THE Mouseion of Fated Artifacts was a unique place.
When Noah arrived, he found himself standing on a golden river that seemed to be flowing forward endlessly. The current moved beneath his feet without disturbing his balance, carrying him nowhere while simultaneously carrying him everywhere.
All around him was a stellar environment that held sparkling multicolored lights etched across the expanse as if they were stars scattered by a guiding hand. They burned with colors that shouldn't have coexisted, crimson beside azure beside gold beside shades that had no names in any language.
Each of these supposed stars had strings they were connected to.
These strings extended outward to the edge of perception itself, gossamer threads of fate that linked artifacts to destinies, treasures to those worthy of claiming them. The entire Mouseion was a web of predetermined connections, a place where what was meant to be found would be found by those meant to find it.
