Henri's initial idea was met with much opposition, notably by his parents. Thea and Malik hadn't given much of an opinion; after all, nothing bad would happen to them if Monet and Arkangel Industries discovered the ancient Mouseion and what hid inside its walls. It was the elder Becks who had a problem with it.

Whoever these majus they met must've made a lasting impression on them, because the married couple were willing to die before aiding Monet in her search.

Henri anticipated this. How could he not? His father made an oath that prohibited him from helping Arkangel in any way. Allegedly. He still wasn't sure what to make of all this magic talk. Until he saw it in person, he'd remain on the fence. That was all he could handle for right now—it was too focused on the plan marinating in his brain.

"This is not up for discussion," Simon barked. "We are not helping them."

"What else are we going to do? Just sit here?"

The man crossed his arms over his chest.

Seriously?

He looked to his mother, who was watching the two of them with concerned eyes. "Please...I need you guys to trust me on this. Helping Arkangel find the library is our best bet at getting out of here alive."

Aminata stumbled over her words. Her gaze landed on her husband, who gave her a curt shake of his head. "How does helping them help us?" she eventually asked.

"If we help them, maybe we can gain Monet's trust, even if just a little bit," he explained.

"Then what?" Simon squinted at him. "We let her obtain the eldricite? We let Arkangel Industries commit genocide?" He decisively swiped a hand through the air. "No, I can't let that happen. There's no world where helping Monet works out for us. If she gets what she wants, we—and so many others—lose."

Henri stirred in his seat on the ground. His father's words struck him like an aluminum baseball bat, the heavy syllables bouncing around his skull as if they were ricocheting bullet fragments. What Monet wanted to do...what the Arkangels were already doing... That was genocide. He hadn't seen any of these magic people himself, but if his parents had—and were willing to risk their lives to protect them—then what did that mean? Monet insinuated his parents had been tricked; charmed into believing a lie. The woman clearly didn't know the Becks; no one manipulated them into doing anything.

Aiding a genocide wasn't something Henri was okay with.

But the only plan his tired brain kept coming back to centered around helping Monet Delacroix find the Mouseion and the Library of Alexandria. They wouldn't make it out of the Egyptian desert if they didn't. Not alive, anyway.

Thea looked toward Simon. "Aren't you being a little dramatic, Dad? I mean, you seriously think Arkangel Industries would commit genocide under everyone's noses?"

"It wouldn't be the first time this has happened," Aminata grumbled.

Henri cringed at the memory of the countless genocides that stained humanity's ever-expanding tapestry of time and tale. The Holocaust, the various ethnic cleansings throughout Africa and Asia, and the decimation of the Native Americans. History was filled with violence and tragedy. Humans had a penchant for trying to wipe each other out.

Monet was so worried about these magicians harming the world, but were they even the biggest threat to their planet?

"No one knows the majus exist. That makes it that much easier to wipe them out without anyone caring," Simon added.

Henri squeezed his eyes shut. Frustration built inside the walls of his psyche like pressure building in an overtaxed dam. Genocide was a heavy thing. Entities like the United Nations were created to stop things like that. But his father had brought up a great point. Who would save these people if no one even knew they existed?

But why did his parents need to be involved?

"Can't they protect themselves?" he whined. "They're the ones with the magic. We're...we're just normal people. Why do they need you to protect them?"

"I see you've learned nothing at that school of yours."

"I learned a lot of things in London, Dad. Including how to survive."

Simon scoffed. "You think you know how to survive?"

"You don't know what I've been through for the last four years."

"You don't know what the majus have been through for the last ten centuries."

Henri's flaring anger quickly faded into smattering smolders in the back of his mind, dampened by the heavy regret coiling around him like the slithering body of a boa.

"These 'magic people' have been oppressed by us—humans—for centuries. They've been persecuted, displaced, and murdered just for existing. Someone has to help them."

"How did you even meet these people?" Thea inquired. Henri had been wondering the same thing.

Simon and Aminata exchanged a knowing look before shifting their attention back to their children.

"Henri..." Their mother glanced at Thea. "Thea... There's a lot we haven't told you."

Thea rose from the ground, eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Like what?"

"We have been explorers for a long time. Since before either of you were born. Your father has been going on expeditions with his family since he was a child. Along the way...we've discovered things. Things we think the rest of the world isn't quite ready to learn about yet." Aminata paused before selecting her next words. "One of those things is the existence of magic and those gifted with the power to wield it. They live among us, in our cities and in their own. We came across them for the first time in Brazil. We crossed paths again in Tibet. We were young then, still trying to make a name for ourselves. Yet, we didn't expose them to the public. They rewarded our discretion by allowing us to keep our memories and teaching us about their culture."

