The air surrounding him was tingling with power. The hairs on the back of Hugh Geber's neck were standing on end as he looked out of his window at the incoming weather. There was something different in the atmosphere today, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it, which was making him feel uneasy. The summer storm clouds which had been bubbling up throughout the afternoon were about to release their load, and it promised to be one hell of a storm. He watched as the residents of the city of Portis-Montis attempted to run for cover to get in ahead of the weather, with even the city's many stray animals sensing it was time to seek shelter. A thunderclap boomed across the city, which was the signal the clouds had been waiting for, and they commenced their battle with the world below. Hugh went to sit in his chair as fat raindrops hit the laboratory windowpane, leaving the scars of the attack behind them as they moved down the glass.

Hugh's cat, Ichabod, jumped onto his lap as if sensing his unease. The wind picked up, which caused the rain to hammer against the window, back lit by a flash of lightning arcing across the sky. This was the first storm signalling the change in the seasons, and it felt like the winds of change were consuming the university itself as if they were attempting to aid the latest chancellor with his ambitions to change the old institution, ambitions which were being met with distaste by most in the building.

Hugh was descended from a long line of alchemists and, like those who came before him, held a position at the University of Science and Progression. It was on this late August afternoon that Hugh found himself deep in troubled thoughts. He had just received a message requesting him to attend a meeting with the university chancellor, Robert James Smithson. Life at the university was changing at a rapid pace, with Smithson all but declaring war on the old ways and subjects, clearing the path to make way for a more modern era. Hugh had a gut feeling of how the meeting with Smithson would go, with the usual heated exchanges between them, then the conversation usually quickly turning towards the incident as it always did these days. The incident wasn't Hugh's fault, but he would never get that across to someone who was unwilling to listen. There was something else nagging at him too. Whether it was the storm or his nerves, Hugh couldn't place what worried him so. There was nothing for it, he had to face the proverbial lion in his den.

Now wracked with anxiety, Hugh placed the cat back on the floor and made his way out of his laboratory, making short work of the journey towards the steps which led to Smithson's office. He remembered fondly how the spiral staircase used to go up to the old astronomy tower. Sadly, astronomy was one subject now deemed unnecessary going forward and subsequently found itself cut from the teaching programme, and the heart and soul of the old star mapping room found itself ripped out of the tower which had now found itself repurposed as the chancellor's office with Smithson rationalising that it was a much more practical space, but everyone knew that this was not the case and that the real reason for it being chosen was the remarkable view it commanded of the city. Either way, it was just another nail in the coffin of the old ways and subjects.

Hugh reached the top of the stairs, and the smell of varnish hit his nose, reminding him of the finishing touches recently added to the newly formed corridor. He knew that this meeting was coming long before Smithson called it, so with this in mind, he approached the door to the office with trepidation. As Hugh knocked on the heavy oak door, he noticed the new mahogany nameplate with its carved, gold painted letters, ROBERT SMITHSON, as if attempting to emphasise the importance of the person behind the door. The door was a far cry from his own laboratory door which had a simple oak veneer and etched glass with the room number, below which was a simple brass name holder with a space to insert a name card. Hugh knocked again, still waiting for an answer, and he heard the rustling of papers, the sound of two people talking in hushed whispers followed by silence. A voice on the other side bid him enter, and after taking a deep breath, Hugh opened the door to face his foe.

As he entered the room, Collins the servant assigned to Smithson, was waiting by the door to leave. The Collins family had been a part of the university since its founding after the Great War, and there were rumours and stories which told of them working in the castle even before that. If the legends were correct, it was the Collins family who saved the renowned university library from destruction during the war, whilst the rest of the castle which now formed the fabric of the university fell around them. It was because of this loyal service that the Collins family were able to maintain their status in the new university by serving the chancellor and helping keep the building running on a day-to-day basis, no matter what this entailed.

