Zephaniah and Prometheus continued south on foot. The same forces that had upset the ley lines also sucked away at their auras, leaving them both weak and practically powerless. It had taken Prometheus-a Master of Fire-three attempts before he’d been able to raise a feeble flame to heat some water. Their auras had strengthened the farther they had moved away from the last leygate, but when they’d entered the forest that ringed the Nameless City, their auras had faded again.

Zephaniah was exhausted. It was an extraordinary feeling, one she had not experienced in hundreds of years. The bone-dry desert around the leygate quickly followed by the rank humidity of the jungle had destroyed her leather-and-metal clothes, and her indestructible boots had proven not so indestructible. Having no access to her aura had been a terrifying revelation. To have to rely on her unenhanced senses was like being deaf and blind, and even her sense of taste was limited, so that everything tasted the same-either sweet or salty. Now she could only smell the strongest-and usually the foulest-of odors. The sooner they got what they were looking for and left the Nameless City, the happier she would be. But Abraham’s instructions had been clear: she was not to return without the records from the library. There was one particular book he needed to complete the creation of the Codex.

Initially, Zephaniah had contemplated making the journey on her own: she was both strong and fast, and her auric powers were incredible. However, her friend Hekate had begged her to bring someone with her, and surprisingly, Abraham had agreed to let her. She had been even more surprised when he had suggested her younger brother, the fearsome warrior-sage Prometheus.

“I’m glad you came with me,” she said suddenly. “I’m not sure I would have liked to make this journey on my own.”

“I have to look out for my sister,” the warrior said with a grin. Then the smile faded. “But I do know what you mean… There is something about this place… something wrong. No wonder our people abandoned it.”

“I wonder why they never gave it a name,” she said. “On the charts it is simply known as the City and Abraham called it the Nameless City.” The pair continued down the middle of the broad street, following mysterious metal grooves cut into the primeval black stones. Although the age of the city could be measured in millennia, no metal had rusted, and while the glass walls were scratched and scored by the forest, not a single pane was broken.

“Here, I think…,” Prometheus said. He stopped outside an enormous stepped-glass pyramid. The entire front of the building was covered in intricate spirals and whorls. Just looking at them made him dizzy. Squeezing his eyes shut, he shook his head. “Check the map.”