Altazor’s Cave

‘Caprice No 24’ by Niccolò Paganini plays on an old gramophone.

Books riddled the red oak desk, lined up with the fireplace. A lamp in its corner cast the papers its warm glow, while framed photos edged the clutter. Flames crackled, and wood snapped in the hearth, and the floors creaked as the walls echoed.

A sharp and sudden whistle split the silence.

One knock, followed by another—

And another.

No visible moon, the Belt shined bright, and the air swayed leaves outside the house.

Inside, an Old Man opened the door, and another Man with a briefcase entered.

Opened his double lapel coat, laid the briefcase down, then removed it entirely.

I apologize for the late visit, he said with a smile.

Don’t. The circumstance merits it. Come. My head’s been killing me. I made some tea.

A blend of Mugwort, Chamomile, and Star Anise, seasoned with molasses, poured as the Old Man’s eyes fixed on the Man sitting in his living room.

So, you’ve found it. May I?

—piercing pain pulses the Old Man’s head

Yeah, about that.