The unique way in which they presented themselves made men of the Collins family easy to identify. They traditionally wore suits of dark green velvet with matching waistcoats featuring gold buttons all the way down the front. A Collins man always had smooth blond hair tied up in a ponytail and a flawless complexion. As there were numerous members of the family working within the university, a previous chancellor deemed it to be more practical to refer to them all by their family name, rather than going to the trouble of learning and using their first names. The head of the Collins family held the highest role within the institution – the honour of serving the chancellor himself – and had the privilege of wearing a gold ring which bore the Collins family crest on the little finger of his right hand.

It was safe to say that the current head of the family, Elgrid Collins, was finding the latest chancellor to be a more challenging taskmaster than any who had come before him. He was duty bound to do whatever Chancellor Smithson bid him, and this was being taken to the limit of late. It was common to see Collins in the town, being weighed down with the many luxury goods purchased by his master. Hugh always felt a pang of guilt when the Collins family stood to one side when he walked by, as he had always believed that everyone should be equal. As Collins left the office and closed the door behind him, Hugh stepped further into the chancellor's office, taking in the sight before him.

Admiring the splendour of the room he now found himself in, Hugh had a moment of sadness as he remembered fondly all the hours he had spent in the old room with the former astronomy tutor. It was now completely unrecognisable to him, transformed as it was into a large oak panelled office with an impressive bookcase which stood five shelves tall across the far wall which followed the shape of the round tower, curving with the finest carpentry Hugh had ever seen. It was amazing to see so many leather-bound books in one place, and he had to wonder if any of them were being read by the current occupant or if they were just there for decoration? Though he did notice that one book looked out of place, almost hastily put back on the shelf, catching his eye as its brown leather spine stood out amongst the otherwise orderly alternating green then red spines.

A large grandfather steam clock next to the bookcase was slowly ticking and hissing away to itself, as if to remind Hugh that his time here in this office was slowly ebbing away. His eyes took in the rest of the surrounding room, from the ceiling that had ornate cornice around the edge, to a magnificent centre rose with a chandelier hanging beneath it which would not have looked out of place in a royal palace. There was a large window that followed the curve around the room opposite the bookshelves, in front of which stood an oak desk with a dark green leather top. The desk had been a bespoke addition to the office, with the name Smithson surrounded by intricate patterns of acorns and oak leaves carved across the front. Behind the desk was a large leather wingback chair, and there sat Robert James Smithson, the third member of his family to hold the position of chancellor. On the desk, Hugh saw with disbelief, stacks of maps which looked to have been hurriedly tidied into piles. Smithson had only just come back from one trip and already looked to be planning another. The man was barely at the university these days.

Hugh turned his attention to Smithson himself and felt a pang of disgust. Smithson presented himself as a man about town, always wearing a well-tailored suit with a cravat to match. The dark purple waistcoat he wore had polished silver buttons down the front, designed to catch the attention of all who looked at him. Hugh had come straight from his laboratory and couldn't help but compare himself to Smithson. His lanky frame was hidden beneath a leather alchemist's apron featuring many standard attachments, including flasks that clinked as he walked. This covered a shirt underneath, stained from the day's work, with sleeves rolled up to his elbows revealing marks and scars made by errant flecks of burning materials. With his unkempt hair and well-worn shoes, the contrast between the two men could not have been greater.

"Hugh, take a seat," said Smithson.

The chancellor had been busy reading a letter which he put down on the desk in front of him. Hugh made his way to the less impressive wooden chair in front of the desk, one designed to be uncomfortable enough to let the person seated know exactly where they belonged in relation to the opulent chair occupied by the chancellor. Hugh attempted to see what was in the letter that Smithson had been reading, but the man caught sight of this and quickly covered it up before he made anything out.

"Pleasant trip?" Hugh asked as he sat down. He could not stand the man, but there was still no excuse for being rude.

"Hmm, what?" Smithson replied, his mind half somewhere else. "Oh yes, well, it went as well as it could have done."

What on earth was that supposed to mean, thought Hugh. Smithson seemed to spend a lot of his time away from the university these days. If he wasn't away on business, you could normally find him swanning about the city showing off.

"I suppose you have already surmised the reason for which I have called you here today?" said Smithson.

"Not really." This was a lie – he had a very good idea of why he had been summoned, but he would not make this easy for Smithson. Given that the newest chancellor had cut most of the so-called unimportant departments and subjects from the faculty, Hugh knew that it wouldn't be long before it was the turn of Alchemy to face the guillotine.

