Lifting the skirt of my silk gown, I walk into the Initiation Ball. The Lodge has been transformed with a checkered wood dance floor and crystal chandeliers replacing the usual dear antler ones. The decorations are actual artifacts from the Titanic, and the attendees are wearing replicas of clothing from the early twentieth century. After returning from our heist, we were given the mundane task of sewing our costumes—a Maker skill that seems ridiculous to maintain but that Jeff and Whitney insist we know. My gown is inspired by one of Empress Feodorovna of Russia’s gowns that lives in the Victoria and Albert wing of the Vault. Despite missing the high of heist planning—and seeing Garrett every day—I secretly find it relaxing to sit under the trees in the evenings and embroider.

I scan the faces on the dance floor, hoping, as ever, one of them might be his, that maybe he returned for this night—the night of his initiation—the night of my eighteenth birthday. Coming up empty, I feel disappointment dip in my belly. Keystone isn’t the same without him. It’s lost some of its spark, the intrigue that made this place fascinating. Maybe that comes with familiarity, too, but his absence feels like a piece of me is lost, and I don’t know when I’ll find it. But we’ll see each other again. Like he said, this is only the beginning…

It took forever to figure out how to open the key fob. For weeks I rolled the seven-letter code into endless combinations, imagining what message Garrett could have left for me. I was pretty surprised when “told-u-so” didn’t work.

A month after my return, I was wandering through the Vault, thinking back to our last night together, hunting for clues. “Impossible is my specialty…” He was right about that… Then it hit me. “I’ll do anything to prove you can trust me.” Coming to a halt, I took the key fob out of my pocket and tried it right then and there. T-R-U-S-T-M-E.

The lid clicked, and I popped it open. Inside was a scrap of paper with a handwritten code:

The language looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I went straight to the Crypt, hoping some rare manuscript in the Beinecke could help trigger where I’d seen the language before. As soon as the door sucked closed behind me, I remembered. The Voynich.