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Atticus watched Sethan merge seamlessly back into the knot of the others following their conversation. Despite the mummy’s assurances about his intentions in Egypt, concern still itched in the back of his mind. He respected and trusted Sethan, but Atticus had the distinct impression that the mummy desired much more than answers in his ancient homeland. Atticus ran a hand through his dark hair. There was nothing for him to do about that now, he had given Sethan his word, and more importantly, the matter of Reginald Hoyle’s mission was at hand.

Atticus brought his fingers to his lips, about to whistle once more for attention when Raleigh stated his intentions for following Atticus to help Reginald Hoyle. The incubus looked to the dryad, his jaw tightening with the sting implicit in the statement of them being “old friends.” His eyes drifted away from Raleigh without a word. He had asked the dryad here to mend what had happened so many years ago, as well as for his talents, but if the dryad was unwilling to attempt the first then Atticus would concern himself only with the latter. Atticus resumed his whistle, bringing silence to the circle, the dryad forgotten for the moment. 

“Thank you to all of you who have offered your services in Max’s name. As we are under the constraints of time, we must get under way. Before that, I will bring you all up to speed on Reginald Hoyle’s mission. Those of you seeking the ankh will be returning once that is completed to help us with this matter.”

His eyes flitted to Veti for a moment, the only werewolf amongst them. “The Veiled World is nominally at peace following Decima’s defeat. However, her abrupt rise to power was not without consequences. Many of the nodes of power in this world have grown paranoid and anxious of enemies both real and perceived. The werewolf clan government, the Lupus Naturae, are no exception. For those of you not aware, in the past the Lupus Naturae have often culled clans from their ranks that they deemed as threats, or otherwise unworthy of having their bloodlines continued.”

“Reginald Hoyle’s clan,” Atticus continued, “the Teachglach Mac Tíre, was one such clan. They hail from these very hills.” He swept his arms to encompass the dark Irish lands, “And most thought that he alone was the sole survivor of that ancient bloodline. He has informed me that there is another, one very close to him, which is once again being pursued by the Lupus Naturae.”

Atticus’ expression grew very grim. “Though Mr. Hoyle did not state this, I also fear that the Lupus Naturae is not above murdering him as well. He is arguably the most powerful werewolf in existence, and Mr. Hoyle has often spoken openly against the archaic barbarism of the Lupus Naturae. Our job is to stop the Lupus Naturae from harming either Mr. Hoyle or the remaining member of his clan, and further to make the cost so great for the werewolf clan leaders that they give up the endeavor altogether.”

With that, Atticus withdrew a piece of carved bone from his pocket. He walked past his compatriots, examining the Celtic crescent moon symbol in his hand. The bone was smooth from wear and age, and Atticus guessed it to be thousands of years old. It was thrilling to be holding an artifact with such long origins, and the incubus had been humbled to receive it from Reginald Hoyle before he had been instructed to depart for Ireland. Atticus reached one of the stone monoliths, this one no more distinctive than any of the others in the broad circle. 

As Hoyle had instructed him, Atticus took the bone-moon and placed it flat against the stone’s surface.

“Le cnámh agus fola, lorg mé síochána,” Atticus recited, his voice low. 

Immediately, the ground within the circle began to tremble slightly. Sharp lines began to form, tracing across the circle with bright green tongues of flame. Atticus watched in marveling silence as the lines intertwined and until the formed a great knot with a pictogram of a howling wolf’s head dominating the center. As the knot was completed with its glowing green lines, the wind picked up, whipping and tearing at those within the circle.

Atticus had to yell to be heard above the gale. “Those of you seeking the ankh, go with the goddess. I bid you farewell, and a safe journey. I sincerely hope to see you all soon.” His eyes looked about to those left who would be traveling with him to meet Reginald Hoyle. “The rest of you, stay in the circle, and prepare for an interesting ride.”

---

Isis withdrew from the circle, her silver eyes watching the Celtic magic with a respectful degree of curiosity. As her feet cleared the stones, she held her arms beside her with her fingers outstretched. The wind, so forceful inside the circle, was not but a light breeze beyond its stone borders, and the goddess stood peacefully still.

As she did, her fingers elongated dramatically, morphing as they did into the pristine white feathers of a kite. All along the length of her arms these feathers began to sprout and grow, until the goddess possessed fully formed wings that spanned almost thirty feet from tip to tip.

She looked up to those that were to travel with her, offering them a calming smile. “Please, come, gather before me and be at ease. We have much to do, and little time. My wings will bear us to our destination.”