"Well, as you know, you obtained your place here at the university after the troubling circumstances involving your father and mine ..."

"Troubling circumstances?" said Hugh. "Can you still not face the truth after all this time?"

"Please don't interrupt me," said Smithson, waving Hugh's comment away with his hand. "I allowed you to carry on his work, with full bursaries I might add, for as long as you needed them. There was, of course, one caveat to this, and that was you had to come up with meaningful results to progress the sciences of the New World. You know the university motto, as do I, Progression waits for no man, and no man shall stand in the way of progression, and to those words we must stand true. Now this magnum opum ..."

Hugh quelled the anger rising inside himself, clenching his fists so hard his fingernails dug into his palms. The man's ignorance was intolerable.

"It's magnum opus," said Hugh, finding it hard to keep a cool head. "It was my father's great work, his life's work, everything he was working towards!"

"Yes, well, whatever you want to call it," said Smithson, not paying attention to what Hugh had said. "It's not really in keeping with the university's motto. Working on personal matters, especially family ones in this current state of affairs, well it seems a tad ... selfish don't you think? Kind of all about me."

The irony of this struck Hugh. If there was anyone who was self- centred, opinionated and selfish it was Smithson. Didn't he understand that everything his father did, the work that Hugh himself had since picked up, was all done to help others? Although it was now his own magnum opus that Hugh was working on, the results had the potential to change the world at large for the better. He thought back over the motto as it had been, for it was recently changed when the latest chancellor took the reins of the university. The old motto read Progression for the people, progression for all, but the new administration didn't take a liking to this and altered it to suit their needs. With this one alteration, Smithson had made sweeping changes across the board. By cutting the funding department by department, the chancellor funnelled the money saved into a personal ‘work’ account, which made him a very rich man. Now it was the turn for the alchemy department, the longest running subject which had its roots embedded in the university's history.

"I know you are not the biggest advocate for alchemy," said Hugh, "but the work that I do is important. Without alchemy we would be in a much worse position than—"

"My dearest Hugh," Smithson cut in with a patronising tone, one Hugh was more than used to these days, "you cannot try to tell me that your work is important? It's all just bubbling pots and crushed ingredients with the odd puff of smoke for good measure. I have yet to meet one of your kind that has fulfilled the act of turning metal into gold. As for your hare-brained idea that by studying the universe you will find the fifth element and a deeper meaning of why we are here, well that's just absolute poppycock! I know my father had a distorted interest in the subject, but alas, I do not. Full pay plus lodgings in return for your ‘work' do you call it? I know a freeloader when I see one," he said, waggling a finger in Hugh's direction.

"I am not a freeloader!" Hugh said through gritted teeth.

"I see the anger problem wasn't just limited to the middle Geber brother after all. Alchemy is going the same way as your brother. At least he had the decency to see the reality before the rest of you and do something to rectify it!" Smithson carried on, pushing the right buttons. "Heaven only knows why my father went gallivanting off with yours on that trip. If he were here now, I would tell him my thoughts on this hocus pocus and the throwing of good money after bad, but given the circumstances—"

"You ignorant bastard! How dare you insult me, my family and alchemy in that way!" Hugh stood and pounded his fists on the desk in front of him, sending pain into his palms. "You have absolutely no idea of the work I do, or what my family has done for countless generations. People travelled from far and wide to be cured of their ills by one of our famous panaceas." Totally out of character, the lid was now off, and there was no stopping him. "It's not smoking pots and trickery, nor hocus pocus as you call it. It's a respectable career, and you know it to be true. As for trying to bring the past eighteen months’ events into this, well you know as I do that your father went willingly and knowingly on that expedition. They both knew the risks entailed in what they were doing—"

"I can assure you that it brings me no pleasure," said Smithson, standing up to face Hugh. "Having to unearth everything that's happened is painful for me too, but the truth still stands as plain as day. Alchemy is a dying art. There, I've said it. In wider society, the ways of the Old World are being forgotten, even shunned. Most of the mere plebs out there haven't the faintest idea how dangerous the old ways are and how much of a threat they are to the new order of things. All these street sellers and markets, if I had anything to do with it, I'd vet the lot of them, turn them back to where they came from."

