Mac and Zelda exchanged concerned glances as the sparks formed a distinctive pattern in the air—two interlocking circles with a line bisecting them—before fading away.
"That," Zelda whispered, "was confirmation we're dealing with something far more dangerous than simple theft."
Delilah's fingertips still tingled from the magical discharge. She shook her hand as if it were asleep, stealing glances at Sam who was examining his own palm with suspicion.
"Well, that was dramatic," Zelda said, leading them down a narrow staircase into her basement. "Now we need to figure out where these thefts are happening before more artifacts disappear."
The basement smelled of dried herbs and old books. Fat Bastard leapt ahead, landing on a shelf where Boba Fett and Jango Fett were already perched, their tails swishing in unison. Their eyes glowed in the dim light like six tiny moons.
"Those cats give me the creeps," Sam muttered.
"They're not fond of you either, wolf boy," Zelda replied, clearing a circular table in the center of the room. "But they're excellent judges of character, so maybe work on that."
Mac chuckled, earning a glare from Sam.
Zelda pulled a weathered leather case from a locked cabinet. "This is something special—an Ancient Tracking Map. It's been in my family for generations."
She opened the case reverently, revealing what looked like dried parchment folded into an intricate pattern.
"Is that... skin?" Delilah asked, leaning closer.
"Don't ask questions you don't want answers to," Zelda replied, placing the folded parchment in the center of a chalk circle. "This map can locate anything with a magical signature, but it's... particular about who uses it."
Sam crossed his arms. "Meaning?"
"Meaning it requires harmony between users to function properly." Zelda arranged candles around the circle. "Magic responds to intention. If you two can't align your intentions, it's just expensive magic parchment."
Delilah snorted. "Great. We're doomed."
"Speak for yourself," Sam said. "I can align with anything except bad judgment."
"Children, please," Mac interjected, his voice calm but firm. "The town needs you both."
Zelda began chanting in a language that made Delilah's ears pop.
"Lupus morosus et vates obstinata, fac hanc mappam antiquam apparere!
"Grumpy wolf and stubborn seer, make this ancient map appear!
Contraria quae consentire non possunt, nunc in harmonia coniungantur!
Opposites who can't agree, now must join in harmony!
Quod amissum est et quod inventum est, ostende nobis thesauros subterraneos!
What was lost and what was found, show us treasures underground!
Per potestatem felium meorum trium, ut volo, ita fiat!"
By the power of my cats three, as I will, so mote it be!"
Her voice shifted between dramatic solemnity and barely contained amusement, as if the universe itself was in on the joke. The candles flared, casting elongated shadows across the walls. The parchment trembled but remained folded.
"It's not working," Zelda frowned. "You two need to touch it simultaneously."
Sam and Delilah exchanged reluctant glances.
"Fine," Delilah sighed. "But if my hair turns blue, I'm sending you my salon bill."
