With a final wave to Grant, I rested my hand on a spire. "Golden Oak Forest."

I carefully looked around. No one was here, which was what I had hoped for by coming this late. I didn't see the cat either.

"Cat? Kitty?"

The words felt silly, but a rustle nearby was followed by a light brown cat trotting this way with a small bird in her mouth. I grinned at the sight and knelt down.

"Good kitty!"

She readily dropped the limp ball of feathers in her eagerness for the handful of guts I dumped on the grass. I quickly cleaned the bird and gave the cat the insides.

I pet the cat while she ate. "That's all I have. Pickings are slim."

She purred happily and bunted her head against my hand.

"You really need a name... As much as I always wanted a cat called Luna, you aren't black."

The cat continued purring and rubbing against me.

"Sandy?" It fit her color but didn't seem quite right.

"Sahara?" Naming a sand-colored cat after one of the biggest deserts in the old world seemed ideal, but I knew at least three people with that name.

What about a prominent desert ruler of the old world? "Cleopatra?"

The cat looked up and meowed.

I smiled. "Cleo, it is." Who was I to disagree with a cat picking her own name?

I played with Cleo for a while, although she was more interested in pets. About the time she wanted a break, I was ready to leave. The shadows were lengthening in the forest, and anything could be lurking nearby.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Cleo." With the bucket and bird in hand, I stepped away from the cat and reached for the crystal, my mind already focusing on a nameless overrun village.

The air hazed around me. The solo port drained just enough energy for me to feel it, with just the smallest hint of an ache. I quickly investigated the crystal. Alas, it hadn't dropped the shard yet. The crack had lengthened, so I'd have to check another day.

I gazed around the sand-blown ruins. The original occupants had cut blocks of stone and used them to build homes and dwellings, something only the earliest villages had done. Alas, such buildings were easily spotted from the sky, and the Saursunes had discovered it centuries ago. A few faint smudges could be faded warning murals, but it might just be a darker section in the stone. It was impossible to tell.

The sun was higher in this location, so I wandered between the toppled structures, marveling at the size of the stones and how straight the sides were. My feet sunk into the blown sand, leaving prominent footsteps that the wind would erase in a few days.

I paused in the shade of a leaning stone column. The sides were carved with intricately detailed trees, vines, and leaves. I looked around for other things to admire while I passed the time and recharged.

A vertical stone wall emerged from the edge of a sand dune, and I went to investigate the sand-caked carvings. Some images were geometric and seemed to frame a large stone with a big clump of sand caked on one side.

The sand clump had been left behind as the sand dune retreated, but the way it clung to that part of the wall was strange. I stepped onto the low, flat stone in front of it and brushed the sand away, revealing a curved stick made of metal.

I twisted it up and down, seeing if I could pull the valuable object out. A click came from within the stone, and I jumped away when the entire stone block swung forward. It only opened a handspan before the sand around the bottom stopped it. The blackness behind it could only be a hidden cave.

I stared at it. The block was only half as wide as my hand—how was it swinging like that? Did the weird stick make it move? Was it actually an old-world door? What was it made of?

I edged forward and used my foot to clear more sand away, then gingerly pulled the edge. The joints groaned as the door swung farther open, revealing a long, dark tunnel behind it. I opened the door as far as it would go.

The interior walls were perfectly straight and smooth. I peered into the gloom. How deep did it go? I'd never seen a man-made tunnel this long before. I couldn't see the end despite the sun being behind me and giving me more light than I would have otherwise had.

There was no wood nearby to form a torch, so I entered the tunnel while keeping to one side so the sunlight could shine past me. Twenty paces in, I found more doors, one on each side of the tunnel. I pushed on them, but they didn't budge. I regarded the sticks. Were they door handles? How had I opened the last one?

I tried pulling but that didn't do anything. When I tried wiggling it, I heard a similar click but it still didn't open. I frowned and wiggled again, getting another click. Holding the handle down, I tried pulling, then I pushed, and it finally opened. No one had ever told me that old-world doors could swing out or in. How strange.

