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The last page of Oliver’s file was scrawled with a handwritten note. Want answers? Come to the Drunken Squid at 10pm sharp and ask the bartender for the silver key. He removed his watch from his waistcoat. 9:45. He shoved the file under the long monk-like robes the Elders wore and ran down the winding staircase and out into the night, heading for the Squid. Tentatively, he asked the man behind the bar about the silver key and was motioned to a table at the back of the room. He wasn’t expecting a pretty, young woman. “I’m Oliver,” he said dropping to the chair. She smiled. “Welcome to your destiny.”