"What are you afraid of? The truth might put a stop to your little world? You're a big fish in a small pond. You wouldn't last five minutes in the Old World. They'd eat you alive. You hide behind your steam leviathans and your airships, pretending you are strong and mighty, like you are better than the rest of us. Well, I have news for you. You aren't! You're just a scared little man, afraid of losing control. You just don't get it, do you? The old ways are ingrained in us all; if only you'd open your eyes and see the world for what it is, instead of using this place to try and dismantle it. You will never win. You can remove the subjects from the halls, scrub the names from the doors, but that won't stop it from existing!"

"Hugh, Hugh, Hugh. How naive you are. You have spent so long stuck in your little laboratory, that you fail to notice the changes outside your window. The progression of the New World has come on in leaps and bounds these last one hundred years. You talk about the steam locomotives and airships as though they are just a momentary blip in the timeline of man. I assure you; they are here to stay. It's time you decide which side you are on," he said. "I've chosen mine.

"I am in no mood to support any ideologies that will alienate this building or the people who work within it. If that means moving with the times and getting rid of the dead wood and more of the outdated dark ways, so be it. There's talk of an apothecary set to open soon and, even as we speak, there are these new medical healers, physicians I think they call them, who are the new profession in your field. This folly will have to end sooner or later, Hugh. Mark my words."

"Profession? What do they know? I have been learning my trade since I was a boy. Alchemy has been in my family for generations, and for you to dismiss it as a folly is just ... well ... it's just a plain insult! As for your thinking of it being an outdated and dark subject, well it's your and others’ ignorance and lack of understanding ... that my friend is the problem!"

Silence fell in the room, with only the sound of heavy breathing and the ticking and hissing of the grandfather steam clock filling the emptiness. Smithson retook his seat. Hugh was spent – not being used to arguing – and slumped onto his chair.

"Be that as it may, you are still yet to produce anything of any use or substance," said Smithson, "and I'm afraid to say that I cannot let this continue."

Hugh looked up and thought he saw a flicker of a smirk on Smithson's face, but if he did, it wasn't there for long. "I don't wish to waste any more time arguing with you over this. I have spoken with the board of governors this morning, and they are in agreement with me, although they would like to give you longer to prove your worth. If you don't produce something of value within the next twelve months, we will have to cut your bursaries. With no funding, you will have no laboratory or, for that matter, anywhere to live. Personally, I think they are being too lenient as I would have sent you packing by now."

The weight of this last sentence hit Hugh in the pit of his stomach. He sat in a stunned silence, unable to speak. Smithson had won the battle, retaken the high ground.

"Well, don't you at least have something to say?" Smithson said, giving him a condescending look.

"But my family has had a laboratory here for generations!" exclaimed Hugh. "The agreement has passed down from father to son since the university opened. I don't know what to say ... I ..."

"I think the words you are looking for are I'll get started straight away," said Smithson, barely hiding his grin. "After all, twelve months will be over like that!"

Smithson clicked his fingers and sat back in his chair. Hugh felt numb with shock, his face now tingling with pins and needles from hyperventilating. He could not go down in history as the one who got his family rights revoked by the university. He could taste bile in his mouth, and his throat was burning.

"Well, come on, Hugh!" Smithson said, breaking the silence, making Hugh jump. "Gold doesn't make itself! Anyway, you ought to cheer up. You will soon have found the missing element."

This time, Smithson did not hide his smile, his shoulders starting to bob up and down with a silent chuckle which then turned into a loud guffaw. Hugh sat in silence until a large crack of thunder brought him back to his senses. He realised that he had been staring vacantly at Smithson in utter disbelief, watching tears of mirth fall down his face. Hugh knew that they were not the best of friends – that would be an understatement – but to diminish his entire world in one fell swoop without the slightest hint of remorse, this was a whole new level.

"Well?" said Smithson, controlling himself just long enough to speak coherently, "hadn't you better get to work then?"

