After several paths, wooden bridges and stairs that connected sections to each other, they reached a deep recess, practically a cave in the wall, with two large pillars wrapped in vines at its entrance, shelves with jars and alchemy instruments and a main table. Between them, they took down from a shelf a large tome with a brown cover, an overwhelming amount of yellowed pages and older than the two of them together, and then left her alone in her struggle to understand something. The title was "Secrets of Mystical Alchemy: Forgotten Sections and Unfinished Research" and, after thirty minutes of simply looking through the index and pages of inexhaustible content, she confirmed that that book (impossible to fit in a backpack) did not lie. It was a true review of mysteries and dead ends of the theoretical and practical field of alchemists. The search paid off. In a section almost entirely devoted to criticizing the alchemist's guild in the mid-first century of the Mystic Age, he found a tally of testimonies from farmers, miners, and craftsmen who found runic symbols that were misspelled, invented, and/or unknown to the traditional runic alphabet, in natural metal ores. When activated, these would act like a traditional rune, but both alchemists and other research departments at the Trace were quick to contradict such claims, claiming that there was no such thing, much less in nature. That did not end the rumors about the disappearance of an entire village, caused by an alleged "menic rune" (provisional name given by the author) created. Apparently, the sender of the letter was the only fool, or else, he was right and he got the wrong sorceress, because he saw no connection between the Golden Apple and the rune. Assuming that he didn't overlook anything, of course. He was about to abandon this pointless task, when he remembered that, on the other side of the plateau, there was a precarious sanctuary to Sibilla Dnorcia, a great proponent of alchemy and, curiously, a remote ancestor of the sorceress. According to unofficial stories (created in informal and not at all credible forums), she was not an ordinary person, but a fairy from remote and unknown lands who carried with her the Mute Manuscript, where the first laws of the Trail and its relationship with the rest of the substances in the Universe were listed. Until that day, people went on pilgrimages and left offerings in exchange for a prosperous harvest or to ask for help in finding someone lost, being strictly forbidden to extract the mineral and metallic riches that the same mountain produced. Normally, skirting the misshapen, cobbled region would take anyone more than an hour, however, a secret that only Sibilla's descendants knew was the underground connection between the library and the abandoned village, next to the sanctuary. Being a public institution outside of any communal influence (such as the gladiator gymnasiums), it did not prohibit its use, although it remained closed for security. The sorceress headed towards a dark, isolated corner of the library, activated a false bookcase and entered the access cave, taking care not to be seen. She made her way with the help of the radiant Trace that she manipulated in her palm, finding herself, sooner rather than later, at the famous underground bridge. It was Yazata Herkleiv himself, the arrogant leader of the extinct commune of Mitanni, who ordered it to be built before the people removed him from power. There, natural light filtered in from the surface, but the great pit beneath it, which gave the illusion of descending to the very center of the earth, remained immersed in darkness. How was it formed? Did someone (or something) perhaps excavate it? This, like many other phenomena on the continent itself, without any apparent explanation, aroused the curiosity and exploratory desire of the mysticians, that is, the generations of the first century and later. The nameless village, on the other hand, was known for having been razed years ago, during the popular uprising that culminated in the birth of Eresia; they said it was cursed and no one dared to stay there for long, except for its only inhabitant: a dwarf technician, who hammered and looked after a large tubular printer a few metres from the exit. The sorceress would need his help to reach the sacred place and try to replicate the magic rune she had discovered."It's not common to receive visitors, you're the first in a long time, " the dwarf with a dark beard, toolbox and boots stopped hammering when he heard her footsteps, but he didn't turn to look at her. A small panel of screens and the large device in front of him were enough for him. "I don't think you're coming to invite me for a cup of tea either, are you?""I need help with Sibilla's sanctuary"."As I sadly suspected. Anyway, do you want to use my printer, kid? If you're going to get there, you'll have to go through that slime country and you'll need a weapon to get you out of trouble "wiping away his sweat with a greasy rag. Do you have something in mind?""A blueprint on my wristband, though it will need some tweaking. What do you think?"It's unusual, but I can do it. Marching: combat staff". With the sample of the engravings on the staff, the sorceress designed a simple wooden weapon, but ideal for someone who had no affinity with any sharp weapon, however, its main characteristic was in the runic engraving and ability to channel the mystical power within it to amplify it."How am I supposed to handle this?""Training, girl. And just in case, I recommend you gain a few extra pounds, maybe, " rubbing her stomach."Ridiculous"."Anyway, what are you supposed to be looking for in the sanctuary?""Metal. If I succeed, I'll be right back"."Be careful. That decorated tablet is not complete, so don't trust the runic power or the appearance of those slimy little creatures". Outside the village, hundreds of clouds were slowly marching eastwards against a magnificent blue sky, while his feet slipped and stumbled on a terrain of peat bogs, stagnant water and decaying vegetation. Every so often, he had to stop to crush slimes, small, sticky entities with the same consistency as mud, but with an unpleasant moss-green hue; it was unthinkable how these seemingly harmless things could become a headache. With his tired arms, sweaty forehead and muddy bottom, he climbed a small path to the sanctuary, lacking any kind of railings or protection, other than the trust in the good customs of the neighbouring commune. She hit the ores with the little Trace he could channel after that physical exhaustion, collected the first five pieces he obtained and apologized loudly and with a bow in front of the stone-carved figure of his ancestor. He descended more easily, holding his nose to endure the stench that the crushed slimes gave off, dragged the staff through the streets of the village and returned to the dwarf."I will need your table and tools to create this rune, " without waiting for an answer."It is said please, traveler""Move aside, please," panting."What kind of inscription is that? Didn't they say they were made in stone? "scratching his beard."I thought that same thing all my life, until I discovered this in an alchemy book"."Are you an alchemist?""Sorceress. I seek the Golden Apple of the heroic Krek"."It sounds like a fairy tale. And a dwarf says it! " walking around the table."Ha! We never knew if those really existed. No, I know they're real and they're out there somewhere. And I'll find them"."You are right. Perhaps you should use it as a magical weapon, rather than a conventional shield, " watching the runes flicker."Strange, the rune on the table doesn't seem to have any Trace on it. Could it be because of the mechanical chisel?""How else were you planning to notch a piece of metal?" He put on his protective glove to inspect it under a magnifying glass. "Here, just throw it in the yard.""No, it didn't work," she said, disappointed, watching the chiseled piece of mine fall with a crash without causing any effect."It's withered, there's no way a ceremonial metal rune could work"."Wait. Did you say ceremonial? What do you know about this magic rune?""Just as you heard, a simple accessory. This village used to use them, in fact, there may still be a few buried"."What about the symbol? Does it ring a bell?""No"."It was on the stick. Over here, near the base, in this blank spot. How come the printer didn't spot it? " looking closely at the wood."This printer is one of the best, it hasn't failed in years. I have been in charge of repairing it and changing its parts for years, in addition to working with Rastro"."I'll have to carve it by hand. In any case, where did they extract the ores?""A while ago, when there were still people, I heard about a popular group of farmers, miners, blacksmiths and craftsmen. They lived in a village in the middle of the forest surrounding Anathema and were popular for trading bracteates, tablets with drawings and inscriptions made of gold and other metals, " looking at the central fountain on the street with nostalgia."Thank you for your help...""Rük, technician in charge of this printer, " shaking his hand."Amira, sorceress of Pérgamo".