"What Monet said about them isn't true. Not all the way," Simon elaborated. "Yes, some of them are dangerous. The things that have happened in just the past year... I understand why Monet wants them gone. But many of them are good. Most of them, even. They just want to be left alone in their hidden cities. I promised them I'd help keep their secret." He removed his glasses. Henri could see straight into his eyes now. They held a sincerity not often present in his bright, hazel irises. "That's why I can't help Monet. I can't let the Arkangels hurt the majus any more than they already have."

Henri wrung his hands and looked to his sister for guidance. She donned a perplexed look that covered her face like dark makeup. He turned to Malik. The boy nodded reassuringly at him.

His parents really cared for these majus.

Hopefully, they were worth it.

"You didn't let me finish explaining my plan," he said.

Simon adjusted his glasses, his nose scrunching a bit. Henri cleared his throat before continuing.

"We help Monet and Arkangel find the Mouseion with the tunnels. But she doesn't get to the library. Or, at least, she doesn't get what she wants. That's where we step in. We get to the library before she can. We steal those rocks. And then we hightail it out of there before we get killed."

"That's your plan?" Thea snorted. "I was expecting something a little more calculated if I'm being honest. Especially from you."

"I'm sure it's a bit more sophisticated than that," Malik argued. "Right?"

Henri rubbed his neck. "Er, not exactly..." He stammered for a bit, as he wasn't quite sure how to let them know he didn't know what to do. Unlike his father, he didn't always have the answers. But he'd be damned if he let them know that. That's where the two Beck men were very alike.

Like always, Thea seemed to catch on. "You need our help, huh?" She laughed. "Go on, say it then."

He rolled his eyes.

"Pride got your tongue?"

"Fine," he pushed out through his gritted teeth. He put on a smile faker than counterfeit bills. "Mom, Dad, Thea...I need your help."

"That's all you had to say," Thea replied with a grin.

Simon and Aminata exchanged another look. No words were exchanged between the pair. They spoke with their eyes; or perhaps it was some sort of telepathy that developed over the course of their decades-long marriage. Henri watched his parents intently, wringing his hands as he awaited a response.

Finally, they set their gazes on him.

"We can't let her retrieve the eldricite," Simon said flatly.

"But we can help," Aminata added. "While the hex prevents us from helping Monet directly, we can help you."

Henri nearly fell to his knees. He wrapped them both in a hug and buried his face between them. "This will work," he told them. It's going to work. His mother rubbed his back soothingly while his father hadn't even reacted. The man wasn't much of a hugger. He eventually let them go. "Now, any ideas on how we get Monet to listen to us?"

"She won't believe we've changed our minds about helping her," Aminata said. "But you three... She'll believe you."

"We'll tell you what we know about the Mouseion, about the library. I know far more than Monet and her lackeys do. It should be enough to help her?. With the map she stole from us and the one you gave to her, she should find the site of the Mouseion—if there's anything left to find." Simon paused. "By the way, I don't know how you managed to find that map, but fair play. You've got that Beck luck."

Henri nodded.

This is going to work.

"Now," Simon began, "gather round. Let me tell you what I know."

###

It turned out Simon Beck knew a whole lot about the ancient Egyptian Mouseion, the Library of Alexandria, and the history of Egypt itself. Henri often likened his brain to a vast encyclopedia. His father's was more akin to a supercomputer equipped with a database comprised of millions of files. The man never forgot anything.

After all, hyperthymesia did run in the family. Memories played in their head like sports highlights on a television screen.

Henri recalled how annoyed he'd get at his father for remembering everything. Perhaps that's how others felt about him...

Once Simon relayed everything his research on Egypt taught him to Henri, Thea, and Malik, the trio began working on the plan to trick Monet. Just walking out of the tent and demanding an audience with the woman wasn't an option. Besides, the pair of guards standing outside wouldn't let them walk a foot without yanking them back inside as if they had tethers attached to their backs. They were going to be a problem.

Henri's eyes widened.

But they might've also been the solution.

"The guards...," he mumbled to himself, the gears in his head spinning and whirring.

"What about them?" Malik asked.

"They'll bring us to Monet once we tell them we know something that can help."

"You sure about that?"

"It won't hurt to try."

Once the entire group agreed, Thea volunteered to contact the mercenaries standing on the other side of the tent's front flaps. The rest hung back and watched as she got their attention. She winked at the group before disappearing through the dark green folds. Henri held his breath as he heard the guards stop her.

"What do you think you're doing?" one of them questioned.

"Get back inside," the other barked.

"Relax, big guy," Thea coaxed. "You're gonna want to hear this."

"Don't make us tell you again."

"You dweebs aren't gonna shoot me. And if you do, your boss is gonna be pissed once she realizes you ruined her one chance at finding the Library of Alexandria."

The guards went silent. Henri couldn't see them, but he could imagine the looks of uncertainty on their faces. Not only had Thea called them dweebs, but she'd also presented them with an opportunity. One they'd be stupid to refuse. Little did they know that the girl's offer was a Trojan Horse. Monet was desperate to find the library. Henri figured they'd use it against her; the woman needed a taste of her own medicine.