I went inside, mostly exploring by feel, and found it familiar, yet strange. There was a table—but the top was a single sheet of thin, smooth wood instead of saplings cut in half and cobbled together. The bookshelf was made from what felt like polished wood, but the sides were only as thick as my thumb.

My hands brushed against something crackly on the shelf, and I carefully picked it up and carried it into the tunnel. My eyes widened when I saw what I held. Three magazines.

I turned around to check for more, and my light-adjusted eyes finally spotted a large object on the ground near the door. I crouched down and touched it, only to recoil when I realized it was the mummified remains of a person. Completely creeped out, I quickly retreated down the tunnel and went outside.

I stared at the open door. I had never found human remains in old villages before—was I possibly the first person to go down there since they died? Even though I had no problem skinning or gutting animals, this bothered me on a different level, and I really didn't feel like going back inside right now.

How could I close the door? Taking a wild guess, I pushed it closed, and it made another click. It didn't open when I pulled my hand back. My gaze drifted back to the rare antiques in my hand.

I sat down on the flat stone in front of the door and eagerly read the front pages. I blinked in growing confusion. Did all magazines show real things? Or did some have made-up stories like Aunt Edna's tales of the mice on the moon?

I re-read the covers, not understanding some of the words, but the dire tone was quite clear.

Countries amassing hydrogen bombs in worrisome trend as tensions spiral. Is war imminent?

Experts debate over why the oceans are disappearing when we should be experiencing record flooding due to melting ice caps. Could the oceans be moving underground?

Unprecedented refugee crisis as mega storms force more evacuations and destroy hundreds of cities.

I carefully opened one of the magazines, turning the pages as delicately as aged leather. They crackled, and a few split away from the seam. Some pages were what I expected.

New cure for ovarian cancer approved.

Miracle drug uses enzymes to block certain neurotransmitters, addiction recovery rate skyrockets in test groups.

A couple of pages showed devices like cameras and something called a cell phone. I read it in fascination; it clearly wanted people to buy it because it gave the carrier access to most of the knowledge known to man, with a strange fixation on cats and music. It could even fit in their pockets! I wished it still existed. I had a lot of questions for it.

I flipped the page, then checked a few more as a disconcerted feeling settled in my stomach.

Polar ice less than a quarter of former size. Jetstream affected. Heat domes and storms are traveling much slower, lasting longer.

Earth's magnetic field weakening at an accelerating rate. Electronic devices and networks extremely vulnerable.

Over 80% of water sources deemed too polluted for human consumption.

Tenth earthquake over 8.0 strikes in three months, followed by dropping sea levels.

Mega storms are gaining force.

The before-and-after pictures below the mega storm heading made me pause. On the left, there was a huge city with beautiful towering grey cliffs. On the right...it looked like a flattened pile of rubble. Was that really where the city had stood?

Troubled, I turned the page and was relieved to see a picture of a pristine mountain range. The words below it made my heart sink.

America's last national park, Yellowstone National Park, endangered as refugee camps overflow and homeless seek shelter and food.

I checked the rest of the pages, then moved to the next magazine.

New dengue variant transmissible by contact, filling hospitals past capacity. Mosquito reduction programs having little impact in crowded migrant camps.

Record air pollution in China forcing people to wear industrial respirators.

Three nuclear power plants destroyed in mega storm in Japan. Central and southern areas are under a mandatory evacuation order. Storm is preventing mitigation efforts.

I opened the third magazine, only to find more of the same. Some technology breakthroughs, various weather and natural disasters, and more than a few discussions about how much poison and pollution humans could survive. War, mass starvation, and death were frequently hinted at, or even outright stated.

Some pages I didn't understand. What was genocide? Or radiation fallout? The pages didn't specify, but it sounded like a lot of suffering.

There was no mention of aliens.

This...this didn't sound like the history I had been taught. The pictures on the pages were seared into my mind. Was it real? Some things, like the huge slow-moving mega storms, were definitely true. No one had ever seen the ocean, which also seemed to add up. But humans polluting the air they breathed and their own water seemed pretty far-fetched.

Shaking my head, I got to my feet. It was time for me to return. The patriarchs were our primary history keepers. I could show these to one of them and see what they thought.