Isaac, a curator at the museum, wasn’t just a charming man with a pearly white smile and a smooth British accent, he was a Mage—one of repute. But he was also an anthropologist, having collected a Ph.D. in the field from Oxford University in London, as well as a lover of ancient history, and one hell of a charmer. Formerly an acne ridden, awkward child from Surrey, Isaac now brokered seven figure acquisition deals at one of the country’s most prestigious museums, and tinkered with the very fabric of reality. If someone had told him this in the past with any degree of confidence, Isaac would have awkwardly smiled and dismissed the notion entirely. Yet here he was, wearing a fine suit and escorting a beautiful woman through a museum wing he had helped build. Isaac walked along the tall halls of the Imperial Museum with his hands behind his back, one hand clasped against the other, closely followed by a tall, Greek woman by the name of Helena Metaxas. She had a soft face with eyes as green as a field in spring, and was holding a tablet and taking notes.