A walkie-talkie crackled with static, the grating noise burrowing through the tension infiltrating the tent.

"Er, the prisoners want to speak to the boss," one of the guards said, their voice low and full of skepticism.

Another voice warbled through the device. Henri couldn't make out their response. A short pause followed until the guard muttered a few more words. Seconds later, he burst into the tent with his hand pressed to the handgun strapped to his hip.

"What're you playing at?" The guard glared at Simon.

Henri locked eyes with his father. Not a single word needed to be said. While the two butted heads often, they shared the same brain.

Simon shrugged at the guard. "Don't look at me."

Henri quickly stepped in. "It was my idea. My parents can't help you guys, but I can. And I already did when I gave your boss that map." He inched forward. "You can go tell Monet we've got more information for her."

The look on the mercenary's face suggested he wasn't interested in what he was saying at all. After a few moments, he shook his head and brought his walkie-talkie up to his mouth. "Do I have authorization to bring the prisoners to the boss?"

Henri resisted the urge to grin.

Someone on the other line granted the guard permission. They clipped their communicator back to the tactical vest covering their shirt.

"Looks like you're getting your wish," he grumbled. "Follow me." He turned heel and stomped out of the room.

Henri glanced at Malik and his parents. "Well...looks like that worked?"

"Don't speak so soon." Aminata's dark eyes fixated upon the exit. "Getting out of this tent was the easy part."

"Convincing Monet is where things get hard," Simon added.

Henri let out a deep breath. Nodding at his parents, he and Malik stepped out of the tent, joining Thea and the pair of guards outside.

###

Henri, Thea, and Malik were brought before Monet for the second time that night. This time, the woman was stood outside with a few people in black uniforms bearing the Arkangel Industries insignia. They held tablets with bright screens in their hands as they milled about the network of generators powering the outer portion of the impromptu research base.

Beside Monet was Sergei, who seemed to be acting as her lead bodyguard now that he wasn't chasing after the trio. The hulking Serbian mercenary regarded them with a harsh stare that made Henri's skin shrivel.

"Cut it out, Sergei," Monet hissed. The man begrudgingly averted his gaze elsewhere. She turned to her prisoners. "I was told you have good news for me?"

Henri nodded.

"Well, let's hear it."

He glanced at everyone behind him. They offered him reassuring looks, which helped to still his thumping heart. He cleared his throat. "My parents won't help you."

Monet's lips puckered.

"But they'll help me and Thea," he continued. "And we can help you find the library."

She raised an eyebrow. "And how do you intend to do that? You've already given me the map of the tunnels. Frankly, I don't think I need the assistance of your parents anymore. I doubt the two of you can—"

"That map has various entry points," Henri interjected. "But you know that already. I'm also sure you know that none of those entry points are guaranteed to be where the map says they are. They also might not exist anymore. There's one place that will definitely lead you into the tunnels...if they're still functional, that is."

She didn't say anything. Her silence spoke volumes. She crept forward with her eyes narrowed into tight slits.

"Why don't you tell me then?"

"Because my parents haven't even told me yet. We wanted to get your word first."

"My word?"

"You have to promise to bring us with you when you go looking." He paused. "All of us."

Monet's eyes drilled into him, trying their best to dig through the contents of his soul and decipher his true intentions. He forced his face to remain still, disallowing any emotion or inkling of doubt to bleed through his pores. Monet was smart, but he was smarter.

This is going to work.

"And what inspired this swift change of heart?"

Henri tensed. He'd been concocting the lie in his head during the walk from their holding cell to Monet's tent, but the words were refusing to come out. Fortunately, his big sister came to his rescue.

"Look, lady, we know this is a lot bigger than us," Thea said. "We don't know anything about magic or your stupid rocks or whatever else you and our parents have going on. But I do know one thing: I wanna get out of this dusty ass desert. If helping you gets us back home alive, then I'm all for it."

Monet glanced at Henri.

"What she said," he quickly forced out.

Their story seemed convincing enough. It helped that their parents had been left behind; had they come, their sudden change in stance would've seemed a lot more suspicious than it already did. But if they could convince Monet they were acting on their own volition... The woman couldn't afford to not accept Henri's terms. Not if she was this close. Her search for the library had been going on for months now. He could see the desperate glint in her pale eyes as she stared at him.

She had to accept.

Eventually, the silver-haired woman lifted her chin at him. "Alright, Monsieur Henri. I'll allow you to join us. I wanted an audience for mankind's greatest modern discovery anyways." She smiled, delighted at the prospect. "You will thank yourself later for being on the right side of history."

"Right."

"Now," she continued, "where should we be looking?"

This was it. Once he revealed to her what his parents knew about the whereabouts of the Library of Alexandria, there would be no turning back. All their leverage would be gone, and their fates would be in the hands of the religious zealot that was Monet Delacroix.

This is going to work.

He released his breath. Then he told hereverything.