacted], code name Merlin:
I will begin by stating that I am composing this report a week after the fact, upon verifying that subject [redacted], code name Mage, is, indeed, the most likely subject of the Sibyl Doomsday Prophecy who is “the last hope of Genetrix,” commonly referred to as “the Chosen One.” This will inevitably account for some bias in the retelling, as I am unable to separate myself from my current knowledge. However, I shall endeavor to be as objective as possible.
My first impression of Mage came from his file, which I scanned prior to entering the examination room. There was a list of the usual facts: his name, [redacted]; age, ten; hair color, [redacted]; eye color, [redacted]; birthplace, [redacted]. When I opened the door, he was sitting with his hands in his lap and his legs swinging. Average height for a ten-year-old but somewhat scrawny, as if he had been mildly food-deprived, though it could have simply been his natural build.