"I suppose I better had," Hugh said in a voice of disbelief.

"Absolutely! Oh, and one more thing ..." Smithson said trying to catch his breath, rummaging on his desk. "These came for you, something to do with your father I believe. Now be a good alchemist and run along."

He tossed two packages across the desk to Hugh, before motioning him away with his hand, still laughing to himself whilst wiping fresh tears off his cheek. Hugh took the mystery items, wondering what they could be. It was only as he stood up that he realised the extent of his over breathing. His world was going dizzy, and he stumbled forward, banging his knee on one of the carved acorns.

"Are you still here?" Smithson said, looking up with fake surprise on his face. "I would have thought you would show more urgency."

"Sorry, but what are these?" said Hugh, holding up the packages in one hand, whilst rubbing his knee with the other.

"Well, I don't know? Probably some tatty old mementos that you alchemists love."

"But why have you got them?" said Hugh, ignoring the throbbing in his knee.

"Well, surely that's obvious?" said Smithson looking at Hugh, then he let out an over-egged sigh. "Apparently not by the vacant look on your face. When people return any materials and property belonging to the university, they come through this office where they can then get rightfully reunited with their owner or, in this case, descendants."

Hugh stood in silence, staring from the packages back to Smithson. He could feel himself ready to break, the lump in his throat, the tears welling in his eyes. He knew he had to move, not show any weakness in front of the man, yet his feet seemed glued to the floor.

"Well do run along," said Smithson in a chirpy voice, nodding his head to the clock that was showing half-past two. "If you stay here much longer there will be no need to start your experiments. It will be straight out the door with your suitcase. That's if you have enough belongings to fill one?”

His shoulders were bobbing again, which quickly turned into full- blown hysterics. Furious and frustrated, Hugh turned on the spot and headed towards the door with a slight limp, his knee stiff from hitting the desk. He must have looked an utter fool, limping across the room like an injured animal. As he closed the door behind him, he could hear Smithson laughing and what sounded like his hand banging on the desk, but all Hugh wanted to do was get away as fast as possible from the wretched man. He would only open the packages in his hands once he was back in the safety of his laboratory.

It didn't take long for Hugh to traverse the distance between Smithson's office and his own rooms in the east wing, where he finally released the objects which he had been clutching. All the emotion that had built up inside him finally gave way, coming out in an unstoppable wave of hatred and sadness which needed release. It took some time for Hugh to regain his composure enough to look at the two packages. Ichabod came and wrapped himself around Hugh's legs, purring gently, which calmed him down. Between shaky intakes of breath, pondering what could be within the brown paper, he opened and examined the first item which was further wrapped in a note which read:

I hope this brings you comfort, I made it especially for you. I hope it brings you strength in dark times and keeps you safe in times of peril. Wear it and think of me. E xx

Hugh looked at the note and, unable to think of who "E" was, turned his attention to what was concealed within the note. It was a polished black stone, crafted into the shape of a hollow triangle with the inner sides coming together in the centre. It really was an exquisite piece of work, and he could feel himself being imbued with a feeling of calm. He studied it further and saw there was a leather cord which passed through the top point, long enough for the object to hang around the neck. Below this was a pin also made from polished stone, but this shone with many iridescent colours. The pin itself looked fragile, but when Hugh tried to remove it, he found it stuck fast and quite strong. He then saw runes inscribed around the outside edge, but these too were smooth to the touch. On what Hugh could only guess at being the face of the triangle, he could see words which read:

WHEN ALL SEEMS DARK, I WILL LIGHT THE WAY

It was then that he noticed two holes on the bottom where the front and rear faces met, and there were markings inscribed I and II. These looked like a perfect place to put the pin in, so he tried once again to remove it, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not pull it out. He shoved it roughly with his hand to one side, letting out a disgruntled sigh. Hugh tried to guess what might be in the second package, also wrapped in brown paper, as he tentatively unwrapped the covering on what felt to be a book. He guessed correctly, but his hands shook as he held the object.

He looked at Ichabod. "How could this be, after all this time? Is this really what I think it is?"

The cat only purred as Hugh Geber placed his father's notebook onto the desk in front of him.