It was this camp that I found myself falling into, heart beating fast, eyes flying through links and articles.
“What if Dani was leaving clues so we could find this book, Max? What if inside this volume is the spell that’s responsible for what happened to her?”
But Max was bleary-eyed staring at the computer screen. “We’ve been at this for hours.”
“You should take a break,” Vern agreed.
“You go ahead. I’m fine.” I couldn’t leave it now, not when we were this close.
There was even a Book of Autumn subreddit, but it kept getting taken down by the mods, overrun as it was by conspiracy theories on how Bill Gates was implanting us all with microchips. Par for the course, I guessed. Conspiracy theorists and people who actually believed in Magic usually fell into the same circle. There was a strict code of rules pinned to the side and a strict one-strike policy for the Dawn Underground forum:ANY discussion of topics not related to the information pertaining to the Book of Autumn, its contents, or persons relating to its authorship will be deleted and the user summarily banned from posting in the future.
It was my first foray into the world of underground Magical theories, so I was somewhat new to all of it, but I happily raced through the excitement of their discoveries and marveled at these people who’d spent years analyzing photographs, searching ship manifests, and hunting through collections of rare books across the globe, just for a peek into our world.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Every Star Is a World
“Jesus, Cel, have you been at it all night? When’s the last time you slept?”
“This book is it, Max, I know it,” I said, not taking my eyes from the screen. I’d spent longer than I’d wanted glued to my computer screen, certainly, but there was a lot of information to get through. I knew how I looked. The wild eyes, the tangled hair. It had been so easy for me to join in the fervor with everyone else. Since a couple of hours before the sun had risen, I’d fallen into the threads dedicated to authorship. There were even proposed timelines of possible handlers throughout the centuries.
Still, other people on the site claimed the author was anonymous. There were so many threads on the topic that an entire folder was devoted to it.
Surely anonymous is anonymous,I commented, as there was an open chat window at the time.
You’d think that,user Aklarkson wrote—his bio denoted him a professor of Occult History at Brevard College—but plenty of authors penned their works under sages or popular wisemen of their time, so the true authors of many of the ancient texts are lost to us. But there are ways of tracking them down, particularly through whom they reference in the work, which philosophy they subscribe to, and who their teacher was. The ancient world was not so large as we might think.
So then who do we think it is?
You should readthis.Aklarkson linked me to a sticky thread at the top of the chat.
It was a list of potential authors, with a prefacing note attached.If we are correct in assuming the text was written in the Hellenistic period, then we may narrow down the list of potential authors to Magicians of the time, including wandering Magi and holy men who dabbled in the occult. There were many philosophers, particularly among the Greeks, who considered the practice of magia to be the practice of charlatans, but there were many who believed. Nigidius, for one, whom Cicero claimed was a “keen and diligent searcher after that which nature keeps veiled.” Or Apulieus, who, in his Apologia, whilst defending himself against a charge of sorcery, claims that the practice of philosophy and magia are intricately bound together, that there was not one without the other.
There were still other less-plausible theories of authorship (according to the forum’s users), such as members of a mystery school of the Hellenistic period called the Order of Autumn and the writer of another, more popular grimoire, theGhâyat al-Hakîm fi’l-sihr, orPicatrix.
“We have to find this book,” I said suddenly.
“And how are we going to do that,” Max said, rubbing his temples and sipping a coffee, “if even these people can’t find it?”
“Because we have something they don’t. We have Dani. She’s pointing us to it, I know it. And all those symbols on campus over the dormitories—it’s got to be related.”
My temples burned, a memory flashing to the surface. The memory of the frat party, that strange feeling of déjà vu swimming through it, that I’d been in that house before, that I’d done all of this before.
Suddenly, I had an idea. “Vern?”
Vern shook his head. “I can’t find books that aren’t catalogued in the system.”
“It’s not in the library’s catalog, but what if it was on campus? Could you find it then?”
Vern’s mouth twisted. “I don’t know, I’ve never—”
“I know you’re always saying your Magic isn’t worth anything, but finding something lost is a rare gift. You’re always telling me I can’t let a little thing like fear get in my way. Please, Vern. This could be the key to everything.”
He put up his hands and shook his head. “I don’t know, you two …”
“It’ll be okay,” I insisted, “we’ll be here with you the whole time.” I squeezed his hand.
“That’s right,” Max agreed. “And if it doesn’t work, no harm done.”
